THE NEW WORLD

On Sunday, my Baby Sister took her first steps into the real world… she went to Boarding School.

The weekend I went home and found a newly purchased box packed with the paraphernalia of a first-timer at boarding school, I couldn’t hide my shock. Along came flashes of her at 1 month and still a novelty to us all, then at 5 months as a baby whose mother confidently left her in our care all day. I remembered her first birthday and many other events scattered across the years…all the times she sneaked into my bed ‘cos she has never been able to keep her wits about herself in the dark. You see, in my eyes, she has almost always been that baby (never mind that she now stands almost as tall as me and keeps comparing our heights in anticipation of the day when the difference would even out or even worse) but now I was being forced to admit…”Eruhwvun* is now a big girl oh!”. To work the edge off my surprise, I pained horror stories about how her sojourn into the real world would begin. I was very willing to put my money on the prediction that she’d lose all her clothes in one month and be forced to return home naked (To tell the truth, I didn’t fare much better myself 14 years ago).

When I went off to school those many years ago, I didn’t have the benefit of an elder one to give me tips on the dos-n-don’ts of the new world I was making a foray into. My parents tried their best to make up for this shortage, but I was selective about what I took in and what sailed over my head. They must have embarked on their own sojourns at least 20 years ago?! Surely, they couldn’t know half the things I needed to hear about. I hope my Baby sister didn’t think these same thoughts as I eased her into a chair on the night before the D-day to dish out the words of wisdom of the loving elder sister. I just wanted to be sure she was ready for the world out there (like that is ever possible). I even made her show me how she intended to fold her clothes when she got to school ‘cos it occurred to me that I had never seen her fold her clothes and put them away.

I had, in a moment of excitement, made one of those promises that we make to loved ones while lacking the ability to make good on them. I assured her that I would go with her to school… (That’s the easy part) and stay with her a week (aha!) to ease her transition from home-life to boarding-house-life. So the night before she asks “Aunty Nora 'she' you said you’d follow me?” even as something in her tells her my promise is a castle built in thin air.

I made good on the easy part; I went with her to confront this novelty…this place where she’d be held pseudo-prisoner for the next 6 years of her life. The goodbyes got a little teary as she clung to me. But this was short-lived as one of my other sisters (have you lost count yet or are you still trying to figure out how many children we are?) warned that tears would make her fall out of favour with her new school boys. As we flocked off without her, I wondered if anyone of our party was feeling the blend of guilt and apprehension that was tumbling in my stomach. But it faded as soon as I convinced myself that it was a rite of passage. So I turned my attention once again to predictions. She’s going to get a bit giddy with her new found freedom, I foretold. But in about two days, her bubble would burst, and she’d be homesick. The time of this prediction was rough Sunday, 2:30pm.

Thank God I didn’t make any bets on this particular prediction, confident and tempted as I was ‘cos by 4:40pm same evening a wailing Erhuwvun called home, begging “Mommy please come and take me home…I don’t want to be a Boarder anymore, I want to go to a Day School!”

I guess freedom is no longer worth what it used to.