Chapter 2 - Day 1

It was bright and early when we arrived there on the morning of January 11^th 1998. We were the only vehicle on the premises. We drove down a makeshift “road” and parked in front of the pair of identical buildings which we now knew housed the classrooms – the same place where i wrote my entrance test a few weeks ago. As we parked, a nun emerged from the building to greet us. In Nigeria, the word “nun” was not part of our every day vocabulary. We always referred to them as “Reverend Sisters” and to priests as “Reverent Fathers” – perhaps because that showed more regard for their “reverence” than the monosyllabic alternatives

At this point, I should mention that to protect their identities, I will be changing the names of the people involved in this story. To the people with whom I shared this journey, the characters will by crystal clear. I am telling this story from my perspective and will try my best not to hurt feelings and burn bridges as i do so. Having said that, this happens to be my blog, so I will tell my story the way I want. I welcome any parties who feel they have been misrepresented by my narration of events to write their own blog and reveal their own side of the story.

Her name was Anne. Reverend Sister Anne Taylor. She was from the congregation of the Sisters of St Louis. This congregation of nuns did not wear the traditional habit with the box-like veil and the 20 inch rosary hanging from their waists. They were more “modern” – so to speak. They wore regular, loose-fitting formal clothes in any combination of blue and white, veils with no cardboard embedding, no pants (skirts or dresses only), no make-up and no jewellery.

That day she was wearing a navy blue skirt and short sleeved, collared blouse with white trim. Her veil was also navy blue with white trim. She had on a pair of black, round toe, two inch heels. As I think back to this outfit on the first day I met Anne, I realize that pretty much everything I remember her wearing was the same potato sac-ish combination of navy blue and white. I only saw her in clothes that were remotely feminine in the evenings. In my almost six years there, I saw Anne look “sexy” ONCE. I would like to describe this “sexy” outfit to you but I have to leave it until the right time in the story. I am trying not to get ahead of myself here.