₦airaland Forum

Deceit.
In trying to deceive others, you deceive thyself.

I ate the last meat in my soup bowl, savouring the last super taste of the eba and egusi soup that my mother kept for me after leaving for the school farm. The school farm in a school I hated. Because my mother was a cleaner in the university, they let me attend the Staff School full of feeble brained kids who knew nothing about sipping garri with palm kernels or chewing half ripe mangoes. I knew I didn’t belong there and I never felt like I belonged.

As I stooped to wash my hands in a bigger plastic bowl, my eyes fell on the ropes of fresh vegetables in a stainless basin under the spring bed.
“Heeeeeh! Ooooohm! Mama. I just hope she doesn’t mean I should carry this vegetable on my head again to go and meet Chika in the market. Ooooooohm.”
I complained and whined around our old block room until I fell on the bed. My legs hitting the springs and making me bounce my weight up and down in irritation.

I recently turned 14 and all of a sudden carrying vegetables to the market seemed like something shameful. My voice was getting deep, my scanty beard itching me and besides I wanted to talk to a girl.

The next thing I did was wear a fresh polo on my school trouser and made to run away. I jumped out of our room which was very much above the ground outside. I backed the world out there and struggled to lock the door. Our house was so close to the road that most times I shied away from staying outside for fear of being spotted by my school rich kids.
I was always conscious of my low life and forever I hid it.

Just when I was done and took three steps into the road, I heard my name from the left. I fidgeted first and turned slowly.

‘Aargh! Chineke!” I reacted and adjusted myself to comportment.
It was Helen.
I wanted to talk to her about helping her do our home works or following me to the canteen for fanta and bonce but I couldn’t. I was always lost whenever she appeared. Most times, she made the class too small for me to compress my magnetic feelings.

“Ikechukwu” Helen greeted politely.

“Helen. Eehm. What are you doing here.. I mean…what..”

“Ikechukwu it’s not that bad that I came around your house”

“Noooo! No. It’s not around my house. I don’t stay close here seriously, my house is so out of this dirty street. Hah. I just rushed in here to one of my friend’s house. I wanted to call him for football but he is not ready so I’m going back to my house in an estate not here.”

She accepted my lies quickly before saying,

“OK. So where is your house let’s go because your Mum is in our house and she sent me to you so that you can bring the vegetables under the bed. My Mother bought all. We are cooking vegetable soup for our visitors this evening. But don’t worry. You can go and play football. I will carry the vegetable home.”

I looked up. I looked down.

Heaven or Earth. Which one will help this my lie now?

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Sad.
So sad.
So sad and angry.
So sad and angry and bitter and disappointed.
Winniebell threw her little Bible.

“Winnie. Are you mad? That’s your Bible.”

“No Chime I’m not mad. The Bible is mad”
“What? God please forgive her. Angels come take over. Stop it. That’s blasphemy! Trust God no matter what. Are you trying to curse God because you came second? Why don’t you ask yourself who gave you the grace to come second.”

“I’m so sorry Chime.”
Chime handed her the bible.
“I’m so sorry bible.” Winnibell cried and continued her journey home with Chime her friend.

The community Anglican church was built in a vast terrain surrounded by a large green field. Winnibell loved running from the church door, through the field and down the road but she wouldn’t do anything that day.

She kept kicking the dwarf grasses and weeping silently. She watched Chime who walked before her smile as she touched some of the grasses.
‘Chime didn’t do the competition neither did she fail nor pass. She wouldn’t know how it feels. My mother will break my bones she doesn’t like second. No other position but first.’
She wept.

It was over unfortunate that two questions rendered her a loser during the church districts quiz.
Winnie stiffened and grumped.

She didn’t want to make it home yet her legs walked fast on the road leading home. Her mother, a young woman left with two girls to carter for displayed bitterness everyday. It was very difficult for her to catch any money to care for basic needs and when they fail, just even one.
Their buttocks, legs, hands, everywhere was dead. They feared her so they tried.

But that day…..

‘I am 14 and I am walking home to get beaten. So help me God.’
‘I prayed again. I always did but why didn’t He answer this time? I came second. Your daughter came second God and you are there?’

Chime hugged her and said goodbye.

Her home was the next garden.
More tears began to gather.

Her older sister was weeding grasses beside the old building. She noticed the sadness on her sister’s face. She knew what that meant.

Winnibell walked slowly into the room. When she looked back shortly, she saw her sister walking behind. Their mother mostly shared the aggression between them.
They will get beaten. Oh! That her koboko that they could faint for. They seemed never to outgrow it.

‘Mama I’m home!’ That came out cold.

“Heeeeh! Winnie my child.”
The weak and skinny woman stood from her knitting spot and embraced her daughter.

Winnibell sniffed.

“But mama. I only got five heavy plates as gifts. I came second”
She tightened. She was expecting her mother to push her away and throw a tantrum but she,

“Plates? Heavy plates? Let me see..”

The two girls were shocked at their mother’s excitement.

She carefully placed the bag on the table and unveiled the gift gently. She starred deeply at the five breakable dishes. Three flat. Two deep.

Winnibell exchanged shock with her sister.

“Mama. I’m sorry. The first position got a DVD and..and..sorry..”
Winnie was about to kneel as usual but her mother took her to herself.

She embraced her with all motherly warmth. She even signalled her first daughter to come and join them.

She held unto her beautiful daughters and wept.
She wept for many seconds before she spoke,...

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Right as she sat in the sitting room, she was very pressed. Her bladder kept itching, demanding her to go and relieve herself in the toilet but how could she? Her little boy was ill and could only feel better by clinging to her body. Whenever she felt like moving, he would make poignant sounds that will push her down to the seat again. She could only pamper him while thinking of other burdens in her head.
She stayed like that for a while, thinking of the next thing to do. Then she quietly stood up and walked slowly to the bathroom carrying her baby along. Thank God she wasn’t wearing any pant, she quietly raised her short skirt and landed her butt on the white loo. It was quiet a relief yet her hands were busy cuddling. Her thoughts were never of herself but of the children she had borne and exposed to nature.

After returning to her spot, she fell asleep with her baby on her chest and zoomed off to half real fantasies. There were still a few chores left for her to do but she couldn’t resist the slumbering bond she was sharing with her child.

Within the cruise of time, the noise from the gate woke her up. It was Junior sobbing his eyes away.
“Junior. Who beat you. Come come come!”

He drew nearer dropping his school bag, “It’s Kenneth”

“Kenneth? Kenneth cannot beat you and you start crying….crying with your big mouth. Go and beat him back. Don’t you have hands? Go! Go now and beat him back”

Junior immediately paused at the angry voice of his Mother and turned.
He even pulled his school shirt and ran out. Charity waited patiently to feel the action. It was when he ran in panting endlessly that she heard the loud cry of her left flat mate’s son.

“Come here” she said to her son.
The little boy drew nearer trusting his mother not to beat him up.
“What did you do to Kenneth?”
“I slapped him back!” He replied gently.
“Good! You should be like your father, your daddy is a strong man almost like Super man. Power! When they hit you and your hand is long enough, hit them back. Don’t let your mate beat you and you start crying uwaaaah uwaaaah in this house. You hear me?”

“Yes” he answered and went to pick up his shirt and his bag.

The time was already 11am, Junior had come back so early because of their mid-term break closure. Charity gently laid her second baby boy who was in deep rest on the couch and went to fix Junior. She also sent the clothes the washing machine had washed to the sun before going to meet her right flat mate who was also her friend.

Conspicuously, she displayed her outfit in front of her friend.

“Where are you going? This one you want me to watch your kids.” Her friend asked.

“Let me reach my husband’s office. He forgot his lunch today.”
She answered confidently.

“Charity. He didn’t forget it. He doesn’t want your lunch pack anymore. Baby girl why don’t you get? He is seeing..”

“Don’t start now abeg. I and my husband are OK. He refused his lunch before doesn’t mean he refused it today too. He simply forgot to pick it from the dinning table so let me send it.”

Her friend rolled her eyes, “Charity. Hah! That’s the sign. He didn’t forget it oooo!”

“No! I refuse to accept it. Abeg watch my kids let me go and see my boo. My first baby”

They laughed.

Her friend continued, “Is your baby better now?”

“Yes. He is sleeping and his body is not so hot again. I know Junior is watching him but just watch them for me let me drive down!”

“Hmm. I don’t know what you are going for? See your hot gown. You want to go and do one hand leaving your children abi?”
Their laughter resounded.

Being a housewife didn’t mean she should starve herself of her fashion sense so she wore a short black skirt, blue and white stripes peplum top and a matching heels. She knew about the office trend. She had been there several times.

As fortunate as ever, she saw her husband driving out of his work place.
Charity gasp but followed him gently.
She drove frantically, cutting out all imaginations and conclusions that could be harmful to her thoughts.

He later parked in an eatery, she knew that eatery so well, where her husband and his friend had lunch most times out of their offices.
She waited to watch him walk out, his footsteps were forever delightful to her eyes.

She smiled as he opened his door and jumped out running to the other side of the car. Her look tensed until she saw it. He opened the door for another woman.

Charity opened her mouth in awe, trying to convince herself that it was a real lie. She knew something was happening to him but that food that day was what she wanted to use and make it or break it.

She waited for a while wondering what to do. How to act and act right as a learned woman that she was. She quickly looked at herself in the mirror, fixed up her make up and dashed out in confidence.

“I simply came to deliver his lunch to him and that’s what I will do”

Keeping it brief and simple occupied her mind.
She walked in.

“Hey baby!!” She hailed at her husband who saw her immediately she drew nearer to him sitting with the lady. The table in between them was empty and she thanked God for that. He didn’t waste our money on such a twit. She caused within.

She pecked him right and left and began.
“Baby, you forgot your lunch on the dinning table so I thought I could simply deliver it to you after I put our boys to sleep. Good afternoon Lady” she greeted in such a way that got the lady off the cloud

Her face read smiles missed with discomfort.

“Sorry I didn’t greet earlier. I was so focused on my husband. You are his colleague I guess.”

“Yes but from another branch. Afternoon. You are so cute!” The lady replied politely.

“Woow thanks.” She understood the lady was a bit civilised so she took it from a plain angle still standing by her husband who was already uneasy.

“Your necklace is sparkling. So how’s work and everything? You two can enjoy the food though?” She told the lady smiling widely.

“Oh no. Not to worry. Thanks a bunch. Since you are here. You too should just have a good time.” The lady stood up.
“Alfred I will see you later at work. Have a good time. Bye!” She waved her more and left.

Charity gently sat opposite her husband flashing her gapped teeth. “This is the 10th time you refused the lunch I used to give you every morning that you cherished so much and today you just left it there on the dinning table what’s up?”

His face was blank. “Baby seriously I.. I just”

“Don’t beg the situation, even if you now go on lunch with women you should have at least taken the lunch so that you can eat it here with drinks just like you and your friend used to. Am I wrong?”

“See! Baby! I don’t go on lunch with women! Don’t say that!” He panicked a little.

“You don’t eat my food in your office neither do you eat my food with your friend in this eatery anymore then what? Eat it with girls then…

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In her sockets, were eyes staring at to him faintly, brown pupils on white. She reveals nothing of her breasts but through many pictures, he could see how mushy and adorable she would be on the foam. He ran his fingers across the screen of his iPod and licked the face on the screen all over. Those chubby cheeks and full lips. He must get her to love him since he knew that her boyfriend was a brutal cheat. Maybe she might settle down with his average manhood, he was not very blessed down there and funnily, Bianca a Deacon’s daughter left him because of that. She did not only leave him, she told him how almost big his manhood was and everyone knows that almost doesn’t count. Bianca dumped him. The thought of her excuses diminished him and since she left, he had refused to have the courage to get on with a woman. The girl on the screen might just be what he needed. In the room of shoes he will propose to her whenever she comes to visit. He silenced his gadgets and went to conduct an interview.


The time has passed, too long for a girl to be dazzled. His gate was ajar but she firmly held it. He was totally bemused at her tiny efforts. He could have thrown her in but he would never dare, instead he laughed at her furrowed funny face of defense. Soon, he started getting scared that a paparazzo might capture something or a journalist might write something about it tomorrow in the newspapers if the girl does not get into his home quickly. His father, a famous Minister of the Lord inhabited his own mansion with his step mother and his half sister who sang lines out of anything. The Minister of the Lord had him with a fine Efik woman out of wedlock before being called by the Lord as he posited.

Jeremiah knew what it was like to be stuck in the centre of the middle, what it was like not to chose and not to be chosen, what it was like to have a mother far away. He had accumulated some wealth too through the importation of gadgets. Most times, his smart sturdy home shone of his goodness and soft gestures to anyone. The girl had stamped her foot hard on his fine shoe and caused him a little pain when he tried to take her in. If he would not like her to molest his shoes again then, he would not force her to go in, neither will he let her go.
Jeremiah had offered a girl called Ebube, her facebook name BooBoo a job as the manager of one of his gadget’s outlets @Jay’s Place. The last but not the least of the outlets that he had set up not quiet long. She had come from Edo state where she based with her family to dice her luck at the job interview in the Garden City. Jeremiah was there at the interview and he had already told her that she got the job yet she didn’t want to get into his house with him.

WHAT HAPPENED?

Jeremiah spends an outlined time of his night in his social media platforms from 8pm to 11pm before his lights out but ever since he got into chats with Ebube-BooBoo, he exceeded to 12am, 1am or more. She did not know that he had rules. He alone knew how much he had tried not to break his own rules each time Ebube was on with him discussing anything on earth. Mostly about her own boyfriend, before moving the topic to the Accountancy that she studied. Jeremiah only listened and made tangible contributions like she does each time he popped out political and economic issues. He had saved almost all her pictures in his phone.

The first girls he had chatted up online had laughed at him for being a salesboy in a shoe shop. His profile photo on facebook was him, taking a selfie before racks of shoes, smiling oddly in a way that he liked but the girls did not like. Most times when people chatted him up, they often inquired if he sold shoes and he answered yes especially to the girls. It made them giggle and run away from his chats. He also told Ebube the same thing but she never bulged instead she asked him always about his work as a shoe seller and what it takes to market daily to people. Many real and smart questions and answers fell off her mouth.

The picture he took was of himself and his beloveth shoes. Jeremiah loved shoes more than any other accessories. Since the girls laughed at him ignorantly, Jeremiah decided to use it to find someone that he had been looking for. Someone who would first accept him as a shoe seller? Someone who has contentment.

Ebube often told him about her boyfriend when he asked about her sexual relationship life. She used to say how much she loved him and how long they had been together. The guy was still an undergraduate student but his girl was already a graduate. BooBoo looked 20 but she was already 24 after her National Youth Service Corps. She used to say that some girls usually came around her boyfriend and most times he took their calls in her presence, phoning and smiling to them in high spirits. ‘They are just my female friends,’ was what her boyfriend used to say to her. Jeremiah usually laughed to himself about her naïve life because he knew that the boy lied to her a lot.

BooBoo was the typical of a girl that was thrown into school from a tender age. All she knew was her education. She had not much of human experience and guts but she knew whatever was taught. Her father almost lapped her into another course in the Institute of Chartered Accountants Nigeria. It was Jeremiah who advised her to get a job and earn a little on her own. She did not know that she was coming to Jeremiah’s company. He had been looking for a way to make her come out of her comfort zone. Once, he had journeyed to her state but she had refused to see him because of her boyfriend. Part of what really made BooBoo to come for the interview was a very beautiful and brotherly shoe that she had admired in Jeremiah’s foster shoe shop. She was bent on getting it for her boyfriend as a gift. He found it alarming that she did and would do a lot for a lying spouse. How much more when the person is genuine?

Jeremiah found her gracious and beautiful in so many ways. She existed somewhere, being true and original no matter what. To think that she found him handsome caught him pining more for her. He’d get other compliments but not handsome from any girl online maybe because of his one and only junky picture online. Everyone online labeled him stern or rigid. He had just one photo upload and from the kind of comments he made one will think that he doesn’t laugh but BooBoo knew that he laughed a lot. They had spent time on voice and video calls more than twice.

The kind of inverse ‘w’ nose Jeremiah had made it difficult to ascertain if he was handsome or not from the picture and the way he smiled all goofy made it worst. It only took someone with the mind’s eyes like Ebube to call him handsome and when she arrived his Town, her legs wobbled as she confirmed his might. He sat there with a business partner, questioning and needing more of her intellectuality that she had lost since she met him. Jeremiah laughed at her unhidden shock during the official questioning but few times he touched her hand to calm and to let her know that he understood.

Five days before her journey, when she fantasized too much about the shoe that she would buy for her lover, Jeremiah had lost guard of pretending not to tell her the sheer truth. Matter-of-factly, she had lied to her father for more money, twice the cost of her journey just to get the shoe. She really thought Jeremiah sold shoes. He told her it was ten thousand naira just to make her happy but the particular shoe was purchased for 57 thousand. In his own frustration, he gave her a gimmick to look into her boyfriend’s phone when she gets to his room for visit. BooBoo rebuffed the idea at first, fighting the inequality in between her and her boyfriend, Edward. Edward checked her phone thoroughly but he warned her against touching his own phone and BooBoo had acted accordingly till that last visit.

Ebube was so wrecked to finish when she read the conversations Edward had in chats full of girls. He had gone into the convenience to relief himself before sex, when she slid into his phone and saw the bullshits. Immediately he returned to bed, she picked her bag and left. She cried into the days before the interview secretly, she didn’t want any of her family folks to know. Only Jeremiah consoled her on phone and encouraged her to study for the interview. She could not yet he told her to have faith and plug into the opportunity anyways. Jeremiah’s constant calls aided her in not taking Edward’s calls. She saw Edward’s endless calls and messages but was too faint to pick. It killed her and stabbed her right in the heart that he laughed with the girls about her naïve nature, about her ignorance that he was just using her as one of his ‘smallie.’

BooBoo was young and vibrant and only needed more of the outside world to grow into that strong woman and that was what 35-year-old Jeremiah was helping her to achieve.

After the interview, as he drove her to where she did not know and did not want to ask because she was too lost and tired. Jeremiah teased her about her recent heartbreak. ‘So will you still buy the shoe? Lover girl. Haha!’

‘How will I buy shoe from a CEO you liar. You lie too. Doesn’t that make you same as him?’

Jeremiah only smiled and said, ‘ Hmmm, Edward, Edward, what kind of a nonsense name is that sef?’

Ebube took the first part of the laugh and they cackled till she started hitting his right shoulder. He laughed more and enjoyed what she was doing. He had missed that part of women when they acted all soft and weak like sober sides. He smiled at the idea that he might stop the car and take her into a long kissing exercise.

‘What are you smiling at? Fish.’ BooBoo’s voice came up.

‘Actually nothing,’ He answered tersely and veered into his close.

‘Where are you taking me? I thought we were going for lunch.’

‘I am taking you to my house, the shop where you will get the shoe you want for your lover,’

‘You now mock me. Please take me to a restaurant let me get some food for myself. Can’t you see how famished I am?’

‘No let us go to my house. There are lots of foods there.’

Jeremiah drove on and once the car lights indicated before a black gate, Ebube jerked the door open quickly and jumped down. He further packed the car inside, ordered his gate keeper to go in and went to join her in the drama at the gate.

Immediately, BooBoo dialed her father’s number and reported the incident with her mother tongue. Jeremiah didn’t know what she was blabbing about on phone and she sounded hilarious to him, he only understood her stunt when shortly his phone rang and he took the call to hear a stern elderly voice warning him loudly.


‘Young man if anything happens to my daughter, I have your number and your full names. I must find you.’

‘Hello? Me? No sir it is not that way Sir….eeer. I was taking her around town, she got the job.’

‘Young man you were taking my daughter around time when she came for a job interview, is that what the business demands?

‘No Sir. She got the job. She is fine here but.’ BooBoo was laughing at him from a corner.

‘But you want to do what to my daughter?’

Jeremiah began to sound professional, ‘I am very sorry for the troubles Sir but I assure you that your daughter is safe. My company will lodge her in a good hotel since it is too late for her return. I will drive her home to you by myself tomorrow Sir.’

‘Let her go! I am coming to pick my daughter up right now,’ the voice grew louder.

Jeremiah went sober, ‘No Sir, hold your worries before you vilify my company’s reputation. I was liking your daughter. I mean I like your daughter and I played around foolishly. I shall send you all my information just to guarantee you that she is safe till tomorrow.’

‘You like who? You like my daughter?’

‘Yes eer…and it is too late for her to return.’

‘Is that how your father taught you to like? Son? She has already sent me your company’s address.’ Jeremiah rolled his eyes to Ebube in exasperation. She was not smiling extravagantly anymore.


After the call, BooBoo began to walk out of the close. Jeremiah hollered, ‘Where do you think you are going to? You know nothing about this city.’

‘And where is it written that I cannot find my way?’

Jeremiah launched in front of her pleading, ‘Please just join me to my home, my gate keeper is around and my cook is also inside. I can’t do you any harm before witnesses.’

‘I don’t see them. Call them out.’ Ebube commanded.

‘Ah! This girl, your sense is not small.’ He went in and called out his domestic workers.

To them Ebube questioned strictly, ‘What are your names and your addresses?’ when they answered, she typed in her phone and sent to whomever Jeremiah did not know. It amused him that she was always on guard yet stupid when it came to L O V E.

Jeremiah walked into his home with her in company of...

She finally joined him into his room. Hah!
!
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Mr. and Mrs. Fredrick eased themselves into the long ABC bus heading out of Nigeria towards Benin Republic in Lagos. Nkiru gently patted her husband’s back and said, ‘Ndo, sorry Dear.’ He had mumbled about the emerging pain around his waist and his calves yet he would not let her lift the bag in which they had Nigerian foods and ingredients in.

‘This man, hand me the bag,’ Nkiru cajoled him again. Mr Federick refused to let her win instead he plodded into the bus and when they had sat for few seconds, he furrowed on the pain revolving around him. Nkiru rubbed him often to aid.

Around the borders were various sole proprietor businesses. She knew that they will not buy anything. They had purchased enough of native that and this from Lagos. Nkechi her half younger sister had to even come to Lagos with lots of ingredients that she used to make ibo dishes in her sister’s house in Lagos before they left the house in her care for Ghana.

Their eyes were familiar with the fleeting of the beautiful see waves and beds as they crossed Togo. She saw that the fabrics for sales that day looked really ostentatious and enticing. Nkiru pursed and placed her head on the shoulder of her relaxed husband. Again, she thought of Kofi, Kofi Emeka. She had warned him not to drive any of the cars to school.

When they arrived Accra and the mate cruised them into their home in Osu, Nkiru quickly glanced at all the cars.

‘They are all here,’ Frederick said lightly and smiled as they walked towards the house.

‘How do we know that that crazy son of ours did not drive round town with the boys? We were gone for almost two weeks.’ She protested.

Mr. Frederick gave her no reply. He turned the handle of the main door and found it locked. Gently, he dropped the bag and brought out the key and opened.


Nkiru was the first to hear the moans upstairs. Their eyes met at once, suspecting one thing. The way they ran upstairs suggested that there was something more to it than only intercourse. By the door, Nkiru closed her mouth with her palms and began to squeeze her face into tears. Frederick shook his head in worry and commented, ‘It is not true. My dear, it is not true.’

Again, he took notice of the two timberland boots in front of Kofi Emeka’s room and wagged his head.

‘This is false, Kofi cannot be doing anything with his fellow man. No.’

Because he voiced it out, Nkiru screamed loud her grieve. She let out a shrill cry that instantly paused the two male voices that they heard from inside. The thought of their only child, their son letting his fellow man bend him over almost killed her right there. She began to bang on the door, wailing at the same time.

‘Frederick o, Papa Emeka hit this door with me, break this door down for me. Kofi Emeka has terminated my very being. He has trodden over his own ancestors.’

‘Emeka, Emeka. I know you are there, open this door. We are back. Open this door now.’ Frederick roared.

‘Emeka your mother is here, she has caught you in the middle of your evil. Open this door now before I swear for you. If I invoke our village gods in Nigeria called ogwugwu it will get here very fast and strike you because I am just coming back from the village with your father. Emeka, African thunder will fire you right now if you do not open this door to me and your father.’

The scene remained silent.

Frederick paced in shortened steps. His wife was still knocking. Because he had chosen to dwell in Ghana to earn and relish with his family, should not place negative effrontery into the hands of his son. He mauled cars, he frolicked with the boys and just in their very before, he was having something sexual with ‘ah’ boy.

Inside the room, Kofi Emeka whispered to his mating partner, ‘My parents are so mad today. I do ‘nat’ know why Kwesi. I did not know that they ‘mast’ even arrive today. It is not like they do ‘nat’ perceive that I have started experiencing sex. This is too ‘maach’ Kwesi.’

Kwesi wanted to say....

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The poor woman screamed and fell to her husband who held her immediately, preventing her from falling on the table.
“Honey. Florence has killed us. She is truly pregnant and she can’t call his name. She keeps calling her sister.”

“Joshua call your sister to come home from wherever she is.” Mr Fred Ordered.

Annoyance wasn’t making anyone talk correctly anymore. Joshua dialled, “Nneka. Nneka. Come to the house now……Just come now. …Come. Mummy and Daddy…everybody is waiting for you. My friend leave the class and come back now!”

Joshua sat on one couch with his brothers while Mr Fred consoled his wife who sat close to Flozy slapping and dragging the peace out of her.

“You are calling your sister. You are calling your sister as if she was visiting boys with you. Or you want to talk only when she is here? When did you become this stupid Florence. Florence you are just 15. 15! Did I give birth to you when I was 15? My God”

Only a concerned mother’s voice was heard in the room crying to find answers. She had given birth to her last child seven years ago, working fervently to raise her five babies carefully with her husband but how could she handle a baby who was already bringing another baby? The battle will be a shameful and tough one. Her husband could do nothing but console her the much he could, not because he is not hurt and broken but because he had to put his family together in any kind of situation. The women will always do the weeping.

Her voice did not for once go on a break even after Nneka rushed in within two hours.

“Nneka! Nneka. Your sister is pregnant. Florence is pregnant o. 15years. She is calling you. Come!”

Nneka dropped her bag. “Mummy. Flozy. Flozy what is it?” She ran to her sister.

“What are you asking there? She is pregnant and she has been calling your name. Now that you are here. Florence! Let me not call you again. Start talking.” Joshua commanded on his feet.

“Flozy. How can you be pregnant? How? Where? When? I’m here. Please say something. Is it true?”

Nneka couldn’t get any answer from her. She only heard sobs. She quickly push and slapped her, “Are you mad? Who did you take after. You are pregnant.

So you are pregnant. I’m here now. Talk to me. Florence who is the boy?”

“Stop slapping me. Is it not you. I want to only talk to you and Mummy.”

“Nobody is leaving this room. I see that the devil has started using you to tear this home but I won’t let that happen. Start talking now!” Mr Fred barked and grabbed the TV pole about to land it on Flozy.

“It’s Nneka. It’s…. it’s. She told me that boys need to press my breasts for it to be big so so…”

“Ah! Flozy. Me? Which day did I tell you to go and get your breasts pressed. Me. Are you mad?”

“That day… You told me why other girls have big breasts is because boys…”

That was when Nneka’s mind blew away into few months back. Nneka was dressing up for lectures that Monday morning in front of her younger sister Florence as usual.

“Flozy find that my pink bra for me please thank you. I have to hurry”

Flozy slowly went to look for what her sister asked.
“But Nk your breasts are not that big. Your bra really somehow small but slim girls also have big breasts. I see them online and everywhere…”

“Shut up and find the bra. We are skinny and we are suppose to have everything small as sisters”

“Hmmm. Na lie. That’s not good for me. I will love my back and front big like Mercy’s own. Can’t you see how the boys in our church like rushing to her”

“I will slap you. Idiot. What do you know. All those wild…craze girls. Look they were meeting men and those stupid little boys that starting touching their breasts all the time
That’s why it’s too big. If you like go and follow them. Your own will grow large and fall. Talkative!”

Nneka landed on the floor crying,
“Heeeeei! Flozy you are so stupid! How can you be stupid like this. 15years about to write JAMB and you don’t know how to take simple advice”

Nneka shamefully narrated the story to her parents.

“But I didn’t ask her to do anything like that. That was a warning. How can Flozy be this stupid. At 15, you are not seeing girls your age winning scholarships to university is the ones with big breasts. Na wetin dey hungry you since”

Emily starred at her two daughters. She couldn’t have a clear view of them. Tears were still rolling. Nneka passed a good message to her younger sister who misunderstood due to the naive stupid little girl syndrome. She went through a drive and must have been led to do other things. How careful should one be while conversing with kids because a sentence could mean a thousand careless things to them.

Flozy confessed that the boy slept with her in his friend’s house once and told her that she won’t be pregnant.

Things got worse and strange as the family kept their pregnant daughter at home. They couldn’t let her out to the world but instead they protected and helped her mind through the first woe of her life. They still loved her.

Their family went by everyday with an unusual routine of nursing two babies at a time but Nneka didn’t move on smoothly. Her mind raced all the time in school, through her hostel windows even in exam halls searching for a better way. A better illustration that she would have used to explain to her kid sister why they weren’t having large breasts like some other girls. She felt totally guilty. Maybe she didn’t pass the message well. Maybe she didn’t understand the needs of her growing sister. Maybe she only listened to answer and not to understand. Maybe she would have read the Bible and prayed before replying her sister.
She cried many times.

Was it all part of God’s plan?
They became three girls and three boys driving their various dreams to the sky.

Their parents did not give up on them but the little secret left them silent many times around the dinning table.

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In coming...

First, two eyeballs starred deeply at Flozy, the eyebrows above the worn out fake eyelashes almost coming together. That was anger approaching. The lips squeezed into each other tightly.

Flozy shivered!

She felt the aging hands coming towards her eyes. Flozy avoided them a little.

The hands insisted and opened her eyes severally.
Flozy hugged herself in shame.

“This girl! Hei! Flozy o. Flozy it’s a lie. My daughter. My daughter”
The hands again opened her blouse and she gave an intense look on her stomach. That was when everyone discovered that there was an investigation going on in the family, from the mother on her daughter.

“Hei! Flozy! Don’t make this thing difficult. Florence! Flozy kill you ten times. Florence who is responsible for this baby bump. Who got you pregnant?”

Flozy shifted a little already soaking in tears.
She slapped, “I said tell me who slept with you and you are crying. Between you and I who is suppose to be crying now? Oh Jesus!”

Her mother fell on the bed as if she was fainting. That moment her brain has gone plural. Flozy thought the curtain could save her from another blow so she ran into them trying to hide her shame.

Her mother quickly pounced on her back slapping her all over. She caught her left ear and dragged her to the living room. That was very painful. Flozy let out a loud cry.

Everyone at home rushed in from their rooms. They were a family of seven but only six were present.
Shock exuded from everyone’s face. Flozy continued sobbing. Her ear was on fire. Their father spoke first, “Why are you dragging her ear as if she is a criminal. What is the problem?”

“Ehe! Mummy. What did Flozy do this early morning?”

“Questions! Please you people should help me and question Flozy too. Ask her who got her Pregnant. Ask her”

The newspaper fell out of Mr Fred’s hand. The three boys covered their mouths!

“Honey are you sure? How did you know? Flozy is just 15! It’s ridiculous!”

“I couldn’t understand it at first. In short I was even thinking like you. How can I suspect Florence to be pregnant. No. But it’s showing now. She has been sleeping everywhere around the shop. You know we thought it was malaria but what kind of malaria doesn’t go so I started watching her these few days until I caught her praying one wicked prayer in her room this morning that God should remove the baby in her womb! Jesus! And she is not saying anything. I will die for this girl. I will!”

“That could be a joke!”

“No!” Her mother screamed.”Our 15 year old daughter is pregnant. Fred. I’m dead. Who did I do wrong?”

Mr Fred drew nearer to Flozy whose head was bowed totally in shame. “Flozy is what your mother saying the truth?”

She was silent.

“Florence have you slept with any boy? Speak now!” Mr Fred asked again.

She resumed her loud cry.

Her mother got furious and began another round of beating, “This is…this is what is making me more angry.. Why are you….why are…
.Why are you crying as if you can’t talk again. Who is suppose to be crying here now. Who? ….who. You have killed me….you have killed me”

“Honey allow her. Leave her.” Her father pleaded a little.

Her little brothers were already crying for her. They loved their sister. Joshua moved closer to the beating spot leaving his brothers behind. He was the first son and the first child.

“Flozy! Flozy! How many times did I call you? Stop making Daddy and Mummy shout in this compound. Tell us what you did”

She wailed the more. Joshua gave her a volcanic slap with all elder brother annoyance. Flozy fell on the nearest couch. It was as if her brother dragged all what was remaining of her tender life into a black boiling oil.

She wailed turning back and forth on the couch, ” Nneka! Nneka! Nneka o. My eye oo….hoooh!”

“Why are you calling Nneka?” Everyone asked at once.

“Why are you calling your sister. Your elder sister. Is she pregnant with you? Talk now!” Her mother yelled.

“Nneka. Nneka made me pregnant. Nneka o. Is she.. Nneka got me pregnant. she.”

“Nneka your elder sister. Got you pregnant! Jesus eeh!” The confused and helpless woman fell....

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Ooops

Promises are broken when someone dies. Whether it was his fault or not, all I knew was that he had promised and failed me.

“Bartholomew has promised and failed me. We will be together forever you said. I trusted you and now I hear that you have left us? How can you even breath your last when I am not there to share that breathe with you? You must be mad for leaving me so I am mad too. Do you hear me? Bartholomew! Bartholomew you are mad!”
His friends are everywhere shaking their heads, some are his fellow lecturers, some are his writing colleagues and some are his jolly fellows. Look at my son Bestman. Emeka his father’s closest friend is holding him, trying to nurse him out of reality. I should have been the person who lost her father at a very tender age not my own son. “I should have lost my father o, where is my son’s father?” Our house bulged of sympathy and agony and supplications billowed above. How sudden my husband’s demise came. He had also promised my son that he will be at his graduation to JSS1.

Amina alone joined me first to my husband’s village; she was a Muslim but not a zealot. My other friends and doting neighbours arrived a day to the burial. We had done most of the crying and tears sharing in our home in Port Harcourt so I appeared stable and indifferent as more people trooped into our home in the village for condolences and that appeared incongruous to them. I held unto my son, it has been two weeks and we were doing just fine. There were so much cooking and eating even as we cried. The dead had long buried the dead. We performed some rites by serving various maternal and paternal groups yesterday. Tonight will be his wake-keeping and tomorrow at noon, my husband’s flesh shall be reposed into the earth. I accepted that his soul was still with me. That was indeed the promise he had made, that our souls will be together forever not our bodies that are interim.

My friend, Joy came and whispered to my ear that my husband’s people want to see me. I wanted to go with my son but she insisted on letting the little boy have some play with her own kids in his room. When I got there, it was a sitting of old and elderly men and few women. Not one could fall low to my age and they appeared to me like parents.
Professor Nathan Ojike, my husband’s uncle was also present. His short-lived smile reassured me. I was in a blue blouse and had a wrapper around my waist. The long Peruvian hair sewn on top my own weaved natural hair was packed to abandonment. I had refused to comb it since the bad news and had refused anyone from touching it. Everything exhausted me. Nothing I wore was black in colour but I knew that after his burial the next day, I would cry a lot and begin to wear dark funereal clothes and also pour ashes on myself while living this ineluctable injury. Some of the elders smirked at death, some shook their heads and few snapped their pinky as they scoured me. The oldest man who broke the silence, starred at me for what I thought too long before he uttered something.

“Rukayi anumeka o-my fellow men I greet you all.” The men echoed, “Iiyaah!”

“Rukayi anumeka o-my fellow men I greet you all.”

“Iiyaah!”

“Eleriya osagiriri o- women I hail you all.”

“Ehei!” The women echoed too softly.

He said, “Our daughter you are such a good and wonderful woman to have carried yourself dutifully and comfortably.”

Comfortably is an inflection of comfort and Comfort is my…. Wait a minute, was this why I was born? To be the young woman who loses her beloved husband, then have to comfort herself because her name says so?

At once, my soul bounced into a retrospect of myself, remembering and over remembering how I had planned my happiness, his happiness. The people were talking, their lips were moving yet I hear them not. I should be allowed to enjoy some reverie and what more could a widow give but tears. The water of sorrow drooled profusely from my soar eyes, splashing over my face and even on theirs’. We were mourning.

“…and then after we bury him tomorrow, in the evening the women will shave your hair as our customs require.”

“But my husband loves my hair!” It came out of my mouth bold and explicit. I said that in the midst of people who gazed at me like I had vomited a new custom that will require them to bury me alongside my husband.

Joy was straddling me and carefully eradicating the long weave-on on my hair. Amina was there too, Timi, Boma, Patience. They surrounded me like the game of onye elela anya nazu-nobody should look back the Princess is passing. They had formed that cordial circle for me to have some respite in yet I could not relax inside of it instead I was afar, abroad, moping and searching the nation for my Man.

Aunty Ngo strolled in, “Bestman is fast asleep and my sister called. She is on her way with your father.” She announced and sat with us in the living room.

“So what will you do? Joy is almost done with loosening your hair. Will you let them shine it?” She continued.

“I don’t mind going bald for him Aunty but I won’t”

“Why don’t you want to? I kind of like the custom. It is a good way of expressing respect for the dead you know?” Patience was my wacko friend who outbursts everything.

Joy countered, “I thought you are a Christian Patience or are you now a pagan? Because even a Muslim cannot fancy this hair shaving of a thing?” Everyone turned to Amina who smiled and said nothing as usual. Amina, my meek friend.

I had to kill the noise. “Girls! Bartholomew loves my large hair. Yes he loves it not loved it so how will he feel if he sees me bald? You should say I grease his coffin while crying tomorrow with my hair.” My hair that took at least one hour before it is properly combed. My large, brown, kinky, full and extravagant hair that caressed Bartholomew’s chest every night. He must run his hand through it every time he thrusts me. Sometimes, he furrowed when I fixed something artificial on it.

Later, my parents came in with my siblings, Anyanna and Confidence and we had a dirgeful embrace. Family was always hard by, they had come to make me cry some more. That their daughter got married and now her husband is dead was what they were trying to comprehend as I hanged in their middle, the biological shield of family. My mother took me to the room and calmed my heaving shoulders while I held unto her waist sobbing my strength away. She glanced at my sleeping child and wept till I swallowed her tears.

During the wake-keeping, rumundah, rumuriya, age grades and youths will cluster in their various canopies. The church people will also come. They will sing praise and worship, dance and clap and voice threnodies that say they are helping me search for my husband. To that I appreciate.

“They said they will not eat whatever we cook tomorrow, that I will not have anything to do with the family I married into if I don’t shave my hair.” I told Mummy and reduced my consciousness to sleep.

Our compound was big and it appeared they built more canopies, they said more people will come for the burial-will come for the burial to lick my tears. Aunty Ngo showered me and changed my clothes. I blankly rebuffed her trial to comb my hair but she packed it up like shuku anyway and wrapped it with a black head dress. There I sat on the tiled floor, resting my body on a couch, emitting tears and receiving condolences. When the body of the dead person arrived, I didn’t go. I didn’t go out to wail and drag the coffin with the pallbearers. It was not someone I knew that had died, my husband was with me.

In the evening as I refused to shave my hair, the village people....
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The Salary of a single politician is four million? How come he has prodigious assets and also 17 million naira in the trunk of his car? I saw that big money in a Ghana-must-go bag and I just knew it was 17 million. Perper goes in and out of countries for trips and She the mother has an unquenchable penchant for whatever is exorbitant. Brother Junior has been abroad since he was 15; I do not even really know my own big brother.’ Loudly, I heard my name downstairs so I dropped the diary and began to walk downstairs. I heard Daddy saying, “Relax Sweetie, nothing is actually wrong with Bella. She doesn’t want a fat phone or any of these luxuries now but she will care about them later like women.”

“But she is already 22 and in the University yet she is so stoic and tame unlike her sisters.”

“She will come around; do not bother your sweet nerves. By the way, I was at that Lagos deal today and I got five million just for concealing the thing.”

Daddy is home tonight so we have to do prayer-before-going-to-bed. Attending will be Mr.&Mrs. Harry, their last child Michelle and me. But they had bore five healthy children.

The prayers went neat and orderly like a military performance and when I got to my room upstairs, I wrote, ‘Father Lord I wish these prayers cover my family’s sins till the day father stays home at night again and also stop Maradona my immediate elder sister from lying that she goes to night vigil every night whereas she smoked and languished in frivolity in different clubs. Who goes to vigil six times out of seven days in a week? And she calls that groove and enjoyment. To me enjoyment means doing different things that you love doing whenever you want to do them to have a great feel of it. Clubbing six times in a week is an addictive evil, very diabolical.

I never said anything at home because everyone hates my prejudices that I have been fully aware of. Once, I complained about Maradona’s madness at dinner and she threw her spoon to my forehead leaving a deep, small scar. Mother tries to get closer to me but I had long locked my soul ever since Junior left the country and daddy began to appear and disappear on us in course of politics. Love is still in a tight traffic jam while on its way to my family. Anyways, I found something; I owed all explanations to my diary.

At the last page of my first diary, I wrote, ‘The kind of family I was born to have also made me congealed in class. I am that kid that looks spoilt and contributes nothing to anyone in class.’ I had just started writing on the second diary and at the last page again I wrote, ‘I could have gadgets or a car yet I will not have any now, androids and social media can wait till I am done with my first year in this state university that I had chosen stubbornly for myself. Next as I live, I will travel from country to country to search for where corruption is nil and then, I will end up travelling to all the countries in the planet because I will find none unconstrained of greed and manipulations.’

My fingers flipped through the first pages where I eye-glanced my previous jots. ‘The president standing in the middle of the assumed rescued Chibok Girls after their kidnap since April, 2014 looked like a jester. The elaborate picture of the joke was displayed on national papers where anyone with a brain could see it and wonder what a dramatization of crime in Nigeria. Perpetual, my oldest sister had gotten pregnant for the love of her life because his family insisted she does so to make sure that her womb was intact. She had met the guy from the middle class in one of her numerous trips and father had refused his friend’s newspaper house from carrying the wedding news because maybe he thought the protruding stomach of his not yet married daughter will divulge to the world some of his debris.’ In capital letters, I had written, ‘I wish the baby in Perpetual’s womb dies in her first trimester so that we can see what the family of her husband will do.’ I knew they were a little scared of father’s money and his bogus looking daughters. On the fifth page I had written, ‘To think that the friends in Maradona’s Whatsapp chat who post status of their idly videos do not know that spelling of names of people and places starts with capital letters. Yuck!’

Too much conversations I savoured in my diaries that mother got for me, maybe to aid me speak to myself with words instead of a voice that I do not have. I locked the diary as usual and hid the two keys securely in my singlet, in between my fat breasts and dozed off, I took the keys with me wherever I went to during the day. In the morning, I rushed out to school threatened and bothered about what I had written in page three and four.

Michelle was my younger sister but not my friend. She was what I would have been but did not end up being. Someone that would always want to give me lectures on how to leer rich aged men visually. A 15-year-old-girl just prefers aged men for friends and the worst she takes pictures of her notebooks and sends to her friends who were not in school and they slaughter teachers in mockery. Michelle was an epitome of rudeness and decadence and many times I concluded that Mother became pregnant of her the day she made love to Father after one of their long squabbles that had led to drinking, shattering of bottles and later ending up in bed together leaving I and Maradona deranged.

Mrs. Harry, my mother came into my room when I got back from school and embraced me wholly in a way that I had to look at myself twice to make sure I have not suddenly become Michelle. Then she handed me two little drugs that I refused out of surprise. “Mother what are these for?”

“Oh baby, you have come of that age. These are the drugs women take when they get to your age. It holds something very feminine and special between mother and daughters.” She explained and kissed my forehead.

“Ok” I slowly said and took it with the water she had brought in a glass. I did not bother to ask if she had given those drugs to my sisters because I was sure she had since she loved them the most. When she left, I covered myself with my blanket, thinking of the kiss she gave me, if she really loves me and if I was really special to her. It was a good thought that made me write in my diary, ‘I love you mother and I miss you since the day you gave birth to Michelle.’ Again,I was tempted to read what I had written in page three and four.

A day came out of the blue,....
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At the back of a yard in the streets were terrible looking armed boys pulling along two girls. The darkness which they used cascaded on earth like a thick mist. My legs were racing down the C.M.S. church when one of them apprehended me. The way they went into the silenced girls behind the dirty slum wreaked my guts into expurgation. My throat widened for puke at the thought that it would be me lying there soon.

It was when they pushed me into their circumference and made to divulge my privates that their mauling fingers collided with the sanitary pad heavy with blood. Out of petrifaction, I had forgotten that the living menstrual blood can render women untouchable.

As I escaped their dragnet, sobbing into the nights, Tony and I met.

In April 2007, I swallowed pregnancy again.

The father of the first girl I had at 20 had disappeared. My family with no father, but my good mother had insisted that I saved the child. One year on, she aided me into the university and in my 300 level, 2007, I was with a child again for my newest sweetheart, Tony.
With some grits I told my mother who rushed at me in anger. Tony was good but went worst when I said that I had to keep the child. Good mothers honour their child’s sincerity and never support the termination of a foetus. During my first two trimesters, Tony never ceased to revolve in my sexual organs. The way I struggled through school, his nonchalance made it worst. He was eating me yet his assistance was far from me. His all-loving-lover façade began to fade away.

To say that people meet the very loves of their lives was Tony to me. He did not at least make an attempt to come and see the baby girl I had dropped for him, yet I loved him. It seemed the more he hurt me, the more my yearnings for him escalated. I had hoped that the birth of the child would bind us more but to my chagrin, he only enjoyed himself in between my thighs when I got back into school to complete my studies. He would not let me sleep over and snuggle with him in his room after his actions, he killed my voice and commanded me in and out at his own will. Out of depression, I framed myself, an unobtrusive girl that was loving, lusting and losing.

When in the second year of the baby’s delivery, not even a shadow that looked like a man had come to my home to claim any relationship with me. My mother stamped a rule that her eyes will not like to set on any of the children’s father even though, she must definitely help in their upbringing. After I completed my studies, she gave me some good amount from her sewing business and told me to get an apartment for myself and the girls. Her eyes were faint of tears when she said that she would love me to begin my own journey.

The new Omega Truck Park in Town revealed a business idea to me and I journeyed there to cook and sell to the men, with two beautiful little girls trotting after me all the time. I made the most out of it especially since employment was not coming forth in the country. Tony also suffered the same fate hence, dashed into my little room most times to decrease my money and basic needs. He would never look at the girls even his own daughter. That was the apex of the hurts in a woman’s heart. I felt that I still belonged to him even though he wrecked all my efforts to survive. He would not quit digging his cancerous hands into my capital.

It was in the middle of...
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Another day in Okene community and rain has not still kissed the soil. Agnes would have committed an abomination by stepping out of her compound with a hoe in her basin but thanks to Chi who made man and woman a pair in togetherness. Her husband’s voice came from behind to remind her of the significance of that day. It was Eke day. To Okene people, farming is sweetest when you are almost done with planting seeds before the heavy rain starts thronging the earth but no matter how sweet, every one rests on Eke day. Agnes thanked her husband while he smiled at her forgetfulness which was skulked by eagerness. She wondered why the day looked lost to her, something might be coming.
Some minutes later, a girl came from the Anglican Church to report that Sabina was missing from the gathering of the young girls in church. Agnes screamed and slumped, heaving her shoulders in frustration.

“I complained of this five-day church program but you let her go when you know what kind of daughter you gave me Agnes” Ikeh’s voice roared.

“What kind of daughter do you think Sabina is? She is a human being and must partake in what others are doing. Hei! Sabina has done a new bad thing.”

“But she didn’t also agree to go; now look, she has strayed again.”

“Ikeh stop adding problems to this. Let us go and find out how she left.” She suggested.

“Find out from Otakah our great dibia you mean?”

“Taaah! Holy ghost fire! I am born again.” Agnes rebuffed her heathen husband.

“Iiyaah! Born into Mary and born against satan.” Ikeh mocked.

Agnes stood up and adjusted her lappa, “Let us go to the church and find out there and ask questions to know how she left before you joke expensively.”

“Nnamdi! Nnamdi!” Agnes called her only son. She had just returned from making enquiries with her husband and their calves grooved in pain. They eased themselves to two wooden chairs in the verandah while calling on their son.

Nnamdi reported with endless questions. “Eeh! Mama! Papa! Mama where is Sabina? Have they told you anything? Is Sabina not really in church or they said she went to buy something?”

Agnes ridiculously gazed at him and replied, “Mama Chukwe was the only who saw her. She said she saw her entering....
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The people would always vote a handsome candidate, Imagwe thought. He was pleased to fleetingly see three different campaign posters of good looking men taking over every wall and poll in his imminent city. The Governor of his own state, he would never like. He often told his brother Junior that their state Governor has the ugliness of a bush rat.

Intentionally, he stretched his average hairy legs to reach his father who was focused on driving them through the crammed metropolis to their new building.

“Oshok, what problem do you have now?” His father asked absent mindedly.

Imagwe frowned and shot an eye on every other person in the car before piercing his eyes through the wound down glass. He mouthed Celestine Omehia and stroke three times on his arriving moustache. If Uncle Stephen was sitting close to him in that car, he would have hailed him Big Boy and offered him a knuckle to chop. This city was exactly where he wanted to be and for once, he had appreciated the decision of his passive-looking father. Busy humans in one area, living life, digging it hard and not faking it. Some of the street roads were moldy but the express way was fine, if he was driving, he will hoot shortly and go ahead to hit a girl’s buttocks so that he can rub it urgently and say, “I’m deeply sorry miss.” But he doubt if his father would ever let him drive again after what he had done to his Peugeot. Motorcycles maneuvered through every corner of the city he could sight. One almost crawled over a young man’s leg making him let out a shrill curse, “You dey craze? Fire burn you there.” Imagwe smiled and remembered Uncle Stephen again. The young man was neatly dressed and was holding unto an envelope as a certified job seeker, like his Uncle used to do.

“Honey, is this the Mile III you told me about?” Mrs Oshoke asked her husband.

“Yes.” He replied curtly and focused.

“We will come and buy things here tomorrow, Adesua.”

“Yes Mummy.” Adesua answered and pinched Junior who occupied the middle of the back seat. Junior retaliated and they soon began to play roughly. Imagwe hauled for them to drift from him addressing them as little children. Later, Mr Oshoke drove into a street named Anozie which Adesua read out loud as if everyone demanded her I-am-here attitude.

On the bold and heavy Nokia phone which Imagwe quickly grabbed from his father’s waist, his voice delivered, “Hello, do I have a communication partner? Over! This is Golden Imagwe Oshoke aka zero-is-something speaking from the oil state of Nigeria right in the heart of the city, the streets of the city. I live in the street Uncle Stephen that means I live in the hood. Haha! I’m hoodie mehn! Arrival time, 5pm. Take note! Copy and paste that sah!”

“Golden no one is on the phone with you, we know that.” Adesua jeered and jumped down from the car that had just crawled into a black gate. The house was a storey building painted with brown all through. Inside the gate, the large space before the building was well cemented and neat from too much sweeping. The house keeper who opened the gate greeted them and helped their mother with a big box that Imagwe actually wanted to take from her. He loved occupying the brave first child and first son position for his mother all the time. From the age of ten after his parents had a colossal squabble over him, he had sworn to always live for his mother. He had been too overwhelmed by mothers’ supreme love, watching her from the bedroom, yelling and professing a bright future of him that his father should see despite his unscrupulousness.

They did not move from their own state with anything but for seven boxes of clothes of which four belonged to the two females of the house. After they had walked into the warm, furnished and flower decorated parlour and Mr Oshoke had finished talking with the house keeper outside, they heard, “Adesua you have a room upstairs, Golden share a room with your brother, the other room will be for visitors. I and your mother prefer to occupy this room downstairs.” He pointed at a door beside the stairs and adjacent to the kitchen door.” Imagwe could see the well utilized land crafted into a building, he could also see how his parents wants to make sure that they catch him sneaking out and in.

“Excuse me Sir? Why should I share a room with children, they are puppies and I am their older brother. I get one room. Thank you and you should have been the Governor over there for us to have more rooms even for Mummy’s brothers. You were the SSG of the state why didn’t you poison the Governor and take over. How cowardly.” Imagwe jabbed and ran upstairs with his overladen luggage, jumped into one of the rooms and shut the door loudly. The rest of his family downstairs heard the turn of the key in the knob and realized that that was it. Adesua and Junior went upstairs silently.

Mrs Oshoke cried, “Honey, he is ok, our boy is ok. Amen. Amen”

“Look at him short like me just like that but having the thoughts of a mafia. Gloria, look at our son in a reduced trouser, big clothes and boots yelling at us.” Mr Oshoke added tiredly.

“Noah maybe it is our fault, maybe God is punishing us that we had him out of wedlock, oh!”

Noah went back to himself as a young man, shagging his sister...
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