Posted in Prose, Stories

The Abandoned Child

CHAPTER 14

 

1994/95 session, I was in 400 levels at the age of 25. My grade at the end of my third year was 4.76 CGP. I went down a little in my third year, but I was fortunate to have started up as a four-pointer from inception. I wrote to my mentor. He also had become a PhD holder, bagged his doctorate, and had become a lecturer at the prestigious University of Ibadan, the premier University. My letter to him was very voluminous. In it, I updated him with all that happened in my life over the year. His reply was equally voluminous with emphasis that I do not lose focus on my academic pursuit. Once again, I resolved to stay focused. I decided to start burning the midnight candle.

Well, on St Valentine’s Day, in 1994 at the bar, I felt the first impact of the love from cupid’s arrow. I was busy working at the bar at night. It was Val’s’ night and the number of customers that thronged in was overwhelming that we had to resort to “pay before service” basis. It was work from 2PM till the dawn of 15th February.

I was giving the balance of customer’s money. He had come to the bar counter to buy drinks. My eyes beheld her as she entered the bar. She stood at the door and looked around as if she was looking for someone. Something hit my heart, and it stopped beating for some seconds. “Jeez!” Was the word that came out of my mouth. The man I was giving change looked behind and saw her too.

“Biko, give me my change, barman!” He scowled. “You never see woman before?”

I gave him his balance. I did not know how much but he grabbed it and left with his drinks.

She looked around until our eyes locked. She smiled and glided towards me, swaying gaily like she was on a run-way. Her eyes sparkled like crystals as she smiled. She is about five feet nine inches tall; neither thin nor fat. She was perfect. Her breast was full and appropriate for her frame. Her curves were perfect in her fitted black mini gown. Her stomach was flat, and she had the loveliest legs on earth. This emotional confusion had never happened to me. I was still a virgin at 25. Though I had wet dreams and woke to meet sticky discharge in my boxers, I had never had sexual intercourse in my real life.

As she stood before me smiling, something moved in front of my trousers, and I had to move closer to the bar shelf to hide my bulging crouch. I could not understand what was happening to me.

“Hi! She said

“Hello!” I replied

“Please, I am new in town. I don’t know how you guys operate here, but I need a bottle of Heineken beer and some chops”, she said

I was breathing fast and was confused. So, I pointed at a lone chair and told her to go and sit.

“There! Someone will attend to you please!” I stuttered. “No! Sorry, please. You will pay here and collect your drinks. Then, you can go there and enjoy your drink”.

The smell of her cologne was mesmerising my senses as she opened her purse to pay up.

“Keep the change,” she said.

“No!” I said as I gave her the bottle of Cold Heineken beer.

“You said no?” She asked

“Yes!” I replied.

“No! Yes! What are you saying?” She asked.

“Sorry, I mean the change! I don’t want to keep your change”, I replied.

She laughed. My heart jumped. I was fighting to keep my emotions under control

“Why!” She asked. “You don’t collect tips here?

“We collect, but I cannot collect from you!” I said.

“Why is that?” She asked.

“Are you married, did you come here with someone? Are you waiting for someone here?” I asked all three questions together.

She laughed again and my heart almost tore through my chest. She did not know what her laughter was doing to me. I did not have any line to use on her. I had never wooed any woman in my life. This is when Godstime, my classmate, would have called me a “Jew man”.

“Please, I will bring your change to you. Go and sit there before someone else takes over the seat”.

She collected her drink and swayed towards the lone seat at the far end of the bar. The bar was dimly lit but she shone as she cat-walked towards the seat, making heads turn to stare at her. She was beautiful to behold from behind. The curves, the firm round buttocks, and the fresh long legs.

Omo na wetin dey do you?” Emeka, my colleague, had asked

“Mekus! I swear I no understand wetin dey happen to me o! Woman never affect me like this before o! I don see babes tire for this hotel nah, but none dey like this one!” I explained.

“You sure say she no be hustler?” Emeka asked.

“She don marry?” I asked Emeka.

“Which kain stupid question be that? I sabi her before?” Emeka countered. “I beg attend to customers’ biko! See as your trouser don swell because of the girl”.

I cowered immediately. So, Emeka had seen it? I needed to stay away and calm down so my crouch could calm down also.

Numerous thoughts went through my mind. What could a beautiful girl like this be doing here alone? Perhaps to hook a man. I have been seeing girls come and go from the hotel, I have seen all shades of the female species but this one was unique. She was young, say between eighteen and twenty-two years. She said she was new in town, but how could someone new in town locate here of all joints in Owerri?

I opened a chilled bottle of Gulder beer and gulped straight from the bottle as I sat behind the bar shelf away from prying eyes. It helped me. The chilled drink sent charged sensations through my system, and I became calm.

I walked up to her and asked the kind of chops she would like. She requested for gizzards, and I told we had it hot and steaming. She asked for the price and I told her not to worry, I would take care of that. She laughed again and I felt that tingling sensation at my crouch again, I was in trouble.

I ran away from her and sent Emeka to take a serve of Gizzard in pepper source to hereineken beerhHkkk. I paid for the Gizzards immediately and gave Emeka her balance to give to her.

I attended to other customers while I stole regular glances at her. I saw different men approach her table and talk with her. I was always red with anger whenever anyone made her laugh.

I had seen men take single girls home every other night from this hotel, but it would kill me tonight if anyone should take this one home. Emeka saved the day.

“Omo, it’s like you like this girl”, he said

Yes Emeka! I said. “I never see her here before, but she dey make my heart beat to run faster!” I said.

“Okay, see wetin you go do ehn? Go upstairs, go change your clothes, and then go meet her. She must be a student. So, do not be afraid. Even if she be Ashawo, I never see her here before which means she no get customer for here!” Emeka encouraged me.

“I dey fear o! I never toast woman before o!” I said.

“My friend, wetin dey do you?” Emeka challenged. “You no be man? Go, abeg!”

He pushed me. I hurried out of the bar and changed into a pair of black jeans and red polo shirt. I sprayed my perfume “Tahoo for men” and quickly brushed my teeth before coming downstairs. As I approached the bar, Emeka quickly brought out a spare chair and placed it directly opposite the girl. She looked up as Emeka was beckoning at me to come and sit. She returned her gaze to her drink.

I sat down and said, “hi!”

“Hi!” She replied as she looked up into my eyes. She squinted and she looked towards the bar counter. She made a funny face as she peered into my face in the dimly lit room.

“Are you not…”

“The barman!” I completed.

“Have you closed for the day?” She asked.

“No! I am still on duty, but I need to speak with you”, I replied.

“Me?” She asked. “What for?”

“I am confused, I said.”Your presence is doing things to me that I cannot explain”.

She laughed again, displaying the most beautiful set of white teeth in the world. It was like watching Whitney Houston laugh.

“You are doing it again”, I said.

“What did I do?” She asked

“I don’t know why my beat skips whenever you laugh, and I was angry when I saw those guys coming to chat with you, and you laughed with them. Please don’t make me kill somebody. I could poison their drinks because of you”.

“Ha! Please o!” She begged.

“Can I get you another bottle of Heineken? I offered; the bill is on me!” I said.

“Hmm, it’s like you have some money to burn abi? You sent this plate of gizzard which your colleague said you have paid for and now you want to buy me another bottle of beer. I gave you a little tip, but you rejected it. Is this your own tactics for catching your babes here?” She asked.

“No!” I said. “You won’t understand, but please I asked you a question earlier

“I am not married!” She said. “I am a two hundred levels student at the Imo State University, IMSU. My hostel is close by; I just want to check this place out as I have heard a lot about it”.

“What course are you studying?” I asked.

“Mass communication”, she said.

“Hmm, that’s nice, you will be a beautiful newscaster, and so what is your name?” I ventured to ask. “And I mean your real name, please”.

She laughed once more, and I joined her. I was feeling free and lighter like some butterflies in my stomach.

“My name is Chioma”, she said. “And you, what is your name?”

“My name is Bolaji”, I said.

“Bolaji?” She asked. “Are you Yoruba?”

“Pure and applied!” I said. “I am from Ekiti state”.

“Wow! What brings an Ekiti boy to be working in a Bar in Owerri?” She asked

“Hmm, it’s simple! It is what brought you here that brought me too”, I said

“Are you in school?” She asked.

“Four hundred levels EE at FUTO”, I said

“EE as in Electrical Electronics?” She asked

“Yep!” I said

“It’s a lie!” She said

We both laughed out loud together, and at that moment, the General Manager of the Hotel walked into the Bush Bar. He looked around the bar and askedof me. I saw Emeka pointing at our table, so Mr Daniel came towards our table.

“Omo, how are you?” He greeted.

“I am fine, sir! Meet my friend, Chioma! Chioma, meet my Boss, Mr. Daniel, we call him Oga Dan!”

“Good evening, sir!” Chioma greeted.

Oga Dan greeted her, and they spoke briefly in Igbo language. She kept laughing.

“Omo, please take care of my sister o! She is from my State of origin o! We are both from Enugu state!” He said as he walked away.

“Your Boss is a funny man”, she said.

“What did he say to you?” I asked.

“He was praising you. He said this is the first time he is seeing you with a girl. He said you are very intelligent and the best in your department that you are a hustler and I should not lose you. Is it true?” She asked. “Are you the best in your department?”

“I can’t say I am the best! But I am not doing badly”, I said.

“Is it true that you have not been seen with a woman here before?” She asked.

“Yes!” I replied.

“And why is that?” She asked.

“Hmm, my story is a long one”, I said.

“I am all ears, tell it”, she said.

“Don’t worry, not today, but someday you will read about it. So, tell me about yourself! I continued; do you have a boyfriend?”

“Of course, I have many! I am a student, and there are boys everywhere around me, and of course they are my friends!” She teased.

“No, no! That’s not what I mean nah! I meant to ask if you are in a relationship”.

“You and your questions! First, it was if I was married, now it is if I have a boyfriend. What about if I said yes?”

“Then I would ask to be your friend, just friends! I replied.

“What are you afraid of?”

“I have seen a lot of things while working in this hotel that I would never attempt to take over another man’s woman. I wish to live long and whole”.

She laughed out loud. “Yoruba man! You people are cowards!”

“Thanks for the compliment!” I said

She laughed out loud again. “You are not even angry that I said you guys are cowards”.

“I started hearing that four years ago when I came to the east. You guys believe the Yorubas are cowards”.

“And what do you say to that?” She asked.

“You have a right to your opinion, my sister!” I said.

“I want to know your opinion about that my opinion”.

“You believed what you were told. We are all products of the environment we grew up. I also had certain opinions about the Igbos before I came down here, but my opinion had changed having spent some years here. Perhaps if you travel out of the east to the west and live among the Yorubas. Your opinion may change. But for cowardice, I would say that an average Yoruba thinks twice before going into a fight or a business. He weighs the risks and the consequences, and then decides if it’s worth it before venturing. We also have Yorubas who do not give a damn and plunge into danger and come out unscathed. So, it is relative, it all depends on your upbringing”.

“Hmm, man of wisdom!” She said. “I think you made a point there. Well, I was kidding, though. That is not my opinion, and I do not generalise”.

“So, back to square one!” I said. “Are you in a serious relationship?”

“No, sir! I am not!” She said.

“Thank God!” I said.

“Thank God for what?”

“At least I am not encroaching!” I said.

She paused a while before she said, “I was going out with a part 3 student last year, he is in part 4 now, but we are through”.

“What happened?” I asked.

“He is a womaniser and a cultist too! He has just been made the Capo of the Black Bats Confraternity in my school. I told him I needed to stay clear to be free from harm. It is dangerous dating such a guy on campus, you know?”

Wow! The Capone’s girlfriend? Yeepa! Mogbe? I exclaimed

“And what is that supposed to mean? She asked; you are scared already?”

“My dear”, I said. “To tell the truth, I would not like to be involved in any issue with a cultist o! I have heard a lot of sordid and terrible stories about their capabilities, let alone a Capone!”

She laughed until tears came to her eyes

“Chai! Onye Yoruba!” She exclaimed. “You are scared!”

“Look Chioma! You can call it whatever you like, but I am an only child with a complicated and disjointed family background. I have gone through so much in life to come and allow one cultist kill me over a girl on Campus!” I said.

“Which means you cannot risk your life for me?” She asked.

“Look! You are adorable, you are sweet, your beauty and mien have captured me, but I am not an idiot! Excuse me for a moment”. I said as I got up and dashed to the bar to get a bottle of Gulder the “Ultimate” and a bottle of Heineken the “Chairman” for Chioma. Emeka, my colleague, asked me, “Omo! How far nah? The Babe don fall?”

“Old boy! Wahala dey o!” I replied.

“How?”

“Not all that glitter is gold o! I added as I collected the drinks and scurried back to Chioma. I opened both bottles and filled our glasses.

“Fear-fear Yoruba man!” She teased.

“No wahala! I agree”, I said.

“So, tell me,” she said. “Which Cult do you belong to in your school?

“I am not a Cultist!” I snapped

“Why are you so defensive?” She asked

“Defensive of what nah? I am not a secret cult member and will never be!” I restated.

“Well”, she continued. “I like cultists! I feel protected with them, and it is fun rolling out with them, especially when there is peace on campus”.

“Jeez!” I exclaimed. “You like Cultists?”

She laughed but the laughter had no effect on me this time around. My Gulder was making me bolder and more reasonable.

Okay, look at it from my point of view”.  She took a long sip from her glass and gave out a slight belch, then continued. “When I gained admission into the University last year, I had so many toasters coming daily to ask for friendship. Even my roommates and hostel mates became jealous of the array of men that came visiting me in the room that I was warned by the leader of the Black Angels to reduce the influx of men to my room. She later asked me to join their clique if I must continue to do as I please in the hostel.

My life was so engaged with people that I almost ran out of school. The black brassier, the white Angels! The black Angels! And the Amazon Confraternities all wanted to recruit me. On the other hand, different shades of male cultists wanted to date me. In the second semester when the pressure continued, I had no choice but to give in to Julius popularly called “Major”. He was involved in school politics and an active member of the Black Bats. He happens to be a very charming guy, too, and he has his ways with the ladies. My relationship with him scared every other guy from toasting me. Both male and female. Did I tell you that I had female toasters too?” She asked

“How?” I asked.

She laughed. “Are you that naïve? Stop behaving like a Jew I beg! There are lesbians and bisexuals all over the campus that wanted to sleep with me also!”

“Jesus!” I exclaimed.

“Chai! Yoruba boy!” She teased. “Well, I like you sha! Your humility and your pure innocence appeal to me!”

“Please!” I said. “Please, don’t like me!”

“What is that nah? Don’t be a Jew, please!” She said.

“No! No! I want to remain a Jew!” I replied.

She laughed out loud and held my hands over the table.

“I was tactically pulling my hand from her grip when she gripped it tight and became serious”.

“Yoruba man!” She called.

“Bolaji!” I replied.

“Sorry, Bolaji cool down! What is your problem? I have not even told you half of my story, and you are scared already! Don’t you like me again?” She asked.

“No! No! No!  I don’t!” I replied. “You are dangerous!”

She released her grip on my hand and recoiled. She sank into her chair and held her head in her hands. And the next thing I realised was that she was sobbing.

Now, I was more confused because I was looking for an opportunity to leave her. Her spontaneous change of character left me in dismay.

“What is the problem Chioma? Why are you crying?” The more I asked, the louder she cried. In order not to create a scene in the Bar, I pulled her up and led her upstairs to one of the rooms I had access to the key. She followed me quietly.

As I closed and locked the door behind us, she started to wail, and she cried. Then, she told me her story.

She was a product of a broken home; her father eloped with an Edo woman leaving her mother with her and her kid brother, when she was just seven years old in primary 3. Then, they were in Benin City, where she and her brother were born. Her father was a staff of Chevron Oil Company and was sent on internationalisation to the Middle East, which allowed him to abscond with her mother’s closest friend who happens to be her class teacher, Auntie Osas!

Three years later, her mother relocated to the east, Enugu. She got a job as a secondary school teacher at Ekulu Girls secondary school Enugu. She later became the mistress of an Enugu based millionaire, who built a bungalow for her and took over the responsibilities of her elusive husband.

When she was seventeen and awaiting the result of her JAMB examination, she took a part-time job as the secretary to the mother’s man friend.

She lost her virginity to him inside his office, on his desk. He had made her drink some whiskey while waiting for the rain to subside after the close of work on a Friday evening. He gave her some money the next day and made her promise not to tell her mother.

It became a regular occurrence as he took her along on all his travels, exposing her to people and places of importance both home and abroad. She had all the good things of life plus a very fat bank account.

Things changed when her mother was arrested at the Murtala Mohammed international airport for drug trafficking by the NDLEA. Her sponsor was her millionaire man- friend, and he was subsequently arrested. Both were sentenced to forty years jail term each and were currently serving.

She had to sit for another JAMB examination as she did not follow up on her admission two years before her involvement with her mother’s man. She had a lot of money saved in her bank, and she could take care of herself and her younger one.

When she gained admission into IMSU, she faced a lot of challenges before finally settling down for Major simply because she wanted protection.

“Please don’t hate me! Don’t be scared of me! Is it because I told you the truth?” She asked. “I never knew you before today, but I felt as if I have known you for ages and that was why I spoke freely with you. I felt I could confide in you that was why I told you about Major not because I am proud to be dating him. I have never been in love. People have been taking advantage of me and I had no choice than to turn such opportunities to my advantage too. I am not a bad person, though I have been spoilt and pampered with money. I drink, smoke, go clubbing, but I can change! I promise you. I can change!

She clung tightly to me as she buried her face in my chest, crying. I held her close for comfort and kept patting her back and encouraging her that all was well. She slept in my arms that night. I could not sleep. I was torn between two worlds! Confusion and fear!

For me, I had no father, and my mother was somewhere in Lagos prostituting. I was in school by my own effort and here was a girl I just met and fell for. Her father had run away, and her mother was in jail. She was in school by her own effort too. I thought like terms, they say, repel while unlike terms attract. The two of us should not be together!

As I looked at her face as she slept soundly with tear-stained face, I felt pity for her. I imagined the frankness and openness with which she spoke.

And I said to myself, “here is another victim of circumstances that have adapted her circumstance to her own favour! Here is another survivor!”

Thus, I resolved to be with her, with the hope that she will change for good. To bid time, I picked up a textbook and began to read. I did not go back to duty.

Early in the morning, I woke her up with a kiss on her lips; she opened her eyes and saw me. She yawned and called my name and smiled. Then, we kissed some more. I was inexperienced. She was experienced. She felt for my hardness and held on to it. I was on fire!

“Relax!” She said. “Just relax! I am not running away. Try to be calm! Breathe in and out. Breathe normally,” she instructed.

I tried to breathe normally but could not. I was breathing like a leaking hose.  She sat up and removed her clothes slowly, all of it! I almost had a heart attack. I had never been so close to a naked woman, let alone in the same bed.

I hurriedly took off my clothes too. I had problems removing my boxers, but I eventually did, with her help. I happened to be heavily endowed down there, and she was shocked at the size and thickness of my hardness as she held it in both hands. She took my hands to her bosom.

“Play with me!” She said.

I remembered some erotic movies I had seen. I knew what to do. After a while, she stopped me, pushed my head up from her bosom, and she asked, “Bolaji! You have heard my story, are you going to be there for me or you are just going to take advantage of me?”

What a question at such a critical moment? What was she expecting me to say?

“I love you!” Was all I could mutter as I dug my head back to business.

“Are you sure? She asked.

“Yes! Yes!” I replied as I kissed her all over.

“I love you too!” She replied. “I have never told anyone that.

She then spread out and guided me into her. She held her breath as I slowly pushed into her inch by inch until I was fully buried inside her. She wrapped her legs around me and pulled me closer. Then, she whispered into my ear, “You are so big! I love you”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Abandoned Child new cover

Posted in Prose, Stories

Asunder

ACT 2 SCENE 1

Dandy’s Bar: Mid day, cool jazz music is playing at the back ground on a low tone, some Bar Staff are sitting and sleeping on the Tables, Akpan is busy moving to and fro with a mop stick in his hand. Dandy is relaxing with a bottle of Chilled Heineken lager as he reads from a chapter of Mario Puzo’s ‘The Godfather’.

Enters Ogiri, a.k.a Lanky, he strolls in looking for some one, eventually he finds Dandy. He stands by the door smiling down at Dandy until Dandy looks up from his book.

Dandy: (Jumps up happily) old boy! Longest time! (They hug) whither now? Lanky! Lanky! (Looks him up and down) look at you! In fact, I don’t what to say!

Lanky: Guy! Don’t just say anything yet! Just take me as you see me (They both sit down) Guy! Your Man dey roast baad!

 

Dandy: ehen! I for say nah! I wanted to ask if all is well with you but I did not want to pre-empt your condition, which was why I said I didn’t know what to say when you came in (calls out Akpan)

So what’s up with you? Na wetin dey happen? He don tey o! You just disappear like smoke only to reappear with complaints of roasting! (Akpan appears) Akpan get a bottle of Star lager for my Friend! (Akpan dashes off)

Lanky: Old boy! Old boy! Come back! Forget the beer thing first I beg! (Akpan runs off)

Dandy: why? Don’t you drink any longer?

Lanky: to drink beer into an empty stomach is a dangerous game! It could be counter productive!

Dandy: oh! You never chop?

Lanky: I never chop!

Dandy: shuo! Okay, no wahala nah! Dem go arrange food for you! You no be stranger for here. So how is your family nah? Madam and the Kids?

Lanky: That is my problem now Dandy! Madam is my major head ache now!

Dandy: How do you mean?

 

Lanky: Dan! I have been out of Job since January, immediately we completed the Elekahia road project, our Company had no other job on ground so we were all paid off pending when another contract will be awarded. But so far no project is forth coming due to the campaigns and election postponements going on in the Country. Until a new Government is installed, no Contract is being awarded to ant Company.

Dandy: yes! Yes! Na so e dey be nah!

Lanky: good! I have been hoping something would turn up to no avail; I have spent up all my savings! My Wife has practically become the bread winner from the proceeds of her Shop at Rumuola.

Dandy: The Shop you opened for her sometimes last year?

Lanky: God bless you! That is the Shop! I was paid my housing allowance up front to the tune of 2.5 million naira! I invested all of it in her Shop! I eventually spent over three million naira for the rental, renovation and stocking of the Shop! I further collected a soft loan from the cooperative society and bought her a Toyota Hi-ace Panel Van to assist with the Business; I then bought her a Corolla for her personal use. Guy! I no try reach?

Dandy: You try pass! You try pass! I remember telling you it was the wisest thing to do! Once you equip your Wife, it takes a whole lot of load off your neck!

Lanky: Fa fa fa Fao!

Dandy: Why do you say so?

Lanky: my case is different! It was the most foolish thing I did in my life! Only if I had known that Tombra would turn around and betray my trust in her, my condition would not have been this bad! Can you imagine that I have fallen so low that my Wife came back from her Shop last night and challenged me foe taking a piece of meat from the soup?

Dandy: what? (Drinks straight from the bottle) wetin you talk again? I no hear you well!

Lanky: I prepared white rice to eat in the evening, I scooped and warmed a little stew from the one she keeps in the freezer and naturally I took a piece of meat instead of my normal two pieces when the going was good. My Wife returned home just as I was doing the dishes and she went straight to the freezer, she asked if I had eaten, I said yes! I said I prepared Rice and Stew! She asked if I took meat and I answered that I took just a piece since we are managing! My Guy, she told me the story of my life! She insulted and embarrassed me in the presence of my Children! Dandy! I went and locked my self in the toilet and cried like the fool I am! I slept off in the toilet that night for fear of coming out to face her wrath again.

Dandy: (Surprise) over a piece of meat? Your Wife? A whole you? Haba! Hey! Where is this Stupid boy? Akpan! (Akpan appears with the bottle of Star Lager and a glass cup)

Akpan: Oga no vex! I bin dey wash the Tumbler!

Dandy: shut up your mouth liar! Which Tumbler you dey wash for afternoon? All the ones you people washed in the morning, who has used them? Stupid forgetful boy!

Akpan: Oga no vex sir! (Drops the beer and proceeds to open it)

Lanky: Stop!

Dandy: If you open that beer, I will open your ear with a slap! Mumu! Is that how you open beer for Customers? Are you not supposed to get his consent to open it?

Akpan: oh! Oga sorry sir! Make I open am?

Dandy: mumu! No open am yet! Go and tell them at the kitchen to hurriedly prepare a plate of Fufu with native soup and Cow leg, tell them say na for V.I.P o!

Akpan: Okay sir! Make dem prepare Akpu with ogbono soup and V.I.P goat head for you?

Lanky: (Bursts out laughing)

Dandy:  (Excuses himself) Lanky I dey come I beg, make I place the order my self! (He pushes Akpan out of the way) gerrout from here! (He returns few minutes later, Lanky was flipping through his novel)

Lanky: Oh you are back! I have seen the movie of this book! Never knew it has a book!

Dandy: yeah! The book was actually adapted into the movie, you need to read the book, and it is much more detailed than the movie. So! Back to you! What are your plans now?

Lanky:  my Guy, I do not have any plans other than to continue scouting for a Job. The Wife I normally would have planned with has become a complete Stranger simply because she makes more money than me now! Come! If i tell you say for five months now I never touch woman, you go believe?

Dandy: haba nah! Wetin be dis nah? Which kain talk be dis nah? A whole you? Your Wife nko?

Lanky: My brother! My liver dey fail me to ask her o! Every night when she returns from her Shop, it is complaint of one body ache or the other! And I know those are just excuses to give me the red signal so I normally keep my space. The last time I made an attempt and touched her in the middle of the night do you know what she did?

Dandy: you tell me!

Lanky: (Shakes head sadly) That was five months ago that I made an advance at her, my Wife wakes up abruptly and switched on the lights, she looked at me in the eyes coldly and said ‘wetin dey worry you’? I asked her ‘how’? She asked ‘na wetin you wan do? Na why you dey touch my body? I asked her ‘how’? She then said’ Mr. Man! If you do any how, you go see any how this night o’! (Dandy interrupts rolling on the floor in laughter) Old boy! I no fit talk! I just open mouth dey look her until she turned back to sleep! I simply carried a pillow and went to the sitting room to sleep.

Dandy: wait! Wait! Lanky! I beg no talk again (reeling with laughter) no vex o!

Lanky: Old Boy! Why you dey laugh nah? This thing no be laughing matter o!

Dandy: wait lanky! (Suppressing laughter) but why you no fit tell her the thing wey you want do? Which one e ‘how’? ‘How’? wey you dey ask her? No be your wife?

Lanky: Guy i was shocked! The look on her face was like that of an angry Lion! She has never acted that way before. Normally once I touch my wife for action, na carry go nah!

(A neatly dressed waitress brings a Tray of food, Fufu, native soup with Cow leg. As she sets the food before Lanky, Lanky wash his hands and immediately descended on the food even as the waitress was still setting the dishes)

Dandy: Old boy take am easy! No body they share the food with you! (Waitress leaves laughing)

Lanky: True? (Relaxes) old boy he don tey wey I eat correct meal like this o! I don drink Garri so tey I dey smell like Cassava! (He opens the bottle of star with his teeth and gulps from the bottle) agh! Chai! Star na correct beer o! See as he sweet like, like em (Dandy Interrupts)

Dandy: Lanky! Wetin dey worry you?

Lanky: Old boy (Mouth full) no vex! I don dey mis- yarn abi?

Dandy: yes nah! Which time Star begin to dey sweet?

Lanky: you know say he don tey wey I drink beer nah! I don almost forget the taste! But this chilled beer wey dey my front so, he sweet! (He gulps some more)

Dandy: see as you dey disgrace your self in front of my Waitress!

Lanky: how?

Dandy: oh! How? You still dey ask how abi? Na so your wife asks you simple question you dey reply her with ‘how’? ‘How’?

(Both Men laughs till FADE)BookCoverImage Asunder

Posted in Prose, Stories

The Abandoned Child new coverCHAPTER 10

 

1991-University environment was so different from any environment I have been in my twenty two years of existence. It was a case of multi socio-cultural mix up.

 

No one gave a damn about my age! In fact I was not the oldest in my class of seventy students at 100 levels. I had married men and women as class mates! I had my age mates and younger ones too, no one cared about age and that feeling was soothing to me unlike what I passed through in my secondary school where my class mates and the whole school tagged me an uncle.

 

The social life was something else though. I had to adapt. For instance, I needed to stop bowing too low or try to prostrate while greeting someone that is older than me. I needed to curtail the excessive use of “yes sir” while discussing with an older one, be it student or lecturer, I could start a sentence with “yes sir” and end it with “sir” it was strange to the eastern people when I discuss with and older person and show so much respect. They laugh at me, they say I am local.

 

Another thing I observed here was the public show of affection between male and female students. I was always carried away when I see a boy and a girl taking a walk hand in hand or worse still when a girl seats on the lap of a boy discussing in public. I would forget myself and mope at them until they either shout at me or they shy away from my presence. It was not easy for me to stop looking at skimpily dressed ladies exposing their luscious cleavages and thighs in public, people were so free. No class prefect or school prefect to bully you.  The class captains here were mere stooges for the lecturers.

 

There were joints where we go to buy snacks and soft drinks. One could also go to town in the evening to drink alcohol or whatever pleases you. The evenings were my favourite moments as I would go out and sit close the school gate to watch the array of visitors trooping in and out of the school to pick up our girls. I saw exotic cars in their numbers; cars I had thought only existed in foreign movies, porch cars with convertible roof blaring out loud music and occupants dressed like movies Stars.

I would watch girls dressed for the night walk out of the school gate to board taxis to town. My favourite sit out was at Mallam Musa’s Kiosk close to the gate, I normally buy groundnut or biscuit and a bottle of Fanta as I sit and feed my eyes.

 

In my first year, I rarely went to the school joint. It was not meant for my type. I had no money to spare, the two times I went there was on invitation by a friend called Maduka. He had insisted I accompanied him there for a snack. When we got there, it was a beehive of activities. Every table was occupied with students’ spending money, eating and drinking. We had to wait for some students to finish eating and leave before we took over the chairs they sat on. I saw a student commanding the waitress to serve about seven other students seated around him with whatever they want.

I also saw wastage of food and drinks. Many of the girls that ate at the joint did not eat up their snacks, they barely drank half of the soft drink and bite off half of the snacks, the only item I know they ate up was meat. I hardly saw any left over stick meat. I wished I could pack up all the left over’s and take to my room. It would do me for a couple of days.

 

Year one was like an extension of secondary school. I did so well in my courses because I was already good in physics and other science subjects before entering the university.

 

The school was quite affordable because it is a federal government school. I was in the dormitory and we ate at the refectory while some of us cooked. I did both.

 

Mr. Adegoke and I were still in touch through letter writing and I always looked forward to reading from him.

Yes! Lest I forget, I had problems pronouncing the names of Igbo friends, names that starts with “Chi” I would pronounce as “she” it was practically impossible for me to change that tone, even when I tried to pronounce it right and it sounds right to my hearing, they still laugh at me and said I couldn’t get it right. I would call Ikesukwu instead of Ikechukwu. It irritated some of them and they would rather I called their English names while it amused others. All in all, it earned me the name “Omo Yoruba” in my first year. I am Yoruba by tribe and my accent stood out.

In the hostel I was quiet and reserved. I do not exceed my boundary, I do not mingle. I simply coil up in my bunk and dig into my books. Mr. Adegoke had told me that I needed to start working on my grades from my first day in school so I do no miss classes, I do not miss assignments and tests and when the second semester result was published, the name “Omo” became a force to be reckoned with. I cleared all “A”s and my CGP was 5.0.

 

I stayed back in the hostel during the holiday. I had no where to go to. Few students stayed back also. My money had run down and I was wondering how I would cope in my second year when school resumes. I could still pay my school and departmental fees, but then I would be left with very little to feed.

 

I went into town; I walked the length of Okigwe road to World Bank area looking for anything until I saw a vacancy advert posted on a gate. It read “Holiday Tutors wanted “. I knocked at the gate; it was a private school that needed Science teachers for students on holiday as well as preparatory classes for SSCE and JAMB examinations. I got the offer to teach Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics to SS1 and SS2 students. I started work immediately. It was fun and engaging but the pay was good. I solved every question the students threw at me to test my capability because I looked young and inexperienced.

Within two weeks of my working at the school, the number of students doubled. I have my ways of teaching that it made the student to want to be in my class, I told them that if a Village man like me with the least support in life could clear all “A”s in my SSCE then it should be an easy ride for them that are in the City and have every family support they need. I made the students to solve equations themselves. I gave them home works and the next day we solve it together. The students looked forward to my jokes and my accent too, but in all, they got to love the subjects that I taught.

 

The most important aspect of teaching was that it also opened an avenue for me to research and improves on myself. I had to read wider to prepare for those naughty students who liked to disgrace lecturers by bringing problems that are out of the curriculum for the lecturer to solve. Some will ask irrelevant question just to embarrass the Teacher. These were children of the elites in Owerri. Spoilt Kids.

 

I made more money during the November General Certificate Examination GCE. The private school where I taught during the holidays was an examination centre for the GCE. The proprietor hired me to assist the students that were writing the examination at his centre. I was kept in a secured room and question papers from the examination hall were brought to me to solve and provide answers for the students. I went on different days to provide answers for Physics, Biology, Chemistry and Mathematics questions. I was sure the Students would clear those subjects with “A”s. except the student that refuse to pay up. I was rewarded handsomely for my effort and on resumption for school in 1992 at the age of twenty three, I was ready for school.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 11

 

 

My overall performance in the first year endeared students to me in the second year. Many students that never as much as said a “hello” to me in the first year were now coming around me and seeking for space in my schedule. Maduka was the only friend I had in my first year but in my second year, “Omo” became the “man”. I was not carried away though because so many friends meant distractions.

 

There were two guys and a girl that were being viewed as the best three in the class while we were in year one. They were quick to answer questions in class; they were always handy to give assistance to students who had problem understanding certain topics. They were good but the overall result at the end of the session showed that I was better. I was a recluse because of my Yoruba accent; people laugh when I speak so I do not ask or answer questions in class.

 

The trio became my rivals in school, they watch out for the kind of books I read, they monitor the times I read. Whenever I am asked a question by the lecturers who have now known me, they interfere and want to show superior knowledge on the subject. One of the boys called Chukwuma even told me to my face that any brilliant person who cannot teach others is not worth the name. He said I was hoarding knowledge. I did not reply him, he did not know that outside the school, I was a teacher and my students are proud of me.

 

In my last letter to my mentor, I had updated every happening at school to him including the rivalry. He replied and said it was very natural, he then advised me to make friends with one or two equally good senior students in the faculty, a year and two years above my level.

 

I went to the four hundred levels and met with Samuel Ajibo who was the overall best student and Jane Nwankwo in three hundred levels. To these two I took academic problems to and I gained superior knowledge from them.

 

Towards the end of the first semester, I had just come out from the examination hall and was walking towards the hostel when Maduka cornered me and handed a bag to me and walked away.

Maduka na wetin dey inside? I asked but he did not reply, he simply waved me to go on.

I opened the bag and saw clothes, I called him to ask what it was meant for but he had gone far, he did not look back.

I took the bag home and emptied its content on my bunk. It contained three pairs on Jeans trousers, three Polo shirts, two Chinos short sleeve shirts and a pair of sandals. All were exactly my size. It couldn’t have been Maduka’s because while he was sturdy, I was lanky and the clothes matched me when I tried them on.

My bunk mate Chinasa, a weird fellow from Isialangwa in Abia state walked into the room from the examination hall, when he saw the clothes he started screaming “thank God o”! Thank God o! Bolaji don vex o! Make una come see o! Omo Yoruba don vex o! He don go charter Boutique o!

I hurriedly tucked away the clothes inside my box and locked it up, and then I ran out of the room as curious students started to troop into our room.

I went behind the hostel building and sat on the terrace to reminisce.

So people have noticed that I do not have clothes? Imagine Chinasa screaming and calling the whole dormitory to come and see my supposed new clothes! What a pity! What an embarrassment! How was I to know that anyone gave a damn about what I wear? I never gave a damn about whatever anyone wore so long it was clean.

I have a Jeans trouser and two shirts, a three quarter short, four boxers and two singlet. I wash anything I wear daily but for my jeans that I wash on Saturdays or Sundays.

My classmates also would have noticed my material deficiencies else Maduka would not have offered to clothe me. I wondered how much the Lad must have spent to procure the clothes for me, even though I would have preferred the cash equivalent because dressing was the least of my problems; however I was grateful to Maduka. I got up after thinking and soliloquizing for one hour and went to visit Maduka at his hostel.

 

There was as uproar when I walked into the examination hall the next morning. The hall was turned upside down. The hullaballoo was due to the new pair of black and red stripped shirt I wore on a new black Jeans. One of my class mates actually attempted to lift me on his shoulder and I ran out of the hall as the examination was yet to begin. That was when I shed tears. I cried because I was emotion laden by the fact that my poor condition was opened to all while I had thought that no one gave a damn!

 

I could not go back into the hall until the guy that tried to lift me up came to meet me under tree where I had run to, he saw the tears in my eyes and he hugged me. I cried the more.

Easy Omo! Easy! He said; I am so sorry for embarrassing you, but the fact was that I almost did not recognize you! You know I am so used to seeing you in your blue baggy jeans and green shirt! Seeing you like this today blew my mind and the mind of others as you could see in the hall. I am so sorry, please forgive me, he said as we hugged once more.

Wipe your tears; let’s go back into the hall for the invigilator has arrived with the examination papers.

Thanks a lot Godwin! I said.

But my guy, see as you fine! He teased; you be fine boy o! You come dey behave like a Jew man! Which babe you go toast now wey no go trip for you?  He asked jokingly as he pulled me along laughing.

 

I got the same reaction from every where I went to that week. I used to be referred to as “Omo baggy Jeans” behind my back.

The first semester examination ended well and the school went on break.

 

I had no where to go to so I stayed back in the hostel and when the hostel was almost empty I went to town to the school where I taught during the last long vacation. There was no vacancy. Very few students registered for extra moral lessons so I was not needed. The proprietor told me to come back by the next holiday when students would have started preparing for GCE and JAMB examinations. The implication of what the proprietor told me did not hit me until I got back to the hostel and checked up my money. I was left with seven hundred naira only.

 

Seven hundred naira would hold me for one week if I managed it well by sticking to a meal daily and drinking enough water. I needed a job to take care of my second semester needs. I was tempted to sell off some of the clothes Maduka gave me but I immediately dismissed the idea. The embarrassment I got concerning those clothes was an eye opener. I even need money to get more clothes and shoes before these ones becomes like a school uniform also. I need another shoe, I have a wet looks shoe and a palm sandals. The sole of the shoe had worn off badly that I wondered if I was bow legged. It can not survive the next semester. I would need to change the sole or get another shoe. I also realize that some students must be waiting to see the day that I will change my shoe. The best thing was to get another shoe and start wearing it immediately.

 

I hit town once again. I walked through the length and breadth of Owerri looking for any job that could pay anything. I ended up at Executive Gardens Hotel at Okigwe road. I got the job of a Bar man on a monthly salary of two thousand naira. I was quite happy at first but after working there for a week I almost abandoned the job and run away. But run to where nah?

 

I resumed for work as early as 7AM and because people do not come out to drink in the morning hours, my job was to join the room cleaners in cleaning up the rooms and dressing the beds, we change toiletries, disinfect the toilets, scrub the tiles on the walls of the bathroom and so on. The kind of stains I saw on bed sheets in some rooms after the guests have checked out are better left untold.

 

After working in the rooms until 1PM, I go downstairs to the bush bar and begin to clean up and set the tables and chairs in readiness for the day’s business. I stock up the Freezers with drinks; I take record of the opening stock of drinks and cigarettes in the bar. It was a Bush bar with DJ and life band facilities.

 

At 6PM I go back upstairs to take my bath and change into the hotel uniform of white shirt on black trousers then I return down stairs to join my colleague to begin the night’s activities. I do not rest until 2AM or 3AM when the last drunkard would have left. What actually bring business to the bush are the girls that come to hustle. I have never in my life seen such a careless and shameless display of immorality. The girls come from every where claiming to be students of the several higher institutions in eastern Nigeria. They come in varied shapes and sizes dressing seductively to woo the male, any male, as long as he has got cash. Many students from my school, including my lecturers come to patronize the bar and the girls. The girls were on take away basis or short time basis at the chalet in our hotel.

 

By 9PM the bar is at the peak of activities with either the DJ or the Life band entertaining and customers dancing. Men and ladies drinking and smoking, bar men running hitter titter to attend to customer’s need. The girls dance to every music showing themselves while the men sit and watch and eventually pick their choice girl by sending us the bar men to invite the girl to their table

 

By 12 midnight, they begin to fizzle out in twos’, some go into the hotel to spend the night together and others to “God knows where”. I then sit down after the last person has gone to count my tips which I had tucked into my back pocket to avoid adding it to the company’s money that I collect from customers.

 

Till this day I still wonder how some ladies came to the hotel every night and went away with different men each night. Some would have had three to four short time sessions with men in the hotel before finally going home with another man. They called it hustling and they don’t give a damn.

 

An incident I will never forget at the hotel happened the night a fine gentleman was brought to the hotel by his friend just to prove to him that his fiancée was not whom he thought she was.

The so called fiancée in the company of her friends and five men were on a round table setting eating Nkwobi, drinking assorted spirits and smoking cigarettes. They were chatting loud and having fun.

The fiancée was high on spirit and she stood up to dance to entertain her client for the night. With her cigarette in her left finger, she zoomed into the client who was seated; she pulled his chair backwards so she could have a space between him and the table. She then came between him and the table dancing seductively and rolling her back side in his face. She then sat on his crouch facing him with her full breast under his nose. Her cream coloured mini gown slipped up revealing alluring thighs. The randy client dug his head into her bosom and did things with his mouth. Her mates on the table were cheering, we were watching.

It was when Mr. Randy grabbed her butt and squeezed that hell was let loose.

The gentleman fiancé screamed “chineke me ee”! awunanam ee! (My God, I am dead) the man screamed stamping his feet as he charged towards the table: Nkechi! He shouted: Nkechi! Ihe a, obu ilo k’ogini! (Is this a dream or what?)

Jesus! Jesus! Was all Nkechi kept muttering as she jumped off her client sending the client and his chair tumbling over and she ran out of the bush bar leaving her bag and shoes behind. They were engaged to be married in a weeks’ time

 

Posted in Prose, Stories

PUPPY LOVE (Poem)

 

 

I made sure my uniform was ever sparkling
My green khaki shorts well ironed
My light green shirt starched to still
Brown Cortina shoes polished to glow
With sparkling white stockings

I sure answered all asked questions in class
At the front row where I could be by you
Though I had all writing materials
I would rather borrow from you
I did not go out for break unless you did

I felt all your pains silently, when you were ill
Prayed fervently for your recovery
I wished to be sick so I could be with you
In the School Clinic on admission beds

I hated Mr. Akpan our math teacher
For difficult questions he asked you always
Questions that earned you his strokes
I hated any, who got you humiliated

Always present at evening preps
Because you did not miss evening preps
I lost focus when you missed prep
I lost concentration when you were present
I was consumed with so much of you
I smiled when I saw you laughing
Even though I knew not why you laughed
I beheld your innocent beauty
In your purple checkered day wear
Twice I fought Kennedy for calling you names

I wanted so much to be by your side
To be the only boy you played with
To share my provisions and snacks with
I wanted to tell you how I felt towards you
I wished you had read my short messages
Written at the back pages of your books I borrowed

My heart tore to a thousand pieces
When I sought you during prep class
Thought you were sick so you missed prep
But you were with Jude in his class
Side by side you sat chatting and flirting

It killed me to see Jude walking with you
During sporting activities it was Jude by you
During manual labour he was helping you out
All I wanted from you, you gave to Jude
I failed my examinations because you
You were the answer to all my examinations’ questions

Finally, you nailed the coffin on me
When at close of the third term
All were packed and ready to go home
I waited for you to leave before I left
I would leave but I had with Jude, scores to settle
But when your Daddy came to take you home
Jude put his luggage in your Daddy’s car and off you all drove.

Posted in Prose, Stories

UNTITLED CONTD

CHAPTER 5

 

 

At the age of fourteen, most of my age mates were in secondary school while some where learning various trades and skills. I was still living with Pharaoh without a future ambition. I get up daily and go hunting, perhaps I was a hunter, I do sell some of my spoils some times: I was not allowed to use a Dane gun by the hunters association because of my age so I use my snares and my dog as weapons supported by my machete.

 

The money I saw in mama’s box was still there, I do not really know what to do with it and because we were not friends before she died, I felt her spirit could haunt me if I misuse the money.

 

Five months after the incident at the house on the hill top, the children of Baba Oloro came to my house and killed Pharaoh. Pharaoh was sleeping peacefully under the cashew tree beside my house when the eldest son of Baba Oloro beheaded him with one swift; he put Pharaoh’s head in a bag and said it will be used to appease “Ogun” the god of iron. They accused Pharaoh of biting their father on his way to his farm and infected him with rabbis and tetanus; they threatened to kill me if I make further trouble.

 

It was like a dream, why is everyone close to me leaving me alone in this world?, my mum, my grandma and now my dog!, I was just tired. I could not do anything. I was an Orphan and a desolate one at that. I mourned the death of my dog the way I never mourned the death of anyone I ever knew, I felt so lonely in the house without Pharaoh.

 

I began to wonder why Baba Oloro had lied about the venue of his encounter with Pharaoh. Baba Oloro died two days after Pharaoh was killed, it was Modupe’s mother that ran to my house and dragged me to her house so that I could escape the wrath of Baba Oloro’s children, and she said the children were on their way to my house.

 

They went to my house but did not meet me so they left after destroying some part of my house. I was with Modupe’s mother in her late father’s house for fourteen days before I came back to my house. Modupe’s mother happened to be a childhood friend of my mother, her husband was killed during an inter community wrestling competition, his opponent killed him with bare hands by dealing repeated punches to his stomach, he was left gasping for breath till he died  on the pitch at the village square. Modupe’s mother did not remarry; she focused on her business and on training her three children. She took me in as a son and advised me on the way to go about my life, she was shocked to realize that I had no future ambition and I was shocked at her attitude because no one ever showed such care towards me.

 

Modupe was already in form three in a secondary school at Ibadan, she comes home during the holidays, she told me a lot about school and encouraged me to endeavor to go to school, it was while she was encouraging me to go to school that her mother interjected and reminded her that there was no money for anyone to send me to school. I remembered grandma’s money and I told her that I have a lot of money left by my grandma.

 

After spending two weeks with Modupe, I went home with her to see the extent of damages done by Baba Oloro’s children, it was superficial, we went straight to mama’s cash box, it was intact, I upturned it’s content so as to count the money, beneath the money was my picture as a child and a note written by my grandma that the money in the box was for my education. In case she passes on before I entered secondary school. That was the day I mourned my grandma, I cried like a baby, how could I have known grandma had such love and plans for me? In the midst of her sufferings and sickness she still had plans for me, in the midst of the hunger and wretchedness she kept her window’s mite for a better future for me.

 

Modupe tried to console me, she cried with me too as we counted the money. We counted until we got confused at the total amount. I went to Mama’s grave and begged for her forgiveness for all the pains I had dealt her in her life time, I begged her for everyday she had hungered and thirsted for my sake, I beg her to forgive all my pranks and wickedness I had meted on her. If grandma had not died, I would be in my third year in the secondary school. The money in the box could see me through five years in a standard boarding school!

 

Together with Modupe, we took the money to her mother and explained the note and the picture found beneath the box. She contributed her own portion of tears as she blessed the old soul of grandma five years after her death!

 

We decided that I go to my former school and collect my first school leaving certificate and testimonial. I went there at the resumption of school and some teachers were laughing at me when I told them I needed my credentials to further my education. Mr. Makinde even joked about my wanting to sell the certificate to a more ambitious person. I simply told him that it was my property and I needed it for keeps.

 

In my quiet time, I ruminated over the house on the hill top and the mystery surrounding it, most especially why Baba Oloro was there that night, a place dreaded by all, and why anything didn’t happen to me and Pharaoh having been that close to the house.

Alabi and his gang had all vanished into thin air mysteriously after a heist that they carried out at national Bank in Akure. The operation had brought armed police men and soldiers to our small village looking for Alabi and the gang. For six months the gang was living in the farm house of Baba Oloro deep in the forest, it was known to the villagers but no one could tell the police.

After six months, we started noticing Alabi’s presence in his house only at nights. On a fateful night, there were sporadic gun shots and screams coming from the house on the hill top, we thought the police had finally caught up with the gang. People that went to the scene the next day said there were shallow graves freshly dug and the motor bikes coupled with blood stains littering the compound. That was the last we heard of Alabi and his gang followed by the strange attacks on anyone that ventured into the house. We also noticed that the Motor bikes disappeared over the years and grasses took over the compound.

 

What most of the villagers did not notice was that Baba Oloro suddenly came into wealth over the years; he withdrew his children from the village school and sent them to school in the city. Even his first two sons were rumoured to be schooling in the white man’s country.

I now understand that only a juju man like Baba Oloro could manipulate malevolent spirits to attack people as had been happening in the house on the hill top so as to scare people from getting access to whatever was hidden therein.

Pharaoh attacked Baba Oloro because dogs could identify evil spirits.

That morning I told Modupe and her mother about my thoughts and we took my story to the police station at Ado Ekiti. After listening to my story, the police accompanied us with an escort pick up van to the house of late Alabi. After the search, huge sum of money in crisp naira notes were discovered locked up in one of the rooms, it ran into millions of naira bearing the band of the national bank Akure.

 

The bank rewarded me with a scholarship throughout my education and an awaiting job upon graduation from the university. The Ondo state government gave me a reward of two hundred thousand naira and promised to rebuild grandma’s house using cement block. I was also given two plots of land out of the reserved portion of the community land.

Suddenly I became a celebrity, I was loved by young and old and I had many friends.

 

I was almost sixteen years old when I left the village for the first time. I left for Ibadan to start from form one in the same boarding school Modupe attends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 6

 

 

 

I handed the cheque given to me to Modupe’s mother as I have taken her to be my Guardian, she would put the money into her business and train me and her children with it.

 

It was in 1985 that I was admitted into Apata Grammar School in Ibadan as a boarding student. I was sixteen years old and in form one, Modupe was fifteen years and in form four, she would graduate the next year. It was not easy trying to cope at school, my age mates were in form three and above, I had already sprouted a moustache, and my legs were hairy, this made me become a subject of discussion in the school, I clearly stood out amongst my classmates, and sometimes they mischievously refer to me as uncle Bolaji.

 

I was made the class prefect on the first day at school, it was on the assembly ground that the school principal spotted me lined up with form one students, he shouted on top of his voice at me, he said I should leave the line and go to join my mates, he was pointing at the senior students line. The whole assembly rocked with laughter until a teacher went and whispered something to the principal, he then waved the students to a silence and apologized to me publicly, he then asked me the alphabet of my class. Class one B sir I replied. Good! From today, you are the class monitor! He announced and there were shouts of uncle ‘B’ everywhere.

 

Life in boarding school was totally different for me. I had being a free bird all my life, I had lived without bounds or rules and regulations, it was a different ball game here as I was made to wake up at 5.30pm every morning. I was forced to observe afternoon rest daily at 3pm; I was to go to Sunday church service at the school chapel. I had never attended a church or mosque in my sixteen years of existence. We were given portions of food without caring if the ration will satisfy you or not and you cannot ask for more food if you are not satisfied else they tag you ‘Oliver twist’

 

Another challenge I had was that I was too crude and uncivilized, my ways were strange to my fellow students, I was a raw village boy who not speak good English and when I try to speak English my accent made it sound as if I was speaking Jamaican ‘patua’, people laugh whenever I open my mouth to speak and I always had reasons to speak because I was the class monitor.

 

Mr. Adegoke was my English teacher and he took special interest in my reformation, he does not laugh when I commit blunders while speaking, he was quick to correct my errors and made me to correct my self by repeating the words correctly, he personally gave me a book titled”Common errors in English” and gave me home work on it daily. Once he called me into his office and encouraged me to be focused and positive, he said I was catching up fast and I should not take any of the aspersions being cast on me seriously. He said he believed in me. He was the first human being to challenge me and dared me to succeed if I can, he told me that age was just a number and that once I am out of secondary school I will realized that age means nothing at the university or the larger world, he asked after my parent and I told him my story. He then told me that I could rewrite my story if I try, he said he was an orphan too. His words of encouragement moved me and I secretly vowed to succeed in life by becoming more serious and determined

 

Kareem was nine years old and in the same class with me, he calls me ‘egbon’ meaning ‘elder one’. I told him severally to stop calling egbon but he refused. He said he could not bring himself to calling me by my first name because I happen to be the same age with his eldest brother, his father’s first born who was a first year student at the University of Ife, his brother is older than three other persons before him and he reveres his eldest brother. He finally agreed to be calling me ‘Uncle B’ since that has been like a nick name.

 

He was the smallest and smartest in the class and he helped me a lot and in return I protected him from bullies. Every potential bully in the school left him alone the day I slapped Joseph for beating up Kareem at the school farm during Agric practical.

Joseph returned to school the next day with a swollen face and people thought it was because of the slap I had used to send him out of the school farm the previous day. The students had formed a circle with Joseph and Kareem at the centre while they cheered the duo to fight. Kareem was never a match for Joseph or anyone in the class. Kareem was lanky and feeble by stature while Joseph was an Igbo boy that eats fufu three times daily without drinking much water! He was very stout with a barrel like chest. He was sitting on Kareem’s stomach and stuffing dried grass into the poor boys mouth when I came into the farm. I broke the chain formed by the students, lifted Joseph off Kareem and dealt him a blinding slap over his eyes, it was someone else that shouted in pain instead of Joseph himself for he ran blindly out of the farm stumbling and shouting ‘anya m o! (My eyes)

The Joseph incident increased my fame in the school and another ‘alias’ was added to my name ‘Ifoti to gbona’ (hot slap) so the senior students called me ‘ifoti’ while my mates called me ‘Uncle B’ and all these happened in the first term of my first year in school.

At the end of the second term in form one my grade was better than the first term. My total average score went up from 53 to 76 percent. I got a ‘C’ in English language and an ‘A’ in mathematics.

 

Kareem was a wiz kid! His average was 98 percent; he got an A in all subjects but Yoruba language where he got a ‘B’. I got a ‘C’; in Yoruba language even though I spoke the thickest Yoruba in class and knew every adage in the language even more than my teacher.

 

We went for the long vacation of 1986. Modupe and I rarely saw at school because I did not like to be in her company due to inferiority complex. I could not bring myself to call Modupe ‘senior Dupe’ as every junior does. We were from the same Village and I was older than her.

The few times we encountered at the school sports arena, she had tormented me by speaking to me in good English instead of using the ekiti dialect that we were both brought up with, of course she got the good laugh she wanted when I attempted to speak with her in good English also. She even had the audacity to refer to me as her school son once. I warned her in a language only the two of us understood and walked out on her.

 

Our relationship at school affected our closeness when we went home on holiday. I did not return to her house. I went to my grandma’s house and cleaned it up. I went and met Modupe’s mother to give me some of my money for my upkeep, she refused, and she said I should e coming to her house to eat daily. I was about seventeen years old and a boy of my age needs some change in his pocket. She said she had put all of my money in a fixed deposit account at the bank and was not due for withdrawal. I was happy.

 

Modupe has a boy friend. The boy was already in the university, he is from our village and my age mate. He is the son of the ‘Balogun’ a high chief of our village.

Akindele drives his father’s Peugeot 504 Salon Car whenever he is at home and he comes to take Modupe out daily.

I used the holiday period to develop the two plots of land given to me by the community. I planted maize. I was on my way home from the farm one evening when Akindele drove by and stopped to give me a lift home as the farm was about one hour trekking distance from the Village. Modupe was in the car with him and she prevented me from entering the car, she said I was sweating and smelling. She said I was half way home already and would be better I continued trekking. She told Akindele to drive on. I saw the look of confusion on the face of Akindele but I thanked him for his gesture and I continue to walk home with my hoe on the shoulder and my Cutlass swinging in my hands. She was right! I was sweating and smelling, and I was actually half way home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Prose, Stories

UNTITLED

CHAPTER 4

 

After the death of grandma, I was left alone in the world. No one really cared if I existed and my elusive mother was yet to come home. Uncle Ladi a bus driver that shuttles between Ekiti and Lagos told me when he saw me scavenging at the motor park that he saw my mother at ‘eko Idumota’ and told her that her mother was dead and buried, he said my mother had screamed and feigned to be touched and she vowed to be in the village the next day. That was four years ago, she is yet to come home. Uncle Ladi says he still sees her in different parts of Lagos city but she avoids him as much as she could so he now pretends not to see her whenever their paths crossed. No one knows what she does in Lagos, but we know she is alive.

 

I continued schooling, I continued hunting and I continued to scavenge to survive until I finished my primary education. There was no plan for furthering my education, I was contented with the fact that I could read and write at least.

 

My only friend was Pharaoh the dog! We became friends the day we were both involved in a brawl at the butchers end in the market. Our prayer was answered when a butcher carelessly threw away a chunk of red meat instead of the bone in his hands, I had beaten Pharaoh to pick up the meat and tucked inside my pouch but the dog would not accept defeat as he grabbed my khaki pouch with his teeth and we began to struggle for possession. The dog was snarling revealing dirty brown incisors dripping with sticky saliva. I held unto the pouch with both hands as I used my legs to kick at the dog, I was shouting at him to let go and accept defeat because I beat him to it. As if the dog understood, he let go and I took to my heels homeward.

 

I had run for about four minutes and I stopped to trek when I heard the sound of panting Pharaoh by me side wagging his tail and jumping to reach my pouch, I took to my heels again and Pharaoh followed me home. We ate together that evening after I had cooked egusi soup with eba. I dished his portion into an old plastic plate I found in the kitchen. He ate up, lapped up some water from the bucket full of rain water outside the house then he lay down and slept at my door.

That was how Pharaoh became my friend and companion and together we went hunting and scavenging. We were a formidable team when we got the butchers stand, whatever Pharaoh picks, he brings to me and we put our spoils together and go home to enjoy a sumptuous meal. We also went hunting at nights and early mornings as well as check on my snares and traps, we sold our catch to the Villagers operating local restaurants called ‘Buka’. We buy food stuff with the proceeds. I had no future ambition so I took each day as it came.

 

On a Sunday, I decided to turn the house inside out and upside down, it was my house and I needed to know all the contents. The rubbish in the house was more than the valuables therein; I was gradually turning into a mad man without realizing it. It was a three room apartment without a toilet or bathroom. I grew up taking my bath at the back yard and I do my toilet straight in the bush where the villagers dump their refuse. That is where the pigs of the village get their break fast and maintained their robust stature. As early as 6.AM it was common to see many youths and adults positioned at different angles of the bush doing their thing, the pigs are grunting and patiently waiting for us to stand up so they could lick up the pebbled we have dropped. Some impatient pigs would actually eat up the pebbles from the butt of a little boy before it dropped to the ground. It is from these pigs that we all contact Chiggers that eat up the skin beneath our toes or between the toes. When ever one is scratching between toes furiously, it was common knowledge that that one has contacted chigger. The parasite burrow deep into the skin and live on our blood, growing bigger by the day.

 

I enjoyed and actually looked forward to being pressed in the mornings so I could go to the bush and hope some girls my age could come to the bush at same hour so I could catch a glimpse of their round bum. I used to marvel at the roundness and smoothness of their bum and wondered why that of the boys seems so hard and battered with craw-craw and scabies. Woe betides any girl that her bum was discovered to be like that of the boys, her reputation in the village would be ruined.

 

At a stage in our lives, the girls stopped coming to the bush. They resorted to using the ‘short put’ method. They defecate into nylon bags or newspaper and throw into the bush in the morning or at night. So it was common to wake up in the morning and see nylon bag at your back yard or news paper that has been scattered by pigs while eating up its content leaving the green fleas to mop up the rest and deposit maggots on the paper. Such discovery is followed by loud raining of curses on the perpetrator and his lineage born and unborn. It was mostly girls that dropped these parcels in front of peoples house’s probably because they cannot go close to the bush at such unholy hour or because they saw a male who has been wooing them, they quickly dropped the parcel wherever to avoid embarrassment.

 

You could also be unfortunate in the early hours of the day while doing your thing in the bush; a flying wrapped newspaper of nylon bag could land on your head spilling its content all over you! Your day is ruined as there was no way you could leave the bush without meeting one or two persons.

 

I remember the night I heard an unusual sound in front of my house. A twelve year old girl Modupe had squatted in front of my house to do her thing, unfortunately she did not expect to meet Pharaoh. Pharaoh had sneaked up to her and yawned, waiting for her to finish so he could clean up the mess. She was frightened and she screamed and stood up holding up her gown with her pants still down and the pebbles on the ground. She stood rooted at the spot for fear of being attacked by Pharaoh.

 

I came out with my palm oil lamp and beheld a half unclad girl shitting in front of my house; I looked her over with the lamp: Modupe! What are you doing? I asked.

I am sorry! She said shaking amidst tears and staring at Pharaoh who was agitated with anxiety to mop up the ground before another dog or a pig comes around.

 

I took the lamp downwards and beheld her nakedness, I went further to see the shit she had already dropped on the floor and I laughed. I laughed out loud enjoying my catch. This is a girl that acts as if she is from the city simply because she sometimes follows her mother to Ibadan to buy wares for her shop. Some evil thoughts crossed my mind that night because she was at my mercy, but I was like an orphan in the village, I knew my limits. I let her go. I told her to clean up her self and leave and never repeat such again. She did not clean up even though she had paper in her hand for that purpose. She hastily pulled up her pants, stepped over her shit and as Pharaoh took charge of the pebbles, she fled crying more out of shame of indignity.

 

 

 

Grandma had a lot of junk in her room, I did not know what she really owned because we were not best of friends, I always saw myself as a burden to her. Another strange fact was that grandma never cursed me; she would rather curse my mother.

I brought out five heavy metal boxes from her room. The room had been closed for four years and had become very stuffy with dust and cob webs. I opened the boxes and beheld beautiful clothes I never saw her wear, one box contained twenty bundles of unsown fabrics. These would definitely worth some good money so I kept them back.

The fifth and smallest of the boxes was locked with a key so I had to use my cutlass to hack it open. I held my breath when I opened the box. It was full to the brim with crispy naira notes, in a trinket box embedded between the notes is assortment of gold jewelries. I closed the box and ran out to bolt the front door from within, even though I hardly entertained visitors or friends, my instinct just made me to close the door.

I went back into grandma’s room again and opened the box, the money and jewelries were still there. At that instance, I lost every desire to proceed with the clean up exercise I had embarked on. I simply pushed back every box into place and went out for a stroll with my dog

 

 

We strolled aimlessly for about forty minutes before we came to the track road opposite the house of Alabi, the house on the hill top, the sacred house. I stood there staring at the hunted house and the desire to wander into the house overwhelmed me. I was with Pharaoh my only friend in the world. The feeling to reach to the lone building was so palpable that I imagined I was in there already so I started to advance towards the house a step at a time like a Zombie. Under the cover of the night I bent down and crawled towards the house. Pharaoh did like wise and together we approached the house a step at a time.

 

My Heart beat was pounding furiously that I felt sharp pains in my chest, I was breathing with difficulty while Pharaoh seemed excited panting and wagging his tail as we crawl stealthily forward.

 

After about fifteen minutes of crawling in the bush, I got to ten yards from the front door. The door seemed close. The door had always seemed opened and inviting from afar. It was rumoured that the door was always open and inviting to preys. I waited. The wind blew and rustled dried leaves all around me, I was scared, I was sweating in the cold night. Something moved fast in front of the house, it was an animal and before I could stop him, Pharaoh was in pursuit. He ran out of my sight as he chased the animal into the night barking.

 

I buried my face into the ground as the stupidity of the mission dawned on me. I have just discovered some money and jewelries in my house and here I am on a suicide mission! What if I die this night? Well no one would really miss me, I thought. And Pharaoh can always get another master.

 

Pharaoh dashed past the front of the house again barking at snarling at the Animal just within his grasp, they ran out of sight then something happened.

The door to the house opened it opened slowly that I almost did not notice it until I saw a ray of light from a burning lamp inside the house. The door closed before I could decipher if what I saw was a figment of my imagination or reality. It was time for me to bolt, but I stood rooted at the spot where I laid. I closed my eyes tight and opened it again squinting so I could focus properly at the door. Someone was there! He or she stood silhouetted against the wall but I could figure out the human form from the clothes he or she wore.

 

I could hear the sound of myself breathing, I wanted to stand up and run but my legs became vegetables, it was like without bones, I could not move a muscle. I simply laid there and waited of death.

 

Pharaoh was coming back to me with his kill in his jaws, he was half way between me and the house when he dropped the animal in his mouth and started moving towards the house snarling, his mane raised and tail tucked between his hind legs. Pharaoh charged and leapt into the air upon the person in the shadows, there were movements and screams. Pharaoh was biting and tearing, his victim was screaming in pains, swearing and chanting incantations. The man in the shadow got up and ran in two circles pulling Pharaoh along with him before he ran back into the open door of the house closing the door and Pharaoh behind him.

 

I saw him, it was Baba Oloro! The famous native Doctor and friend of Alabi.

I picked up the warm Antelope Pharaoh had killed and together we ran madly out of the bush that night.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Prose, Stories

ABA MY ABA

My beloved home land and abode
The ancient City of my Fore Fathers

The City of the great Ngwa Race

The land of the great Elephants
The Land of merchants and Business moguls
The Land of agile  sports men and Women
The land rich in food and waters
Ariaria, Foulks road, Ogbor hill, Azikiwe road, Umungasi, ikot ekpene road.
The Streets and roads that make Aba what it is

The land of great women
History will never forget your exploit of 1929
but what happened to you?
Your beauty, your pride where are they?
Where are the gallant Elephants?
Where are those Industries that made you thick?
Where are your youths?
All like Sheep’s have gone astray
Every one to his Tent like the Israelis
Your youths are scattered about

Like scoundrels they fight for survival
All man for himself, survival of the fittest
Your Streets are littered with dirt’s
Your Air is filled with Stench of pollution
Your Streets and Roads are now dumping ground for refuse and sewage

Mosquitoes sing lullaby in our ears all night
We sleep with one eye open and Ears drawn
Your Youths have become Lazy
They all seek the easiest way out
They resort to crime and vices as means of survival

They lost confidence in their selves, and then the state
The number of Youth Lunacy increase by the day.
Your Maidens pervade the streets at Night
I fear my Shadow at Nights…No one is safe
Fear of Hoodlums, the Police, Army, Bakassi boys

You used to be known for your versatility
now you are tagged king of fake products
you used to be a delight to Investors and Tourist
Now you are desolate, left to die in the pool of your blood
The great Elephant!! Now you trod with head bowed in shame

How are the mighty fallen? Your eyes are beclouded in tears
your skin patched with bruises and scars from your struggles
Aba my Aba, who will bring back your Glory??
You have been lied to for too long

Those you so trusted have always betrayed you
They are Wolves in Sheep’s Clothing
Vampires! They have sucked your Children dry
Like the breast of an old, the water has run dry
They tax your Children with numerous levies
They do not care for your Children

They eat alone, they and their Children yet unborn
They use the Sweat of your Children and build castles in foreign lands
They loot you to enrich other lands
Unrepentant fools they are! They do not hear the wailing of the people.

But I have a dream!
That one day, the Elephant will bounce back
That posterity will catch up with the evil doers
That we shall be free from “our own” that has held us captive
That the length of Port Harcourt road and Aba Owerri road
Shall be liken to the streets of Paris

That investors, Tourist, foreigners shall be struggling to come to our land
That our youths shall make sports and entertainment lucrative
That our children shall become professionals of various endeavors
I foresee a wind of Change
A hurricane, a cyclone that will sweep the land of all ills

And usher in a haven of peace and tranquility
I see the rebirth of my home land for good
Then shall we all gather at the Great Eyimba Stadium
And sing with one voice “Nzogbu! Nzogbu!! Enyii mba Enyii!!!
The dawn of a new era.
By Awoleye Ayokunle.

Posted in Prose, Stories

The abandoned child

CHAPTER 11

 

 

My overall performance in the first year endeared students to me in the second year. Many students that never as much as said a “hello” to me in the first year were now coming around me and seeking for space in my schedule. Maduka was the only friend I had in my first year but in my second year, “Omo” became the “man”. I was not carried away though because so many friends meant distractions.

 

There were two guys and a girl that were being viewed as the best three in the class while we were in year one. They were quick to answer questions in class; they were always handy to give assistance to students who had problem understanding certain topics. They were good but the overall result at the end of the session showed that I was better. I was a recluse because of my Yoruba accent; people laugh when I speak so I do not ask or answer questions in class.

 

The trio became my rivals in school, they watch out for the kind of books I read, they monitor the times I read. Whenever I am asked a question by the lecturers who have now known me, they interfere and want to show superior knowledge on the subject. One of the boys called Chukwuma even told me to my face that any brilliant person who cannot teach others is not worth the name. He said I was hoarding knowledge. I did not reply him, he did not know that outside the school, I was a teacher and my students are proud of me.

 

In my last letter to my mentor, I had updated every happening at school to him including the rivalry. He replied and said it was very natural, he then advised me to make friends with one or two equally good senior students in the faculty, a year and two years above my level.

 

I went to the four hundred levels and met with Samuel Ajibo who was the overall best student and Jane Nwankwo in three hundred levels. To these two I took academic problems to and I gained superior knowledge from them.

 

Towards the end of the first semester, I had just come out from the examination hall and was walking towards the hostel when Maduka cornered me and handed a bag to me and walked away.

Maduka na wetin dey inside? I asked but he did not reply, he simply waved me to go on.

I opened the bag and saw clothes, I called him to ask what it was meant for but he had gone far, he did not look back.

I took the bag home and emptied its content on my bunk. It contained three pairs on Jeans trousers, three Polo shirts, two Chinos short sleeve shirts and a pair of sandals. All were exactly my size. It couldn’t have been Maduka’s because while he was sturdy, I was lanky and the clothes matched me when I tried them on.

My bunk mate Chinasa, a weird fellow from Isialangwa in Abia state walked into the room from the examination hall, when he saw the clothes he started screaming “thank God o”! Thank God o! Bolaji don vex o! Make una come see o! Omo Yoruba don vex o! He don go charter Boutique o!

I hurriedly tucked away the clothes inside my box and locked it up, and then I ran out of the room as curious students started to troop into our room.

I went behind the hostel building and sat on the terrace to reminisce.

So people have noticed that I do not have clothes? Imagine Chinasa screaming and calling the whole dormitory to come and see my supposed new clothes! What a pity! What an embarrassment! How was I to know that anyone gave a damn about what I wear? I never gave a damn about whatever anyone wore so long it was clean.

I have a Jeans trouser and two shirts, a three quarter short, four boxers and two singlet. I wash anything I wear daily but for my jeans that I wash on Saturdays or Sundays.

My classmates also would have noticed my material deficiencies else Maduka would not have offered to clothe me. I wondered how much the Lad must have spent to procure the clothes for me, even though I would have preferred the cash equivalent because dressing was the least of my problems; however I was grateful to Maduka. I got up after thinking and soliloquizing for one hour and went to visit Maduka at his hostel.

 

There was as uproar when I walked into the examination hall the next morning. The hall was turned upside down. The hullaballoo was due to the new pair of black and red stripped shirt I wore on a new black Jeans. One of my class mates actually attempted to lift me on his shoulder and I ran out of the hall as the examination was yet to begin. That was when I shed tears. I cried because I was emotion laden by the fact that my poor condition was opened to all while I had thought that no one gave a damn!

 

I could not go back into the hall until the guy that tried to lift me up came to meet me under tree where I had run to, he saw the tears in my eyes and he hugged me. I cried the more.

Easy Omo! Easy! He said; I am so sorry for embarrassing you, but the fact was that I almost did not recognize you! You know I am so used to seeing you in your blue baggy jeans and green shirt! Seeing you like this today blew my mind and the mind of others as you could see in the hall. I am so sorry, please forgive me, he said as we hugged once more.

Wipe your tears; let’s go back into the hall for the invigilator has arrived with the examination papers.

Thanks a lot Godwin! I said.

But my guy, see as you fine! He teased; you be fine boy o! You come dey behave like a Jew man! Which babe you go toast now wey no go trip for you?  He asked jokingly as he pulled me along laughing.

 

I got the same reaction from every where I went to that week. I used to be referred to as “Omo baggy Jeans” behind my back.

The first semester examination ended well and the school went on break.

 

I had no where to go to so I stayed back in the hostel and when the hostel was almost empty I went to town to the school where I taught during the last long vacation. There was no vacancy. Very few students registered for extra moral lessons so I was not needed. The proprietor told me to come back by the next holiday when students would have started preparing for GCE and JAMB examinations. The implication of what the proprietor told me did not hit me until I got back to the hostel and checked up my money. I was left with seven hundred naira only.

 

Seven hundred naira would hold me for one week if I managed it well by sticking to a meal daily and drinking enough water. I needed a job to take care of my second semester needs. I was tempted to sell off some of the clothes Maduka gave me but I immediately dismissed the idea. The embarrassment I got concerning those clothes was an eye opener. I even need money to get more clothes and shoes before these ones becomes like a school uniform also. I need another shoe, I have a wet looks shoe and a palm sandals. The sole of the shoe had worn off badly that I wondered if I was bow legged. It can not survive the next semester. I would need to change the sole or get another shoe. I also realize that some students must be waiting to see the day that I will change my shoe. The best thing was to get another shoe and start wearing it immediately.

 

I hit town once again. I walked through the length and breadth of Owerri looking for any job that could pay anything. I ended up at Executive Gardens Hotel at Okigwe road. I got the job of a Bar man on a monthly salary of two thousand naira. I was quite happy at first but after working there for a week I almost abandoned the job and run away. But run to where nah?

 

I resumed for work as early as 7AM and because people do not come out to drink in the morning hours, my job was to join the room cleaners in cleaning up the rooms and dressing the beds, we change toiletries, disinfect the toilets, scrub the tiles on the walls of the bathroom and so on. The kind of stains I saw on bed sheets in some rooms after the guests have checked out are better left untold.

 

After working in the rooms until 1PM, I go downstairs to the bush bar and begin to clean up and set the tables and chairs in readiness for the day’s business. I stock up the Freezers with drinks; I take record of the opening stock of drinks and cigarettes in the bar. It was a Bush bar with DJ and life band facilities.

 

At 6PM I go back upstairs to take my bath and change into the hotel uniform of white shirt on black trousers then I return down stairs to join my colleague to begin the night’s activities. I do not rest until 2AM or 3AM when the last drunkard would have left. What actually bring business to the bush are the girls that come to hustle. I have never in my life seen such a careless and shameless display of immorality. The girls come from every where claiming to be students of the several higher institutions in eastern Nigeria. They come in varied shapes and sizes dressing seductively to woo the male, any male, as long as he has got cash. Many students from my school, including my lecturers come to patronize the bar and the girls. The girls were on take away basis or short time basis at the chalet in our hotel.

 

By 9PM the bar is at the peak of activities with either the DJ or the Life band entertaining and customers dancing. Men and ladies drinking and smoking, bar men running hitter titter to attend to customer’s need. The girls dance to every music showing themselves while the men sit and watch and eventually pick their choice girl by sending us the bar men to invite the girl to their table

 

By 12 midnight, they begin to fizzle out in twos’, some go into the hotel to spend the night together and others to “God knows where”. I then sit down after the last person has gone to count my tips which I had tucked into my back pocket to avoid adding it to the company’s money that I collect from customers.

 

Till this day I still wonder how some ladies came to the hotel every night and went away with different men each night. Some would have had three to four short time sessions with men in the hotel before finally going home with another man. They called it hustling and they don’t give a damn.

 

An incident I will never forget at the hotel happened the night a fine gentleman was brought to the hotel by his friend just to prove to him that his fiancée was not whom he thought she was.

The so called fiancée in the company of her friends and five men were on a round table setting eating Nkwobi, drinking assorted spirits and smoking cigarettes. They were chatting loud and having fun.

The fiancée was high on spirit and she stood up to dance to entertain her client for the night. With her cigarette in her left finger, she zoomed into the client who was seated; she pulled his chair backwards so she could have a space between him and the table. She then came between him and the table dancing seductively and rolling her back side in his face. She then sat on his crouch facing him with her full breast under his nose. Her cream coloured mini gown slipped up revealing alluring thighs. The randy client dug his head into her bosom and did things with his mouth. Her mates on the table were cheering, we were watching.

It was when Mr. Randy grabbed her butt and squeezed that hell was let loose.

The gentleman fiancé screamed “chineke me ee”! awunanam ee! (My God, I am dead) the man screamed stamping his feet as he charged towards the table: Nkechi! He shouted: Nkechi! Ihe a, obu ilo k’ogini! Is this a dream or what?

Jesus! Jesus! Was all Nkechi kept muttering as she jumped off her client sending the client and his chair tumbling over and she ran out of the bush bar leaving her bag and shoes behind. They were engaged to be married in a weeks’ time

 

CHAPTER 12

 

We did not resume for the second semester as stipulated in the academic calendar, we rather resumed into a long session of industrial strike action embarked upon by the academic staff union due to non payment of salaries and allowances accrued over five months. Students went back home after waiting for a week without resolution between the government and the academic union.

 

I continued my routine work at the Executive Gardens. I was paid my first salary of one thousand seven hundred and fifty naira after deducting the amount I incurred as loses due to breakages and forgetting to collect monies from some customers. Many cunning customers sneak away without paying for their drinks. Some would have finished drinking and eating pepper soup before remembering that they forgot their wallets at home. We also have the “book me down customers”, these are regular customers who drink through the month and pay off at month end when they collect their salaries.

 

But I was okay, my accumulated tips for the month was about one thousand five hundred naira so I had over three thousand naira with me.

We stayed home for two months before the strike was finally called off by the academic staff union and school resumed in earnest. I had worked for three months and I could boast of over seven thousand naira. I felt very rich and so I boarded a bus to the popular Ariaria Market in the city of Aba. I went with a colleague at the hotel, a cleaner who had told me a lot about how one could get very cheap commodities at the market.

 

I purchased four trousers, four Polo T shirts, two short sleeves shirts and two long sleeve shirts. We later left Ariaria Market and went to “School Road” street to buy a brown Timberland safety Boot and a black brock’s shoe. I spent two thousand five hundred naira on all the purchase. I never knew clothes and shoes could be that affordable even though the shoes were fairly used they were rock solid that one could easily take it for brand new from Italy. I bought a lot of food stuff too and I was ready for the second semester of my 200 levels.

 

Within two weeks on resumption of the second semester, I had redeemed my image. Maduka bought more clothes for me again, I told him I have enough as I narrated my holiday experience to him, he however dropped the three trousers, four shirts and one canvas on my bed. Chinasa watched as I changed into different clothes daily for two weeks stretch. He could no hold his tongue as he shouted again on a Monday morning when I wore white Polo shirt on a fitted blue Jeans and Canvas;

Old boy! Abi you go rob Boutique? Make una see Omo o! I just dey look you all these days I no want to talk! Omo na who provoke you nah?

 

Guy leave that yarn o! na God dey do am; I replied

 

There was also mixed reactions from my class mates, but I noticed that I got more friends, especially the ladies.

 

I stopped going to the Hotel daily except for weekends that I went to help out with work. I was not being paid salary but I earned my tips.

 

Our first semester result was released mid way into the second semester. My total CGP was 4.80. I was still the best in class. I wrote a letter to Mr. Adegoke and gave him update of what I did during the holiday till date. I got his reply after two weeks and as usual after reading his mail, I was charged the more. I dug into my books harder. He reminded me that I should never take my tests or assignments for granted. He said if I could score the whole forty points in my test and assignment, all I need is forty more point s out of the 60 examination points to make an “A”. He said majority of students take their tests and assignments for granted and begins to struggle to score the whole 60 points in examination which is always not possible. Those are the average students, I was a first class material, he had written.

 

My self esteem rose higher in the second semester as I got several compliments from Guys and babes alike when I dress. I had grown into a 6 feet 3 inches tall young man. I have good stature with hard hands developed over the years farming in the Village. I have a gap between my incisors and when I smiled or laughed my cheek dimpled. I have dark eye brows, dark shinny hair and moustache. My stomach was flat with six packs and my waist is narrow upon long tapering athletic legs.

 

Poverty had not made me to realize my natural endowment until in my second year in the university at the age of twenty three

 

Towards the second semester examinations, I became involved in several tutorial lessons organized by year one students. I was paid by the students at the end of each session. They imposed levies on all attendees to pay me.

 

 

 

 

 

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Posted in Literature, Prose, Stories

The abandoned child

CHAPTER 11

 

 

My overall performance in the first year endeared students to me in the second year. Many students that never as much as said a “hello” to me in the first year were now coming around me and seeking for space in my schedule. Maduka was the only friend I had in my first year but in my second year, “Omo” became the “man”. I was not carried away though because so many friends meant distractions.

 

There were two guys and a girl that were being viewed as the best three in the class while we were in year one. They were quick to answer questions in class; they were always handy to give assistance to students who had problem understanding certain topics. They were good but the overall result at the end of the session showed that I was better. I was a recluse because of my Yoruba accent; people laugh when I speak so I do not ask or answer questions in class.

 

The trio became my rivals in school, they watch out for the kind of books I read, they monitor the times I read. Whenever I am asked a question by the lecturers who have now known me, they interfere and want to show superior knowledge on the subject. One of the boys called Chukwuma even told me to my face that any brilliant person who cannot teach others is not worth the name. He said I was hoarding knowledge. I did not reply him, he did not know that outside the school, I was a teacher and my students are proud of me.

 

In my last letter to my mentor, I had updated every happening at school to him including the rivalry. He replied and said it was very natural, he then advised me to make friends with one or two equally good senior students in the faculty, a year and two years above my level.

 

I went to the four hundred levels and met with Samuel Ajibo who was the overall best student and Jane Nwankwo in three hundred levels. To these two I took academic problems to and I gained superior knowledge from them.

 

Towards the end of the first semester, I had just come out from the examination hall and was walking towards the hostel when Maduka cornered me and handed a bag to me and walked away.

Maduka na wetin dey inside? I asked but he did not reply, he simply waved me to go on.

I opened the bag and saw clothes, I called him to ask what it was meant for but he had gone far, he did not look back.

I took the bag home and emptied its content on my bunk. It contained three pairs on Jeans trousers, three Polo shirts, two Chinos short sleeve shirts and a pair of sandals. All were exactly my size. It couldn’t have been Maduka’s because while he was sturdy, I was lanky and the clothes matched me when I tried them on.

My bunk mate Chinasa, a weird fellow from Isialangwa in Abia state walked into the room from the examination hall, when he saw the clothes he started screaming “thank God o”! Thank God o! Bolaji don vex o! Make una come see o! Omo Yoruba don vex o! He don go charter Boutique o!

I hurriedly tucked away the clothes inside my box and locked it up, and then I ran out of the room as curious students started to troop into our room.

I went behind the hostel building and sat on the terrace to reminisce.

So people have noticed that I do not have clothes? Imagine Chinasa screaming and calling the whole dormitory to come and see my supposed new clothes! What a pity! What an embarrassment! How was I to know that anyone gave a damn about what I wear? I never gave a damn about whatever anyone wore so long it was clean.

I have a Jeans trouser and two shirts, a three quarter short, four boxers and two singlet. I wash anything I wear daily but for my jeans that I wash on Saturdays or Sundays.

My classmates also would have noticed my material deficiencies else Maduka would not have offered to clothe me. I wondered how much the Lad must have spent to procure the clothes for me, even though I would have preferred the cash equivalent because dressing was the least of my problems; however I was grateful to Maduka. I got up after thinking and soliloquizing for one hour and went to visit Maduka at his hostel.

 

There was as uproar when I walked into the examination hall the next morning. The hall was turned upside down. The hullaballoo was due to the new pair of black and red stripped shirt I wore on a new black Jeans. One of my class mates actually attempted to lift me on his shoulder and I ran out of the hall as the examination was yet to begin. That was when I shed tears. I cried because I was emotion laden by the fact that my poor condition was opened to all while I had thought that no one gave a damn!

 

I could not go back into the hall until the guy that tried to lift me up came to meet me under tree where I had run to, he saw the tears in my eyes and he hugged me. I cried the more.

Easy Omo! Easy! He said; I am so sorry for embarrassing you, but the fact was that I almost did not recognize you! You know I am so used to seeing you in your blue baggy jeans and green shirt! Seeing you like this today blew my mind and the mind of others as you could see in the hall. I am so sorry, please forgive me, he said as we hugged once more.

Wipe your tears; let’s go back into the hall for the invigilator has arrived with the examination papers.

Thanks a lot Godwin! I said.

But my guy, see as you fine! He teased; you be fine boy o! You come dey behave like a Jew man! Which babe you go toast now wey no go trip for you?  He asked jokingly as he pulled me along laughing.

 

I got the same reaction from every where I went to that week. I used to be referred to as “Omo baggy Jeans” behind my back.

The first semester examination ended well and the school went on break.

 

I had no where to go to so I stayed back in the hostel and when the hostel was almost empty I went to town to the school where I taught during the last long vacation. There was no vacancy. Very few students registered for extra moral lessons so I was not needed. The proprietor told me to come back by the next holiday when students would have started preparing for GCE and JAMB examinations. The implication of what the proprietor told me did not hit me until I got back to the hostel and checked up my money. I was left with seven hundred naira only.

 

Seven hundred naira would hold me for one week if I managed it well by sticking to a meal daily and drinking enough water. I needed a job to take care of my second semester needs. I was tempted to sell off some of the clothes Maduka gave me but I immediately dismissed the idea. The embarrassment I got concerning those clothes was an eye opener. I even need money to get more clothes and shoes before these ones becomes like a school uniform also. I need another shoe, I have a wet looks shoe and a palm sandals. The sole of the shoe had worn off badly that I wondered if I was bow legged. It can not survive the next semester. I would need to change the sole or get another shoe. I also realize that some students must be waiting to see the day that I will change my shoe. The best thing was to get another shoe and start wearing it immediately.

 

I hit town once again. I walked through the length and breadth of Owerri looking for any job that could pay anything. I ended up at Executive Gardens Hotel at Okigwe road. I got the job of a Bar man on a monthly salary of two thousand naira. I was quite happy at first but after working there for a week I almost abandoned the job and run away. But run to where nah?

 

I resumed for work as early as 7AM and because people do not come out to drink in the morning hours, my job was to join the room cleaners in cleaning up the rooms and dressing the beds, we change toiletries, disinfect the toilets, scrub the tiles on the walls of the bathroom and so on. The kind of stains I saw on bed sheets in some rooms after the guests have checked out are better left untold.

 

After working in the rooms until 1PM, I go downstairs to the bush bar and begin to clean up and set the tables and chairs in readiness for the day’s business. I stock up the Freezers with drinks; I take record of the opening stock of drinks and cigarettes in the bar. It was a Bush bar with DJ and life band facilities.

 

At 6PM I go back upstairs to take my bath and change into the hotel uniform of white shirt on black trousers then I return down stairs to join my colleague to begin the night’s activities. I do not rest until 2AM or 3AM when the last drunkard would have left. What actually bring business to the bush are the girls that come to hustle. I have never in my life seen such a careless and shameless display of immorality. The girls come from every where claiming to be students of the several higher institutions in eastern Nigeria. They come in varied shapes and sizes dressing seductively to woo the male, any male, as long as he has got cash. Many students from my school, including my lecturers come to patronize the bar and the girls. The girls were on take away basis or short time basis at the chalet in our hotel.

 

By 9PM the bar is at the peak of activities with either the DJ or the Life band entertaining and customers dancing. Men and ladies drinking and smoking, bar men running hitter titter to attend to customer’s need. The girls dance to every music showing themselves while the men sit and watch and eventually pick their choice girl by sending us the bar men to invite the girl to their table

 

By 12 midnight, they begin to fizzle out in twos’, some go into the hotel to spend the night together and others to “God knows where”. I then sit down after the last person has gone to count my tips which I had tucked into my back pocket to avoid adding it to the company’s money that I collect from customers.

 

Till this day I still wonder how some ladies came to the hotel every night and went away with different men each night. Some would have had three to four short time sessions with men in the hotel before finally going home with another man. They called it hustling and they don’t give a damn.

 

An incident I will never forget at the hotel happened the night a fine gentleman was brought to the hotel by his friend just to prove to him that his fiancée was not whom he thought she was.

The so called fiancée in the company of her friends and five men were on a round table setting eating Nkwobi, drinking assorted spirits and smoking cigarettes. They were chatting loud and having fun.

The fiancée was high on spirit and she stood up to dance to entertain her client for the night. With her cigarette in her left finger, she zoomed into the client who was seated; she pulled his chair backwards so she could have a space between him and the table. She then came between him and the table dancing seductively and rolling her back side in his face. She then sat on his crouch facing him with her full breast under his nose. Her cream coloured mini gown slipped up revealing alluring thighs. The randy client dug his head into her bosom and did things with his mouth. Her mates on the table were cheering, we were watching.

It was when Mr. Randy grabbed her butt and squeezed that hell was let loose.

The gentleman fiancé screamed “chineke me ee”! awunanam ee! (My God, I am dead) the man screamed stamping his feet as he charged towards the table: Nkechi! He shouted: Nkechi! Ihe a, obu ilo k’ogini! Is this a dream or what?

Jesus! Jesus! Was all Nkechi kept muttering as she jumped off her client sending the client and his chair tumbling over and she ran out of the bush bar leaving her bag and shoes behind. They were engaged to be married in a weeks’ time

 

CHAPTER 12

 

We did not resume for the second semester as stipulated in the academic calendar, we rather resumed into a long session of industrial strike action embarked upon by the academic staff union due to non payment of salaries and allowances accrued over five months. Students went back home after waiting for a week without resolution between the government and the academic union.

 

I continued my routine work at the Executive Gardens. I was paid my first salary of one thousand seven hundred and fifty naira after deducting the amount I incurred as loses due to breakages and forgetting to collect monies from some customers. Many cunning customers sneak away without paying for their drinks. Some would have finished drinking and eating pepper soup before remembering that they forgot their wallets at home. We also have the “book me down customers”, these are regular customers who drink through the month and pay off at month end when they collect their salaries.

 

But I was okay, my accumulated tips for the month was about one thousand five hundred naira so I had over three thousand naira with me.

We stayed home for two months before the strike was finally called off by the academic staff union and school resumed in earnest. I had worked for three months and I could boast of over seven thousand naira. I felt very rich and so I boarded a bus to the popular Ariaria Market in the city of Aba. I went with a colleague at the hotel, a cleaner who had told me a lot about how one could get very cheap commodities at the market.

 

I purchased four trousers, four Polo T shirts, two short sleeves shirts and two long sleeve shirts. We later left Ariaria Market and went to “School Road” street to buy a brown Timberland safety Boot and a black brock’s shoe. I spent two thousand five hundred naira on all the purchase. I never knew clothes and shoes could be that affordable even though the shoes were fairly used they were rock solid that one could easily take it for brand new from Italy. I bought a lot of food stuff too and I was ready for the second semester of my 200 levels.

 

Within two weeks on resumption of the second semester, I had redeemed my image. Maduka bought more clothes for me again, I told him I have enough as I narrated my holiday experience to him, he however dropped the three trousers, four shirts and one canvas on my bed. Chinasa watched as I changed into different clothes daily for two weeks stretch. He could no hold his tongue as he shouted again on a Monday morning when I wore white Polo shirt on a fitted blue Jeans and Canvas;

Old boy! Abi you go rob Boutique? Make una see Omo o! I just dey look you all these days I no want to talk! Omo na who provoke you nah?

 

Guy leave that yarn o! na God dey do am; I replied

 

There was also mixed reactions from my class mates, but I noticed that I got more friends, especially the ladies.

 

I stopped going to the Hotel daily except for weekends that I went to help out with work. I was not being paid salary but I earned my tips.

 

Our first semester result was released mid way into the second semester. My total CGP was 4.80. I was still the best in class. I wrote a letter to Mr. Adegoke and gave him update of what I did during the holiday till date. I got his reply after two weeks and as usual after reading his mail, I was charged the more. I dug into my books harder. He reminded me that I should never take my tests or assignments for granted. He said if I could score the whole forty points in my test and assignment, all I need is forty more point s out of the 60 examination points to make an “A”. He said majority of students take their tests and assignments for granted and begins to struggle to score the whole 60 points in examination which is always not possible. Those are the average students, I was a first class material, he had written.

 

My self esteem rose higher in the second semester as I got several compliments from Guys and babes alike when I dress. I had grown into a 6 feet 3 inches tall young man. I have good stature with hard hands developed over the years farming in the Village. I have a gap between my incisors and when I smiled or laughed my cheek dimpled. I have dark eye brows, dark shinny hair and moustache. My stomach was flat with six packs and my waist is narrow upon long tapering athletic legs.

 

Poverty had not made me to realize my natural endowment until in my second year in the university at the age of twenty three

 

Towards the second semester examinations, I became involved in several tutorial lessons organized by year one students. I was paid by the students at the end of each session. They imposed levies on all attendees to pay me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Literature, Prose, Stories

The abandoned child

CHAPTER 10

 

1991-University environment was so different from any environment I have been in my twenty two years of existence. It was a case of multi socio-cultural mix up.

 

No one gave a damn about my age! In fact I was not the oldest in my class of seventy students at 100 levels. I had married men and women as class mates! I had my age mates and younger ones too, no one cared about age and that feeling was soothing to me unlike what I passed through in my secondary school where my class mates and the whole school tagged me an uncle.

 

The social life was something else though. I had to adapt. For instance, I needed to stop bowing too low or try to prostrate while greeting someone that is older than me. I needed to curtail the excessive use of “yes sir” while discussing with an older one, be it student or lecturer, I could start a sentence with “yes sir” and end it with “sir” it was strange to the eastern people when I discuss with and older person and show so much respect. They laugh at me, they say I am local.

 

Another thing I observed here was the public show of affection between male and female students. I was always carried away when I see a boy and a girl taking a walk hand in hand or worse still when a girl seats on the lap of a boy discussing in public. I would forget myself and mope at them until they either shout at me or they shy away from my presence. It was not easy for me to stop looking at skimpily dressed ladies exposing their luscious cleavages and thighs in public, people were so free. No class prefect or school prefect to bully you.  The class captains here were mere stooges for the lecturers.

 

There were joints where we go to buy snacks and soft drinks. One could also go to town in the evening to drink alcohol or whatever pleases you. The evenings were my favourite moments as I would go out and sit close the school gate to watch the array of visitors trooping in and out of the school to pick up our girls. I saw exotic cars in their numbers; cars I had thought only existed in foreign movies, porch cars with convertible roof blaring out loud music and occupants dressed like movies Stars.

I would watch girls dressed for the night walk out of the school gate to board taxis to town. My favourite sit out was at Mallam Musa’s Kiosk close to the gate, I normally buy groundnut or biscuit and a bottle of Fanta as I sit and feed my eyes.

 

In my first year, I rarely went to the school joint. It was not meant for my type. I had no money to spare, the two times I went there was on invitation by a friend called Maduka. He had insisted I accompanied him there for a snack. When we got there, it was a beehive of activities. Every table was occupied with students spending money, eating and drinking. We had to wait for some students to finish eating and leave before we took over the chairs they sat on. I saw a student commanding the waitress to serve about seven other students seated around him with whatever they want.

I also saw wastage of food and drinks. Many of the girls that ate at the joint did not eat up their snacks, they barely drank half of the soft drink and bite off half of the snacks, the only item I know they ate up was meat. I hardly saw any left over stick meat. I wished I could pack up all the left over’s and take to my room. It would do me for a couple of days.

 

Year one was like an extension of secondary school. I did so well in my courses because I was already good in physics and other science subjects before entering the university.

 

The school was quite affordable because it is a federal government school. I was in the dormitory and we ate at the refectory while some of us cooked. I did both.

 

Mr. Adegoke and I were still in touch through letter writing and I always looked forward to reading from him.

Yes! Lest I forget, I had problems pronouncing the names of Igbo friends, names that starts with “Chi” I would pronounce as “she” it was practically impossible for me to change that tone, even when I tried to pronounce it right and it sounds right to my hearing, they still laugh at me and said I couldn’t get it right. I would call Ikesukwu instead of Ikechukwu. It irritated some of them and they would rather I called their English names while it amused others. All in all, it earned me the name “Omo Yoruba” in my first year. I am Yoruba by tribe and my accent stood out.

In the hostel I was quiet and reserved. I do not exceed my boundary, I do not mingle. I simply coil up in my bunk and dig into my books. Mr. Adegoke had told me that I needed to start working on my grades from my first day in school so I do no miss classes, I do not miss assignments and tests and when the second semester result was published, the name “Omo” became a force to be reckoned with. I cleared all “A”s and my CGP was 5.0.

 

I stayed back in the hostel during the holiday. I had no where to go to. Few students stayed back also. My money had run down and I was wondering how I would cope in my second year when school resumes. I could still pay my school and departmental fees, but then I would be left with very little to feed.

 

I went into town; I walked the length of Okigwe road to World Bank area looking for anything until I saw a vacancy advert posted on a gate. It read “Holiday Tutors wanted “. I knocked at the gate; it was a private school that needed Science teachers for students on holiday as well as preparatory classes for SSCE and JAMB examinations. I got the offer to teach Physics, Chemistry and Mathematics to SS1 and SS2 students. I started work immediately. It was fun and engaging but the pay was good. I solved every question the students threw at me to test my capability because I looked young and inexperienced.

Within two weeks of my working at the school, the number of students doubled. I have my ways of teaching that it made the student to want to be in my class, I told them that if a Village man like me with the least support in life could clear all “A”s in my S.S.C.E then it should be an easy ride for them that are in the City and have every family support they need. I made the students to solve equations themselves. I gave them home works and the next day we solve it together. The students looked forward to my jokes and my accent too, but in all, they got to love the subjects that I taught.

 

The most important aspect of teaching was that it also opened an avenue for me to research and improves on myself. I had to read wider to prepare for those naughty students who liked to disgrace lecturers by bringing problems that are out of the curriculum for the lecturer to solve. Some will ask irrelevant question just to embarrass the Teacher. These were children of the elites in Owerri. Spoilt Kids.

 

I made more money during the November General Certificate Examination G.C.E. The private school where I taught during the holidays was an examination centre for the G.C.E. The proprietor hired me to assist the students that were writing the examination at his centre. I was kept in a secured room and question papers from the examination hall were brought to me to solve and provide answers for the students. I went on different days to provide answers for Physics, Biology, Chemistry and Mathematics questions. I was sure the Students would clear those subjects with “A”s. except the student that refuse to pay up. I was rewarded handsomely for my effort and on resumption for school in 1992 at the age of twenty three, I was ready for school.