The Mysterious Examination Paper
Ifeoma Okoye
It was ten minutes past midnight, and Mrs Ezebabayemi, a widow for many years, was still wide awake. She was sitting on her bed and had been trying unsuccessfully for hours to solve a big problem. It had surfaced as she left her office the day before to go home. She had been, for three years now, the Head of the Department of General Studies at Divem University, many miles away from where she lived. She had not wanted the post and had pleaded in vain with the Vice Chancellor of the University to give the job to one of the lecturers who had wanted it and had canvassed for it.
‘Don’t tell me how to do my job, Mrs Ezebabayemi’, the Vice Chancellor had said to her in a commanding tone. That was three years before.
Mrs Ezebabayemi, still greatly bothered by her problem, left her bedroom and walked into a small, adjacent room which she used as an office. Under her worktable were sealed packages of question papers for the GS103 Examination scheduled for 2pm that day. The university was many miles away from where she lived, and it took her more than one hour to get there in her eight-year-old car. She sat down on an old stool, rested her head on her worktable and was soon lost in thought. She had never had this type of problem before.
The problem had surfaced as she left her office and was walking along the veranda of a large classroom block to the car park. That was many hours before, yet she had not been able to find a solution. Her reputation was greatly at risk, and she might even lose her job if the problem was allowed to come to light because many fingers would be pointing at her as the culprit. She must, therefore, find a way to deal with the problem.
She heaved a loud sigh, rested her head on the table and was soon lost in thought. She had done everything within her power to safeguard the examination paper. She had watched the secretary type the question paper, produce the number required, package them securely in large envelopes and load the envelopes in her car boot. All these to make sure that the examination questions were safe.
An hour later, an idea popped into her head. She opened one of the bundles of the GS 103 Examination Question Paper and began to go through the questions again. There were twenty questions altogether for the examination, and after each question were five suggested answers labelled A, B, C, D, E. The students were to decide which of the five given answers was the correct answer for the question and then write that letter as the answer to the question.
As usual she had done everything possible to make sure that, apart from the lecturer who taught the course, only she and her secretary had seen the contents of the examination paper. She had, as usual, watched the secretary type the question paper, produce the number required, put them in large envelopes, seal the envelopes securely and put them in the boot of her car.
Although she had done everything possible to secure the GS103 examination paper, something she had heard concerning the paper had jolted her. The incident had kept telling her that something about the GS 103 Examination scheduled for the next day was amiss and was going to destroy her name if not quickly dealt with. It was this feeling that had kept her awake throughout the night. ‘I must leave for work early enough to be able to carry out this plan’, she told herself after she had worked out how to deal with the problem.
By six in the morning, she was ready to drive to the university with the package of the examination paper securely locked in the boot of her car. She phoned her secretary to tell him that she would be in the office earlier than usual.
‘Please be in the Department by seven o’clock’, she pleaded with him. ‘I have something very important and urgent for you to do for me before the GS103 examination at 2pm.’
‘Are you all right, Madam?’ her secretary asked.
‘Yes, I am, Edwin.’
‘You sound em, em, em, I don’t know how to put it.’
‘I am all right, Edwin. It’s just overwork. Organising an examination for hundreds of students from different departments is not that easy for me.’
‘I know it isn’t, Madam, but you are doing it very well. Much better than the Head of Department before you.’
‘Thanks, Edwin. You’re doing your work very well too, and that is helping me a lot. You’re trustworthy, helpful, and respectful, and you’re making my work much easier for me. I will be in the office soon.’
‘Thank you, Madam. Safe journey, Madam. I will be there before you arrive.’
‘Thanks, Edwin. See you later.’
A few minutes later, Mrs Ezebabayemi, loaded the GS103 examination question papers in the boot of her car and locked the boot. After being awake throughout the night, she was too tired to drive to the university, but she had no option. She wished again that she could afford to employ a driver, but as a widow with two children in the university, that was unthinkable. That was one of the major reasons she did not want the post of HEAD OF DEPARTMENT that had been forced on her. With this post, she was expected to be at the university five days in a week at least, and she had no option but to drive herself each time.
She went into her car, locked the doors for safety, and said a short prayer as she always did before driving. But the car hissed and hissed and refused to start.
‘Oh God, why are all these happening to me?’ she cried out aloud. ‘What have I done to deserve all these difficult problems facing me? Why is this car misbehaving today of all days?’
She placed her head on the steering and did her best to control her tears. A few minutes later, she calmed herself and took her phone from her handbag.
‘Oh God, let the car mechanic be available’, she cried out.
She came out of her car and locked the car. She checked to make sure she had locked the boot and walked briskly out of the compound. The car mechanic’s workshop was within walking distance. But what if he were away from his workplace or if he were too busy to help her? She prayed as she walked to the mechanic’s workshop.
The car mechanic was in his old car and was about to drive out of his workshop.
‘Stop, please stop’, she yelled at him and walked quickly to his car.
The mechanic stopped, but he did not switch off the engine of his old Volkswagen car. ‘What’s the problem, Madam?’ he asked. ‘You’re looking very worried?’
‘My car won’t start, and I’ve an important examination to deal with today. I need to get to the university early enough to organise the exam, and I have a big problem to solve before the exam.’
‘Take it easy, Madam,’ the mechanic said. ‘I’m going to the car parts shop to buy some car parts to service an important customer’s car. And I don’t want to disappoint him. He’s one of my best customers, if not the best. He pays me well, and I don’t want to disappoint him and have him look for another mechanic.’
‘I understand, but please help me’, she pleaded. ‘I’ve a very difficult problem to solve, and I must get to the office early enough to try to solve the problem. My job is at stake and my good name too. I don’t want to lose any of these. Please help me. Pl-ea-se.’
‘All right, Madam’, the mechanic said gently. ‘Come into my car, and let’s go to where your car is. You must have a big problem. I can see something like tears in your eyes.’
‘Thank you very much. You’re very helpful, very hardworking. And you’ve been very good to me.’
‘And you are an honest and hardworking Madam. Let’s go.’
It was now eleven o’clock, and Mrs Ezebabayemi was on her way to the university. She had only a few hours to get to the university and get the GS103 Examination Question Paper ready before 2pm when the examination was scheduled to start. She also had to stop at the university bookshop to buy cyclostyling material for reproducing the examination question paper.
As she expected, there were many policemen and policewomen on the road searching all the vehicles to make sure that there were no guns or ammunition or any other dangerous materials hidden inside the vehicles. The searching of many vehicles and the arguments with the vehicle owners and drivers delayed her badly, and so also did the stop at the university bookshop to buy cyclostyling paper, printing ink, and reams of paper for producing the question paper.
Fortunately, her secretary, Edwin, was already in her office in the Department waiting for her to arrive.
‘Thank you, Edwin, for being here on time’, she said to him as she walked into the office.
‘I promised you I would, Madam.’
‘But some people don’t keep their promise.’
‘You are good to me. Indeed, to all of us working here. I will be very unhappy if I disappoint you.’
‘I am very sorry, Edwin, you’re going to have to retype the GS103 question paper and produce the number required before the time scheduled for the exam. And you don’t have much time. The examination starts at 2pm, you remember. The distribution of the question paper will take a lot of time because of the number of students taking the examination.’
‘Madam, did I make some grievous mistakes in the one I typed yesterday? Or was the mistake made during the production?’
‘No, Edwin,’ said Mrs. Ezebabayemi. ‘What I’m being forced to do has nothing to do with you. You’re very good at your job, very careful, very trustworthy, and very respectful. I’m very proud of you, Edwin. You won’t know how many Heads of Department have tried to take you from me. I’ll tell you later what brought about all that I’m trying to do now. We don’t have the time for me to explain things to you now. And, please Edwin, be very careful with your typing. There’ll be no time for me to correct mistakes.’
‘I will, Madam. Trust me.’
‘Of course, I trust you, Edwin. Indeed, I do.’
‘Thank you, Madam. You’re different from many lecturers in many ways. I am happy that I am posted to this department to work with you.’
‘I am happy with you working here, Edwin,’ she said. And she was indeed, for she was very sure that he was not the one who had caused the big problem she had been trying to solve since the day before. She prayed that her planned solution to the problem would work well and save her good name. ‘A good name is better than money’, was the English translation of her first name, and she had been trying to live up to the name.
The GS103 examination started as scheduled. The large hall was filled up with students. The invigilators were punctual, and so were the students. Mrs Ezebabayemi noticed that the three students she heard discussing the examination questions the day before were sitting close together. They were shaking their heads as if in disbelief and were whispering to one another. She was tempted to change their seats so that they would not sit close to one another. On second thought, she felt that their plan had been shattered and there was nothing else they could do.
A few minutes after the beginning of the examination, the lecturer who taught the course walked into the examination hall. He spotted Mrs Ezebabayemi and walked straight to where she was standing and watching the three students.
‘Good afternoon, Madam’, he said. ‘How is the examination going?’
‘Very well, I believe,’ Mrs Ezebabayemi said.
‘Can I have a copy of the exam paper, Madam?’ asked the lecturer.
Of course,’ Mrs Ezebabayemi said, handing him a copy of the question paper from the bundle of paper in her hand.
She kept her eyes on him as he began to go through the question paper. Suddenly, he frowned and began to shake his head violently.
‘Madam’, he began, still shaking his head, ‘this is not the question paper I submitted to you.’
‘It is’, Mrs Ezebabayemi said in a low voice, looking around to see whether anybody else was listening to them. ‘And please lower your voice. Some students are already disturbed and are listening to us.’
‘This is not the question paper I submitted to you, Madam’, the lecturer said angrily, spelling out the words.
‘It is.’
‘It is not my paper’, the lecturer said. ‘I am very sure of that, Madam. What have you done to the question paper I submitted to you? I am very sure, Madam, that this is not the exam paper I submitted to you.’
Mrs Ezebabayemi lowered her voice. ‘Your questions are all intact. I did not tamper with them. What I did was to reshuffle the numbering of the questions.’
‘Why did you tamper with my questions, Madam?
‘I’m sure you know why I did that. You leaked the question paper to some of your students.’
‘I did not.’
‘Yes, you did.’
‘Can you prove that I did?’
‘Of course I can prove it. I heard three of your students discussing the very questions you submitted to me. They were alone in the classroom.’
‘What about your secretary? Couldn’t he have done it?’
‘No.’
‘How are you sure he didn’t?
‘Because as usual I watched him throughout the production of the question paper to make sure that he could not leak the questions, even though I know he is very trustworthy. And the only way to deal with what you did with your paper was to reshuffle the numbering of the questions. I did not add a letter to your questions. I did not delete any. I knew the students would come with just a list of the numbers of the questions and the letters that indicate the answers.’
The GS103 lecturer’s jaw dropped. He did not say a word.
‘When a person is guilty, the person’s jaw drops’, Mrs Ezebabayemi quoted a proverb of her people to the lecturer. ‘Many people become tongue-tied when their lie is discovered’, she explained the proverb to the lecturer.
The lecturer looked at her with devilish eyes, turned abruptly, and stalked angrily towards the entrance of the hall without saying another word.
Mrs Ezebabayemi’s face brightened. She kept her eyes on the lecturer until he was out of the examination hall. She looked steadily at the ceiling of the examination hall and heaved a sigh of relief.