National Best Witch

“30 minutes more!” The invigilator announced.

With a disorganized mind and perspiring hands I tried to complete the nonsense I was writing, struggling to have a firm grip on my pen.

“Gosh! I am doomed!” It finally dawned on me. It was like the final seconds to the whistle for a team down by two goals in a knockout tournament. I wrote for all I was worth.

And all I was worth couldn’t make up half of the required 3-page essay. I rubbed hands against my head but the friction wouldn’t light an idea.

“5 minutes more!” The invigilator was at it again, distracting me with her silly talks of making sure our student ID numbers, course code and title were correctly written on the cover of the answer booklet. She smiled at my desperation, thinking it was funny. Her smile accentuated her ugly red lipstick and shifted her wilted cabbage wig slightly to complete her sheepish look.

I looked up, not to God, but to the CCTV cameras directly above me, which neither slept nor slumbered. It was strange that at a time when the nation suffered frequent power outage, lights were stable during exams.

Not too far from me sat Kekeli. I cleared my throat, coughed, sneezed, kicked against the desk, all in the hopes of drawing his attention. The idiot wouldn't budge.

I thought I had prepared adequately for this exam. It was now obvious I was no match for this paper. The very first day I entered the lecture hall, something told me that the lecturer was evil, but I wouldn't listen. So many better options, who sent me to choose this course?

I knew I was going to fail the exam. So, I stopped writing completely and directed my anger at the invigilator. Unfortunately, I couldn't find enough reasons to blame her for my predicament. Perhaps, she should have said “5 minutes more!” politely. She could have being of help, though I couldn't tell how.

I sat like a beaten dog, waiting for the final whistle to the end of this epic battle. Drawing inspiration from frustration, I poked fun at the invigilator in a story I began drafting on a piece of paper in the five minutes remaining.

While I tried to think of the injurious ingredients to inject into that story, a helicopter hovering over campus as if looking for a needle in the sky disrupted my thoughts.

I would have been the happiest man alive had that helicopter developed a technical fault and crushed into some trees in the botanical garden.

Finally, I managed to put something down and added a perfect title to my story. “National Best Witch”, I read out the title, feeling proud that in my own small way, I had bitten back at the invigilator that presided over my downfall in the exams.

And voilà ! It is done!

End of paper.

By Benjamin Nambu

From: Ghana

Website: https://greatbenji.business.blog

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/kwesi.nambu