We walked through the clearing that accommodated both Zik and Balewa house. Walking in the direction my father's car had disappeared from, north through a narrow clearing and busted out onto a makeshift motorway that separated the classroom blocks from the path leading to the hostels. We crossed over to the other side and then cut through a block of classrooms until we reached another makeshift motorway, this one was narrower with more red gravels. Ahead of us was a large field with a metal football goalpost on each extreme that were missing their netting. On the upper left side was a barn like structure with two huge smokestack discharging clouds of cooking smoke. Next to the barn was a very big hall. I could see uniformed boys and girls trooping in and out of this great hall. Some boys wore shorts like I was wearing while others wore trousers like Senior Emeka. Some girls where in blue pinafore draped over white blouses while some wore blue skirts underneath their white blouses.By the barn were giant cooking pots atop burning firewood stoves. Huge framed and heavily breasted women with dirty aprons moved in and out of the barn carrying smaller pots across to the next building.

There were a group of seniors standing at the foremost entrance of the huge hall, I could tell they were seniors not only because they looked older than me, but also because the boys among them wore trousers while the girls were in skirts. One particular girl caught my eye; she was short and stocky and wore thick-rimmed eyeglasses. For some reason she reminded me of miss Piggy of Sesame Street. Senior Emeka stopped to chat with them. I stood not too far away, but not close enough to be considered a part of the group. I was conscious of the fact that Senior Emeka was probably telling them something about me – he kept whispering to one particular boy in the group and they both stole glances toward my direction and kept on whispering. After a while they all engaged in short discussion after which the short stocky piggy girl walked toward me.

'My name is Bola', she said sharply. 'I'm the food prefect. Follow me.'

I glanced toward Senior Emeka again but noticed he was backing me and speaking with the other seniors, I was no longer his responsibility for now. I felt the need to cough as the choking smell of food being prepared with palm oil wafted through the air. Prefect Bola turned round and entered the great hall and I followed her.

Nothing prepared me for what I encountered. It was a long hall that had two layers. The part we entered through was on an elevated platform with series of huge dining tables on either side creating a clear section in the middle. I counted at least ten tables on either sides and each table had at least ten to fifteen occupants sitting round it on benches. On the tables they had lined their plates in rows with a space at the top of the table. Everyone on this platform wore trousers and I quickly guessed that this part of the hall was reserved for seniors. There was a lot of noise going on here, as it seemed everyone was talking all at once. There was a hush when I entered, but the hush only lasted long enough for them to look me over once, sigh and then continue with their noisy banter. Some looked at me far longer than the others and I soon felt myself burning with embarrassment and timidity. I hated being the centre of attraction and my newness made me the focus of interest.

I looked down the podium and my eyes were assaulted with what seemed to me a sea of a million more faces all sitting around tables similar to the ones the seniors occupied on the platform, with their plastic plates or funny looking aluminium plates. As I followed Prefect Bola down the five steps that descended to the lower level with the juniors, I couldn't help but feel frightfully intimidated by all the eyes that gathered in unanimity to ogle at me. As she walked a hushed silence of either respect or fear descended across the hall. She stopped by a table that was close to the middle of the hall and surveyed the occupants of the table fleetingly. Scrawled across the dark brown wooden table as if with a sharp object was the number '32'.

'You can join this table.' She said and casually turned round and walked away toward the direction we had come from.

I stood still for a moment longer as if I was shell-shocked. I tried smiling but my lips only quivered. I scanned the ugly table and felt superior that my plate would be the only glass plate among the collection of plastic and aluminium plates that were arranged on the table. I dropped my plate at the very last end of the table since that was the only place left and scanned for a place to sit. My fellow table members all seemed to glare at me and no one shifted to create a space for me. I counted six boys and eight girls in total. I finally squeezed myself between a scrawny looking boy who had veins protruding from his forehead and a neat looking girl who looked almost as uncomfortable as I was feeling.

'I'm sharing today.' One of the boys on my table declared. He was sitting at the top end of the table. I heard the girl who sat opposite sigh quietly and roll her eyes.

There was a loud bell. I looked up and saw that Prefect Bola was ringing a bell from the top of the podium. The ringing must have been a signal, a recognizable code of conduct. In a split second two persons from each table sprang up and dashed out of the hall. I noticed in a flash the girl at my table who had rolled her eyes moments ago spring up like a prized athlete along with the girl beside her and they sprinted out of the hall in such a hurry before the boy with aspirations for sharing our food could jump into action.

'See me see trouble!' The boy exclaimed to no one in particular. His eye was darting from one face in our group to another. I wisely avoided his stare. 'If they are smart, they better share the food wisely.'

He got some murmur of support from other boys on the table. All the while I was surprised and shocked at the whole drama being played out in front of me. I did not belong here. I told myself. I wanted to go back home. This place was not good enough for me in spite of the high regards my father had for this institution.

The two girls returned carrying two pots. Each girl carried a pot and a serving spoon. They stood in front of the table and waited just like the others who had gone outside were waiting as well.

What were they waiting for? I was tempted to ask but just then Prefect Bola rang the bell again bringing the entire hall to a deathly silence.

'Grace.' She said in a loud drawl and like programmed soldiers everyone in the hall except me was singing:

Some have food, but cannot eat

Some can eat, but have no food

I looked around me watching the celestial transformation that had suddenly taken place. They looked almost heavenly as they sang even though many of them sang off key. Some notes rose so high, while some voices cracked but kept on dragging the scratchy note nonetheless.

We have food

And we can eat

Thank you Lord for everything

As soon as the grace was over, the animal electricity returned. On my table, the girls dug deep into the pots with the serving spoon and began dishing out food on the plates. It was rice and stew. The rice looked swollen and dry and I noticed tiny brown bits mixed inside. The stew was very watery and smelt of palm oil and the pieces of meat being dished out looked no bigger than Maggi cubes.