It was time for siesta. There was supposed to be total silence in the school, but we were making noise when the seminarian living in our hostel came in. "Who are those making noise here?" he asked. I pretended to be asleep to avoid him flogging me. I was not the only one who pretended to be asleep because half of us in the hostel were chitchatting before he walked in and spoke, and then there was silence. I closed my eyes tightly and did not flinch. Without any hesitation, Akagum willingly came out and told the seminarian that he was among those making noise. It was the dumbest decision I had ever witnessed, and I wondered why he did not make use of his head.
Making noise during siesta is an offence and, without a doubt, attracts punishment. Perhaps his conscience could not handle a lie. I saw it as an innocent lie, a lie that did not even require saying anything. One must lie occasionally, though, as a survival strategy; I wondered if he did not know that. He was so-called because he does not take or beg from anyone or give to anyone. He was weird and kept to himself most of the time. We all lived together as JS1 boys and shared things like buckets, spoons, soap, clothes, plates, and all, but Akagum seemed to have everything he needed. He did not use anybody else's property. He would report anybody who touched his property to the seminarian as theft.
When Akagum came out and confessed, the seminarian looked at him and told him to wait in front of his room. Then he went inside the room and came out with a bowl of Golden Morn, gave it to him, released him, and returned to his room. We did not have the liberty of keeping provisions and beverages in school. The school authority never allowed anything edible except our daily meals. We had to stay hungry and long for refectory bells amidst our struggles.
Even though we just had lunch before the siesta, we were all hungry boys and would do anything to have that big bowl of Golden Morn just given to Akagum.
We all watched Akagum return to his bunk, relax, and slowly enjoy the cereal. We salivated. Of course, we would have begged Akagum for a spoon or two if it were any other boy, but good things happen to bad people, and we know he would not give, no matter how much we begged. It was just him and his principles, so we could only watch. I watched as I blamed myself. I wished I had come out; and completely forgot that I condemned Akagum's decision in my head earlier.
Two nights later, after night studies, we were at it again, making noise in the hostel. The seminarian came out of his room, and again, he asked in his coarse voice, "Who are those making noise here?" Immediately I heard his voice, I rushed out with fifteen other boys. We all wanted the bowl of Golden Morn. The seminarian counted us and went inside his room. The way he counted us, he made us call out our numbers by pointing at each of us. I was number six; I always remembered. We were all happy and anticipating our Golden Morn when the seminarian came out with big canes. My earliest memory of the feeling of disappointment was that very day. It was at that moment I realized we were deceived.
Some boys dodged and meandered back to their bunks, pretending they were not counted when they saw the canes. I could not hide because I was in front. The seminarian smiled and said, "My boys, you are numbered. If you cannot identify the person after your number, you will get his punishment, too. If you are called out, you will receive double the punishment." That way, he clarified that snitching was not bad, and nobody wanted a double ration of that 'Golden Morn'. We called out those who went inside immediately.
That night, fifteen of us received seven lashes of the cane each on our buttocks while touching our toes, for making noise in the hostel. The worst part is that we had already changed into our nightwear, so our buttocks were bare. I could not sit properly for two weeks. I saw waves on my buttocks whenever I took my bath. My friend Kanda was already asleep but I woke him up when the seminarian asked for those making noise, and he came out with me. Of course, he received his share of the 'Golden Morn' and blamed me for everything. Ungrateful boy! God knows my kind-heartedness will not kill me, as I was only trying to do him a favour.
Another painful part of the Golden Morn incident is that Akagum did not come out the second time; he was fast asleep. We did not even ask ourselves how the seminarian could give us sixteen bowls of Golden Morn. The Golden Morn incident was one of the situations that changed my perception about making decisions. I learned the importance of being earnest from the incident.