As long as I can remember, one of my most memorable childhood experiences was during my secondary school days, specifically on a punishment ground—a day I wouldn't dare forget.
I went to school in an era when flogging was the primary means of correcting students, and both teachers and senior students derived immense joy from it.
The incident happened when I was in JSS 2. It was almost break time, and we had sneaked out of a boring class to go on a mango hunt within the school premises, although it was somewhat far from the main class area. We were there, plucking mangoes and enjoying ourselves, when we suddenly noticed three seniors approaching. Since we were on top of the tree, we couldn’t just jump down and start running, as that could have led to serious injuries, which we weren't willing to risk.
We began to beg the three seniors who were now on the ground, commanding us with authority to climb down from the tree and receive our punishment. These were the fiery seniors—the type who rarely attended classes but instead focused on finding defaulters to flog hard.
Reluctantly, we climbed down, hoping they might at least ask us for an explanation. But they didn’t. All they did was tell us to lie face-down on the ground while they lashed us repeatedly on our backs and buttocks with strong canes. We let out moans, almost on the verge of tears, but held back, determined not to cry. The seniors wanted us to break down and cry, but we didn’t. Perhaps sensing a bit of pity, they eventually stopped.
When we got up, our once-white shirts were now badly stained with dirt. The seniors collected the mangoes we had plucked, and just as we thought it was over, one of them told us to stay put. They announced they would take us to a teacher—the one known for enjoying flogging more than any other. Upon hearing this, we knelt down, begging desperately, but they were deaf to our pleas.
They dragged us, with our dirty shirts, to the staff office where the teacher usually stayed. At that point, we were beyond feeling embarrassed about our appearance. All we wanted was mercy, hoping the teacher would reconsider since the seniors had already "beaten the hell out of us." But our hope was slim; the teacher they were taking us to rarely rejected the chance to administer punishment. In fact, it seemed punishment interested him more than food.
Just a few blocks away from the staff offices, one of the seniors suggested they let us go. The others didn’t argue; they agreed and told us to run away.
Oh boy, that was a miracle! We didn't hesitate; we dashed off, running to a nearby bush to wait until other students cleared the area so we could sneak back into class without being noticed in our dirty shirts. Ever since that day, my friend and I swore off plucking mangoes on school grounds—it became a forbidden act for us.
We kept thanking God for letting the seniors show mercy and sparing us from meeting the teacher.
Thanks!
This is for the ongoing contest in Hive Reachout community.