₦airaland Forum

GistMedia0:
Less than 48 hours before the end of 2024... How many books have you read this year? Or has it been all about social media, endless hustling, or maybe you just don’t enjoy reading?

Bam17:
Awwn, thank you, dear. I won't remove the story because of you

Bam17:
Please, all of my stories are complete on Nairaland. Except for Luciano, which is available on Wattpad.

For those who are interested in reading my previous works. Here is where you can access them 👉. https://www.nairaland.com/8189991/all-jessica-durus-stories

Oh, and for those I removed from Nairaland, you can contact me for them.

Bam17:
I haven't found the perfect title yet. Please bear with me Oh, and ignore any mistakes you find. Many thanks


Copyright © 2024 Jessica Duru
All rights reserved

The right of Jessica Duru to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in conformity with copyright law. No part of this publication may be reproduced l, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the permission in writing from the author.


✍️


The sound of a metal gong awakened me. It was the third time this week. I had just had the sweetest dream, eager to see how it would end, only to be jolted awake by the gong and the voice of the town crier.

'I wonder what it is this time,' I could hear my mother say across the room.

‘Hush, woman. Let us hear what they have to say.’ The sound appeared to awaken Father as well. It felt good to know I was not the only one who was irritated by the early morning call. 'For the third time this week. The third time!’ Dad bellowed, and Mom joined in.

I could only laugh as I lay quietly, listening to my parents' conversation and paying less attention to what the town crier said.

'You are not going to believe what happened yesterday,' Papa began, my ears perked up.

‘What happened?’ My mother asked.

‘Ichie Onukwu,’

I let out a gasp. What happened to Ichie Onukwu? I hoped it was not something bad. Dad was always the bearer of bad news. We always teased him about this because he seemed to be aware of the bad things that were going on.

‘He fell from a tree!’

I shook my head in response to the terrible news, as if my father were informing me.

‘Our Ichie Onukwu?’ My mother exclaimed at the top of her lungs. ‘Ekwusina!’ She rebuked my father's words. Do not say! It was indeed sad.

I was wide awake and a little bored from listening in on my parents' conversations. The town crier had returned home. I fixed my gaze on the ceiling in the hopes of falling back asleep, but it didn't work.

'But why do they keep wanting us at the King's Palace?'

My ears perked up again when I heard Mom ask. It seemed like a juicy gist, and my curious self was eagerly awaiting a response. The King’s palace, hmm? I thought to myself, knowing they had not been there long.

'Well, I am not going this time,' Mom said adamantly, not allowing her husband to answer her question.

I laughed quietly and stood up from my mat. Ohh! An unintentional yawn escaped my lips, alerting my parents to my arousal. I knew what was coming next, and it happened exactly as I predicted.

‘Ifeoma!’ Mom was the first to call. There was no escaping it. ‘Go and wash the plates!’ She said the words I dreaded hearing.

'Oooooh, Mama!!!!' I sat back on the mat and cursed profusely, wishing I had been quieter.

‘Ifeoma!’ My mom called again.

I dreaded hearing the third call because I knew what it would mean. ‘Ma, I am going!’ I got up again, but I didn't feel like doing anything yet. 'It's every time they disturb someone in this house,' I muttered under my breath as I slowly dragged myself outside. Why do I have to do my chores so early? It’s annoying.’ I could almost direct my rage at anyone who crossed my path that morning. Being an only child was a burden, a massive thorn in my neck. I had no help and was forced to do everything myself. Especially because Mom had to be so strict. She had a way of compelling people to do things they didn't want to do. I could say it was typical African parents' behaviour. 'Oh, I am so fed up with this place! I continued to groan, unwilling to start my chores.

‘Ifeyinwa!’ A sudden call drew my attention. Only one person addressed me by that name, and she was the last person I wanted to see.

Mama Ngozi! I clenched my teeth. She was the nosy woman I disliked the most. One might wonder what she had done to deserve such hatred, but I would say nothing.

'Ifeyinwa, ah-ah, can’t you greet me?’

I intended to ignore her, but instead found myself turning toward her. 'Good morning, Aunty Su.' I despised the thought of greeting her.

‘Are you spreaking In-gelesh for me?’

I almost laughed at her mispronunciations. 'ụtụtụ ọma, ma,' I said in our local dialect. I hadn’t noticed the hoe in her hand. Right, I thought with a suppressed smile, she is on her way to the farm. ‘By the way, Aunty, it is Ifeoma, not Ifeyinwa.’ How can you be so dumb? I thought to myself after correcting her. ‘I-F-E-O-M-A,’ I spelled it out for her. This woman makes me sick, I scoffed, unconcerned about appearing impolite.

‘Oh, Ifeoma,’ she laughed.

She go still forget am, I thought frustratedly, faking a smile and turning to return inside.

‘Are you going to call ya mother?’

What is ‘ya mother’? I wanted to ask her, but I held back my words. Call her for what, kwanu? I almost questioned, but I took a deep breath and calmly replied, 'Yes, aunty. I am going to call her.’

She gave a hearty smile.

I just wanted her to get out of my sight. I didn't want anyone talking to me at that point.

'Nwanne m nwanyị.' My sister. Mom emerged from the hut just as I was about to go inside.

‘Nwunye m,’ My wife. Mama Ngozi responded to my mother's call. ‘Nwunye m!’ They both hugged as if they had not seen each other in a long time.

‘Eh, Ifeoma, did you greet Mama Ngozi?’ Mom inquired as I was about to make a successful exit.

‘Ahah! Na me and Ifeyinwa dey talk since.’

Ifeyinwa ke? I shook my head, concluding that my mother's friend suffered from severe memory loss. I nodded my head and dashed into our hut, knowing Mom could be quite elaborate when it came to highlighting someone. I hadn't been inside for long when Mom rushed in.

‘Erm, Ifeoma, warm the food. Eh. Your father and I are going somewhere.’

Dad jolted out of his room as she spoke. He bit down hard on his chewing stick, all dressed up.

‘Wait. Where are you people going?’ But neither of them spoke.

'Just warm the food,' Dad managed to add to what Mom had said. 'Under no circumstances should you leave the house!' It sounded more like a threat than a command, as if he was concerned that something would happen.

'Papa, could you please explain what is going on?'

Mama dragged him along, leaving me even more confused.

Something's wrong—I dreaded the thought that it was. I clapped my hands and watched them disappear on the other side. ‘Oh! Na wa o!’ I thought aloud as I folded my arms. These people think I am a kid, I shook my head with regret. I remembered Mama's instruction and set aside the plates to warm the unripe plantain porridge. After that, I went about my chores, had breakfast by the time the day had broken well, and slept off as if a sleeping spell had been cast on me.

By the time I awoke from my slumber, time had passed. ‘Mama…! Oh!’ I suddenly remembered. I had even left the door open, ignoring an important safety precaution. ‘The devil is a bastard!’ I had no idea when I said it out loud. I stood up from my mat, exhausted, and went to close the door. But where might Mama and Papa be? My mind sprang to life again. My parents still hadn't returned. 'N'ehihie ma ha ka na-alọghachi,' I was forced to speak in my native tongue. Afternoon and they are still not back—

Or should I go look for them? I thought, unevenly worried. Something was obviously wrong.

I waited for my parents to get home that day. It was becoming dark. I paced around the compound, worried, before deciding it was time to look for them. Paying less attention to my appearance and setting off, I hurried to the only person who came to mind. His hut wasn't too far away. I was there in no time thanks to the speed with which I bolted in that direction. He was out in front, perched on a low stool. The lantern he turned on lit up his form as it burned brightly.

'Okonta,' I called in a low voice, trying not to panic.

‘Ifeoma?’ He raised his head in response to my voice.

'Okonta, please, I need your help,' I said in an almost tense tone.

‘Wetin sup?’ He stood up from the stool, his anxious gaze fixed on me. 'Mommy nko?’

I nervously answered, ‘That is why I’m here,’

He raised his brows. 'Aru adikwa?' Are you well?

‘Okonta, Mama and Papa dey miss. I never see them since morning,’ My words became completely stuck. The lump in my throat gave me a croaky voice, and it appeared that I was about to cry.

‘Since morning? Mba nu.’  No nah. Okonta shrugged his shoulders. ‘And they have never done this before?’

I shook my head, starting to get scared.

‘I’m coming. Let me put on something,’ I could see the worry in his eyes. Okonta was like family to me. I had known him for almost my entire life and had complete trust in him. He was a man in his thirties, tall and muscular, with a well-carved-out jaw, full-gifted brows, and a chiseled nose. I once admired him, but I had to get rid of the thought because he was family and my parents would never approve.

I watched as Okonta went inside, leaving me with no choice but to look at the stars. It was the only way I could distract myself, but I couldn't stop worrying.

‘Chineke!’ Okonta's voice echoed from his room.

‘Okonta?’ But the entire place became quiet again. I hurriedly entered the hut, and the door slammed behind me.

‘Shh. Do not say a word.’

I turned to my surprise.

'Trust me, it will be quick.'

I didn't know what he was talking about. Before I could say anything or inquire about what was going on, he lifted me beyond my will. He was far too strong, and all I could do was yell as he carried me into his room...



To be continued...