“Orobosa, what was it like being the Head Girl?”. I smile and begin to remember.

I wake up and fall on my knees begging God for a good day. My devotional reads “CALM IN THE STORM”. I am done talking to my God, done pouring my heart out to my heavenly Father. I feel tears stream down my face, although I’m not entirely sure from whence they came. Showering and getting dressed all pass in a blur but I’m careful to give much attention to and savor knotting my tie straight and clipping on the badge that I still can’t believe reads ‘HEAD GIRL, JESUIT MEMORIAL COLLEGE PORT HARCOURT’.

I go out and shout. I shout my lungs off for the girls whom I’ve grown such a deep sense of responsibility for to “Leave the Hostel!”. I hear another “LEAVE THE HOSTEL!” from the far end of the hostel, and then another. I know immediately that it is the other prefect girls, my girls, girls whom I’ve grown to love much more than I care to explain. It becomes a call and response. ‘LEAVE THE HOOSTELLLL!’ “YOU ARE LATE!’ “LEAVE THE HOSTELL!” “THERE WILL BE NO MERCY AT THE GATE”.  The hostel finally feels empty. We trod out to the hostel gate, decked with fatigue, yet teeming with pride at the task we have just so dutifully accomplished.

We make it just in time for Mass and I am grateful. The newest topic of discourse has become “The perfects always come late for mass in the name of duty” but today, having made it on time, I will be spared the numerous questions and complaints I will have to answer to. I want to pay attention to the homily, but the noise from the students in the pew across me rings loudest in my ears. “Oh God not today!” I resist the overwhelming urge to walk across and force them to be quiet. I send eye messages instead as a warning. I try to convince myself that the ushers are there for a reason and that somehow sending warnings with my eyes will help, but the noise continues. “Why are you resisting Orobosa, you’re literally the Head Girl. It’s your job!” The voice in my head torments me as she always has since I took on the responsibility of being the Head Girl. I want to heed her, but memories of the jeers I have received in the past months since I began a prefect, the name calling, The “such an oversabi” “she’s the worst head girl ever” “I should not have never voted for her” and the disrespect, all flood my mind. In the end I give in to them, and let the noisemakers have their time. I promise myself that tomorrow, or perhaps the next opportunity I get, I will not let the voices in my head win.

Gonzaga house is rowdy as usual, but I am grateful for the prefects because a few walks around the house’s section of the dining hall, a few students spending a meal on their knees and Mr. Jackson’s emergence from the kitchen, sends the dining hall into much needed tranquility. But it goes by fast because for once Kamsi and I wish to begin assembly on time.

Mounting the podium feels surreal still, it creates a heady feeling that I know I will miss when my tenure ends. Kamsi’s step and my when mounting it’s green-white-green steps are intentionally synced and I smile because I’m sure I would not want to stand up here commanding so many students with that very distinctive blazer, with anyone else. A part of me loves assembly, because it’s my only time to really shine as the Head prefect in my long black socks, and all. But another part of me, hates the monotony.

Classes come and go by, my head isn’t exactly in my books these days, it’s in the upcoming in-school event that I need to mobilize the prefects to plan that fills my mind. I fall asleep in some, because every part of me is worn out, I am reminded to be a shining example to the school and I sigh because I know that I will fall asleep again, and will be warned by teachers again, not because I will do it again intentionally, but because I have begun to feel overwhelmed with the job, and sleep is a major coping mechanism for me.

The school day is finally over and my lame legs walk to the dining hall, the long blacks socks that have become our trademark this tenure, are already itching to be taken off. I standing right by the door with an expression that appears to be far from pleased, and I suck in a deep breath because something has to be wrong. Nothing is wrong. He mentions something about lateness and lists and a few other things but I have zoned out again as I have been doing for a while now. Kamsi and I will handle it together, as we always do. Lunch is beans! “Thank you Jesus” I melt into my seat not minding the noise this time, because all that matters is that the day is almost over, and it just might really be a good day.

I emerge from the hostel for dinner with swollen eyes that I hide beneath my chunky glasses. A few SS3s had a few comments to make concerning my prefects and myself and their words cut deep. On hearing them, words I do not think I can repeat even in my head, I curled up in my tiny corner space and cried. The voice in my head torments again “Why’re you crying? You should be tough enough by now, you need to stop letting them get to you?” I really should be tough enough by now. I swallow and smile, because despite the hurt I’m feeling, I will find the strength to keep my chin up.

I achieve a truck load of studying. I make my rounds after classes to make sure that they are clean, I quiet down the dining hall after nightcap with the rest of the prefects and I make my examen. I wonder where I found the strength to do all that. The voice in my head let’s me know that crying and shedding bottled emotions, is such a great way to recharge. I laugh at her and force her to go to sleep, because I’m falling asleep too. But first! I fall on my knees the same way I began the day, and Thank my God, because I would not have prefectship, with all it’s joys, and failures any other way.

“So what was it like being the Head Girl you asked? Well, it was a lot of things but one thing, it was learning to find the strength everyday to serve in the capacity I was called to. It was picking and choosing my battles. It was laughter and joy but pain too. It was learning to listen but sometimes shun the voice in my head, the voice in every leader’s head that mocks, jeers and torments. It was learning a balance and struggling to keep that balance. But it was also gratitude. I was always grateful, I am still grateful, to all the experiences that taught me, and to all the people that helped and supported me –—The administration (Fr Alex, Fr Abuchi, Fr. Ubong, Sr. Lilian, Mr. James), My teachers, my parents and family and to Jesuit Memorial College for seeing something in me, and encouraging that thing to grow”

“I guess that’s what it was like!”

The 2022- 2023 set of Prefects

Orobosa Anthonia UWAIFO

Class of 2024