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The nights got closer and the mornings faster; I always felt I didn't get enough sleep no matter how early I went to bed the previous night. I blamed it on the exhaustion from the swings and the screams as we chased each other through the grass during break, and from chatting loudly with our friends, which burned more calories than we consumed; hence the exhaustion.
We also had to review what we were taught in school with my dad when we came home, including our homework, shortly before dinner so we could take our baths and go to bed on time.
Although, as kids, we would stay up at night, especially with my siblings, gossiping about who hurt us and who did us right until one person fell asleep.
Therefore, waking up in the morning was like going to a battlefield which my mom always won, but she did it in the swiftest way, either by gently tapping me or begging me with so much encouragement and affirmation.
I think my mom could categorize her children based on who would wake up immediately and who would throw a fist, so she tended to wake those ones last. We were four, and I was always the second to last person to get up before my last-born, which gave me more sleep as the others took their baths and began preparing.
This was when we were little kids in primary school, when we knew nothing but the joy of going to meet our friends and showing off our new pencils in excitement.
Slowly, we kept advancing and growing older. My sister finished primary school and got admission into a boarding school. A day before she left, she was so sad and barely spoke to us properly; I asked her what was wrong, and she replied that she was scared about the uncertainty that lay ahead and that we wouldn't be together to face it. I tried to make her feel better, and I doubt I did a good job.
This was the first time our house felt lighter, as, aside from my dad travelling often, the rest of us never got a chance to leave each other; we were not permitted to go for sleepovers or holidays anywhere.
For the first few days, we kept calling her name by mistake or including her when dishing out food, until we slowly remembered she was not around. My late-night gist was canceled, and I couldn't stop looking forward to the holidays, when she would give me details about her life over there.
I often spent time wondering how life was treating her, whether it was easier or horrible there, and hoped to join her soon.
I was in primary 4 when she left me, and I wished the days could fast-forward so I would join her there.
The holidays came faster, and my sister returned home with memories I didn't intend to partake in. She spoke about how early they got up immediately after the morning bell so they could meet up with breakfast, and then the lessons thereafter; how there were no swings and breaks were very boring, with them just hanging out in class; how the food could not compare to my mom's delicacies at home; and how the hostels were uncomfortable, and people from different places had come together, and it was no fun compared to primary school.
This little detail sent fear down my spine, especially the part where I would have to wake up on time. I started living in fear of the future before I got to actually live it.
The days seemed to pass faster since my sister broke the horrible news about her school. I got to primary 6 and sat for the common entrance. I hoped I wouldn't do well so I would be a day student, but things didn't go as planned, as my name was listed among those who had gained admission.
The fear of the new environment began to haunt me; my mom tried to talk me out of it with a reminder that I had my sister and wasn't totally alone.
The day of departure came. I had my box packed with the essential and mandatory items the school had requested. I got checked in with my parents by my side, and my sister was already in school, as the new students were asked to return on a different date from the old students.
I came in really early, so I got checked in on time, and a bed space was allocated to me. The day wasn't as bad as I expected, aside from the stress of packing my things to the hostel, arranging them, and the sad goodbyes to my parents.
Since I checked in really early, I just lay on my bed for the rest of the day, waiting for other new students. Night came; going for food was optional as we did not know the way to the dining hall, so I slept as early as I could so as to wake up on time.
The next morning scared me for life; I was woken by the sound of a hanger being banged loudly against the wall lockers. With sleepy eyes, I asked for the time; my corner mate said it was four a.m. "4 a.m.?" I repeated.
I asked a thousand reasons why, and I couldn't feel better; I instantly remembered how much my mom favoured me on bathing last and how I got to sleep untill past 6am at home, and how gently she woke me up.
I immediately started missing home.
I was barely allowed to go through my emotions properly when the prefect screamed that we should go take our baths. I watched as everyone rushed towards the bathroom, and I had another meltdown after finding out where we were asked to bathe. Throughout the day, we were just moving from one point to another in a hurry, which left me extremely exhausted, plus the fact that I hadn't gotten proper sleep.
Secondary school life is an experience I don't hope to relive.