This is my first long prose and for those that have read the short story of POM, I have it in full package. Follow me as I take you through Jolomi's life.

Thanks to Tex, who advised I make this story a full one, and to few others, who read the short story and asked me to feed them more. Larrysun, welcome and thank you, sir. God bless you all.

Tag: Repogirl, LarrySun, Esixlove, vonn, Kayemjay, Ishilove, princesa, Texanomaly, Lilimax, marioking, kassia, kingzpen, Kingphemy, joanana, ppacey, olamilekan08, dhamstar, iyzee21, timmytimmy, temmy4bee, Vikkyk10,
Tag: gemiclem, mickstique, 5ky3 , liz4christ,
Thiannah, fragilegal, Mercylee , haryormeedeh,
unilever, hebraheem20, arabaribiti, jholar,
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dopevick, princesa, repogirl, Ishilove, royver,
kamyemjay, dygeasy


For those that have read the short story, please kindly read it all over, because there are changes in characters' names and portrayal.

Read, comment, criticise, pls.

*space bought. Front seat,lol,even though you didn't tag me.
Ayamlaykorn

On this dirty patch
a tree once stood
shedding incense on the infant corn:
its bough stretched across a heaven
brightened by the last fires of a tribe
They sent surveyors and builders
who cut that tree
planting in its place
A huge senseless cathedral of doom
- Kofi Awoonor (The Cathedral)


White linens of sacred matrimony
Of love, peace, innocence, and harmony
Cleaver and oil slay the robes of cocooned home
Torn, tainted, tattered pieces of ragged dome

- Patron Of Matrimony


CHAPTER ONE

Sometimes, some days were known to be longer than others. There were long days and short nights; other times, long nights and short days. The scorching sun had not crept long below its horizon. It was a bit away from the centre of the sky like noon sun, drifting slowly to the south, its setting land. At five-fifteen it was uncommon to see the Sun at that position, but Jolomi thought it was one of those longer days. She never knew or had a foresight that the bizarre bright yellow sun that peered out behind the evening cloud had a great message to tell. There were moments she wished she was a soothsayer, so that she could look into the future, to know what the progressive hand of the wall clock in her father's palour would declare, and to see the dead-end of grandma. And this was one of those moments, she longed to be a seer. Jolomi had buried impracticable thoughts in her mind that grandma was immortal, and that she would live forever, but soon reality would glare at her at the door steps of the facade of her father's house.

Jolomi leaned on the coarse wall of the science block close to the school field, she was furious at the frightened wrestling scene that was being dramatised before her. She wanted to move, to push Jamal, her brother, away from the feeble Tolu. But she could not, she feared what might become of her if her brother descended on her. Nothing she could do to stop her jealous brother from engaging in the fight. She inhaled a shallow breath and then strived for another as she focused on the foolish cheerers who made event like this a jamboree.

The seventeen years old Jamal, taller than many of his mates, only few are taller than him, but none could withstand his invincible strength. He had strong muscles that would not relinquish in any fight. His attacks were tiger like, fast and furious, contrary to his skinny stature, he would scoop up boys older than him and hit them on the ground. Crowd of boys was always forming a big circle in such a fight and ensuring the winning was getting enough praises that would enliven his strength. Jamal was always involved in any fight in school. He was infamous for fighting and he was dubbed Jamal Mighty. But that day after school had been a different ball game. This kind of thing that happened when the mighty fell. It would be incredulous at first, but later people would come to understand that the mighty also fell. This was the case of Jamal that afternoon. In a tough fight between Jamal Mighty and Tolu, a boy who was known for telling other students how he would beat anyone who trespassed against him. But at the end he was always getting beaten like a stubborn goat. This was the boy Jolomi had found alluring and always wanted to be with. Tolu was a dark, stubborn, but brilliant boy. Being with Tolu always was tantamount to changing the tune she played with her brother, but this, Jamal would never accept, he beat the boy whenever he came across him, but that day was a different ball game.

Bone streaking, legs staggering and scooping up dust, spraying it into the onlookers' nose and mouth. Even anyone who obliviously opened his mouth would be fed with dust. Jamal planted his leg in the small bumpy ground, then vigorously handled Tolu's belt around his waist, he was firm on ground before he lifted Tolu, who was now like weightless body in his arms. Jamal gripped him tightly, then he hit him against the ground. If Tolu was a rubber, he would have bounced millions times, then finally burst, but he was human, his bones rather went frail. The Crowd of boys, who had formed a circle as usual, began chanting Mighty!! Mighty!!

Following asap

.....and when a poet does it,we know it. #RESPECT for the President.
Ayamlaykorn

Tolu rose to his feet, he stared at Jamal with rage and frustration, he was devising a brutal plans to end the perpetual beatings that ended in fiasco. He had a go at Jamal again, Jamal who was a fierce fighter swooped swiftly and made sure he rested on his shoulder, then carried him and turned around fast and then landed the boy on the ground again. Tolu winced in pain. He squirmed and let out a loud shriek , not only for his back that was almost broken, but also for the way the boys mocked him. It was embarrassing! Jamal walked around, raising his shoulders high before he lowered them to dust his uniform. Tolu was gasping with his mouth agape like a wandering bull dog in a race to catch up with its master. Jolomi expected him to stick out his tongue, but he didn't. She still stood a few distance away, watching as her brother wounded the boy she was crazy about, the boy that saved her from her abandoned family, the boy who showed her love and cares. She folded her arms while watching as it pained her seeing Tolu fighting because of her. Jamal, who displayed his energy soon came to a fiasco ending and the tide soon changed. He went over Tolu again, but he was unaware that he had harboured a big stone under his palm for a vicious attack. Some of the boys, who saw him picking the stone while Jamal lifted him again, kept mute. They wanted to see what he would perform with the stone. They wanted to see what a mad man would do other than to tear his robe and wear a rag, he would always return to filths the same way Tolu would always return to be beaten. But what followed stunned them, the next thing they heard was the agonizing voice of Jamal, Tolu struck his head with the stone again, and again. Jamal held his head and blood trickled out of his fingers. He tried to escape Tolu's rage, but he was unlucky. Tolu dragged his shirt closer and hit him again. This time it was his shoulder. Tolu weakened his muscles, he felt better and watched as the other students watered Jamal. Tolu's eyes were washing coal tar, darkened with dissipating rage and hidden victory. He glanced at Jolomi, then walked away.

…………………………………………….
Outside the school gate, black smoggy smoke wafted through the sky as tires were being burnt. Kiosk and counters were wreaking down and incessantly made pa-pa sound of burning substances. Debris flew into various directions in the vacancy. From junction to junction the choking smell of smoke stuffed Jolomi's breath and from time to time, she raised her fingers and pressed her nose and then released them, then panted for minutes before she pressed the nose again. She walked briskly behind her brother, close the wall, avoiding the smoke and left over black shards and wires that littered every junction. She soon grew tired, trying to meet up Jamal's pace. Jamal was hopping mad at the boy who just defeated him. The guts to go back and attack Tolu got dampened, he rather vented his rage on the ground, pouncing on it as though it was the ground that betrayed his legs, when he fell after the first thump. Jolomi was relatively aware of the wandering flying fragments and shrapnel and was quick to duck them when they flew by. She amounted such riots and protests that took over the place to useless, malevolent act of barbarism. Jolomi's literature teacher had told them in the morning class that Gen. Badamosi Babangida had annulled the election. She proceeded, emphasizing that Hope was gone. What the teacher had chipped in while teaching had had little effect on the pupils. They didn't really know the gravity of what happened, but the way she had said it, streaking her face and blinking her eyes as though she was preventing tears from dropping, had made the students expressionless and still. Jolomi understood vividly what had happened and she knew well the havoc it might cause her family, but Jolomi never thought it would cause this kind of disasters where hoodlums would be burning properties. Why didn't they go to Aso Rock to protest if they were really angry? Why venting their angers on kiosks and counters where the government did not even know that some people were protesting had no meaning? She dodged the rioters as she trudged past them. The reality that seemed to have concealed itself for long time and the peregrination journey to the future was finally here. A step above the pavement was the verandah, the metal door with two pairs which was one was always locked, and the other was left open for the passers. Except that an object bigger than the width of that one opened pair like the new big red lip-stick coloured generator her father just bought, the other pair would remained close. Few minutes after Jamal walked in, Jolomi swung open the gate and what she beheld was a big blow on her face.

OMA4U:
This is my first long prose and for those that have read the short story of POM, I have it in full package. Follow me as I take you through Jolomi's life.

Thanks to Tex, who advised I make this story a full one, and to few others, who read the short story and asked me to feed them more. Larrysun, welcome and thank you, sir. God bless you all.

Tag: Repogirl, LarrySun, Esixlove, vonn, Kayemjay, Ishilove, princesa, Texanomaly, Lilimax, marioking, kassia, kingzpen, Kingphemy, joanana, ppacey, olamilekan08, dhamstar, iyzee21, timmytimmy, temmy4bee, Vikkyk10,

For those that have read the short story, please kindly read it all over, because there are changes in characters' names and portrayal.

Read, comment, criticise, pls.

i'm always there.

Thanks for doing this. I'm so excited about this story.

Wow!

The moment I saw my name mentioned, I was like "Waoh! The patron of matrimony? The story that will soon take the #1 spot on the bestsellers."
OMA4U: Your type of writers are hard to find. Your are just too good at what you do.
Long story cut short, I am following this to the end.

Following

presence registered

All ye fan of OMA4U and his collections of peoms. Do you want to know more about OMA? Then you have to be here https://www.nairaland.com/1952165/weekly-interview-thread-subsidiary-dammysammytv/12#up. Ask him questions about things you want to know about him.

CHAPTER TWO

Beko Jackson was Jolomi father's and his eyes were swollen and red and at the instance Jolomi's eyes suddenly met his, she beheld the tears streaming down his cheeks. It was the first time she would see him shed tears and she sensed that a lurking time bomb, which would soon render her deaf with a massive explosion, was solemnly ticking around the corner. Jolomi's father's friend, Baba John, as fondly called, a quiet-looking man of about her father’s age with cream coloured v-shaped face, was lifting away her father's hand from his head as soon as he returned them. Jolomi's father's head had become a carriage that lifted his hands above shoulder. This was an act Jackson would rebuke, saying it wasn't a good omen. Beko was sitting on the floor and leaning against the couch, spreading his legs, putting his hands on the head as he shed tears profusely. Seated on the right arm of the couch was Baba John, patting and consoling him. At the moment her eyes met her father's she swerved her look at Baba John and she invariably looked at the two of them for a moment, puzzled. Her school bag dropped and she ran and simultaneously crawled towards her father on the torn carpet.

Jolomi's father sobbed harder and she could hear the nauseating sound as he sucked up his running nose. She could still smell the saturated fear that had accumulated in the house over the years. If her household were dreaded by anything, it was her father. Jolomi's father was fears himself. If he was coming back home, the news would have spread like wildfire beforehand.

"Your daddy is coming.....Your daddy is coming." Her street friends would tell her and her brother, so that they could elude the evening lashes that would be administered on their backs. Especially, when her brother was playing football, he would flee like a marauding pest that came across a scarecrow when it had come to steal on the farm.

Jolomi's gaze clambered up at Baba John to ask him what went wrong, but she couldn't find her voice. Baba John's eyes were speaking a language she was yet to understand. She went to the door on the right side of the living room, peeping to see if her step mother was at home. She wasn't, Jolomi guessed as there was no sign of breath in that room. She drove her tiny legs back to father's spot. Then, she noticed the curtain of mother's room drifting, and grotesquely, a figure reeled in. It was Remi, Jolomi's mother, and facing her mother squarely when the sun had not gone to sleep was like seeing the moon in a broad daylight. It was a rare occurrence, rare like her father's long lost smiles. She fixed an astounded look toward her. She was bewildered, and her mother seemed to be, too. The riots with the grief that just befell Beko had kept her indoor. Jolomi reluctantly fell into her arms, laying her head on her bosoms. Remi was a bit taller. She patted her on the back as Jolomi leaned closer.

"Mummy, I miss you," these words muddled up in a space between her throat and her tongue. She could only mutter her burdened question. What was wrong with father? She asked

"Grandma died this afternoon." She said indifferently, "They called him from hometown."

"Grandma! Died!" Jolomi exclaimed, then she looked at Jamal who just came in bare-chested through the kitchen door. Remi followed Jolomi's eyes at Jamal.

"Jamal, why don't you put on a shirt in this kind of cold?" She asked. Jamal walked pass her, then sat down. He didn't blink his eyes twice towards his father, his condition seemed not to bother him. Remi went close to him.

"Jamal, didn't you hear me?" She said this while she noticed the scars on her son's fair body, thick groundnut oil colour type. "Where did you get all these scars on your body?" Jamal shifted away his eyes.

Baba John, a reserved man, who always seemed not to know when to talk or what to say, kept mute. Even when he talked, he would talk as though he counted his words. Though he wanted to speak, Jamal's look was threatening. Jolomi liked him unlike Dibu, her father's friend, too, who always meddled into other people's affairs when they talked. He would never allow them to finish what they were saying before he interrupted them wrongly. What annoyed Jolomi the most was not his round face and bald head, but the way he spoke, they way spittle flew out of his mouth, especially when he pronounced S. If she was eaten and Dibu came in, she would quickly covered her food before he doubled the volume. His thick one-one mark always irritated Jolomi, she loathed people with tribal marks, especially the deep one as if they had offended the piercers, except Sidi, her grandma's maid.

Jamal flung away his mother's hand as she tried to touch his head. Remi understood the reasons behind his angers. She had been too far away, far away from the ones they once shared love, far away from her children, her home.

"See, there is a fresh wound on your head. You this boy!" She pitied herself and not her son. Jolomi interrupted her mother before she asked the question again.

"Mummy, it was one boy in our school who wanted to beat me that Jamal fought." Jolomi lied. Why Jamal had fought the boy was not something she could disclose to her parents. What was transpiring between this brother and sister was obscene, unheard of. An abomination that began years back, through long time of carelessness and abandonment from their parents. Jamal was in love with his sister and any boy who came close to her in school would become a prey to Jamal's hunting prowess and should be ready to boil in his hot sweat.

Remi turned to father's friend. "Thank you so much, Baba John." He was now on his feet and was about vacating the mournful home. Baba John did not utter a word concerning Jamal, he seemed to understand the children's plight and long state of oblivions. However, he quite blamed Jackson for the asunder in his family. The asunder no one knew it was just starting, asunder like shards of irreplaceable broken mirror.

"Take care of him." Baba John told mother, "I will join you when you are going to Abeokuta tomorrow". He faced her father too," You are a man. So sum up your body as a whole. Thank God, mama was very old before she joined her ancestors. "

Jolomi stood still, focused on the vacancy. The last phrase she heard struck her so hard, mama was very old before she joined her ancestors. It got her ruminating on her family's past life. How the family had been before the intrusion. Was grandma really dead? The phrase flashed through her mind as she gaited back to the room again, mama was very old before she joined her ancestors. Her mind travelled far back, far through the torrent of time, to the genesis of maze of muddled confusions and destructions.

Why the man con dey cry like baby na?

Tag: drollster, ohaddy, crislyn, jasminelilian, divepen, onemansquad, afamjb, cheriepet, nancydearie, aisha800, fantasywrita, charijee, demsid, olusharp, kawinzy, abdullateef77, olaitan3784, don phill, peluakinboye, kayleb37, hidowuh, therock555, st8upidiva, vonn, adeh39, walewunmi, gmike2rule,lordidol, trippleab, morayho, kagarko, funtygbemi, mzay, opalk, kemzynation, tiffanyj, Esixlove, whyykayy, faithgokz, presd1, adinije, sammyhoe, dorisbest, princesa, adeh39, gal10, gennsq, kingphilip, repogirl, Texanomaly.

Welcome

Read and comment, please.

Tag: drollster, ohaddy, crislyn, jasminelilian, divepen, onemansquad, afamjb, cheriepet, nancydearie, aisha800, fantasywrita, charijee, demsid, olusharp, kawinzy, abdullateef77, olaitan3784, don phill, peluakinboye, kayleb37, hidowuh, therock555, st8upidiva, vonn, adeh39, walewunmi, gmike2rule,lordidol, trippleab, morayho, kagarko, funtygbemi, mzay, opalk, kemzynation, tiffanyj, Esixlove, whyykayy, faithgokz, presd1, adinije, sammyhoe, dorisbest, princesa, adeh39, gal10, gennsq, kingphilip, repogirl, Texanomaly.

Welcome

Read and comment, please.

President your work is different. I'm sure you take so much time out to check every post for errors. You didn't forget to do the paragraphing too. Awesome! Ayamlaykorn

Bro Oma, welcode jare.. following..

laykorn:

President your work is different. I'm sure you take so much time out to check every post for errors. You didn't forget to do the paragraphing too. Awesome! Please modify those. Tell me when you see this so I can take down the quote.
Ayamlaykorn

OH! Laykorn, thank you. I will modify it.

Weldone my able president. Please, make the updates a lot more consistent. You know what I mean, don't you?

Present sir
#followin it till d end

D9ty7:
Weldone my able president. Please, make the updates a lot more consistent. You know what I mean, don't you?

Yes, I do. Thanks boss

Also thanks for yesterday. You made my day.

Following

Mmmmn..... U've got a nice nd interesting story going on here...., following uuuuuuu. Keep it flowing.

Nice stori cme update na

following till witches begin use id cards

There are ONLY three writers in Literature segment of NL...OMA4U, DIVEPEN and the rest.. . Back to critique! Mechanical accuracy : super solid! (2). Expression : very good (3) Morals : highly educating..My only grouse is that the chapters are too short...Overall, your work is riding on an eagles wing..

Onemansquad:
Present sir
#followin it till d end

Thank you, sir. I will update now.

LouisVanGaal:
There are ONLY three writers in Literature segment of NL...OMA4U, DIVEPEN and the rest.. . Back to critique! Mechanical accuracy : super solid! (2). Expression : very good (3) Morals : highly educating..My only grouse is that the chapters are too short...Overall, your work is riding on an eagles wing..

Thank you, boss. The next chapter will be long. I will update now.