The day alcohol showed me shégè (2)

Without cross-ventilation, the staffroom was a dimly illuminated coven where students were flogged together with their shadows. Painted blue upon crimson baseboard, the staffroom always wears a mean look, like a barracks on coup day. “Where did you fetch the òdaràn from?” Mr Olukitibi asked the senior students. “School farm, sir,” they chorused. “But I

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