Excerpt from my memoir

Working on my memoir today, I came across two funny incidents that made me laugh and which I want to share with you:

'Labaran Tukur was one of my classmates in the early stage of my primary school education: He was the grandson of the District Head of Bakori, Makaman Katsina Idris Nadabo and his father then held the title of Wakilin Bakori. He was known throughout the town as Wakili Tukur. Labaran Tukur made an immediate impression on me because he used to come to the school on his bicycle. There were very few of them, then. 

One day, I don't recall what the problem was, but I remember Labaran hit me and I immediately hit back. We were immediately separated and prevented from fighting. My elder sisters, Fatima and Umma, who were a year ahead of us, heard about the fight. When we went back home, they warned me never to hit back at him  even if he hit me. I asked why and they said because he was a member of the royal family in Bakori and that I could be locked up in prison… And that scared me…🤣

Perhaps the most hilarious incident I can recall in my primary school days was the fight I had with my best friend at the time, Jibrin Isa, who was also my seat mate: we shared the same long bench and table. I suppose we must be either in class three or four, as we had already started using pen and ink to write as opposed to pencil which we used in the junior classes. Sometimes, the ink was prepared in large quantities for the whole class and everyone was given a little in his ink pot called "kuttu" in Hausa: both the pen and the ink pot were provided by the school authority to each pupil. On the other hand, anyone who preferred to prepare his own ink could do so: I decided to prepare my own for quality sake. As I didn't have enough money, I couldn't buy the original that was sold in shops. It's called Quink, sold in small cute bottles that were well packaged in two different colors of blue and black. If you have enough money, you could buy a fountain pen to go with the ink. So, I went to the market and bought the ingredient to prepare mine locally. The ingredient was called "Babangadi" in Hausa. I took time and prepared quality ink at home which I took to school the following day. The moment Isa saw the ink, he said, "Please, my friend, allow me to use your ink". I looked at him sourly and replied, "Why didn't you buy yours yesterday at the market?" "I forgot", he said. "Then use the class ink", I shot back. "You know it's not as good as yours.", he lamented. "Please!", he said wistfully. Grudgingly, I said, "Okay, but I will only allow you to dip your pen three times." He agreed. 

I was very watchful, in case he decided to cheat and dipped more than three times - and that's exactly what he did! He dipped once and wrote in his book until the pen dried. He did the second and third dips while I held the ink pot. When he thought I wasn't watching, he tried to dip his pen the fourth time… I was too fast for him and I pushed his pen away. It was while I was pushing away his pen that the ink pot tumbled onto my lap and the whole ink splashed all over my dress. It was one of my best dresses as, for whatever reason, I didn't go to school in uniform that day. 

I was so angry and frustrated that I burst out crying. I immediately reported him to one of our teachers, Malam Sama'ila. He was our religious teacher and was called "Anikallahu", a disciplinarian who never spared the rod. To my disconsternation, after listening to us, he caned both of us: I was given two lashes while Isa, who was the culprit, was given three. That further aggrieved me and I continued to cry. 

When my sisters and other relatives heard about it, they vowed to teach Isa a lesson. Umma and Fatima all came to our class and pinched Isa, vowing to deal with him after school. Isa was scared, all right. 

After school, my cousin, Aminu, waylaid Isa and tried to fire the first salvo, while my uncle, Sagir, and my brother, Abdulrahman Barau, were also closing in to take their pound of flesh. Aminu was huge and hefty, and, ostensibly, he alone could manhandle Isa. But luck smiled on Isa as, trying to save himself, he swung a desperate punch that landed on Aminu's eye, blinding him. Aminu yelped and sat down, saying, "kaikaikaikai…" He continued to mutter those words, sitting down and losing interest in the fight. The rest, discouraged, forgot about the fight. And that was how Isa escaped unpunished'...🤣