@isahstudio.com: Ibadan Grammar, 2026. The first time I was shot, I was ten years old. It was a Friday afternoon, and I was supposed to be at home by 1:30 p.m. Instead, I was standing in the middle of a crowd of schoolboys, watching them prepare for a battle over a football match. I attended Ibadan Grammar, and if you know anything about Fridays in those days, you would understand how badly I had messed up by not going home during lunch break. You see, the boys from Ibadan Grammar and Molete High School had a battle to settle. So, all roads led to Eyinin Grammar School, where boys between the ages of eleven and eighteen were prepared to scar themselves with machetes over who shifted the goalpost during last week’s match. The battle had already been announced across every 2go channel and Eskimi group chat. By morning, every boy in school had come prepared, carrying one form of juju or charm or another. My father was a traditional worshipper, but even I had never seen as much charm as I saw that day. As soon as we reached the battlefield, each school took its side while the girls cheered from the sidelines, shouting, “Elemi lo ma last!” I stayed at the back of the crowd, quietly praying for my life. A yellow pawpaw like me couldn’t afford a scar on my face. I didn’t even play soccer! But our leader, Aremu, who had led us through numerous battles, assured us that his father had prepared a new charm that would make our opponents either eat grass or bark like dogs. Somehow, that gave me confidence. Then one of the boys from the rival school brought out a pistol and started spraying bullets into the crowd. I thought this only happened in God’s own country. That day, we lost fifteen young boys. One of them was my best friend, Ayo and Aremu. I was shot in the leg. My name is Alakija Chibeke—a very strange combination of names, I know. But when this happened, I was only ten years old, a JSS1 student. #isah #isahvrexperience #isahvr

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Sunday 13 September 2026 05:24:16 GMT