"What! Who is this?" one of the men barked. The indignation in the voice was unmistakable. "Will you keep your mouth shut!" another man ordered, simultaneously. "And get away from here, immediately, before we make you regret!" a third voice roared.
"You again... Mr. Just? What business brings you out at this hour? Is this the students' hostel you are supposed to be minding?" the boss asked. As the director spoke, the men quickly turned their attention away from the intruder. Resolutely, they hasted to finish the grim task, pushing, and pulling harder.
"No! Director, you can't! This is cruel! This is animalistic! Ungodly! You shouldn't bury that thing alive!" Justin affirmed."
"Get lost! How is that your problem? Are we burying a human being?"
the director fumed.
"Even if it is not human, it is living. Director, this is wickedness! Inhumanity!" A man, who all the while, had lurked in the dark, unseen, approached Justin from behind, club in hand. He raised the weapon and brought it down hard on Justin's right wrist. The machete fell to the ground as a sharp pain coursed through Justin's limb. Two other men rushed towards him. There was a brief struggle. And soon, Justin was on his back. Even in the darkness, he could make out the shape of the machete positioned menacingly above his head.
"Handle him gently! Gently!" the director ordered. "Oga, no, sir. I said no, sir!" one of the men replied defiantly, then added: "If he wants to go down with the cow, why should we stop him?" Justin recognised the voice. It was the man that had threatened: "Get away from here immediately before we make you regret!"
He knew it was time he disappeared from the scene. The director pacified the angry accomplices and helped the Senior English Teacher back on his feet. He led Justin back to the room from where, earlier, he had stormed out like a Crusader-then returned to finish up the dark assignment.
A million thoughts danced crazily in Justin's head. The remaining hours before daybreak were unusually longer than he ever imagined. The live burial of a cow the threat against his life... everything seemed like fiction. Did that really happen on the school ground? Was that actually the director he thought he had always known? What was the reason for the bizarre action? Why did they have to bury a cow alive? What did they hope to achieve?
He had heard tales of eerie rituals carried out by some school owners and patrons of other businesses. Shortly after he concluded the National Youth Service Corps scheme, he and a colleague set up a neighbourhood school. The colleague was a teacher in a public school. Since Justin had yet to find an employment, they decided to start out small in the education sector. They rented a two-bedroom flat, and Fruitful Future School was born. The dream unfolded slowly but enrolment began to grow at the third session. They ensured fees were lower than what obtained in the area. They also tried to up their game, using marker boards at a time most of their competitors were hooked on chalkboards.
Justin also introduced a business trick he learnt at the school in Nashville, California State, where he observed his National Youths Service. Pupils were encouraged to teach their parents a topic when they returned home. The topic, of course, was among the ones they must have learnt during the school day. Parents particularly found it a novel idea. It reassured them that quality teaching was taking place at Fruitful Future. Thereafter, good news about the school spread. And before the end of the third session, the number of pupils had grown to over 70. The fees stayed minimal. Some parents defaulted, but Justin and his colleague saw a great future for the school.
Mr Ogo, a parent, visited him in his office one Monday morning. The father had recently paid the third and final instalment of his boy's fees. The school permitted such mode of payment. As Mr Ogo walked in, Justin, who was the HM (Headmaster), felt the man had something important to share with the management.
"I know you are trying hard. Many people are saying good things about your place," Mr Ogo said, as he muttered prayers for the HM and the school.
"Thank you," Justin responded.
"Yes. But there is something else you need to do."
"Thanks. Like adverts?"
But Mr. Ogo was not thinking about adverts. Justin could not believe the crux of the meeting: the parent had come, offering to perform a rite that would supernaturally flood the school with pupils in no time. What was the magic? He would sprinkle a few grains of corn at corners of the school, following which unprecedented enrolment would follow.
"And what would happen to the grains afterward?" Justin asked, not because he was keen about any ritual. He was simply inquisitive. "Nothing much. You need not mind them again. What is important is that the process will translate into abundant enrolment. Students will be trooping in from left and right," Mr. Ogo emphasised. The parent cum magician added that the money needed for the rite was not much: Just $200.
Justin and his colleague refused to buy in, even though the man persisted. Shortly afterwards, Mr. Ogo withdrew his child from the school. Bepo believed Fruitful Future would become great without ritualistic short cuts. He believed the same success would apply to many other good schools in the country. With experienced teachers who are well paid, an environment conducive to learning, and an inspiring curriculum, coupled with good school-parent relationship, any school would grow and prosper. He knew schools that were so committed; they even had Saturday lessons for students who cared to attend. He knew schools that engaged specialists to team up with their own teachers whenever Finale examinations drew near. He knew schools that motivated their teachers so well with inspiring health, housing, and retirement packages. There was even the well-reported case of Heroes Haven, which offered a two-bedroom apartment to any teacher that spent up to 15 years in the school! So, why should he and his colleague delve into any ritual to build up Fruitful Future?
Sadly, the school did not last as anticipated as no sooner access roads in the area collapsed. Apart from prolonged neglect by state and local governments, a giant water pipe ruptured, making a mess of the environment. As time went on, frustrated residents began to move away, leaving the place to only the helpless who could not afford Fruitful Future's tuition, as low as the fees were. Even more unfortunately, the headmaster and his colleague could not raise any substantial fund to relocate from the area. The lofty dream thus ended as they were forced to close down the facility, while Justin resumed at another school for his first professional teaching experience.
Ten years later, however, Justin sat one evening watching the news, when the anchorman reported of a Mr Ogo who murdered a civil servant: a woman who had consulted him over her infertility. Having been married for seven years without a child, the woman approached Ogo for a spiritual solution. Over the course of a year's 'treatment', the spiritual doctor received N9 million as fee from the woman, promising the charms he gave would make her pregnant. However, nothing happened.
Disappointed, the woman insisted on a refund. When the children manufacturer was not forthcoming, she threatened to have him arrested. As the narrative went, the spiritualist, one afternoon, invited the her to his house, on the pretext that he was ready to make a part payment in cash. At this point, the news anchor man warned that some viewers might find the upcoming images disturbing. The camera turned to the scene of the murder. It was a lush garden at the spiritual doctor's backyard. He drugged the client and then ushered her unto a chair, whith unknown to the woman, was deviously placed atop a grave-sized pit No sooner had she fallen in that two club-wielding accomplices appeared from their hideout and pounded her. She was still breathing when they sealed the pit
Justin thought the face of the suspect on TV struck a chord. Yes! He had seen that face before. But where? Just then, the cameraman zoomed point-blank on the alleged culprit. And there, flanked by armed policemen, with hands cuffed, looking like a fowl drenched in a rainstorm, was Mr. Ogo!
Justin was depressed, confused. He contemplated reporting the Beesway director to the police. But was he ready to face the impending battle? Firstly, he wondered if he could muster enough resources to mobilise the police and probably some other law enforcement agencies. Did he have the money to 'push' the case all the way? He knew he could be asked to pay for the sheet of paper on which he would write his statement at the police station. He knew he might be asked to fuel the police vehicle with which officers would go and arrest the suspects. Did he have enough financial strength to withstand the director in protracted court cases?
It occurred to him that he could contact relevant agencies or non-governmental organisations, like those involved in animal rights. But did they exist in United States? He was not sure. What about the Ministry of Health and Ministry of Education? Yea, that could be it. After all, the director was endangering the health of the pupils, Justin thought But was he ready to launch into the river? Was that the prime thing he wanted to do with his life? What if the big man became desperate and began to fight him in strange ways? By the way, what was the motive behind burying a cow alive in a school? Did he, Justin, know? Was he sure?
He was still reviewing these thoughts when his phone rang at 9:07am. He had neither taken his bath nor performed any chore, let alone resume work. The phone rang twice again: it was the director. "Good morning, Mr. Justin. You have not resumed at the office today. I asked the secretary to call you. Can you see me in the office, now?"
The call compounded Justin's dilemma. He never said he would come to see him. He didn't say he would not either. But what could he do? He knew it was time to leave Beesway. Thus, before he showed up at the director's office, about two hours later, Justin had moved his belongings, both in his room and at the staff room
The director apologised for the assault Justin suffered and explained that what the senior English teacher stumbled upon over the night was nothing dangerous or occultic. He said it was actually part of a special prayer for his late father, who had given him the land on which the school was built.
Justin did not answer him a word.