As Tunde got out the plane as blast of hot air greeted him as if to say welcome home to the land where nothing works, welcome home run away soldier, you left home eighteen years ago because the naira was trading on par with the dollar but you return when the naira has been battered by the dollar and the new Euro
Welcome home Prodigal son, welcome home Tunde.

He was on of many Nigerian professionals who “Checked” out the country in the wake of the economic collapse that followed the fall of the corrupt Shagari government and Ibrahim Babaginda’s Structural Adjustment Programme (SAP) years. When he left, Multala Mohammed Airport
Fondly referred to as “MM” by his fellow exiled Nigerians was a real working airport, the best airport in sub Saharan Africa but now its in total decay.

Tunde or Dr Philips as his mother loves to call him by walked towards the scruffy looking security men starring at him with hungry eyes looking for an easy prey to devour,Oga welucome o they all hailed him Chairman you boys dey here o,he ignored them and walked on clutching both his brief case and passports. He gave his two passports, Nigerian and British passports to a very ugly immigration woman who gave his papers a good look crossed checked it with a piece of papers with lots of names on it as if checking for Al Qaeda members.
She smiled at him and waived him through, welcome home sir giving him back his passports, unbeknown to him his mother has sorted the big oga in charge.Tunde thanked her as he walked to collect his suitcases at least my people are polite he thought.

As he walked towards where they had arrivals in neon lights he could make out his father as he towered over everyone waiting for their love ones coming back home but it was his mother who made herself rather visible by screaming at the top of her voice.Immidiately the Bata drummers started beating their drums, pronouncing that the big doctor from University College Hospital London has come back home.

What the Bleep is going on? His parents no his mother has brought the whole village to welcome him back from exile; she’s got all her friends in those ridiculous head scarves to welcome him back. What is she thinking? Am no royalty, even if I was royalty this the twenty first century for crying out loud!
The woman his mother Ronke rugby tackled him as she hugged him, kissing and looking him over, she hasn’t seen her son for seventeen years, because she had a morbid fear of flying.

Her friends sang and danced around Tunde, as Ronke monopolised him not letting anyone hold him for more than a few seconds, she was protecting her son from the evil eyes abound. His father Maj.Adefemi Philips gave a manly hug; welcome back Tunde.The old man had tears in his eyes. His other relations whom he can’t remember who they are all hugged him saying how good it was to see the boy who had made their family’s name famous.

Dr Tunde Philips was indeed famous, he had just being made the doctor to the Royal Household, any black made the official doctor to the British Royal family was indeed famous.Dr Philips hated the fame, he was not famous because he performed pioneering medical procedure or his brilliant publications in medicines and the exciting world genetics, he was famous because he was BLACK.

The British media were stunned when they heard the young charismatic black doctor had resigned from his post as doctor to Her Majesty just to return home to that notorious country Nigeria. It was a big story not because a good doctor left Her Majesty’s service but because a BLACK doctor left Her Majesty’s service.

hum! @ mayor is at it again

_{been waiting, salivating for the follow up of his last story}


erhm @ mayor why did tunde resign and come home?

im dey craze?

Tunde the returnee was practically shoved and push to the waiting chauffer driven Pajero, he settled in the back with his mother hugging tighter than ever he could only smile not wanting to scream out in pain he thought women got weaker as they get older but this 65 year mother of his was stronger than he remembered.

The drive from the airport to their residence in Victoria Garden City (VGC) was uneventful, even his mother left him to his thoughts, she just sang softly to herself all the way.
The doctor was dismayed in the sights before him, the roads were worse than when he left, the streets were littered with cellophane sachets of what is referred to as “pure water” even they streets sellers were bolder than before. There were new tall buildings housing banks and telecom companies everywhere, new shiny cars yet there were more hungry people using their “legedeze Benz”

There signboards advertising crusades and deliverance services all over the place, what is going on here there seems to be more churches than restaurants or schools and hospitals

His father sensing his son was uncomfortable with what he was seeing cleared his throat and said

Tunde our country has gone through a lot of changes since you left, there has being good, bad and ugly changes in Nigeria, I know it’s a culture shock to you but you will get use to it.
His mother interrupted her husband rudely, my darling referring to both father and son you can talk politics later if you want but not today, not my day.

As they approached the Marina it began to rain heavly, mothers with babies on their back, neatly dressed men and women were all ducking for cover from the showers of blessing as the song goes.
He looked over his shoulders as traffic slowed down to a crawl and what he saw sent shivers down his spine

The rain ripped at his body as he ran. A crash of thunder boomed in the distance and a crack of lightning flew across the sky. A man in jeans and red t-shirt was being chased. Three dark shadowy figures waved pistols at him.  He just ran, ran for his life, He got knocked over by some trashcans as he fell to the ground. He rolled and jumped up regaining his foreword movement. The thunder continued, getting closer and closer to him each crash. He stopped and turned around only too see the three figures right behind him. There was a muzzle flash and explosion from the gun. He spun around violently gripping his now burning chest and fell into a mud puddle face first. His blood mixed with the dirt and water as he lay dying.

Cars screeched as everyone ducked for cover, the men just calmly walked to a waiting bike called Okada and sped away.Tunde was jolted back to reality as their bang into the back of another car.


His mother was screaming at the top of her voice, shouting Jesus is lord and Holy Ghost Fire. His father was ok but there care has stopped and the driver was resting on the airbag

the driver's eyes were closed, but he heard him moan softly. Blood ran out of one of his ears and he saw a large knot on the right side of his head. The windshield was badly cracked. "No seatbelt, so stupid," he thought, as he looked her over. He saw no blood or other signs of injury.
.


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MRMAYOR
U wont kill person.
pls make some points clear

was it tunde that was shot oe were u tryng to describe an accident or a robbery scene
cos have gotten the whole thingy mixed up


good work anyway

Babonboard,

Thanks for your comment,I didn't realize that I still used my earlier idea of an accident on the way home instead of the murder Tunde witnessed.

The idea of of the story is all the horror stories Nigerians in diaspora hear about home,many Nigerians on return back from holidays in Nigeria tell you stories that would scare the shit out of even the most patriotic Naija man or woman.I remember a friend telling that he saw a man gunned down in his estate somewhere in Ikeja on his first day back and he nearly shit his pants.

The Tunde story is for people like me who intend to return home regardless of all the problems real and imagined waiting for us back home.

Cheers