“Let me play on the guitar too, after all you’ve been on it for a long time, abi na only you sabi play ney”, that was the voice of my friend Dada (Daniel is his name but because he had dreadlocks at childhood, he was Dada which stuck). “Alright, but mind the way you pull the string, I don’t want you cutting it”, I reply, handing over the box guitar to him with a sullen feeling. “Abeg, give me space jor, see as you dey act like say na your own”. I laughed dryly and wished I had the power to jump on him and start punching his tall frame.

He had spoken the truth when he made mention of the box guitar not being mine, in fact, I did not know how to play any tune on it. I just started learning the previous day and could only play the basic tunes, “do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do….” But I felt happy and fulfilled. None of my friends could play that and the owner of the guitar called me a genius that I only needed a little time to perfect the act of guitar playing.
Dada was a tall boy who used to be thin, in fact, very thin that everyone on the street wanted to beat him because he always acted weak. I had not fought with him but each time we had a little brawl, I just dismiss him with, “na break I go just break you with breeze from my mouth”. And to get back at me he would reply, “With your big head na im you go use abi na your wide nose”. That remark always gets me angry and since the day I told him that, he had used it to taunt me. But I later got used to it.

“NEPA!!!!” that was the scream of people on the street, it was rush hour and people were rushing home to meet their various families. Five of us had gathered outside to catch nice views of various babes passing as they return from work. We were “jobless”, not because we refused to work but because we were waiting to go back to school. The yuletide season just passed and everyone was looking forward to the new semester where we are going to have new babes, Jambites coming in their thousands.

“Wait o, why be say people dey run now abi dem don dey fight for the other street”, the word “fight” got my attention, I had always cherished fights not because I was a good fighter but because I always have a tale to tell later with enough people listening to my narrations. We all ran to the end of the street, five of us, and instead of the crowd growing thinner, it was getting thicker with people we don’t even know using our street. “haba mana, me ne ne wannan, mai ya sa wa’anan ba su san inda za su bi ba”, I said under my breath as I panted, pushing through people. What on earth could be chasing this people self, and why in today of all days they had decided to follow through our always deserted street.

“Attai, na where you dey go, abi you never hear wetin happen?” I stopped and looked in the direction of the voice which sounded like that of my brother; I was taken aback with the sight that met my eye. He was covered in dust and sweat which was unusual because he always looked clean and sweet, but he was also panting heavily like he had competed in the London Olympics against Ussain Bolt. Sure enough it was my brother that had spoken, but he did not look an inch like my brother until I stared at his bulging stomach, this must be him, I concluded.

“Wetin happen na, why be say you leave shop early today abi na food you wan come chop again? No food o, but bring money make I go buy ingredient so that we go eat beans and rice this night, I never chop since morning”. I kept talking but caught myself when I saw the look in his eyes which clearly said, “One more word from you, you go blind”. I knew that look, he had given me this look when I was 12 years, but then I had not mastered the act of reading meaning into looks. I ended up with a swollen eye, busted lips and my nose was dripping blood. Complete child abuse, my brother had used what mama uses in packing akara from hot oil on my face. The impact of the object with my face had made me face the White Throne briefly because I thought it was the end of my life.

“Sorry”, I apologized, “Wetin dey happen wey make people dey run about?” I asked again, this time making sure I did not allow my mouth run. “I no know o, I just see people start to dey run pass my shop na im I lock shop join them begin run.” Kai!!! Why am I your younger brother? I asked no one in particular inside my head, I for show you say you no suppose call me when I wan go see wetin dey happen. I eyed him, scanning his dusty face, to his bruised hand, his turn trousers and finally resting my eyes on his big tummy. “Na one idiot push me fall, den people come dey climb my head pass, na one man save me” like I asked him anything. Hmmm, what’s there to save, I asked myself again, when you are running without knowing what’s pursuing you.
“Where you dey go”, he asked as I started moving away from him without saying anything. “I wan go see wetin dey happen na, I no want make anybody tell me the story of wetin happen.” “Attai, dey careful o, no say I no warn you”, he said resignedly. That’s my family for you, you become a man on the day you wrote your last paper in the SSCE, and from there you will become responsible for whatever action you take. I ignored his warning if what he told me was a warning; I just walked away and soon turned into a jog as I made my way to the end of the street. No one is going to spoil my fun; moreover, curiosity had already gotten the better of me.

Cars were dragging for the road, achaba men were not giving up in the struggle, the smoke was ugly, the noise deafening and the dust Sahara-like. Somebody tugged at my shirt prompting me to turn, “Wetin make all this guys dey hurry now?” Alan asked me. Alan or Alex, whatever his name is, is a friend I made when I wanted to get close to his sister, I capitulated on the fact that he loved music to get at him. I was a renowned poet then but converted my lines to rap in order to impress him and win his friendship which I did, and for his sister Stephanie, that’s a story for another day. I don’t really know his name because I call him Alan (which by the way everybody does) but each time we walk up to girls to “toast” them, he introduces himself as “Alex”. Gets me confused but never gets a satisfying answer each time I ask him to explain why he bears two names.

“Na wetin make us come here be that na, abi I be magician wey know wetin all these many people carry for their mind?” I retorted. “No mind am, na so him go dey ask stupid questions sometimes and even Stephen here sef go dey support am”, that was Emma speaking. “Come, how e carry concern me now, your own na to just dey provoke me na im you dey always look for”, Stephen fired back. I hissed and looked at Dada, “Guy, abi na trumpet sound?” I asked mischievously. Dada looked at me incredulously, “Wait o, abi na 2012 (a movie) na im don begin?” we all started laughing at the same time but the thought of the world ending disturbed me.

...

A

One thing I like about this story is the humour. However, you still need to work on your dialogues and setting. Your paragraph alignments need some rearranging. And, one other thing, do as much as self-editing as you can. With that, you shall see your errors, and more addition into the tale would emerge. I commend your effort, though.
Kudos. Waiting to read more.
I also posted my first book (The Brand Of Cain) here on Nairaland (Literature and Writing). You may check it out.

Foxy_Rebirth: ...

Oya continue

Larry-Sun:
One thing I like about this story is the humour. However, you still need to work on your dialogues and setting. Your paragraph alignments need some rearranging. And, one other thing, do as much as self-editing as you can. With that, you shall see your errors, and more addition into the tale would emerge. I commend your effort, though.
Kudos. Waiting to read more.
I also posted my first book (The Brand Of Cain) here on Nairaland (Literature and Writing). You may check it out.

I will work on that.... Thanks for commenting

Ibbaba: [font=Lucida Sans Unicode][/font][b][/b]wow.......continue the tory jare
But why I comment is that foxy_rebirth this hausa language you wrote was so fluent/good,are you one or you learn it how ?

Funny ba, I made A1 in Hausa Language when I wrote WAEC.... Lol.... I'm a northerner who grew up in the far north

Redmosquito:
Oya continue

No worry na...

I looked around me to see if I was going to start seeing flares of red flames as volcanoes erupt from the ground and the main road parting in the center making way for cars to become buried underneath. I waited for that earth shaking sound as earthquake hits the earth as showcased in movieS, if it will ever get to Nigeria since we are not prone to natural disasters. I looked behind me to see if a thick wall of water from whichever river is rushing up the street drowning those in its way. No fire, no water, no earthquake, no volcano, nothing, then what could be happening? I asked myself. If this is truly the end of the world as I had joked earlier then there must be noticeable signs, not the one of my brother looking all dusty and dirty with his big stomach, running from something he did not see.

“Allah ne zai taimake mu, Allah, ka da ka bar yaran ka a hanun Shaitani!!” the voice of an old beggar who was once a cripple but can now run with suprising agility. I was amused even in the midst of the chaos, beggars and their various styles, who could be worse? Those that scream for money through loud speakers while making promises already made in the Good Book or these ones that humbly beg raining blessings on you that you don’t need. “Allah saka ma, Allah shirye ka, Allah zai taimake ka, Allah zai baka abun rayuwan ka….”. Like you need all the blessings being poured on you, they should reserve some for others too.

BOOOOMMMM!!!! I felt the impact before I heard the sound, we were five all gathered watching the mini 2012 movie when it hit us. I was hurled very high into the air, cutting cables of telephone lines as I went, I was flying without wings. Gbim! I fall on something metallic and passed out. Total darkness came with a calmness that I had always wanted - Death.

I saw brightness, total whiteness and a hand beckoning to me to come. I stood up from where I was lying down, looked down and saw myself on a car’s roof. I was covered in dust and traces of wounds were on my face with blood trickling from my lips which had a dip cut. Looking over my body now I saw I was fresher than usual, my skin glowed like I had light emitting ability and I felt free, no fears, no pain, just a feeling of freedom.

“Stop to dey waste time jor, abi you know wan follow me again?” I looked in the direction of the voice and saw a hand stretched out to me, looking farther, I saw a beautiful woman dressed in a purple apparel, with a golden belt, her skin black and oily, her neck adorned with purple precious stones, she had “chuku/shuku” as her hair style. Are Angels Africans? And how come this one speaks English like a Nigerian? I was confused as I stared at her body and a feeling of wanting started building up in me. “Sho, you don die yet woman still dey hungry you, abeg, abeg, abeg, control that urge because e no go take you go anywhere”. Gbam! I was brought back to reality. “Don’t tell me I’m dead because as you can see, I’m alive, walking and strong”, I said as I walked towards her and surprisingly, I was walking in the air. “Person wey dey alive no dey defy the law of gravity jor, come make we dey go, your judgment time don dey reach”, she beckoned to me with a voice that was both persuasive and threatening at the same time.

Judgment? Come o, I had not made my straight with my creator before this unplanned death, so I know where I’m going to, and it will be forever, why should I want to do that, follow her to my doom. I turned and practically floated on air back to where my body lay, reaching out and touching myself, I screamed, “Attai, you better wake up, na doom get you o, this one wey be say na judgment that woman dey talk about”. My body acted like it heard me for its eyes shut tighter and this time instead of the woman to beckon to me, a force stronger than gravity was pulling me strongly from my body, I was finally dying completely. I screamed, used my hand to claw on my body in a bid to get back into it, but it was all futile.

“No let me go, if I go you no go see me again”, I screamed into the stupid face of my body which seemed to be enjoying each passing moment as it closed its eyes tighter again. This time, I needed no prophet to tell me I was fighting a lost battle as the force increased and practically tore me away from my body. I floated through the sky, screaming at my motionless body words that would provoke it into fighting but it was all futile. While floating, I turned and saw the purple woman floating with me with a satisfied smile on her face. Why on earth will she be happy at my death? I thought, as I floated with the force for it was useless resisting.

My environment of flight looked nothing like what I had seen before, no farmlands, no deep blue seas, no mountains, no oasis like I had read in novels, just plain white light that had no source. No wind brushing my face as I floated, no dust entering into my eyes as it was wide open, I was not struggling for oxygen as it is always the case with speed, it was just normal like I had done it over and over again in my life, like I am alive.
Soon I was slowing down, and the force was reducing, the satisfied look on the purple cloth wearing woman had turned to a wide grin, her eyes amused at the way I looked around. Soon it turned to uncontrolled laughter which I could not help but join in, I was standing in front of the National Assembly Complex in Abuja. “Na heaven be this?” I managed to ask her. “This place look like heaven to you? See as you just dey shout like say na hell fire you dey go sef”, the purple cloth wearing woman replied. “Na your government house be this, where them dey pass judgment for everything wey dey happen for we country”, she added. “We country?” I asked her disbelievingly, “No be angel you be, how come you dey talk about Nigeria as your country?”

She did not answer me, instead she waved her hand at the gigantic gate which opened automatically, I watched the way she did that in case there was any need to escape when our call at the pinnacle of power backfires. “Nice architectural design”, I found myself saying, “Na so this place fine pass how I dey see am for TV, men, Nigeria get money na”, “Shush, me ka sanni, kai dabba mai kwakwallwa, ba za ka gane abu da yake faru ba indai ba’a nuna maka ba”, she retorted. I was shocked, “So you speak Hausa too?” No reply was given to me on that question either, she just moved on while I followed solemnly behind. The fear of judgment having vanished from my heart, nobody is going to judge me in the National Assembly, moreover, Angelic beings are not going to come to earth to pass judgment on me.

We came to the middle of the Complex and looking round, I discovered that in place of the statute was a golden man holding a scale, I did not see this when I googled the image on my phone some weeks ago during an argument. When did the National Assembly become a court, I asked myself. Waving her hand in that same fashion, I had earlier discovered, the door opened. Beckoning unto me, we walked into the hall, which to my surprise was full to the capacity with people, a witness dock in the middle of the hall and judgment going on. Those dressed in wigs and gowns had this glow round about them, I had followed the purple cloth wearing woman to my doom.

I tried my best to edit this one, giving a copy out to be edited too, I pray no mistake is found in it....

Critics, please I need your take on this one, this is my first attempt on this kind of writing

....

You've done a great job so far, your 2nd post is an improvement on d 1st. Waiting to see how d story goes

The more you write, the better it gets...! Keep it up.

...

Your Igboness, so you fit write correct story like this ..


Na the marijuana wey you dey take dey give u inspiration?
Seriously, I want to know...

Not everybody understands Hausa language, you ought to provide interpretations. Good job.

Sannu da aikiNice... continue pls...

Larry-Sun:
Not everybody understands Hausa language, you ought to provide interpretations. Good job.

Sorry for the inconvinience, but I plan to maintain originality so translating the words will only move me off-course.

Splendblex: Sannu da aikiNice... continue pls...

Sannun ki.... Ka da ki damu, zan cigaba yanzu.....

Oluwafunmilayo95: Your Igboness, so you fit write correct story like this ..


Na the marijuana wey you dey take dey give u inspiration?
Seriously, I want to know...

For the record, I can count how many times I took the sacred leaves **counting.....counting..... counting.... panting... panting.... about to faint** I'm sorry, I give up, you got me there, the inspiration is inborn, not gotten from the sacred leaves

she-blayze:
The more you write, the better it gets...! Keep it up.

Thanks... I will!!!

U-dee:
You've done a great job so far, your 2nd post is an improvement on d 1st. Waiting to see how d story goes

Thanks.... I'm also waiting to see how the inspiration goes too...

“Yeepaaa, Olorun, wa gba mi”, a man was screaming on his lungs as it seemed that judgment had been passed on him. Soon, soldiers matched in, all dressed in blood red hoods, holding in their hands clubs that is covered with sharp spikes. At the sight of the men that entered, chants of “WE NO GREE O, WE NO GO GREE!!!”, filled the air, reminding me of the subsidy of protest. I never knew they also speak Pidgin English in the courtroom or such abuse of the order of the court could be carried out without fear. Soon the presiding judge raised his hand into the air and silence fell on everyone and everything present, he spoke:

“Make una stop to dey protest because na democracy, even though everybody get say for this government, e no mean say una go just open una mouth like that. See wetin my brother Badluck do during subsidy protest, him no move at all, im just siddon gidigba dey wait make hungry start to dey catch masses, say na dem go come back come beg am”. He cleared his voice and continued, “Because of wetin him do now, everybody just resign to fate dey wait make another election year show den dem go show am the power of the masses, but which power masses get other than to shout and rant and at the end of the day allow the government get their way in that normal fashion”. I was appalled at his speech; could this judge by chance be a Nigerian? He had on a black jumper, chains of gold acted as his button but his skin was white, his nose big and wide with his hair neatly tucked into a black hat. Looking closely, I discovered he was the white copy of whomever he was talking about.

“But my heart good, that’s why my name be Goodluck, so I no go vex tell una make una go eat Poo, instead I go allow this soldiers carry this man go, den adjourn the case till another century”, at that, I was nearly made deaf by the thunderous clap that filled the hall, with songs of “winner o o o, winner”, being sang in Angelic voices. While the man was led away with his shoulders held high, the soldiers no longer brandished their clubs; instead they parted the crowd aside like the man was some kind of dignitary. Before they got to a golden door, I took a glance at the cap the man was wearing which was shaped in the Hausa fashion and was surprised to see wads of US Dollars sticking out. Could this be the same…. My memory failed me, gosh; the impact of my head against that bloody car must have caused memory jam on me.

“Next!!!” a voice bellowed from a sound system which made my knee knocks against each other. I was next. Where are the other people I saw standing and waiting for their judgment, how come they had judged them so quickly, was it because of their peasantry clothes or the judge just sent them to prison without trial? Questions were running through my mind as I was shoved forward with screams of obscenities from the crowd. Slurs of racism was being thrown at me in my own country’s Complex, I looked down at my skin and saw that I had changed and the radiance and glow emitting the first time no longer there. I am black.

Soon I was pushed into the witness box, like a condemned prisoner while the purple wearing woman stood guard ready to pounce at me in case I made any attempt to escape. I could not escape in this situation even if I should try it, with the red hood wearing soldiers with their primeval weapons standing by, I will be brought down before I make it up the first flight of steps. As I stood in the witness box, I looked around at the various accusing fingers pointing at me in the court room. Everyone seems to be a witness against though no one had been called upon to speak yet.

“Thud, thud, thud”, “Order in court”, the wheezy looking clerk spoke. His voice though croaky and weak carried a lot of power with it as the hall died in silence and everyone waited for him to read the charges. Adjusting his glass on his beak-like nose, he read from a scroll that was transparent. I saw every word of what he read on the other side so there was no way I could think that he was adding or subtracting from the scroll. Each paragraph contained weed, marijuana, igbo, codeine, tramol, rochi, alomo and dogon yaro. I was astounded; I am being condemned for having taken drugs when I was alive even though I never engaged in any violent behaviour. Justice is being meted out to me faster than I had thought.

Soon the judge spoke, “wetin you get to say against all this charges wey dem press against you”, like what I will say mattered. I lifted my face to glance at the judge before answering but – my face was brought down by a hot slap that brought out hot tears from my eyes by the purple cloth wearing woman. “You no fit look the judge for face abi you no get respect for law?” I was shocked and sobbed more; my case had changed after finding myself in the witness box. Wondering when it became a crime to stare a judge at the face. I opened my mouth and spoke, “I no…..” two slaps followed in quick succession. “You dey mad, the law na your mate wey you no fit address the judge as my lord?” This time I let out pitiful cries which only made the crowd jubilate. I am being humiliated.

“My lord, I no get anything to say”, I finally said after wiping my damp eyes with the back of my palm. “Make we call the only witness for this case wey bring your matter come this honourable court”, the judge seemed to be saying as I bemoaned my faith with my head down. “Bring the witness inside”, the wheezy clerk with the croaked voice shouted. A trap door opened close to me revealing a witness box which was not there when I came in. Soon I heard sound of breaking twigs and a drag of many leaves on the ground. I looked up, a tree was walking in unaided, almost as if it is alive. I looked closely; it had eyes, nose and mouth like the trees in “Lord of the Ring”, but was not as big as the tree. Soon a familiar smell filtered through the air to my nose – Igbo.

The urge to jump on the tree, singing and plucking its leaves to wrap me a jumbo size of weed overwhelmed me, here is a tree of cannabis before me while I had struggled to but a wrap of weed for N50. I had to discard my urge as the tree made it to the box and pointed branches shaped into fingers at me. “This is the guy that had been sending generation after generation of your loyal servants here my lord”, the tree spoke in clear English. “He don chop us well, use us do tea, smoke us, cook with us, grind us, inhale us as powder, put us inside ogogoro make we soak”. The accusation kept on pouring, I had done all this, yes, but I never knew I was planting a tree. The voice of the tree was mournful, almost crying while the crowd jubilated. It dawned on me, trees have souls too.

I was jolted back to reality when the judge called my name, “Attai, after hearing all the charges pressed against you and with all the exhibits we have here numbering more than a hundred”, I urinated on myself, there’s no way I’m going to escape this. “You are hereby found guilty as charged and sentenced to….” I did not hear the sentence but with the way the crowd went wild, I knew I was in for it. “Thud! Thud!! Thud!!!” The session of the court was brought to a close.

U don mad. Laff wan kill me ooooo

Foxy_Rebirth:

Sannun ki.... Ka da ki damu, zan cigaba yanzu.....

toh,nagode.aiki ka akwai kyau

Splendblex: toh,nagode.aiki ka akwai kyau

speak english jare

Redmosquito:
speak english jare

he understood wat i said

Redmosquito:
speak english jare

he understood wat i said/wrote

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IT HAS BEEN MODIFIED, CHECK FOR THE UPDATES ON THE NEXT PAGE.....

THANKS!!!

No editting was made on this.... Person fit help me modify am

I am feeling your thing guy