Triumph of Innocence

By Oselumhense Anetor

Innocence is always on the verge of being lost, particularly amongst growing teens. It is even more so within developing countries of the world. Triumph of Innocence examines the challenges faced by a Nigerian child within a same-sexed boarding school in Nigeria.

This intriguing, striking and strongly moral book is a beautiful testimony of how much instilling values at the foundational stages of a childs life can help him weather the storms life throws at him. Ehis in this book grows up fast in wisdom and experience, beating the odds of a corrupt society to show that innocence of heart does not consist in just fighting evil, but also remaining true to ones core values. I recommend this literary piece for all who are besieged with internal struggles between good and evil inclinations at various moments in their lives. The message of this book inspires hope, because at the end, true innocence, affirmed by a good moral foundation, always triumphs. - Rev. Fr. Oji Robert

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Africa
• Release date: Apr 24, 2015
• ISBN: 9781482804812

Oselumhense Anetor

Oselumhense Anetor, a priest of the Catholic Diocese of Uromi, Edo State, Nigeria, was ordained on the 11th of August 2012. He obtained his Bachelor’s Degrees in Philosophy and Theology from the Seminary of Saints Peter and Paul, Bodija, Ibadan, an affiliate of the University of Ibadan and the Pontifical Urban University, Rome. He is currently a student of Pastoral Communications at the Catholic Institute of West Africa (CIWA), Port Harcourt, Nigeria. Rev. Fr Anetor lives in Nigeria; Triumph of Innocence is his first novel.

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Copyright © 2015 by Oselumhense Anetor.

ISBN:      Hardcover      978-1-4828-0483-6

                Softcover        978-1-4828-0482-9

                eBook             978-1-4828-0481-2

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CONTENTS

Prologue

Chapter 1 Expectations

Chapter 2 St Kizito National High School

Chapter 3 First Day at School

Chapter 4 Welcome Party

Chapter 5 A Day to Remember

Chapter 6 Violence

Chapter 7 Bounds Breaking

Chapter 8 Expulsion Galore

Chapter 9 Secrets

Chapter 10 Moral Lessons

Chapter 11 Redemption

Chapter 12 All That Matters

Epilogue

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I most sincerely thank God Almighty for bringing this human endeavour to a successful completion. His graces were indeed (and continue to be) sufficient for me. My unreserved thanks go to my former bishop, Most Rev. Augustine Obiora Akubueze, and his successor, Most Rev. Donatus Ogun, OSA. I remain eternally grateful to my erstwhile administrator, Very Rev. Fr. John Akhidue, and the good clergy and laity of Uromi Diocese. I dare not go on without specially thanking my erstwhile parish priests Rev. Fr. Francis Omonlumhen and Very Rev. Fr. Dr Cosmas Ojemen, the incumbent one Very Rev. Fr. Dr Peter Egbe, and his assistants, Rev. Frs. Leonard Eigbokhan, Jacob-Neri Ebhota, and Earnest Aburime. I also recall in a very singular way, my one-time home parish priest, Fr. Francis Obaweiki, and the present one, Rev. Fr. Dr Joseph Ehimhen. Worthy of mention are my dear brothers and friends, Rev. Frs. Alphonsus Ahiaegbe, Francis Agbenboaye, Augustine Akhogba, Andrew Akhogba, Thomas Orukpe, Victor Ibhawoh, Lawrence Ibhatiri, and Francis Ealefoh, and my dear sister, Christie Isi Okoebor, RNDM.

Rev. Fr. Dr Theophilus Itaman continues to be my mentor, father, and friend. Thank you so much for graciously accepting to write the foreword to this book. Your time means a lot to me. Rev. Fr. Dr Paul Abhulimen is not left out of these eulogies. How can I forget my greatest source of encouragement during the moments when this work was still being conceived in the cradle? My big brother, Rev. Fr. Oji Robert, God bless your ministry. Rev. Fr. Dr Michael Erohubie continues to be one big inspiration to me. Thanks for finding time to read through the initial drafts and the loads of encouragement thereafter.

My particular gratitude goes to my bosom friend and classmate, Fr. Stanislaus Ubaka (Dede Nna). Your literary prowess knows no bounds. I also appreciate my colleagues, Frs. John Ehichioya, Churchill Odekhian, Kennedy Okoloise, and Paschal Omono. Special mention goes to Rev. Frs. Paschal Omofuma (Delabronski), Stephen Ogbeiye, Emmanuel Umahonlen, Nicholas Oboh, Moses Oboh, Mario Aigbefo, Kelvin Ibhaze, Damian Esene, Ambrose Obaze, Aloysious Oboh, and Peter Ebalunegbeifo. May God bless you all abundantly.

I appreciate the friends and colleagues I came across at different phases of my life in St Paul’s Minor Seminary, Benin-City; Lumen Christi International High School, Uromi; Presentation National High School, Benin City; Sts. Peter and Paul, and All Saints Major Seminaries, Ibadan and Ekpoma, respectively; Sts. Patrick, Raphael, and Luke chaplaincies, AAU, Ekpoma; St Joseph Catholic Church, Igueben, and Catholic Institute of West Africa, Port Harcourt. These environments and the wonderful persons therein shaped the many ideas in this book.

I reserve a special THANK YOU to my dad and my stepmother, Sir and Lady B. U. Anetor, KSM, while continually praying for the repose of the soul of my dearest mother, Felicitas Anetor (nee Iyoha). My precious siblings, Belinda, Joyce, and Hilary, are not left out of these appreciations. You have been with me from the very beginning. God bless you for believing so much in me. My singular appreciation goes to my aunt, Mrs Celina Eghator, for all she has been to me; to all my other relatives and friends; and to all those who positively shaped my life in one way or the other throughout these years and, most especially, during the course of my writing this work. Ibha rebhe obulu o!

Lastly, I wish to thank the publishing team at Partridge Publishing Africa (A Penguin Random House Company). Your acute sense of ‘dedicatedness’ and commitment got on my nerves many times. Thanks for being so professional.

FOREWORD

T his publication, Triumph of Innocence , is a true replica of William Blake’s attitude to life as depicted in his collection of poems entitled The Songs of Innocence and Experience (1959–1827):

Little lamb dost thou know who made thee?

Little lamb I’ll tell thee

He is called by thy name,

For he calls himself a lamb,

He is meek and he is mild,

He became a little child;

I am a child and thou a lamb,

We are called by his name.

The Lamb (1789)

Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright

When the stars threw down the spears

And watered heaven with their tears,

Did he smile his work to see?

Did he who made the lamb make thee?

The Tiger (1894)

It portrays the duality of life: the inevitable and continuous fight/struggle between innocence and evil, light and darkness, and virtues and vices in our society.

Triumph of Innocence unveils the daily life of students in boarding schools as a microcosm of the larger society, Nigeria – the world where the innocent are bullied, maltreated, and used by the strong, wild, and affluent. Immorality continually strives against the moral. Ehizele Abhulimhen, the lamb, represents all the innocent people who are the victims of evil deeds in the society, while Obeahon Olumese, and Ilenloa Asekhame, the Tiger, represent evil-doers in the society.

Like Ola Olumide, Alfred Mclaren, and Arinze Amadi, who later turned from their evil ways respectively to understand the true joy that flows from pure love and friendship, we need also to retreat to our innermost selves to ask ourselves if we are living the kind of life that befits our Christian calling and as true members of our society.

In conclusion, we are in the world and not of the world (John 17: 14). And since Jesus has conquered the world for us, His little children, we should rejoice and be rest assured that innocence will triumph over vices (John 4: 4). As you journey through the pages of this book, rest assured that your innocence will triumph if only you do not give in on the struggle. This book is a must-read.

Rev. Fr. (Dr) Theophilus Itaman

Principal, Lumen Christi International High School, Uromi

October, 2014

DEDICATION

In loving memory of my mum, and baby Callistus. The candles of your lives burned out too soon.

PROLOGUE

S am Abhulimhen heard the sound again – like the muffled cry of one in severe pain. He opened his eyes and rubbed off the sleep with the back of his left palm. Then he sat up on the soft king-sized bed, looking down on the rumpled bundle beside him. The rays from the bedside lamp illuminated the room as soon as Sam hit the switch.

There she was. Anne – the source of his troubles. Sam knew his world would end the moment the woman beside him stopped nagging him. What was marriage, if not the endurance of sweet torture? His fuzzy brain tried to take it all in.

Sam wondered at how Anne had turned him into her stooge the moment she became pregnant. Now she expected him to grant all her wishes as though he were a machine. He did not want to admit it, but he sometimes enjoyed all the attention.

He watched his wife sit up on the bed. Her hands gripped the sheets as if her life depended on that one silent gesture. There was intense pain in her eyes, which had almost a bland look in them.

‘The travails of pregnancy,’ Sam muttered under his breath. He moved closer to her and felt the protruded stomach; the outer skin was hard and stretched almost to breaking point.

Anne winced as soon as she felt his touch.

‘With the way you’re going, I am not even able to interpret those groans as pleasure or pain,’ Sam said, trying to hold her gaze with his.

Anne had to smile then. Her husband always found a way to make her feel at ease with his attempts at humour. She knew his patience had to be wearing thin – now more than ever before. She also knew that he understood; he always did. Sam was the most patient and understanding man she knew.

‘And what could be pleasurable to me now, given my condition?’ Anne asked, her voice a tiny whisper.

‘Hum! Don’t say that, oh! You think all expectant mothers are graced with ever-doting fathers at their disposal? I mean, it is not that I am complaining or anything, but even patient fathers like me have a limit, don’t you think? So the pleasure in all this is that you have me.’

‘As if that does anything to ease the pain,’ Anne mused.

‘C’mon, girl, you really don’t mean that, do you? You know I would do anything to take this burden from you, but some things are just feminine. Nothing I can do about that!’ Sam looked up at the ceiling. ‘Oh! If only I had a womb . . .’

Anne said something, but the words were swallowed up within intermittent moans. She held on to Sam as though to draw strength from him. Don’t just sit there. Do Something. Her eyes screamed at him.

‘I wish I had more practice,’ Sam mumbled.

‘What?’ Anne found her voice again.

You were not supposed to hear that, dear. ‘I said you should practise more often. You know, exercises and other stuff like that.’ Sam could not believe he had just said that. It sounded so lame.

‘Practice? What are you saying?’

Sam heaved a sigh.

‘I mean, I know this is your ninth month, but the child is not due till two weeks from now. Wasn’t that what the doctor said the last time?’

Anne nodded.

‘So we could both start preparing for the arrival of our boy. Eh, that’s what I meant.’

It just then occurred to Sam that the baby might be on the way already. So this was it? He jumped out of the bed in a flash and ran out the bedroom door.

Anne tried to move but decided against it. The pain was too intense. She would just sit here until her man got back from wherever he had gone.

‘So I guess you’re in labour, right?’ Sam asked as soon as he came back to the room. ‘Right?’

‘No, I am not.’

‘You are not?’ Sam missed the irony.

‘Why didn’t you ask before running after your car keys in the first place?’

Sam attempted to hide the keys behind his back.

This woman is too sharp sef.

Anne made a face as she struggled out of the bed. However, that was as far as she went.

Her husband caught her in time before she toppled back on to the bed.

Anne caught her breath. ‘Oh my God!’ Her arms darted straight at Sam in the process.

Oh my God!

Her screams pierced the stillness of the night.

***

The next few minutes rushed past like a bolt of lightning. Sam could not fathom how he got his wife to the garage. The next minute, he was helping her on to the back seat of their car. Then he ran around to the driver’s side and sped off into the night, almost brushing Musa into the flowerbeds nearby, as he made frantic efforts to open the gates.

The red twinkling taillights of the Mercedes Benz 230 were all that convinced the lanky Hausa man that this was not one of his accustomed nocturnal dreams.

***

So many hours later, somewhere in a brightly lit hospital ward, a plump newborn baby lay in its mother’s arms, oblivious to all else around him. Both parents continued to stare at the child in utter amazement. For the second time that morning, the baby rolled its eyes and smiled – all innocence.

CHAPTER 1

Expectations

E hizele Abhulimhen stared long and hard at his prospectus. He could not make much sense of the items listed on the single sheet of paper. He stood up and pushed back the dining room chair he had been sitting on. Then he stretched from side to side. The growl inside his stomach struck a symphony he understood very well. His left palm involuntarily patted his tummy. He knew his mum would help him out. Looking again at the prospectus, he decided to abandon it in the meantime.

Time to go make some noise! The boy patted his hair and rushed off to the kitchen. As an afterthought, he came back, took the prospectus from the table, and rushed off again with it.

‘Mum, come take a look at this!’ Ehis called out on getting to the kitchen door.

Anne looked up from her cooking. A dimple appeared on her right cheek as she smiled at her son.

‘Stop mesmerising me with those smiles, Mum. I need you to resolve a little qualm. Would that be too much to ask?’

What was the boy reading these days? Anne wondered. Where did he even learn the word mesmerising?

‘Hum! That depends on how little your little problem is, darling. As you can see, I am still in here.’ She made a sweeping gesture with her arms all around the spacious kitchen.

‘Wow, Mum! What is that aroma? Chicken, beef, or turkey?’ Ehis walked straight to the gas cooker in one corner of the kitchen with his nose raised. He sniffed now in one direction and then the other.

‘Since when did aromas become your problem, dear? How so like your dad you look, sniffing around like that in a kitchen where you have no business in the first place!’

‘Oh, Mum, you know I get easily distracted by things–’ Ehis let his right hand touch the pot that seemed to be the source of the spicy aromas ‘–like this.’ He finished.

‘And what about your little qualm now?’ Anne cut in, knocking his hand off the pot in the process.

‘Ouch! Mum. Do you always have to do that?’

‘It is called maternal discipline, dear. Get used to it.’

The boy was still a child. He had celebrated his ninth birthday just the week before. He was however a lot smarter than most children his age were. He had remarkable eyes – a perfect combination of his parents’. One look at those eyes when the boy was born and Anne knew she was committed forever.

Anne regarded the boy again. How he had grown! An oval-shaped face, a fine narrow nose, ending in a small mouth, and dark, straight hair combined to give him a feminine appearance. The fact that he got most of his external features from her heightened the resemblance between them. This pleased her immensely. Ehis was indeed a beautiful boy.

‘Mum! Concentrate,’ Ehis said. ‘Why do you always look at me like that?’

‘Like how?’ Anne was baffled.

‘You know, as though it were the first time you ever saw me?’

Anne said nothing. She put down the pots that had been on the gas and put out the cooker after that.

‘Am I that special?’ The boy smiled, and tiny dimples surfaced on both cheeks.

‘You wish, darling,’ she replied with feigned seriousness. ‘Your dad is obviously spoiling you.’

She was not going to admit to his son that he was the next best thing that ever happened to her after his father. Ehis could brag all he wished; she would not be influenced into doing anything for him today, she hoped.

‘It’s my prospectus, Mum,’ Ehis said, finally getting to the point. He stretched out the paper in his mum’s face for emphasis.

Anne took a few steps back. ‘Do you have to shove it in my face like that?’ She took the paper from his hand and stared at it.

‘Some items there are so unfamiliar. I am not sure they can be purchased here in Uromi, oh,’ the boy pouted.

‘Look, my dear, you don’t always have to sound as if nothing good can be bought here in Uromi. Don’t worry, we’ll deal with this. But not here in the kitchen, okay?’

‘Okay.’ Ehis cast one last look at the pots. ‘Aren’t we supposed to eat that?’

‘Not yet, my dear. You will, soon enough. We have to wait for Daddy to get back, remember?’

‘Uh-uh, nope! Why must we wait sef?’ The boy rubbed his chin. ‘So that we can eat together as a family, right?’

‘Right!’ Anne turned the boy around and led him out the kitchen door. She could still recall the delight with which he had received news of his admission into St Kizito National High School. She had had her doubts when the boy opted to go that far from home, but she had relented when it was very clear that Sam was in support of his decision. She led her son past the dining room, through the exquisite corridor adjacent to the staircase, to her room upstairs.

Ehis let his mum’s hand guide him. He wondered why she always did that, though. He was certainly not going to get lost inside their house. As soon as they got to her bedroom, Ehis ran forward and took a giant dive into the huge bed at the middle.

His mother followed at a more reasonable pace and sat on the bed. The boy, having rumpled the bed sheets, looked up with an apologetic gaze and fell flat across his mother, head resting on her lap.

‘Don’t say, Mum, I know. It was so tempting I couldn’t resist. I swear.’

Anne was silent. She cradled his head on her lap and ruffled his hair. ‘Don’t worry about the items on the prospectus, darling. Let Mummy take care of such things. Your only responsibility now is to ensure you pack all the things we will get you.’

‘Alone? Won’t you help me pack?’ Ehis was alarmed.

‘Of course I will. I am just concerned about you not forgetting anything at the end of the