I had passed the entrance examination, and Papa bought everything I would need in school, ticking off every item he purchased in the prospectus one by one until he was done. I packed Mama's favourite wrapper in my box. She told me to use it to cover myself whenever I felt cold. Papa left after ensuring I was comfortable in the hostel and checked into the school. He had made my bed for me and fetched water in my new yellow twenty five litre gallon, which was too big for me to carry. He also helped me carry my locker to my class. Papa showed me how to put a chain on my chair and locker so nobody would steal them. Then, back in the hostel, when he was about to leave, he advised me, "Beware of the friends you make here. Cut them off if you are not gaining anything academically from them." I held onto those words for a long time. I stood at the school gate and watched Papa go out of sight, feeling goose bumps all over me. I remembered Papa telling me to be a man in times of difficulty, so I wiped away the tears in my eyes before someone else saw me crying. I did not come here to cry.
I was just a JS1 boy trying to figure out how the school system works. My classmates were all making noise and running around as if they knew each other before. I could identify my classmates because we wore mufti clothes, which made us different from the students who wore uniforms. Some parents had already left by evening, and their kids were crying. I missed Papa but did not want anyone to see me crying or wailing. Instead, I covered myself with Mama's wrapper and cried. I didn't even realize when I fell asleep.
The sound of a bell woke me up, and I saw a man telling everyone in the hostel to go to the school hall. Later, I understood he was the auxiliary. He was short, bespectacled, and he shouted all the time. At the hall, the auxiliary made us sit in rows. A taller man who wore a strong perfume stood with him. He was tall and plump with a greying beard. The man had an imposing presence; he gestured emphatically as he talked. I learned that he was a priest and the Principal, too. It made more sense to me now.
Papa had done everything possible to get me into this boarding school because he wanted to raise me up properly as a Christian. I had cried my eyes out at home when he told me I would attend a boarding school, as I preferred a day school where all my friends from primary school would be attending.
After the Principal's address, we were each given a pamphlet containing the school's rules and regulations, the school anthem, the names of the school seminarians, functionaries, and their roles, along with other necessary information. We concluded the meeting by singing the first stanza of the school anthem. It was fascinating, made us feel like we belonged and helped us relax. I didn't bother going to the refectory that night because I had no appetite. I was thinking about Papa. That was how I spent my first of many days in boarding school.