CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE: MY SUNDAY! (2)
As usual, the bell rang for breakfast, echoing across the corridors of both the senior and junior school dining halls. The familiar clanging seemed almost musical in its own way, signalling the start of the day's first feast. Immediately, the air was filled with the sweet, comforting aroma of freshly baked bread, a scent that seemed to draw students from every corner of the dormitory like a magnet. Bread, without a doubt, was the most popular staple among the students. I couldn't help but notice the disparity in food preferences; while some delicacies such as beans, eba, pap, or moi moi were consumed by only a handful of students, foods like jollof rice, spaghetti, yam porridge, semo, and of course, bread, had nearly every student lining up to take their portion.
I carefully collected my bread and egg, my mind already imagining the taste of the fried egg I had secured from the matron's shop. Then, I poured myself some tea, the steam rising gently as I brought it close, inhaling the comforting aroma before taking a sip.
"Are you planning to eat your bread and egg here?" Morayo asked curiously, eyeing me with raised eyebrows.
"Yes… why are you asking that?" I replied, my curiosity piqued by her question.
"I thought maybe you would want to eat it in the hostel compound with Victoria and me," she explained, a slight smile playing on her lips.
I looked around and noticed a few students leaving the dining room with their food in hand. Some carried water bottles to pour their tea into, while others had brought their own cups. This was my first time seeing students take their meals outside the dining hall.
"I didn't know food was allowed outside the dining room," I remarked, astonished.
"On weekends, it is," Morayo replied, noting my surprised expression. "Teachers aren't around to scold or punish anyone, so students freely carry their food out."
"Oh… so, are we allowed to take cups as well?" I asked as I rose from my bench.
"Nah, the cups aren't ours unless it's your personal one. Otherwise, we leave them in the dining hall," she explained. I noticed both Victoria and Morayo weren't carrying any cups, just the food itself.
I didn't want my tea to go to waste, so I resolved to finish it before joining them outside. I took a careful sip, but the hot liquid burned my tongue slightly.
"I can see it's difficult for you to drink," Victoria observed, her eyes scanning my expression as I winced.
I nodded sheepishly, smiling. "I can't leave it like this. I love the smell, and I bet it tastes even better," I said.
"Of course! The tea is sweet and rich; you'll want to drink more," she encouraged, hyping up the tea like a cheerleader.
"Wow!" I exclaimed, taking another careful sip.
Victoria then offered, "Let me help you make your tea easier to drink."
"No, I can manage," I said, shifting my cup away slightly.
"Sorry, mind my English jare," she clarified, her tone patient. "I meant I can help you make your tea less hot, so it's easier to drink."
"Oh… but how?" I asked, intrigued.
She fetched another clean cup from the basket and returned, gesturing for me to hand over my tea. Confused but trusting her, I passed it to her. She poured the tea back and forth between the two cups repeatedly. I watched, unsure if this was some science experiment or just a neat trick.
"Okay, drink it now," she said, passing me the cup.
I took a tentative sip—and wow! It was warm, perfectly drinkable. "Nice! Who taught you this?" I asked, impressed.
"Everyone does it when they want their tea warm but not scorching," she replied, putting the extra cup back in the basket.
I beamed. "Wow, I've already learned something new today!"
Victoria smiled, clearly pleased with my enthusiasm. Within a minute or so, I had finished my tea.
We left the dining hall together and headed toward the hostel to eat our breakfast. The courtyard was bustling with students eating their bread in various ways. Some combined it with boiled eggs, others with fried eggs, and a few even had beverages poured inside the bread, creating an unusual but amusing breakfast style.
We found a bench and settled down. Morayo opened her bread in half, placed the fried egg inside, pressed it together, and bit into it with apparent delight. Victoria mirrored her actions, her technique neat and precise. I watched them in fascination. "So, bread and fried egg are eaten together?" I thought to myself, having always believed they were meant to be eaten separately.
"It's so enjoyable eating your bread this way. It's like a sandwich but with a different taste," Morayo said, closing her eyes to savour each bite.
"Oh… okay," I murmured, attempting to cut my bread in half, but it split awkwardly.
"You can still do it!" Victoria encouraged, watching me carefully. I mimicked their technique, placing the fried egg inside my bread and pressing it together. Tentatively, I took my first bite. The flavours exploded in my mouth—soft bread, rich yolk, and the slight saltiness of the egg. Yum! Without hesitation, I took another bite.
"You must really love it more than we do," Victoria commented with a smile, taking another bite herself.
I smiled back, thoroughly enjoying every delicate bite of my "smashed bread and fried egg." It was delightful, comforting, and satisfying in a way I had never anticipated.
"'Smashed bread and fried egg,' you are the best!" Morayo repeated enthusiastically, making me laugh. I now understood why she kept raving about it.
Maybe, I thought, my boarding school life wouldn't be that bad after all. Little discoveries like this—new ways to enjoy food, simple tricks to make tea drinkable, and sharing laughs with friends—made the routines bearable, even enjoyable. I could see myself slowly adapting to this new environment, finding joy in the mundane, and even learning to appreciate the little cultural nuances of boarding school life.
As I polished off the last bite, the warm sun hitting my back and the sounds of the school waking up around me, I felt a strange sense of contentment. The day was young, and despite the strict rules, the early morning routines, and the constant need to be alert, there was a sense of freedom in these small Saturday-like Sunday moments.
For the first time, I truly understood why students carried their food outside on weekends, why they savoured fried eggs in bread, and why they looked forward to mornings like this. It was the simple pleasures, the camaraderie, and the subtle independence that made it all worth it.
I couldn't help but glance at Victoria and Morayo, feeling grateful for their patience, guidance, and humor. Today, I thought, would be a day to remember—not because of any grand events, but because of these small, perfect moments of everyday life.
Yes, I had discovered the magic of "smashed bread and fried egg," but more importantly, I had discovered the magic of adaptation, friendship, and finding joy in unexpected places. Maybe, just maybe, this boarding school life had a sweetness of its own—not unlike the chocolate my mother had brought, not unlike the tea that Victoria had helped me tame, and not unlike the golden yolk pressed into warm bread.
For the first time, I felt ready to embrace it all.