Interersting....Thumb up

Hmm Aunty safari. I will follow ooo. It's interesting. But how will I knw u will finish dis story?? Love ur work

******

As soon as I step into the house, I'm hit with the aroma of chicken and cake. Did I mention Gladys is an awesome cook? Well, she is....she's also very careless and is one of those Nigeria.s who don't lock their doors because they believe everyone 'has some good in them'...well, she's never been robbed so I suppose that philosophy works for her. People like me have totally different stories as concerns her philosophy.

"Isi, is that you?" I heard her call out from the kitchen....oh yes, she also has a keen sense of hearing. It's always surprised me that no matter how old she gets, she still has perfect hearing abilities. When I was younger and would leave my bedroom to just sit in the living room because I couldn't sleep, she would always join me seconds later. It never mattered that I closed the door carefully or I tip-toed....she just always knew when I wasn't in my room. She scared me back then, I thought she was a witch.

"Yes ma" I reply as I make my way to the kitchen passing her rather modest, but somewhat fancy sitting room. The first time I stepped into this house and every room in it my jaw dropped, I had never seen anything so beautiful being that before then I was a slum kid, my house was nothing more than a glorified shack and my bridge space wasn't any fancier, so imagine my shock when I stepped into a room that looked like those I had admired on the televisions I watched through windows and the magazines I found in the dump.

The sette included red coloured and white coloured couches andd love seats, the sitting room was spacious....she loves space, there were some plants at strategic corners of the room, a flat screen TV about 62-inches, she's a football fan and the tv is better for viewing, or so she told me when she got it. Gladys was a pastor, but she didn't deny herself certain luxuries. Oh no, she worked hard for her money and had been the Principal of a Girls only missionary school for about 10 years, she planned to enjoy the fruits if her labour.

There was a citrus scent in the room with lemon and yellow colured walls, the last time I was here, it had been strawberry-scented. I shrugged, she never could make up her mind with those scents.

"Come, come, i'm in the kitchen."

I walk into the kitchen just in time to see her setting plates on the small dining table in the middle of her massive kitchen. I never really understood why she needed a kitchen this big, but once again, she was pro-space...she always needed space andd even the table didn't affect her space. We usually ate at this table, the other dining table that was in the room after the living room was reserved for large gatherings ie whenever she has church members over or just guests....I can't remember the last time I sat at that table.

"oh my darling, you look gorgeous." she gushed as she rushed to me and enveloped me in a warm hug. Ah, she's also a hugger...it took me a while, 2 years actually, to get comfortable with another human being hugging me, but Gladys remains the only person allowed to have such body contact with me.

"Thank you mama. You look good yourself."

She smiled and brushed my cheek, "Thank you dear. You came just in time, I just finished cooking. I hope you're hungry"

Did it even matter? She still feeds me even when I tell her i'm full....i'm never too full.

"I prepared your favourite, coconut rice with coleslaw and chicken. I baked some chocolate cakes and there's chocolate and banana ice cream in the freezer."

I groan inwardly, if this woman doesn't kill me with food, i'll die at an old age, "Mama, I told you to stop stressing yourself, coconut rice can be stressful."

She waved my concern away, "Stop please, i'm not complaining am I? Now sit, I have a lot to tell you"

Of course, she's this cheery for a reason and all of this food surely must be to celebrate something. I slowly ease into a seat and she sits across from me and proceeds to dish out the food.

"Remember when I told you my son said he's thinking of coming home soon?" she begins cheerily

Now we're getting to it. I nod as I delve into the full plate of coconut rice and coleslaw placed in front of me. I hold back a groan of satisfaction as it hits my taste buds. Glorious. If I wasn't so headstrong i'd probably drop by Gladys' house every single day for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Hell, I'd still be living here by now.

"Well, he called me last night and gave me the awesome news that he'll be coming this weekend" she was gleaming so much, she probably would burst out of excitement. This son really must be awesome.

"That's great." I said in my best 'excited' voice, which isn't really good anyway.

"I know. You're going to love him, he might even be the one to end your allergy to men"

At her suggestion, a particle of food got clogged in my throat and I coughed erratically, I quickly reached for the glass of water a few inches away from me and drank the entire thing. Gladys is apparently watching too many movies if she thinks there's a chance in any dimension that I, Isidore, will ever in the next 3 centuries, have any form of intimate relationship with any man.


"Are you okay?" Her voice is filled with concern as I nod my head in the affirmative.

"Yes, I am." I give no further explanation. My personal way of ending the conversation. Gladys isn't really good with taking hints, especially when the wheels in her head start turning.

"I've told Chuma so much about you, he thinks I've replaced him with you, he's so jealous." she chuckled at that revelation.

I try to smile, but all I can muster is something of a grimace, "Hardly."

"So, tell me, how is your boy doing?"

Not only am I extremely grateful for the change of subject, it doesn't hurt that it veered towards something I'm not only comfortable with talking about, I also am passionate about it. Gladys likes to refer to Ismail as my 'boy'...as though he's really my son when he hardly is. It doesn't offend me, I also like to think of him as mine once in a while and I sometimes wish I had more access to him than I currently do. The type I would have if he was living under my roof.

"He's doing well. I'll be going to see him this evening." I pitch in enthusiastically.

"That's good. You can take him food and some cake. I doubt we both can finish all i've prepared."

I fully agree as my eyes scan the left over food.

She reaches across the table and grasps my left hand in her right one, the light squeeze she gives it is just her preparing me for my daily dose of heart-to-heart, also known as the mushy stuff I have to deal with whenever we meet

"Isi, you're a good person. I know there's a world of good inside of you and the way you look after that boy is a testament to that. Don't let the demons of your past consume you, don't let them win and ruin your future."

I shake my head and squeeze her hand, "The demons won't consume me mama, we have a working agreement." which is partly true. The demons last only as long as I wish them too....which may be a long time, but i've fully come to terms with that and I realise that those demons are a vital part of me and if they die, I lose my purpose. I can't lose my purpose.

"When you're dealing with the devil, there's no such thing as an 'agreement'"

There is probably some truth to her words, but I'm not here to have a debate on the supernatural and I refuse to be manipulated or coerced into one, so I end the discussion with two magic words, "I understand"

Still following

Aunty safari is hotting ooo. Tanks 4 d update ,following you all d way

Safari
all the way
tanks for the update!

Still following

*****

I got to the Island sometime around 6pm all thanks to the unyielding and annoying Lagos traffic. It still amazes me how traffic can be so tight even on a Sunday when people ought to be resting in preparation for the first working day of the week

As I reached the clearing where most of the beggars sat, I looked around in search of Ismail and/or his mother. The usual spot where she sits is suspiciously vacant today and I wonder why. Dismissing the thought as nothing I should fret about, I walked further in search of Ismail, but there was still no trace of him.

That's odd....Ismail ought to have spotted me by now and I know he would run up to me if he sees me. So where is he?

Five minutes into my search, I feel a knot begin to grow in my stomach. This has never happened before. No Ismail and I can't even find his mother, what....? I whip my head towards the corner where the bully likes to sit and glare. He's not there either.

Oh my goodness. What the hell could have happened? I was only gone a little past 24 hours, what could have gone wrong since then?

Realising that I will get no answers standing and looking like a lost sheep, I walk u p to the closest beggar I can find, a fairly old man with beady eyes who I notice has had his eye on me since I arrived. No matter, what I need from him overrides whatever eerie vibes i'm getting from him.

"Good evening, do you speak English?" I ask, my reply is silence and more uncomfortable staring, my worried mund doesn't focus on that though. I take his silence to mean he doesn't understand. So I try again in a different language, "Bonjour, tu parle anglais?"

He continues to stare, now i'm starting to think he's deaf, after all, there are some beggars around here with real disabilities. Damn it, I should have learnt sign language as well.

I turn around in exasperation searching for anyone else who can help me and preferrably isn't deaf and speaks some. English when I her a gruff voice speak from behind me, "Wetin you dey find?"

I whip my head at the man with the weathered features, what the hell? He understood me all this time? I have the mind to give him a few words on speaking when spoken to, but he's of a far greater use for now.

"I dey find one small pikin, one boy wey him mama no dey see, the boy resemble oyibo." I described Ismail as best I could considering how nervous I am.

He looked me over again, "Na that pikin wey you dey find come here everyday?" he questioned.

I nodded my head frantically, grateful that someone had been paying attention all this time, "Yes, you know where e dey?"

He gave a shrug and his eyes darted to my purse rather pointedly, it's not hard to figure what he expects in exchange for valuable information. I quickly open my purse, get out my wallet and slip a five hundred naira note out of it and hand it to the man- yes, i'm that desperate for information, andd going by how quickly he snatched it, he's that desperate for cash as well.

"He go that house wey dem never build finish" he pointed at an uncompleted building a few metres away.

I turned toward the direction and the sight of the building made something lurch in my stomach, goodness I have a bad feeling about this, "Thank you" I offer quickly and then hastily made my way to the building.

The closer I get, the more I feel like I'm walking straight to a crime scene, that thought speeds up my walking as I silently mutter prayers to a God I deserted that Ismail be safe...I can't eve imagine what I would do if it turns out my little boy is a victim of this crime.

Once I reach the building, I retrieve my blackberry from my bag to make use of the torchlight, the sunset has completed and there's barely any light now. I step into the building, the sound of sands and stones crunching under my feet meets my ear, "Ismail" I call out softly, my voice echoes through the empty building but i'm met with silence, the thought that the bully might be somewhere inside doesn't occur to me and even if it did, I'm not scared of him,I've killed men twice his size anyway.

I move further into the room, my heart rate accelerating more in reaction to the fear that i'll find Ismail's lifeless body in one of these rooms bludgeoned than the idea that I'll be attacked.

I stop at the entrance of a third room as my keen ears pick the slightest sound of a sniff. Someone else is here....Ismail? I direct my light into the room, and sure enough it catches the form of a little boy, but my joy is short-lived when he directs a forlorn gaze at me....and I see the blood smudged on his face....and his hands....and the front of his shirt. How do I know the red substance all over him is blood? Trust me, i've killed enough people to notice when someone is covered in blood.

I rush to him, I notice he isn't crying, his eyes are bloodshot, but there are no tears, the sight takes me back to the sight of a little girl, barely 10 years old, staring at two corpses in that same manner, "Ismail, qu'est-ce qui s'est passé?"(what happened?)

All I get is a blank stare, he's still in shock. Whatever happened here still has him out of it, it's like déjà vu seeing him like this, "Ou ést ta mere?"

At that question, he snapped out of his daze and his eyes watered, I watched him crack and break as he clung to me desperately and let out a harsh sob that hit me hard in my chest, "Elle est mort, elle est mort...." he repeatedly chanted, a chill ran down my spine. How did she die? I was only gone for 24 damned hours! How did all of this happen? I held the trembling boy in my arms as a fit-wrenching sob racked through him.......my hold tighened, these were the tears he had been holding back for years, they tears he refused to give free reign over him. Like every fighter, tears are not option, but once in our lives, those tears are necessary in order to maintain a semblance of sanity. And this is Ismail's time to let it all out.

I slowly sit on the ground and pull him into my lap, running my hand through his hair and letting his sobs play the sober music his soul has been composing for years

Hmm.....quite touching

Why did she have to die? Another lost soul (Ismail)

Pls dnt delay d updates dat long...I knw it aint easy writing, typing et all. Jst try to keep d updates cuming.
Thanks and kudos to the good job thus far

U write well my dear. What about d romance story 'in memory only'?

uh...very touching. Love dis story. Ure my best writer on nl

This is just beautiful.

safarigirl:

I slowly sit on the ground and pull him into my lap, running my hand through his hair and letting his sobs play the sober music his soul has been composing for years

Chapter 2

I'm going to need more than a little help in child care.

Last night was hectic, once I managed to get Ismail together, we left the building and drive off, before we got to my house though, I branched at a kiddies store on the island where I picked out two pairs of trousers, a pair of shorts, four shirts and a pair of sandals, I couldn't have him in dirty, bloody clothes. We had Gladys' meal for dinner- which he barely ate anyway, and then we both went to sleep in my bedroom and sure enough the nightmares came for him,I was up most of the night, calming him.

We are yet to speak on what happened yesterday, how his mother died and who else died, because going by the words he muttered in his sleep, I knew most of the blood on him didn't belong to his mother. Still, I more than anyone knows that such things shouldn't be rushed. He'll speak at his own time, for now, he has chosen to be mute. He hasn't said a word since he broke the news that his mother is dead, he's at the withdrawal stage, I don't expect him to speak, it will take a while before he'll be able to do that.

Unfortunately, the meeting I have today won't let me stay with him, so I called up Gladys as early as 6am to inform her that i'll bee bringing him down. I only mentioned his mother's death to Gladys on the phone and until I return, that's all the information she'll be getting. She's free today and doesn't mind babysitting. Ismail won't be any trouble.

I hurried him out of the car and to the front door, before I could even raise my hand to press the bell, the door flung open.

"Isi, how are you honey?" Gladys asked as she pulled me in a light hug.

I'm kind of running late so I hVee no time foe pleasantries, "Hi Gladys, this is Ismail."

She stooped to him with a smile that could melt the coldest heart. Gladys is used to handling 'troubled' kids, so i'm very sure she'll be able to handle Ismail while i'm gone.

"Hello, little one, how are you?" he withdrew from her, further movinh into my embrace as he stared with wary eyes.

I seem to have forgoteen one tiny information, "Mama, he doesn't really understand English"

She raised a brow at me, "So what does he understand?"

"French"

Gladys shook her head at me, "Always leaving out the important information..." she returned her gaze to Ismail, "Bonjour mon Petit, comment allez-vous"

Okay, so she knows some French, I definitely did not kniw that prior to today. Her use of French did nothing to earn Ismail's emdearmeent though, he remained stiff in my hold. So I stooped and looked him in the face and in my softwar voice said, "Mama est tres joli, ne pas être gênant. je vais te chercher plus tard, oui?" (mama is really nice, don't be any trouble. I'll pick you up later, yes?)

It took ,ore than a few seconds, but finally, I wash able to get a nod of approval from him and he slowly moved to Gladys.

"Goodluck with the meeting sweety." she said as I turned and waved them goodbye.

"Thank you." I replied passively. As I start my car and drive off, the only thing on my mind is the little boy i'm leaving behind. I know I'll have to speak to Gladys concerning him, as much as I want him to heal, he can't do that living with a damaged soul like me. He's going to need exposure, he'll have to talk to others. Luckily, he's going through this at a pretty young age, so he should be able to heal more than I have.

I'm in serious need of a cigarette right now, I hate to think too much andh I barely got a drink last night...maybee I'll be able to get a smoke before the meeting because I certainly won't be in the right frame of mind to address someone, even less an entire board with thoughts of Ismail hovering over me.

Tank u 4 dis update. It's really touching. Well done maam

Haven followed your write ups religiously for sometime,I'll commend your efforts at churning out mind boggling and beautifully worded stories..ur characters always come alive and hold ur readers spell bound....yet,I'm unable to come to terms and find closure since u obviously have no plans to complete th e remàining two works.I understand ur experiencing sm challenges in DAT regard.I'll hold off reading this work until reasonable progress has been made....ur ardent fan

Safarigirl I didn't know you write stories too. You're pretty multi-faceted and I like - football, rap, literature, video games? dance? keep it up miss.

A few observations on this last update:

" we left the building and drive off, " - I think the 'drive' should be 'drove' seeing the 'left' is past tense.

" I branched" - Looking at the usage I doubt "branched" is the right word. Branched is not proper english in that context.

The second paragraph was a bit long with many commas before the full stop. Feel a full stop can come in after "drive off" and the following sentence tweaked a bit.

On Gladys knowing some French which Isidore didn't know before: my brain protest small for that place. For two people to be close up to "phone call" level I feel they should know they both speak some level of french. Maybe there's an explanation for that I skipped.

As with the first case I pointed out there're a few other tense mix up.

A couple typos here and there but running spellcheck should cure that.

I say make I support your ministry with the small I know. The pros should have more to say. All in all, its a great effort. You can only go higher

sorry for the delay guys. We've resumed academics and school is already a butch, so I won't be updating as fast as before. Justtell me what you think if this update as usual and thanks for your patience

*****

I got the job.

I don't know how I manage to pull these things off, but somehow, even when my brain is some other place, I manage to sync it with where my body is....I had a few gaffes here and there, some board members who weren't too busy ogling me, caught a few words that prompted the raising of brows, but all in all, I pulled through even though half the time seemed like I would get a seizure.

Once my car is parked in Gladys' driveway, I place my hands over my mouth and huff into the curve to be sure my breath doesn't smell of the cigar I had over 10 minutes ago. Even though Gladys is aware i'm yet to break the habit, I still don't think it appropriate to walk ingl her home smelling like cigarettes, especially when i'm coming to pick up a child.

I walk up to her doorstep and open the door- unlocked as usual. I swear this woman's faith will be the death of her. I walk into the sitting room to find Ismail sitting in front of the big screen television with wide eyes, I can hear what sounds like Spongebob Squarepants from the surround sound....well, at least he's occupied.

His eyes leave the screen and fall on me as if he can sense my presence, "Bonjour" he says quietly, he's so quiet, I barely catch his words.

"Bonjour" I reply, he gives me what I suppose he intended to be a smile, but he doesn't quite make it. And then returns his gaze to the screen.

I stand there, just watching him, for a moment longer. I leave the sitting room in search of Gladys, I find her sitting at the backyard, probably relaxing. There's a half-empty glass of what looks to be orange juice on the table next to her and a jug filled with the same content, as I always do whenever I see her with a glass of any fruit juice, I wonder how long it takes her to squeeze the juice out. I definitely have no time for such.....it's much too tasking.

"Why don't you get a cup and come take some of this orange juice instead of just standing there?" Gladys tossed me a smile at that statement....I almost forgot she can sense people.

I go into the kitchen andd retrieve a cup from the cupboard. There's an empty seat awaiting my return that I easee into, I fill my glass cup andd take a sip of the soothing juice. As chill as expected. As much as I condemn the hectic process of juice-making, the end result is rarely ever disappointing- at least not from Gladys. I stare out into the backyard like Gladys is doing, the greenery here is amazing....Gladys had a gardening expert work on this backyard some years ago. She hass thought the backyard was plain and lacked 'colour' and 'character'....seeing it now, I totally share her sentiments concerning the former state of the place.

There are palms lined up the sides of the yard and shrubbery in some strategic places, the ground is covered in grass, there are about 3 guava trees scattered around and a large mango tree is right at the centre. The size of the backyard ensures that the plants aren't clustered and the breeze here is nothing short of heavenly....

"He's a good boy" Gladys says. She's still staring into space.

I nod my head in agreement, "Yes, he is."


We embrace a few minutes of comfortable silence during which I consider all the ways to state my case concerning Ismail to Gladys. I know there's not much left for me, but there's a lot left for him.

"You never told me the full story in him."

"I don't even know the full story. He's yet to open up to me. All I know is, his mother is dead"

"He was restless during his siesta. Something is botherimg him."

I glance at the cup in my hands wishing I can say more, decode this mystery or share some useful information, but until Ismail speaks for himself, I can't say anything....the only thing I know is that Ismail's mother isn't the only familiar face missing in that area. I went past their settlement twice today and I didn't see the man with the ashen hair and dusky skin.

"Actually, I was going to ask you if you could help me....if we could enroll him in a school."

A slight nod of her head and a smile is my initial reply until she speaks, "Yes, we should do that. It might be a little hard for him to assimilate though, but i'll talk to a few people, see who'll be willing to admit a little boy with little knowledge of English."

I slowly reach out andh grasp her hand thereby gaining her attention, there's a look of cconcern on hwr face when she turns to me, "Isi, what.....?"


I don't let her finish, "I know I haven't been the easiest person to live with and i'm a list cause, but....I don't want Ismail to be the same. I want him to go to school, and follow you to church. I want him to be a normal child, more normal than I was. And he really needs you to be that, I can't give him the love you can, the love he needs. You don't have to adopt him, just be his other mother, his grandma. Help him, please."

I can safely say I've never spoken so long in my life or made such a heartfelt speech, but I'm honestly glad it's all out. Gladys stares at me with glassy eyes and a warm smile, her free hand reaches out to brush my cheek tenderly.

"Isidore, you're not a bad person. The fact that you care so much for this boy is testament to that, and you're not a lost cause either. There is still a lot of good in you, if only you'd see it....."


I place my hand above hers, as much as she loves to tell me how good of a person I am, I really don't want to hear it. I kniw what type of person I am......and that person is not some superhero with a sabre and a good heart. It's nit someone who rids the world of evil with good intentions, I only do what I do to get revenge, not for a good cause andd what i'm doing for Ismail...well, if we weren't so much alike. If I didn't meet him in the circumstances I did, if I didn't see him yesterday covered in blood and weeping....trembling. If I didn't see him that way,if his mother didn't die, he would've grown up and maybe....maybe he would've grown into a teenage boy and I would look at him with the same eyes I look at other men.

No, what i'm doing for Ismail has nothing to do with conscience or morality. It's just the circumstances we found ourselves that necessitated our involvement.

"Gladys, let's not go into this right now."

She opens her mouth to speak, but the sound of her phone ringing ensures the words never make it out. Saved by the call.

She gives me a look that I translate to "This isn't over"....i'm glad for a reprieve either way.

She stares at the phone, the way her face is scrounged up, I know the number isn't familiar, but she answers still. We're different in that. I would never answer a call from a strange number, Gladys would. She tells me she answers such because someone she knows could be in trouble and wouldn't have access to his or her phone. Sometimes it makes sense, most times I still think it's dumb to answer just any call. Some people could get forward when you pick their calls.

"Hello?" she speaks into the receiver.

I watch her features change from confusion to amazement and then glee, "I hope you're not pulling my legs." she replies whoever is on the phone


Her eyes widen, "Chuma, if I drive down to the airport andd I don't see you...." she pauses, and looks down at her phone...suffice it to say, at this point my curiosity is peaked.

"You're serious....wait there, just wait, i'm in my way." she ends the call and shoots off the chair.

She has this other-worldly look in her eyes, this gleam that has me both curious and excited, but I remain as still as a statue as she vibrates with excitement.

"Isi, get Ismail, we're going to the airport. He's back....my son,Chuma....he's back."

She pulls my hand and drags me off my seat with a strength I know she shouldn't possess at her age. Well, i'm.definitely going to be the one driving.

More importantly, I'll finally meet the great Chuma. Defender of the defenseless, pride of his mother and son of his father. I don't think I want to meet this fellow. I already have a bad feeling about him

Ha!...safarigirl oooo come and breing me out of dis suspense oo......A̶̲̥̅♍ so sure he finish up the good work the mum started in her

am expecting dt Chuma to break our almighty Isidore down, e no go easy sha

as una don talk una own finish, make I yarn my own.

*clears throat * I think chuma will later be of help to Isidore in finding and haunting down Isidore's prey

Lemme post pictures of somecharacters at this juncture.


Gladys


Chuma......


Isidore

Yet to find pictures for other characters, but all in good time

gush safarigirl don't you think the image representing Isidore doesn't connote her supposed characteristics you earlier mentioned.
she is mean, hardly smile right?, but what I see in the image is far different from what you said about her. my humble opinion tho.

treasuregr8:
gush safarigirl don't you think the image representing Isidore doesn't connote her supposed characteristics you earlier mentioned.
she is mean, hardly smile right?, but what I see in the image is far different from what you said about her. my humble opinion tho.

I could change it....but I chose that girl cuz she kinda has mature features and a muted beauty about her andd if you think of her with a frown, she'd fit.....


Lemme see if I can get someone else though

safarigirl:
I could change it....but I chose that girl cuz she kinda has mature features and a muted beauty about her andd if you think of her with a frown, she'd fit.....


Lemme see if I can get someone else though

ya it's ok. I thought as much (imagined her frown) after I posted that and I realized if fits.
nice job dear

treasuregr8:


ya it's ok. I thought as much (imagined her frown) after I posted that and I realized if fits.
nice job dear

thank you

.

safari girl, dis update is mesmerizing. but den wat's with isi's bad feeling towards meeting Chuma? perhaps dey've met in a not too good situation..

Safarigirl, beautiful characters u've got there. I really love ur stories. Welcome back to school. I pray you have time to update now dat u'll be busy with school work. Very nice update.