BECQUEREL II: I REMEMBER WHEN I WAS A STUDENT.

13years ago, I was in JS1, the same class Becquerel is currently in.

I know we were eager with school then; new environment, plenty admonitions about going into the world and the desire to make the parents happy.

Becquerel’s enthusiasm beat ours hands down in those first weeks of resumption.

My God! 3am, she would wake up and start preparing. The noise! The ruckus! The clattering and clanging sounds! God!!!

There was a night I woke up to pee around 12am, this lady actually wanted to get up…

“Becquerel, back to bed, now! It isn’t morning yet.”

God knows we would all have woken up 12am for school that starts by 8am.

Then, the ‘firewood’ helping her fire started fading. She would still wake up early but somehow, somehow, still end up running late for school.

Next up, we started noticing new socks; brown et blanc. You know when something used to be white but is now struggling to be brown but also failing at that.

“Did you wash these socks at all?”

“I washed them na.”

“So, why are they still brown?”

“That’s how they are.”

Okay.

Now, while we had times of ironing wet clothes to dryness, towel-squeezing-out water and the likes, sis Becquerel never had those.

Oh, you think she was ‘efficienter’? Think again.

Sunday night… “Becquerel, have you washed your uniform?”

“Ha, I’ve forgotten o…”.

Oya, quickly go and start washing.”

She would have gone some distance, then, she would stop and be like,

“Aunty Unit… See, ko need.”

She either washed at the right time or she didn’t at all. So, if she wasn’t putting on dry, clean clothes, she was putting on dry, dirty clothes.

Nothing like wet/semidry, clean clothes.

*** In Our Family ***

If you come visiting and you plan to eat, there are two things involved. You either come with a personal seasoning bag or you take us as we are.

Salt… No Sir.
Pepper… No Sir.
Salt and Pepper… No Sir.

In fact, if you see rodo in our house, be wary.

Going to the university exposed me to other salting and peppering methods but once I step into our house again, auto mode takes over.

And no apologies. It’s our house.

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