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The noise of heavy music accompanied by the reek of marijuana stormed into his room like an unwelcome long-lost excited friend. The boys' next door had resumed. They never quit. The gaps in between their 24 hours of loud music and smoking are for dozing or when they leave to refill. He can recall seeing no one of them at the school gate, or as part of the crowd that turned to attend soccer games in the school, not to mention in any class.


They were familiar songs, noises, and stinks that cames from that room. One particular thing that still amazed him was the number of girls that move in and out of that abode. The routine never varied. They go in, smoke and loud music comes out, then behind the loud music was the moan of ecstasy and climaxing. He knew all these now.


He tossed and turned, face squeezed and held his occiput, getting set to start the custom where he bums around to count how many times each blade of the ceiling fan turned and at what degree when his eyes picked the wall clock from a distance. It created an upper half of 9 and 3; he reached out for his lens when he realized; the sun was out, his door unlocked overnight, and something was going on inside his skull.


Then the realization hit him like when a salon car hits a parked lorry at top speed. It was the hour of his last exam for the term and he ought to be on the seat in the exam hall 15 minutes sooner. He forsook all his morning routines, scampered for his file as he darted out, charged back in again to pick his exam card. He stared at it, hesitated for seconds, faced up, and rumbled something. In between running, jogging, and walking he headed out to the bus stop. The incidents of the preceding day started coming to him.


On his approach to class for the 4 pm tutorials, he saw the hall was unusually full by 3 pm. Dapo, introvert to some and extrovert to others, it depended on the relationship he has with you. He was always punctual and one lad the other students have their eyes on to fly the flag of the class academically. He arrived for class 20 to 30 minutes earlier.


"Chairmo, Chairmo, Chairmo!" They applauded him as he neared.


Befuddled about what was happening, he stopped when several friends started sprinting toward him. He considered running and savoring the prank started by his buddies but remembered they were in the serious part of the semester where fooling around could be reckless, with a huge paper the next day.


When they got to him, a company of his classmates had formed a guard of honor to usher him into the class and celebrate his recent appointment.


His friend Pam, explained that the erstwhile Chairman, Cosmos had ordered an emergency meeting for 2 pm earlier on the order of the Head of Department but the message could not spread to everybody because of the brief notice. HOD had removed Cosmos as class Chairman during the emergency session and installed Dapo to take charge of the class affairs effective from today. The entire class cheered his installation with chants of "Chairmo, Chairmo, Chairmo!"


Only their HOD wields that exceptional power in the entire school. How do you get rid of a sitting Chairman 24 hours before the last exam? Although there were accusations leveled against Cosmos bothering around abuse of power and graft he could have spared the poor boy another day, Dapo thought to himself.


Everyone walked on eggshells around the HOD. It was impossible to read his emotions or reactions. He only smiled at ladies he admired and never to the fellows and now he must work with this fellow next session.


Students in every other department elected their officers and removed them when they deemed it necessary but, in their case, the HOD spared them the troubles. They heard stories of how he stopped many from leaving for NYSC because of one deliberate carry over or the other in his subjects because of their failure or noncompliance to satisfy up with his particular demands. The Fear of HOD was the beginning of wisdom.


Dapo was now at the bus stand. He trembled and trotted as he considered if it would be smarter to stick around for the bikes to get to him or just run further away from his destination where he will find one. If he stuck around, it edged closer to school, but the bikes did not show. Running to the stand where they parked and waited would be the opposite direction and distance from his proposed target. The latter looked wiser; he realized. He ran, he perspired, his head still felt light and dangling. It occurred to him how he found himself in this imbroglio.


Dapo had gone to join Pam and Susan in their regular spot to revise for their paper. This one appeared enormous and important. He needed "A" in this one and if he can achieve that, his CGPA will sustain him in the prestigious top 5 of the department.


Pam and Susan were not at their popular reading class. On his path to Pam's lodge to find out? He heard more salutes from recognized and unfamiliar faces, "Chairmo, Chairmo!" This point, it was sinking. He waved to everybody that hailed him and headed to Pam's. Pam, another member of the top 5 gang, a natural bodybuilder, always on bald hairstyle, and 6'5 taller than Dapo at 5,9. You will confuse him for a bouncer if he went around any party venue. He had a live-in partner.


Susan, vary in size and height compared to her sweetheart, she was a real head roller. Guys envied Pam and passed quips on how her beauty added a few inches to the size of his head, and if they ran into any difficulty, he would just package her in his pockets and take off then bring her out when it was clear.


Dapo picked up uncontrolled laughter and japing as he approached his buddy's lodge. The current Chairman doubted it came from there, with only hours to their last paper. The analytical and serious one in the group, Dapo, had a frown on and did not knock. He nudged the door in and the cheers of "Chairmo, Chairmo," greeted him. Dapo adjusted his lens and waved to them. He stared and saw they created a circle with Pam, Susan, another mutual friend Nuhu, and new fellows he could not pinpoint and in the centered were two big bottles of drinks that look like wine because of the size and 6 bottles of soda with cups assigned to each individual.


"Is it not too early to be celebrating?" He questioned. His grin waned.


Instead of replying, they erupted into a frenzy with one or two guys pointing at him as they fell over each other chuckling. Dapo figured what they have said behind him and joined in the hilarity. He gestured to expand the sitting arrangement to join the merrymakers, called for a cup, and beckoned on Susan to pour him liquor.


The roar abated, and everybody now fixated on Dapo with worry all over their faces."Oya, pour am, I go drink am like that." He ordered one of the strange faces to serve him from the bigger bottles when Pam and Susan refused to act on his request.


"Chairmo, this one no be the one wey you sabi drink o," Susan said. The amusement in her face changed into worry.


"Full am abeg," he added to the guy pouring the alcohol.


"You suppose mix am with soft drink o!" Pam yelled.


The information arrived late. Dapo emptied the full cup with three gulps. He held his tongue out, his right palm on his neck as he sought to force out a breath amid the hot sensation. They gawked at this stage but he raised the second hand to show that he was all good and within moments the rant of "Chairmo, Chairmo," permeated the air again.


Before he reached the exact point where the bikes were, he had invited one of them to meet him. He sprang on and guided him towards the school.


9.45 am, and he perceived it was late, but only wished. Regrets overshadowed him. Why did he try to impress them?


He recalled leaving Pam's place but had no memory of how he ended up sleeping instead of heading back to the class for review.


Dapo got up from the circle and requested the couple to join him at their usual reading spot. He staggard, they overlooked it. He shut the door behind him and stuck around to climb down from the stairs. His sight was vague and wobbling. He took off his goggle and cleared it with the edge of his turtleneck and settled it back on, but it made no difference. It felt like climbing down 50 steps. He got on the road but had no control over his movement. He perceived he was moving but unsure of the direction. The potholes under his feet feel a lot more than he was used and it seemed to affect every step he took; he was unsteady but kept on moving.


Dapo's thoughts were off and on when the man slowed as he neared a gas station."Guy, why you dey stop?" He howled at the guy.


"Bros, my fuel no go carry us reach. I Wan buy small top-up." He countered."Why you no tell me when I dey enter na," he fired.


His own sweat-drenched him; his hair like one who just got discharged from a local police station after four days of custody. He got off the bike, weighed, and searched for options but before he could conclude the guy was through and ready to continue the trip. He bounced on again and they proceeded. Dapo tapped the man throughout the ride like one on a racehorse, imploring him to hurry.


At the school gate, they denied the lads access despite Dapo's pleas. He paid the fellow and resumed jogging mixed with running. He would slow down now and then to catch his breath. More shouts of "Chairmo, Chairmo," but he paid them no thought. Failure became inevitable, and he had to take this as a carryover and a fall out of the admired "Top 5 Geng".

The Business Finance Lecturer was not a lecturer he wished to trifle with. His subject was one of the 4 with higher credit units.

He worked at the Government State House, so he traveled an exhausting distance to come to the school for his lectures. He managed 2 hotels among other interests. A disciplinarian who does not accept excuses as reasons. When his lecture started, no one enters the class again. The students spoke of him in hush tones when waiting for him to come to tutor them. He was always neat; repeated no attire; wore well-polished shoes. He was in a league of his own.


Dapo blamed himself for letting down his moral guards and consuming that alcohol just for show off; he blamed the HOD for making him Chairman; blamed Pam and Susan for not doing enough to stop him; blamed the guy that poured him the drink for getting him drunk; blamed the bike man for stopping to buy fuel under such circumstances; blamed the security guards for being overzealous.


As he advanced towards the hall the at top speed, he noted the class was bare but shrugged the view aside and associated it to the result of the headache or the sweat on his glasses that altered his sight. The farther he moved, the closer and clearer it turned out that the class was empty.


He removed his glasses and rubbed his face. It was impossible that they had completed the exam. Maybe there was a change in venue. It would not be the first time that would happen in his department, he recalled, Crumpled.


Dapo slowed towards the hall and it became unmistakable that the exam was not carrying on in that class. There was a dangling and conspicuous paper that caught his attention. It had "we have postponed The Business Finance Exam..... Signed Cos..." inscribed on it. He slumped to his knees in front of the class, lifted his hands to the sky, heaved an enormous sigh of respite, collapsed on the floor with tears and sweats mixed on his face.

"Guys, we are having beans tonight," Tara said and slipped two bowls before them. One loaded with grains and the other empty where the picked beans would be. All four boys exchanged glances bewildered. "We don't eat beans on Thursday" Emma the fourth boy reacted as he showed further hesitation.

There was an unwritten feeding pattern that had been a part of the household ritual for many years. Some boys did not realize when it started but followed the practice. Saturdays are for Moi Moi, Akara (bean cake), or Beans while Sundays are the days they ate Jolof Rice, Fried Rice, or Rice mixed with Beans. They serve every other meal at other times. Solid meals like Amala, Semo, Eba, and others were meals served as dinner and never at any other time of the day.

They grunted as they picked the beans and prayed for the christening of their new brother to take place sooner so they can return to their traditional ways of life. Not that they did not welcome his arrival, but it changed their world in the past 3 days and they had more days to go.

They gave up their privacy to visitors who came and left; they surrendered the kitchen to strangers regardless of their cooking experiences, their chores increased with more people in the residence. Several guests considered it to be wrong for boys to cook for the opposite sex, so it relegated them to physical responsibilities. They even temporarily lost their parents to the receptions and attention of visitors.

Lizzy stilled experienced baby blues, though she appeared strong and acted naturally. She would have been more thrilled and joyful if she had a daughter, she prayed for a girl; she hoped for a girl. "He would be another soldier" she resolved to herself, in acceptance to her reality. Neighbors and family always mocked her and Isaac as parents to soldiers. Many who coveted them never comprehended how desperately they wished for a lady. Lizzy, the quintessential family lady who loved to have as many families as she can accommodate around. Her husband traveled a lot and rarely talks when he was around.

The guys completed the beans picking assignment and passed it to their Aunt Tara whom they have not excused for adjusting their meal schedule. She was their Father's younger relative who occasionally visited even though she lived only 2 cities away. They did not have any emotional connection with her, neither did she with them.

She collected it and soaked it in water.

"Should I boil the water?" Ken, the eldest boy, asked.

"Not yet, we still have to peel it after soaking for a while," Tara responded.

"Are we making Moi Moi or Akara?" Ken quarried, seeing the dismay on his brothers' faces.

"Off course, we are making beans," she emphasized

Lizzy taught all her kids how to make a variety of meals but constantly cautioned them that the woman-owned the techniques and can prepare unimaginable meals out of anything. So, they accepted it as one of those magic that came from their mothers cooking; they sat back and pondered. They picked up a few basic processes that led to the next and what they saw did not look like any. If you peeled the Beans, it meant you want to make Moi Moi, Akara, or Gbegiri soup and not normal beans. They lay back and expected the unfolding magic.

After peeling, Tara poured the beans in the steamed water and proceeded to cook it normally. She added salt, sauce, oil, and a few other ingredients. The youngsters giggled at each process and waited anxiously to sample the ultimate product.

Dinner time arrived. When Tara served the first plate for Mr. Isaac in his favorite plate, the lads were unimpressed with what they got. It turned out yellowish, watery and plain. The palm oil flowed to the edge of the dish and pepper did not affect the beans. Something was missing. It's not the magic they foresaw.

Everyone eventually got served the "special beans" but it impressed not a single individual. A lot of the guests did not suppress their dissatisfaction. They dumped the meal halfway.

Brown, the 2nd son, would not hide his discontent. He had an unusual taste bud from the others. Even when their mother cooked, he was choosy. He could not stop gazing at his meal and with every look, he accompanied with the shaking of his head.

For the first time since the 5th boy joined the clan, everyone around had the same feeling, and it was that of displeasure. The supper was a disaster. One or two visitors who prepared to sleepover quickly collected their bags and bade goodbye to the house. They altered their plans.

The general atmosphere during and after dinner was not oblivious to Tara who arranged for a sleepover. She packed her things and wished the family a wonderful night and no one attempted to intercept her.

Dawn came swiftly with the last supper still in conversations. Several people complained about frequent visits to the restroom before daybreak. Only Lizzy and the infant looked forward to brunch. They had no expectations and everybody just had a little something of this and that.

More guests arrived in and out while a few others stayed longer. Hunger had crept in as noon had drifted into the evening and a late lunch had to happen and once again another guest volunteered but this one looked different.

She looked well arranged, as an office lady. The wig she wore appeared neatly combed and flowed down to her shoulder. She had clean painted not long nails, a fading pink lipstick, and a flowery dress. She looked like someone who just closed from an office.

Brown the 3rd boy saw who would be responsible for lunch. He made signals to the other brothers and like swamps, they assembled in the kitchen again to observe the show about to unfold. Unlike Tara, she was a stranger to them. Not even the eldest had known her before that moment.

"What are we preparing for dinner," she asked glaring at the lads one after the other and she watched for their replies.

"Amala!" they chorused. They would not pass the opportunity to have their say on a chance to come back to their routine meals.

"Amala. Are you certain?" She inquired further

It confused them this time around. They merely nodded unenthusiastically. The memory of the last dinner still lingered. She, yet another stranger in their territory, in their kitchen, and looked so inexperienced. How they wished they permitted them to cook, they had confidence in their capabilities; they would make nutritious meals for everybody but because they are not ladies; it was not allowed. Rather, they have been eating many experiments.

The process started with the support of reluctant boys. As soon as they steamed the water, she started pouring the yam powder and stirring it while still on the cooker. The introductory process impressed the guys.

After stirring the powder for a while she wrapped the lower part of her dress properly in between her legs slightly revealing her thigh, carried down the pot, sat on a stool, dragged the pot closer, spread her thighs, and held it down and firm with her feet. She started stirring the Amala slowly, then quicker and faster. Sweating profusely, but they paid her no attention. Her professionalism had captured the admiration of the lads.

She would stop now and then to use a little plastic to assemble the scattered fragments and stirred further. She ignored who was watching; she was busy.

The children whispered in delight. Unlike the previous night where everything went south from the initial process, this was going way more than they foresaw and now they craved to identify her. "She's good," Emma said. He did not notice he was that loud, but the others quickly quieted him.

She returned the mixed Amala on the stove for some minutes, then bought down the pot to the same position in between her feet. Mixed some more, used the plastic to gather all the edges together. The kitchen was hot; she was sweating a lot from her face down in between her slightly revealed cleavage.

The Amala appeared pleasant; the process looked neat; it came out tempting to the eyes and in the dishes and the boys eagerly waited to dig in.

Another night, another dinner hour. The brothers served everybody while the lady stayed back to clean up. She cleaned every utensil used in preparing dinner except the pot because it was still slightly burnt and required brief soaking before the final wash.

Compliments after praises followed from one guest to the other. The brothers had nothing but respect for the Chef. Mr. Isaac and Lizzy emptied their dishes, both contented and elated. She requested a lad to call the lady for a special appreciation and compliment, but the boy came back from the kitchen with news that she left.

Nobody remembered her name, how she visited, or through whom she came.

By the next morning when the boys took out the leftover pot to wash to prepare for breakfast, it had busted and dripping water. It occurred to them what transpired, and they all laughed and did not care.

Written By - Josh Adeyemi
https://www.wattpad.com/user/JoshAdeyemi
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