Welcome, Guest: Register On Nairaland / LOGIN! / Trending / Recent / New
Stats: 3,143,222 members, 7,780,421 topics. Date: Thursday, 28 March 2024 at 01:59 PM

The Long Walk - Literature - Nairaland

Nairaland Forum / Entertainment / Literature / The Long Walk (390 Views)

THE LONG WAIT / A Walk With The Devil (Vol. 1) By Devilpen / THE LONG ROAD–A Novel [magical Realism] (2) (3) (4)

(1) (Reply)

The Long Walk by lalaponcus(m): 10:08am On Aug 29, 2017
THE LONG WALK

The alarm clock rang unusually that morning.
Like a angry wife who has just seen the phone chat history of her husband and his mistress, it screamed into his ears.
Like an enraged Ijebu miser who is calling Mtn to complain about the sudden disappearance of his 0.70 naira flashing credit, the alarm seemed to rain down hell on the ears of the sleeping man.

"Wake up you lazy good for nothing" it seemed to shout.
For the velocity which the man's hand travelled to knock it down, was alarming quick.

Finally waking up, he placed his hands under his chin and let out a sigh.
Like Beyonce had sang in 'Fighting temptations', he had woke up feeling like the world was on top of him.

Unemployment was his problem.

The every day curse that plaqued him.
The Cain-like wandering tattoo which did not fade away from his skin.
The tiger-like stripes which seemed to announce his presence everywhere.
The skunk-like repulsive odor that seemed to be his everyday perfume.
The camel-like hump which did not intend to leave him alone.

"Edumare. Jesu mi. Help your boy make today own click"
He muttered in prayer as he bent down and fished out his shy shoes which had hidden itself within the junk underneath the bed.

No one could blame the poor thing (shoe) for being shy.

For uncle was merciless in the usage of it.
Four years and still counting, uncle still relied on it to provide the best goods.
Buying all types of polish just to makeup the brownish faded parts and make it appear presentable.
Much more like the instagram slay queens of nowadays.

No one could blame the poor thing for being shy.

For its mouth had been open for the past two weeks like a gluttonous child who mistakes 'Ata rodo' (red pepper) for strewberry fruit.
For its mouth had been begging to be stitched up like a open sore which begs for the instantaneous hot and later cooling touch of iodine.

Unfortunately, uncle could not extend a golden scepter to grant its request.
For uncle had spent his last 'cad' on stocking up his cupboard with two 'kobiewu' (rubber) of garri.
A sort of last meal which uncle will eat and pack his load to return to farming in the village if he did not get a job soonest.

Uncle's dad had a farm in the village.
A big piece of land which had been left to fallow for two years.

Three years back in Abule (village), uncle's father had bid farewell to uncle, thinking that he would return five months later.
For uncle had told him that he wanted to go and learn a trade in Akure.

Little did Baba know that;

Like a little Ajegunle child who goes to play Play Station 2 with the money given to him to buy onions and dry fish, uncle had intended to use his transport money for another purpose.

Like Jonah who ran to board another boat going to Tarshish, uncle went to board another bus going to Lagos.

Like the little Benin child who had stayed in the tyre compartment of the plane, uncle, due to insufficient money, had been forced to hitch a ride among the cows which were being ferried to the Mushin abbatoir.

Beeni
Uncle had ran away from the village for more than three years.
And like that prodigal son whose sense returned to his head while eating dry cassava chaff meant for pigs, uncle planned to return home immediately his stock of garri dried up.

-----------

While uncle polished his shoes which were crying under his bony grip, someone outside applied three raps on the door.

Three raps that produced a sound that caused uncles stomach to wrap in anguish and pain like a fufu wrap being squeezed by a very hungry mason who had pap for breakfast and was given a dirty slap by the owner of the building just because his cement bowl brushed her laps.

Forget that wordplay that was used above.

The knocking produced an all too familiar sound which landlord alone produced.

The knocking came again in two successive taps that made uncles heart leap like a donkey who is hit with the kind of stick which most herdsmen carry.

I do not refer to those spineless set of herdsmen bastards who slit one's throat while the person is sleeping.

Noo.

I am refering to those gentle breed of herdsmen.

The ones who are kind enough to start a conversation with you even though the whole time is spent with them trying to teach you the correct fulani pronunciation of their names.

The ones who are cool with sharing their meal of fura de nunu which is drunk straight from the calabash.

The ones who will carry their radios up on their shoulders while agreeing with you that the president was wrong for going out of the country for medical treatment even though there were numerous general hospitals around and numerous Sheikh's and pastors who could pray and heal him.

Beeni
Those are the type of herdsmen I am talking about.

For people seem to forget that one broken egg does not cause the remaining eggs to go bad.

For they tend to forget that the pungent smell of fart which emanates from a beautiful lady does not mean that her beauty and value has reduced by any inch.

Beeni
Olorun ko da ile iso si le (God did not create a house for farts) goes the popular quip.

For people tend to forget that a race should not be judged based on the actions of one man.

Beeni

As there are hundreds of igbo boys who swallow tablets of cocaine with a goal of excreting them to sell and make money,
So also are there also millions of Aba boys who are engaging in daily manufacturing and sales of textiles under the hot sun with the goal of taking care of mama in the village and building castles where their little children would feel safe.

As there are hundreds of yoruba boys hurdled together in a room with a twenty mattresses and hundreds of laptops and mobile routers with a goal of helping the hearts of white people to temporarily heal with the tablet of love, and helping their monies to develop wings,
So also are there millions of yoruba men who are currently engaged in farming and industrial activities where the sweat pouring out from their skin pores, is genuinely filled with the desire to provide better living conditions for their families.

As there are two yoruba demons, fully decked in agbada, who are licking their lips and observing the behinds of female attendees at a wedding reception.
So also are there two hundred decent yoruba men who are genuinely taking in insults from their bosses in order to keep the job and provide for their wives; enduring the bumpy rides of lagos molues in order to save up to buy cars for their girlfriends; and also dragging themselves out of bed on Sunday morning's just to fulfill the wishes of their girlfriend.

Indeed.
Nobody should ever judge a whole people just because some members are evil

To be continued in later posts
#BASHORUN

Okontas.com

Hello friend. Jesus loves you very much.

Ohun tí a ò fẹ́ kéèyàn ó mọ̀ là ńṣe lábẹ́lẹ̀ / The person who has nothing to hide should not do anything in secret.

(1) (Reply)

Vocabulary Acquisition / Egbechofaith.com. Wild Imaginations, Short Stories and Poems / My Top 7 Rules..by James Altucher

(Go Up)

Sections: politics (1) business autos (1) jobs (1) career education (1) romance computers phones travel sports fashion health
religion celebs tv-movies music-radio literature webmasters programming techmarket

Links: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10)

Nairaland - Copyright © 2005 - 2024 Oluwaseun Osewa. All rights reserved. See How To Advertise. 20
Disclaimer: Every Nairaland member is solely responsible for anything that he/she posts or uploads on Nairaland.