Buchi Emecheta


The lively young voices of the girls at the Methodist High School rang out. Their vibrant·silvery echoes burst out of the confines of the school's Assembly Hall, only to reverberate in and among the trees in front of the school compound, and to reach as far as the grey hideous walls that separated the front of the school from the loco-yard opposite. Those grey walls and the elegant trees, all seemed to take up the rhythm of the military Methodist tune in their determination to be like the khakied uniform girls within, pilgrims, pilgrims of Christ.



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