HER DEAD BODY

‘I want gala, I want gala’, I screamed.
‘What is it with you and gala’ Sade chided, ‘when you are not a baby’.
‘You people must sha buy me gala, else you won’t rest in this car o’, I stubbornly replied in my Yoruba English.
‘Femi, please just buy one for her and let her keep quiet, this traffic is too much for one silly girl to continue screaming’
I inwardly smiled as Femi called the nearest gala seller, mission accomplished.

Femi and Sade were my colleagues at the Realty firm where I worked. Most evenings Sade and I hitched ride with him to the nearest bus stops to our houses, saving us the cost of spending so much on transportation.

I got my gala, and the journey immediately became a quiet and peaceful one, I even dozed for some minutes on the Third mainland bridge. I opened my sleepy eyes only to find an old man in a Coaster unbranded staff bus beside our car staring at me. As our eyes met, he quickly blinked and looked away. The traffic made the two vehicles move side by side, which made me catch him staring at my yellow laps again (I was rocking a short black dress). After some minutes I called the attention of my colleagues to what was happening. As they looked at him, he smiled and winked at me. Then he brought out a one thousand naira note and his phone, indicating that I should call my number. We laughed and laughed. I wondered how an old man like that could be so mischievous.

Just as we were laughing, Femi got a paper, rolled it up and threw it at him, telling him that was my number he threw. Where he got the strength I couldn’t tell, but as low as our car was, he grabbed the paper like his life depended on it. I saw the disappointment on his face as he discovered it was just a plain sheet of paper.
By now other people in his bus had opened their curtains and were looking with interest. Some laughed as much as we did, some just smiled. The silliness went on till we got to Unilag waterfront and we lost him in the traffic.

I felt it was a funny episode, a good ending to the stressful day, a comic relief for the tensed up office hours. What with the difficult boss we had. Just last week she had called me a fool with a porous brain, Femi was a lazy man and she still wondered why his parents spent so much in training him, Sade was retarded. We would never get enough of her insults. Just the other day he had asked a married colleague if he had balls. And I remember the day she told another colleague that she sneezed like a lion. Very funny woman.

I was frantically searching for another job, preferably in another state. What with the Lagos stress and madness. I woke up at 4.30 every morning, left home past 5, and if I got home at 9.30pm it was a very good day. I worked alternate Saturdays too, leaving little or no time for myself. It was just crazy. I so much craved for my freedom.

All these were going on in my head as Femi dropped me at Pen-cinema. I was to take another bus to my Agbado-Ijaiye home, which took another 30 minutes. I secured a seat at the front, and again dozed off after about five minutes. The sharp pain in my stomach woke me up. I had ulcer. I hardly ate. Who would feed well in my kind of situation? My tummy had started protruding without being pregnant, na so so carbohydrate person go dey wack. Rice, yam, eba, gala, bread, madness!

I was still thinking about all these when my phone rang. It was my ex-boyfriend. We attended the same University and dated for six years. He started calling again after we stopped talking for almost two years. I poured out all my anger and frustration and told him I would be the happiest girl on earth if I could secure a civil service job. He pitied me and made me know that for anything, he could never work in Lagos. He already had two Masters degree in different fields and now worked at that same University we both attended. ‘Lucky chap’, I thought to myself. He asked why I didn’t get an apartment close to my office. I told him ‘no way’. Because no landlord in Lagos would let you pay for just one year, and obviously I wasn’t going to live alone for another two years. Won’t I get married? He got the gist and wished me all the best.

Just then I noticed the UBA at my bus stop and shouted ‘U-turn wa o, o wa o, oloshi, shey o ma gbe mi koja bus stop mi ni’, I cursed the bus conductor. He retorted, ‘e boole jare, elejowewe’ (get down please, talkative).
I rained insults on the disrespectful conductor till I got to the side of the road where I would cross the expressway to get to my street. There were many people waiting for the fast moving vehicles on the road to reduce. I stood there, still fuming; I sighted an ‘aboki’ selling ‘suya’at the other side of the road.

Confused about what I would eat that night, I thought buying ‘suya’ to go with nice ‘garri ijebu’ wouldn’t be a bad idea. I was still lost in my thoughts when I saw people cross. I ran after them without thinking, without looking at the truck speeding down the road. Someone yelled behind me ‘Jesus Christ’. That was all I heard as I fell. I felt a sharp pain as my head hit the median that separated the road. I felt warmth on my hair. By then I knew my wig must have removed, exposing my natural dreads that I always covered to work. Traffic had built, people milled around me, I saw flashes of light, must have been cameras. The warmth I felt on my head suddenly became cold. It must have been blood.

People yelled ‘ki loruko e’ (what is her name), ‘check her handbag maybe you will find her id card’, ‘where is her phone’. The voices were so distant. I knew I had already lost the battle. I felt people lifting me. My eyes were tightly shut. My house was just a few metres away. How would they know at home? Who would they call first?

Just then my whole life flashed before me. I saw myself in that white dress, grinning from ear to ear as I received the Holy Communion for the first time. I saw the photo session on my matriculation day in the University. I saw that party we had at the School of Journalism after my postgraduate program, the convocation was to hold the next month.

I remembered my father. Poor Dad. He had called me that morning that there was an important matter to be discussed, and that I should call him when I got home. Of course I promised to call. But now obviously someone else would have to call him. I remembered my fiancé. He had called when I was on my way from Pen-cinema. I had also promised to call when I got home. But of course it wouldn’t be from that home he expected. The call would have to be from another end.

Just as they lifted my bloodied body and put me in the car, I closed my eyes forever, sinking into that freedom I always wanted. I smiled, whispering to myself, ‘freedom at last’.

I knew I wouldn't tell the story myself. My dead body must tell it.

Hmm.. Very sad Story. I wondered why some pple thinks they are important whn death is already nocking @ their door. "vanity life".

Which kind sad story be this na

bidemi, Leo, kin ti ri ke?

Am crying here o plz, wont u continue?

Sad story. Not my kind. But m still gonna stick around for the update.

Good twist and turns Anne
Nice write up.

lamps011: bidemi, Leo, kin ti ri ke?

eeeeee, o san o. E si eyi ke?

RoyalRoy: Sad story. Not my kind. But m still gonna stick around for the update.

Good twist and turns Anne
Nice write up.

Thanks Roy

Aipete2: Am crying here o plz, wont u continue?

Awwwwww
Stop crying
Dts the end of d story

anneabidemi:
Awwwwww
Stop crying
Dts the end of d story

seriously?

Royver:
seriously?

Yes love

anneabidemi:
Yes love

OK sweetie I enjoyed the story. It was kind of tragic but sweet at the same time i.e the girl finally realising freedom in death. A bit macabre but a good piece. Well done.

anneabidemi: eeeeee, o san o. E si eyi ke?

lohontoba ma in o..
TP, victory college .ONDO

lamps011:
lohontoba ma in o..
TP, victory college .ONDO

Tp? Plz are u a student of unn or coe ikere

Na wa o. Dis story get as e be o

Na here d tori go stop

It was worth my time, not bad.

Divepen: Na here d tori go stop

yes ooooo

lamps011:
lohontoba ma in o..
TP, victory college .ONDO

haaaaa sweetheart le oooooo