My girl has been sick. Going to three days now. It is sad and painful, for death looms over her.
Parvo virus, discovered in the 1970s, aggressive killer, mortality rate of 91%, resilient to all household agents but bleach. Now that’s one killer you dont wanna mess with, and now it is messing with my little angel. My gentle canid goddess.
As we drive in the afternoon dust of Lagos, the dust and vigour, the hustle and bustle of Eko at our every turn.
But I do not notice all the energy about me. Only one thought on my mind, my golden fairy. Starved and frail, withering in mind and body.
"A good doctor breaks off himself from emotions, both blessed and cursed", I can still remember the words of my lecturer, I can still see the wrinkles and furrows on his aged face, as they contort and dance around his countenance of serious disposition.
Heartless b*stard! It is easier said than done. How can one......................
"Ikotun is now fine ooo!", my father's voice cuts sharply into my inner soliloquy.
"Why are you just looking at them as they are passing by you?", my mother says rashly to my father.
"We have to drive carefully! Why should we be rushing?!", he replies
"Dont' think you are still over there ooo! You need to know you are now in Nigeria ooo! Lagos infact!"
"This Car is a big car! It is very wide, it can easily be scratched! And you don’t expect these poor guys to afford such damage!"
"Oya sha be going!", she says "And better stop driving like a woman! Or I will take over the steering!", she murmurs
After a while of silence, in the car that is, my father breaks in.
"Haa! Alomo my son! This is where me and your mother met oo! I still remember when she was toasting me. She didnt want fine boy like me to go." he says, smiling at me from the rear-view mirror.
My mother replies with the usual, she yimus.
"Haa! See Chika's house! I still remember her! Dont you remember Chika your friend?", he asks
My mother eyes him first
"So you still remember Chika? How wont you remember her? The one that I caught you with!"
"Caught?! When?!", my father rolls his eyes up, feigning forgetfulness or confusion.
"Have you forgotten? The day I caught you rubbing her!"
"Haa! Me?!"
He quickly turns his face to the car window, away from us.
"You wanted to do two friends, you didn’t know that it cannot work with me! The God I serve will pin you down!"
My father remains mute all through the rest of the drive. Guilty conscience in motion. Bad Guy wey wan chop pomo.
On getting to our destination, after enduring treacherously deeply scarred roads, we are more than happy to exit the automobile.
My father leads, my mother second, me behind. Haaa! Grandma's house, it never sticks into my memory, its strange architecture and tiny crevixes called stairs. I once heard that the architect was a shoemaker, that will explain the design.
As we walk up the stairs, I can already hear the laughter in the room above.
My father steps in first, my mother then follows, I hear the typical shouted greetings
"Haaa! Welcome! Enter oo! How was the trip? How was the road? How was the traffic? How was the……"
And then I bend my neck as I enter, these little doors.
Grandma looks up to me, she is small and petite, some strands of her white hair escaping the cover of her scarf.
She smiles, revealing her little white dentition; I can see some gaps here and there. I smile as I fall into her outstretched arms. She gets a hold of my neck and pulls me down.
Chai! This woman wan make I fall ooo!
As we embrace, she lays a kiss on my cheeks, those lovely aged lips brush against my buccal flesh.
As I rise, released from motherly enclave. I see the other women and men, my aunts and uncs.
" This boy is tall ooo! See him, long like iroko! What is he eating? Where are they all growing to? Oya bend down and hug me jare!"
I endure many more rounds of neck-squeezing and rib-breaking embrace.
After all pleasantries and the rest, I sit down with the family to discuss matters.
"My friend! Ayola, he died last week. He was re-painting his house and he just shouted HAA!!. When I went to see him, while he laid on his deathbed, he told me he is feeling death.", the old man pauses, I dont know him, never seen him before. Perhaps he is one of my distant uncles. The man continues
" And then he started pointing to the roof as he was showing me his dead relatives, but I couldnt see them . I quickly stopped him because I am not ready to go and then the elders told me to leave"
Elders?! This old dudes still has people he considers elders?!
That aside, the event the guy just narrated is troubling to me. Someone like me, a troubled theist. It is stories like this that draw me away from atheism.
"And then he started showing me his dead relatives"
I sink into these words for a moment, lost in the midst of logical conclusions and suggestions.
"Wont you come and take your food?", one of my aunts calls out to me.
As I rise to go to the kitchen, I make a survey of the interiors.
I see the agedness of the house. I see the true house, the one I had not seen before.
I see all the papers, brown and brittle with age. I see one portrait of grandma, and some black and white pictures of a younger grandma. Damn! She was really beautiful. She is still beautiful, I mean, she's already eighty and still slim and fair. I wonder how she climbs those stairs, I almost died on them, infact I think I dropped a lung there sef.
As I walk into the small kitchen, I see the unplastered walls, the ancient cutleries, three stoves......kerosene stoves?! Ughh! This woman has been all over the world, literally, and she still uses kerosene?!
Infact, it is as if the whole house is creaking and beaming with senescence.
After massaging the mixture of rice and chicken in my belly. One of my aunts rise up to begin the prayer session. Uughhh! Prayer!
One aunt begins, she takes ten minutes, my mother takes over, she uses fifteen minutes, another aunt takes over, she uses twelve minutes. I open my eyes to see four other aunts and an uncle waiting for their turn.
As I look around at them in agony, I catch sight of the old man, he is already panting and sweating. He rushes to take his seat
He pulls out a hanky to wipe his sweat.
My eighty something year old grandma is still busy gyrating and twisting her arz in prayer and this septuagenarian is already half dead.
Grandma opens her eyes to see the man on his seat.
A mischievous grin glows across her face and she shouts with both hands outstretched towards him
"Hold your Uncle! He will soon die ooo!"

i said it red. u write best wen bored. nice one dia, bro.

keep horning ur skill. u never can tell wia it will lead u one day.
My warm regards bro.

Your Girlfriend, is she alright?! I wish her a quick recovery....take care of her oo. Ur dog abi?

Well done

Redmosquito: My girl has been sick. Going to three days now. It is sad and painful, for death looms over her.
Parvo virus, discovered in the 1970s, aggressive killer, mortality rate of 91%, resilient to all household agents but bleach.

What is Parvo?
Parvo is a common and potentially serious viral disease in dogs. The virus is officially known Parvovirus. The disease caused by this virus is commonly referred to as Parvo . The virus first appeared clinically in 1978, and there was a widespread epidemic in dogs of all ages. Since nodogs had been exposed or vaccinated (the vaccine didn't exist at the time), dogs of all ages died from the infection. The virus can "adapt" over time, and other strains of the virus have appeared since then, but properly administered vaccinations are the best protection. Canine Parvovirus is thought to be a mutation from the feline Parvovirus, also known as Feline Distemper virus.

Guy, u got us all thinking it was a human. Hmmmm....what a relief. Anyway, hope she gets well soon. Regards.

Redmosquito:
She is my only paddy ooo! If she die I no know wetin I go do!

eyaa...shey na Jill?

Oluwafunmilayo95:


eyaa...shey na Jill?

Yes na!

I really don't know this Redmosquito guy but he was the first person i followed on nairaland. I enjoy your writing style and hoping to learn alot from u. *gives him 3 gbosas and walks away with a sense of fulfilment*

Redmosquito:
***Removes agbada and prostrates***

**Forgot something!hastily returns to pick up d agbada,proudly wears it and murmur** Behold another muskeeto is born.

Absolutamente ningún comentario .. fantástico trabajo ooo ..

Aww... Sorry about ur girl.
Happy nu yr, red-moss.

Red, u too good sha.I always see african nerd and pass it.bt just took time to read it now.....d suspense, ur sense of dry humor ....then u gave us kith and kin ....... dis is good,very good...well done,dear

Red moss,u don come again.good job.me likey