THE BOY WITHOUT A PEN BY ANDREW SUNENNA KOPLAMA

So far I’ve spent fourteen years of my life in school. Three years in nursery, five years in primary and six in secondary school. Now, I’m out of those basic schooling structures, in a short while the train will continue moving until my memory begins to betray me. So many people believe that going to school is the best thing that can happen to a person. As much as I want to believe that I also think that going to school is the worst thing that ever happened to me, all through the fourteen precious years I’ve simply been schooling to get a SSCE result.

With all due respect and credit to my teachers who have tirelessly attempt to make me a great person. My parents also did their best, that was obvious and I was also “kind” enough to acknowledge that, so if it’s not so necessary or am at the point of being flogged or chased out of school, I don’t bother them about the fees. That I believe is the reason why most of the time I don’t usually have pen. It really sounds funny, I was not the pen buying type, I was more of a pen borrowing type. So every day in class after the teacher has taught and is about writing, I just stand up and shout “two biro” “two biro”, then a Good Samaritan will arise and cheerfully and with abundance of grace give me a pen.

If the Good Samaritan is very smart, he or she might get their pen back but he or she is average, the pen automatically becomes mine. Aside from doing assignment, copying notes, writing test, writing exams and writing short love letters, the pen have no other use.

The next day when it’s about time to write, with seriousness I’ll search my pocket for pen as if there was one, I and I knew that there was no pen but just to fool myself and any other person carelessly observing. Again, I’ll stand up and shout the usual slogan “Two biro” “Two biro”. Another Good Samaritan (sometimes the same one) will save me from the furious teacher who is already making moves to whip or send me out of the class. After saving me, I will still not be able to account for the pen. Honestly, I still do not know what usually happen to those pens. I don’t know whether they were stolen or they disappeared.

But I should have known that the pen is the most powerful thing in the world. The pen can change the world. Get a pen, write your thoughts and ideas, write the vision down, and you’ll be surprised at how the world will not recover from the impact of that tiny pen. Horace said “the pen is the tongue of the mind”. I don’t know how committed I am going to be to this but for the first time I’ve gotten a companion that perfectly understands me. “To hold a pen is to be at war”. To be at war with your tongue, to destroy the worlds act of single mindedness, to express yourself, to give your mind a chance to speak, to feel better.

The pen is the greatest tool! I won’t lose my pen again.