MarksBeneaththe
FoundationandotherStories KANACDigitalAnthologySeries2021 VolumeTwo i
PublishedbyKANACDigitalPublishingSeries info@kanac.org
Copyright © 2022byKANACDigitalPublishingSeries.
Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthispublicationmaybereproduced,distributedortransmittedinanyformorbyanymeans, includingphotocopying,recording,orotherelectronicormechanicalmethods,withoutthepriorwrittenpermissionofthe publisher.
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Foreword
TheKANACDigitalAnthologyseriesaimsatshowcasingthecreativeworksofbuddingcreativewriters,who,notonlyparticipatedintheannualKANACCreativeWritingcompetitionbut whoseworkswereshortlistedforthevariousphasesofthescreeningexercises,whichwereusuallyundertakentowardsdeterminingtheoverallwinnerineachroundofthecompetition.
Thethemeforthe2021roundoftheKANACCreativeWriting competitionwas“Regeneration.”Asusual,severalentriesinthe shortstorycategorywerereceived.Attheendofthenumerous screeningexercises,thefewworksinthisanthologymadethe finalshortlist.Theentrythatwontheoverallprizefor2021is entitled“MarksbeneaththeFoundation.”ThisentrywaswrittenbyChiomaD.Akorah.Thewinner,ChiomaD.Akorahfrom Nigeria,receivedthecashprizeofTwohundredthousandNigerianNaira.Attheendoftheawardceremony,alltheworksthat madetheshortlistreceivedthorougheditorialreviewswiththe assistanceoftheKANACmentorsandeditors.Theseservices, whicharefree,areinlinewithKANAC’svisionofusingtheannualcreativewritingcompetitionasaplatformforidentifying andnurturingbuddingcreativetalentsfromvariouspartsofthe globe.
Itisattheendofseveralrigorousreviewsandeditingservices thatthisvolumeoftheanthology,entitled“Marksbeneaththe FoundationandotherShortStories”hasemerged.Alltheshort storiesinthisanthologyofferdeepreflectionsontheideaofhow manregeneratesdespiteadverseconditions,threats,andailments. Inall,theshortstoriescelebratetheruggedspiritthathasenabledhumanitytoovercomeseveraladversities,bybeingable torebuildandre-inventitself.Asacollection,theshortstories areatributetoourcommonhumanity.
KANACEditors
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Contents 1 MARKSBENEATHTHEFOUNDATION 1 2 ASEED 16 3 THERESIGNATIONTOOUR MADSELF 21 iv
ChiomaDianaAkorahisaNigerian,fromAnambrastate.She livesatLagosstate.SheisagraduateoftheUniversityofLagos.HerloveforwritingbeganinherJuniorSecondaryschool whenshedevelopedaninterestinreading.Excerptsofherworks arepublishedinPrideMagazineNigeriaandTushMediaMagazine.Accordingtoher“forme,writingisn’tjustahobby,but amediumofexpression.Itallowsmetoexpressmyselfwhere spokenwordsmightfailme.”
1.MARKSBENEATHTHEFOUNDATION
1 ChiomaD.Akorah
MARKSBENEATHTHEFOUNDATION
1.TwoMonthsBefore
AuntyDorawasonaroll.Everypartofherbodyvibratedand shookasshespoke.Herangersatiatedmineasitseepedoutfrom everyporeofherskin.
“Heisobviouslyasickman.Hedoesn’twanttoadmitit,butlet metellyounowDavidifothersarelyingtoyou,me,DoraOkafor willnot!
“David,youareasickmanandyouneedhelp!”
“Whatmarriageareyousaving?Whatkindofmarriageareyou startingafresh!?”
Deadsilencegreetedthisoutburst.IcouldnotseePapaIbekwe’s expressionfromwhereIsatatthebottomofthestairs,butI couldseethebackofhishead.Heremovedhisredchiefcap fromhishead.Ihadneverseenhimwithoutthatcapbefore. SlowlyandcarefullyPapaIbekwe’svoicestartedasifitistesting thedepthofadarkmurkyriver:
“There’snothingwrongwithmyson.Itrainedhim.Afterhis father’sdeath,Itookhiminandtreatedhimasmyown.Areyou sayingIdidn’ttrainhimwell?”
“Idon’tcarehowyoutrainedhim!”AuntyDora’svoicebellowed inthesittingroom,itsloudechoreverberatinginthehallway whereIsat.Shecontinuedimmediately,asifafraidthatthe head-of-the-conversationwouldbesnatchedawayfromher.
“WhatIcareaboutishismanhandlingofmysisterforalmost eightyearsnow.Ihavekeptquietlongenough.Enoughisenough!”
Eventhoughtheairconditionerinthesittingroomwason,Papa Ibekwe’sbaldheadhadbeguntosweat.
“Thereisnomanthatdoesn’tbeathiswife!”hesaidasifina franticattempttore-establishhislostauthority.
“Myfatherdidnosuchthing!”AuntyDora’svoicewassoharsh,
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itburnedmyearsandIsawMummyseatedbesideherwince. DaddyappealedimmediatelytoMummybeforeAuntyDoracould continuewithhertirade:
“Nnennapleasesaysomething.Anythingyouwantmetodo,I’ll doplease.”
Hearinghimbeg,Ifelttheangerinmyheartmeltalittle.ButI visiblyshookmyhead,asiftomakesurethatitstopsmyheart’s betrayal.FromwhereIsat,Icouldn’tseeDaddy’sexpression.He satbesidePapaIbekweonthesofafacingMummy.ButMummy remainedsilent,herfacelikesomeonewhowasn’teventhere. Itwasasifhersoulhadleftandherdamagedbodywasallthat remained.Daddycontinuedwithhisdesperateplea,hisvoice soundinglikehewasbeggingforhislife:
“Wecanstartalloveragain.Wecanrebuildourlivestogether, please.ThinkofAdaobi.”
AuntyDoraeyedhimlikeonewouldeyepoop,whichwasleft unflushedinthetoilet.Shequicklyroundedonhimdecisively,as ifshehasjustfiguredoutthesolutiontoaverycomplexequation:
“David,youneedtherapy!”
Themenstaredatherinutterdisbelief.Butshecontinued:
“Ifyoucandothat,thenyoucanstartthinkingoffixingyour marriage.”
Thesilencebouncedoffthewallsoftheroom.Finally,Papa Ibekwe’svoice,whenhespoke,mademejump:
“Onlymadmenneedtherapy,Dorothy!Areyousayinghe’snow mad?”Whenitfinallycameout,AuntyDora’svoicewaslaced heavilywiththeburdenofsomanydistastefulthingsshewould havelovedtosaybutpreferredtoburyatthemoment.Her brightshinyeyescommunicatedthedeepdistastethatherseeminglymildwordsveiled.
“Ididn’tsayanythingaboutmadnesssir.AllIsaidisheneeds therapy.”
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Theylapsedintomorbidsilenceforamoment.AuntyDoraeyed Daddyasifshehadjustseenaverystrangerat.Mummylooked stonilyatthefloorasifalltheanswersthatshehadbeenseeking areallcontainedthere.IcountedslowlytofifteenthenIstoodup tosneakbackupstairswhenMummysuddenlylookedup.Our eyeslockedandIsawthatshewascomingtoadecision.Iheard mybloodpumpingveryloudly.Therushingsound,pounding inmyears.ShelookedawayfrommeandfacedDaddy,speaking slowly,almostinawhisper.Yet,herslowwordsweredistinctand loudasshesaidwithgravefinality:
“David,Iwon’tcomebackifyoudon’tgethelp.Ican’tcontinue livingthatway.”
2.ThePast
Iwasn’texactlysurewhenDaddychanged,buthehadnotalways beenlikethis.Therearesomegoodmemoriessomewhere,Iam sure.Butmymindcan’tseemtorecallthemanylonger.Ican’t rememberatimewhenDaddywasn’tangry.Hewasalwaysfuriousaboutonethingortheother.It’seitherMummy’sgownwas tooshortorthefoodwastoosalty.Somethingalwaysseemsto bringonhistemper.Thewindcouldblowinthewrongdirectionandhewouldbeangry.Andwhenhe’sangry,hestammers badly.Hestammerstillhecouldn’tspeak.Thenhebeginsto splutter.Withspittleflyingeverywhere,hisstaringeyeswillbeginflickingoffandonlikealightbulbthatisabouttodie.Then asifthatisn’tenoughforhim,whenitseemslikehejustcouldn’t containhisrageanymore,hewouldstarthittingMummy.
I’mnotexactlysurewhenitallbegan.Myearliestmemoriesstart fromwhenIwasaboutseven.Evenatthatage,Icouldalways sensetheprelude:thehotairinthehousewouldsuddenlybecometoocold,Iitwaswarmweatherandifitwascoldharmattan weather,everythingwillsuddenlybecomestiflinghot.During thosemoments,hiswordsandmannerofspeechwouldbegin toundergoseriouschangesandMummywouldturntomewith mistyeyesandwhisper:
“Goupstairs,Ada.”
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Iwouldrushupstairstomyroomonthefirstfloorofourduplex. ButIalwaysgotfrozenatthebedroomdoorandfromthere,I couldhearherunmistakablecriesofpain.Iweptdisconsolately, holdingthedoorhandle.IweptbecauseIfeltthatImusthave donesomethingbadandthatiswhyMummyisbeingpunished. AndIcouldn’tdoanythingaboutit.
Once,Itriedtohelp.Ihadjustturnedelevenatthetime.Mummy hadfoundaboxofcigaretteshiddeninsidethetoilettankand sheaskedwhyDaddyhiditthere.Hehadnotevenbotheredexplaining.Hethrewthedressingironheheldatherbuthemissed. Andthatmadeitworse.Istoodthereunabletomoveforsolong whilehehitheragainandagain.HedraggedherintothebathroomandIfollowed.Itriedeverything.Icried.Ibegged.I cajoled.Butnothingworked.Itwaslikehewasn’teventhere. Itwasasifsomeonehadtakenpossessionofhisbody.Icouldn’t recognizethispersoninmyfather’sbody.So,Ibentdown,wrappingmyarmstightlyaroundhisrightleg,Ihelditwithallmy strength.IwantedtostophimfromkickingMummy.ButImust havebeentoomuchofanuisance,because,hesoonkickedme away,thewaysomeonesmartlykicksawayanemptycanofcoke fromhispathway.Myheadmetthebathroomwall.Asmyeyes closedoutthelight,IrememberthinkingthatIwasfallingasleep. Mummy’scriesstoppedandmyvisiondimmed,itfeltsoquiet, sopeaceful.Butmypeacedidn’tlastlong.AuntyDora’svoice wokemeup.ShesoundedsoangryandIwonderedwhatIhad done.ItriedtositupbutIcouldn’tmove.Everythinghurt.Her voicemademyheadfeelsoheavylikeelephantswerejumping aroundinmyhead.
“ThishasgottenoutofhandNnenna,justlookatwhathedidto hisdaughter.”Shesaid,pointingatmeliketheyneededhelpto seeme.
“Ididn’tknowshewasthere.”Daddysaid.
Heworehisblueshirtinsideout,thecuffsofhisshirtwereundoneandhisusuallycombedafrohairlookedlikeaballofunkemptwool.Helookedlikehimselfagain.
“Isthatsupposedtobeavalidexcuse?EhnDavid?Youdidn’t
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knowyourdaughterwasbeggingyoutostopbeatinghermother?
Canyouhearyourself?Aren’tyoutheleastbitashamed?”
IhadneverseenAuntyDoralooksoangrybefore.Herbreasts wobbledasshestruggledtobreathe.
Mummyshiftedfromthehospitalwallshehadbeenleaningon, sheclearedherthroat,buthervoicestillcameoutwithacroak, itmademyheadfeelworse.
“Hedidn’t...Itwasamistake.”
AuntyDoralookedatMummyliketherewassomethingvileon herbody.Withhernosescrewedup,shepeeredatherasifshe hadrolledherselfinpigdung.Thenshehissed:
“Andwhathedidtoyou...wasitalsoamistake?”
Mummydidn’tanswer.Shestaredatthehospitalwindow.The whirloftheceilingfanandmypoundingheadweretheonly soundsintheroom.ThenDaddysaid:
“I’msorry.”
Iwasn’tsurewhohewasapologizingto,butAuntyDoratook ituponherselftoanswer.Theheatofhertonesoundedlike whiplashasshesaid:
“Spareme,please!Everytimeyou’resorry.IfAdaobihaddied, ifyourdaughterhaddied,willsorrybringherbacktolife?By thetimeyoukillmysister,willsorrybringherbacktolife?”
Shetookadeepbreathasiftocalmherselfandthensaid:
“LookNnenna,let’sbehonesthere,yourhusbandissick.”
“Stopsayingnonsense,Dora.Youdon’tunderstand.”Mummy said,shakingherhead.
“Whatdon’tIunderstand?Whatistheretounderstand?You can’tkeepdeceivingyourself!Thisisnowaytolive.Noone deservestolivethisway.Papamustberollinginhisgraveright now.JustlookatyourfaceforGod’ssake!”
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Ididn’thavetolooktoknowwhatitlookedlike.I’dseenitbefore; themismatchedcolorsonherface.Usually,shehidthembehind heavymakeupandsunshades.Butshehadnotbotheredtoday. Theharshglareofthefluorescentbulbreflectedeachuneven skincolorandrisingswell,thushighlightingthenumerousblows hertenderskinhadendured.Daddyslidtothefloorfromthe chairhehadbeensittingonandheldMummy’sdress.
“Iswearitwon’thappenagain.”
AuntyDorasighed,ignoringDaddyonthefloor.
“Nnenna,pleasethinkaboutthiscarefully.Thisisn’tjustabout youanymore.ThinkofAdaobitoo.”ButDaddykepton, “Iswearitwon’thappenagain.Pleasedon’tleaveme.”
NoonespokeagainexceptDaddy,hekneltthereforhours.Beggingandpromising.Thenursemethimthatwaywhenshecame tocheckonme.HestayedthatwayevenwhenIhadopenedmy eyesandAuntyDorawenttogetmewatertodrink.ButIdidn’t believehim.IprayedMummywouldseethetruthtoo.Ihoped shewouldn’tforgivehim,themanIhadseeninthatbathroom, themanthatdidthis,didn’tdeservetobeforgiven.
3.
Weekshadpassedsincethatdayinthehospital.Andwewere backtoourhouse.Lifeseemedtobebetter.Mummylooked happiertoo.Shesmiledmoreandtalkedevenmore.Daddy talkedmost,whichwasquiteunlikehim.Hetalkedaboutthe deathofYar’Aduaandworriedaboutthenewincomingpresident.Heworriedabouthisclient,ChiefNnamdi,whohadjust marriedagirltwentyyearsyoungerthanhewasandrefusedto drawupaprenup.
“Canyouimaginethat?”hesaid,adjustinghishardrumponthe sittingroomsofa.
“Verysoonhe’llsignoffallhispropertiestoher,”hecontinued.
Mummyshookherhead,bitingoffsomecornfromthecobshe held.“So,hejustabandonedhisfirstwifelikethat?”shemanaged
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toblurtout,amidstmouthfulsofcornthatshewaschewing. Butwhiletheythoughtandworriedaboutotherthings,Icould notstopworryingaboutwhathadhappened.Iworriedabout Mummyandcouldn’tstopwatchingDaddy.Ikeptwatchingand waiting.Itwaslikewaitingforabombtoblow.Iwonderifeach secondwillbecomethelastmomentthattimewouldtick.
Exhausted,I’dcomebackfromschoolandstudyMummy’sface closely.I’dcarefullycheckfortelltalemarksbeneathherMckay foundationcream.Butnothingshowed.Ididn’tbelieveit.Ijust couldnotandIwassurprisedathowrelaxedshewas.Soon,I discoveredthatIcouldn’tstopworrying,evenifIhadwantedto. Ihadtoknowifshewasscaredorwasn’tscared.Wasn’tshethe leastbitafraidthat,theothersideofhimwouldshowupagain? Didn’tsheliveinfearofhimchangingagain?Thequestions plaguedmetothepointthatIhadtoask.
ItwasafterschoolandwewereintheSedancardrivinghome. WehadjustpassedtheChurchofAssumptionFalomoandDr. Sid’s“Popsomething”wasplayingontheradiowhenIblurted outthequestion:
“Mummy,aren’tyouafraid?”
Shecarefullyturneddownthevolumeofthecarradiobeforeshe respondedquietly:
“Afraidofwhat,mydear?”
HeranswermademefeelsillylikeIwasworryingovernothing.
“Ofhim.”Ipersisted.
ItwasthefirsttimeIwasreferringtotheaccident,butIdidn’t thinkthatIneededtoexplainwhoIwasreferringto.Fromthe wayherbroadsmiledimmedandherwrinkledforehead,Iknew sheunderstoodme.
“Hewasn’talwaysthiswayAda.He’sjuststressed.Ibelievehe’ll getbetter.”Shesaid,lookingatthesidemirrorbeforeturningthe steeringwheeltotheleft.
“Isn’titbettertojustleave?”Iblurtedoutwithoutintendingto.
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Notknowingwhereandhowthequestionpoppedout,Ihungmy headsadly.Thistime,sheclearedthecarbytheroadsideand turnedherfullattentiontome.Asshecalmlyscrutinizedme, herexpressionbecamemirthful,asifIhadsuddenlysprouteda secondheadoutofnowhere.
“Leavetowhere?”sheasked,asthesmileslowlyleftherface. “Sothatyoucanbefree,”Isaid.
Myheartfilledwithsomuchdetermination.Iimaginedthiswas howNelsonMandelamusthavefeltinhispursuitofhispeople’s freedom.
“Todowhat?”sheasked,asherfrowndeepened,butthistime hereyesshowedfear.
“Ofwhatissheafraid?”Iaskedmyself,asIstudiedherlookof resignedsubmission.
“Towhat?”I’mnotcertain.Butthatwaswhereourconversation endedassheengagedthecargearandcarefullydroveintothe laneleadingtoourhouse.Wedidn’tsayanythingelseafterthat andsheturneduptheradioonceagain.IwatchedthespeedingpalmtreesthatdecoratedOzumbaMbadiweAvenue,wonderingwhatshewasafraidof.Ialsohopedthatshewascorrect inbelievingthatsomeonecouldsuddenlychangeandbecomea betterperson.IdesperatelywanttobelieveMummywhenshe swearsthatitwasstressthatmadehimchange.Perhaps,timewill alsomakehimchangeintoabetterDaddy.LookingatMummy’s calmcountenance,ItoldmyselfthatIneedtostopworrying.But doubtremained.
Itwasdoubtthatkeptmeupatnight,listeningforsoundsfrom acrossthehallwheretheyslept.Itwasthesamedoubtthatgave menightmares.HorribledreamsofDaddystranglingMummy whileshestruggledandIpleadedbuttonoavail.Iprayedagainst it.Boththedreamsandmydoubts.Iprayedtheywerewrong andMummywasrightbutImustnothaveprayedhardenough.
OnaSaturdayafternoon,hewasangryagain.ButIwasn’tthere towitnessit.IhadgonetoCynthia’shouse.Itwasherbirthday.
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ShelivedjustattheendofourstreetatIkoyi.Thoughwewere classmates,weweren’tclose.ButMummyandCynthia’smum spokealot.ItwasoneofthosefemalefriendshipsIcouldn’twrap myheadaround.WhateverMummydid,Cynthia’smumrushed todo.IfIgotnewschoolshoes,I’dseethosesameshoesonCynthia’sfeetbythenextweek.Icouldn’tunderstandit.
AsIenteredourhouse,holdingthepieceofredvelvetcakeCynthiahadsostingilycutandwrappedintinfoilforme,Isaw Mummyonthefloorofthesittingroom.Shelaidtheresostill andquiet.Ithoughtperhapsshewasasleep.Shedidthatsometimes.Somedays,whenthedaywastoohotforhertotakea napupstairs,shewouldsleeponthesittingroomfloor.Butthen, Daddyenteredfromthediningroom,justasIwasabouttogo upstairs.Hisfacewassochokedwithguilt,likesomeonewhohad beencaughtstealingmeatfromthesouppot,thatIstoppedin mytracks.AsIlookedathimclosely,Inoticedthathishandsand trouserswerestainedwithblood.IlookedbackatMummyon thefloorandIfeltmyheartbegintosqueeze.Icouldn’tbreathe.
“Hehasdoneitagain.”Wasallthatkeptreverberatingaround myheavyskull.Imusthaverushedtoherside,withoutknowing thatIdid,because,thenextmoment,Iwasholdingherhead andstaringatthetornlips,herbrokennose,andthenthepool ofbloodbehindherhead.Idon’tknowhowlongIkneltthere callingher.Icalledandcalled,expectinghertoopenhereyes butsheneverdid.Shedidn’tevenopenhereyeswhenAunty Doraarrived.Hereyesremainedclosedevenonthewaytothe hospital.
Iwatchedherchestthroughmytears,willingittoriseorfall. Anythingtoshowthattherewasstilllivinginthere.ButIsaw nothing.Nothingatall.
Isatinthehospitalwaitingarea,strugglingtobreatheandimaginingtheworst.Iwatchedwomenpassing:pregnantwomen,old women,womenwithbabiesontheirbacks,somewiththeirhusbandsandsomealoneandIwonderediftheywereallthesame. Iftheyenduredtheirhusbands’beatingathometoo.Iftheyput onlayersofmakeupandfoundation,justtohidethescarsun-
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derneath.Iwonderedifthebabieswouldgrowupandbeinthe samepositionIwasinnow;seatedinahospitalreceptionand waitingtoknowiftheywillremainaliveordead.
IwatchedDaddyashepacedthelengthofthereception.From thenurse’sdesktothefrontdoorandback,hisheavyfootsteps kepttrudgingthecoldanddustyreceptionfloor.Hisred-rimmed andswolleneyes,dartingto-and-frolikearabbitthatiscaught inasnare.Ifeltsomuchangerandconfusionlookingathim,so Idecidednotto.
AuntyDorahadnotsaidaword,sinceweenteredthehospital. Iwasn’tsureifshehadsaidanythingbeforeeither.Shehadher headdownwithhandsclaspedtogetherbetweenherknees.Her kneesswungsidetosidelikealternatingpendulums.Daddysuddenlyfacedwherewesatandlookedatus:
“Ididn’tmeantopushherthathard,I....”
AuntyDora’sheadcameupsharply,hereyesjustasredasDaddy’s, pointingathim,sheshouted:
“David,Idon’twanttohearanythingfromyou,doyouhearme? Nothing!”
Hervoicesilencedeveryothersoundinthereception.Ababy whohadbeensleepingbegantocry.
“Madam,”theelderlynurseatthereceptioncalledouttoher, hervoicedrippingwithirritation,“youcan’tshoutlikethathere please.”
ThereceptiondooropenedandPapaIbekweentered,sweating fromthehotafternoonsun.Hispresencecausedachilltorun downmyspine.Iheldmygroan,bitingmytongueinstead.At thatmoment,hisheavypresencewaslikethatofblackowlsthat carriedthemessageofdeathtoanycompoundthattheyvisited.Throughoutmylife,IhaveobservedthatPapaIbekweonly showedupontwooccasions;whensomeonewasgettingmarriedorsomeonewasgettingburied.Iwastheonlyonethatsaw himfirst,soIstoodupandmumbledagreeting.
“EhenAda,howareyou?”healwaysasked.
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Itwasalwayshisfirstquestion.Onecouldbedyingbeforehis veryeyesandhewouldstillaskthat.AuntyDora’sonlyacknowledgmentofhimwastoraiseherheadanddropitback.
“David,”hesaid,“anynews?”
“She’sunconscious.”Daddysaid,stillpacingwhilehishandswere foldedacrosshischest.
“Wearewaitingforhertowakeup,”heconcludedhopefully.
AuntyDoramadeatickingsoundwithherthroatandmuttered:
“Thatisifyouhaven’tkilledher.”
Atthis,PapaIbekwe’swidenoseflaredevenwider.
“Woman,don’tsaysuchthings,”hesnapped.
“Davidalreadytoldmewhathappened.Mistakeslikethesehappenallthetime.Let’sjustpraytoGodthatshewakesup.”
IfeltratherthansawAuntyDoraholdingbackheranger.Her kneesswungfaster.Open.Close.Open.Close.PapaIbekwe clearedhisthroatnoisilyandsaid:
“Wecandiscusswhathappenedwhenshewakesup.”
Atthis,AuntyDoraturnedherheadtowherehestoodandhissed:
“Wearen’tdiscussinganything.Mysisterisgoinghomewithme.”
Daddyabruptlystoppedpacing.PapaIbekwefrowneddeeply, hisvoicebecomingharshashesaid:
“Whyshouldamarriedwomanleaveherhusband’shouse?”Aunty Dorashiftedtotheedgeofherseatandsaid:
“Becauseherlifeisbeingthreatenedbytheverysameman,she callsherhusband!”
Daddyraisedhisvoice,“She’scominghomewithmeandAda. That’swhereshebelongs.”
Atthis,AuntyDorasmackedherlipsandgaveabittersmile,a smallliftofherdrylipswhichmadeherlookveryscary:
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“I’mtakingmysisterwithmeorI’llhaveyouarrestedforthis. David,chooseone.”
PapaIbekweimmediatelybecamequiet.Helookedabouthim inconfusionandsuddenlyleft,promisingtocomebackthenext day.Daddyalsodidn’tsayanything.Hesatdownandplacedhis headinhishands.Westayedthereallnight,butshedidn’twake uptillthenextmorning.Daddydidn’tsayanythingwhenshe wasdischarged.Hestilldidn’tsayanythingwhilehewatched AuntyDoraloadMummy’sthingsintoherredToyotaCorolla. Hejuststoodatthefrontdoorofthehouseandwatchedwhile Ienteredthefrontseatandthecardroveaway.Iwatchedhim fromthesidemirrorofthepassengerseat,thankfulthathehad notinsistedIstayedback.Ikeepwonderingifthiswastheend forallofusandifthingscouldeverbebetter.
4.ThePresent
Daddywashereagain.Hehadnotmissedoneweekend.Healwaysvisits,comerain,comesunshine.Hehasnevermissedhis Saturdayvisits.AuntyDorawhoisstillunabletospeaktohim politelywasasusual,safelyupstairs.Shewouldn’tcomedown tillheleft.
IwatchedhimandMummyfromthediningroomwhereIsat havinglunch.Theysatsidebysideonthesittingroomsofatryingtheirbesttoconverse.Watchingthemwasslightlytouching anduncomfortableatthesametime.Itwastouchingintheway helookedather,thesmallsmileshegaveher,andhowattentive hewastotheslightestgrimaceonherface.Thefactthathehad broughtherflowersyetagainwastouching.
AuntyDoradidn’tthinksothough.Shethoughttheywereutterly uselessandawasteofmoney.Mummysaysnothingaboutthem. Butshehasturnedalmosteveryavailablecontainerinthehouse intoaflowervase.Butdespitehisefforts,Ijustcouldnotturn ablindeyetotheobviousdiscomfortthatweallexperienced wheneverhewasaround.
Itshowedinthetoo-longbreaksintheirconversations.Itwas apparentinthesilencethatbeatatmeastheycarefullychosethe
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thingstosay,probablyoutoffearofbreakingthefragileground theystoodon.ItwasobviousinthewayMummyflincheswhen hemovesclosertoher.Itwasthereintheirplasticsmiles;hissad andhersembarrassed.Itwasalmosttoopainfultowatch.
ButIcouldn’tstopwatching.Ijusthadto.Ihadtobecause sometimeswhenIclosemyeyes,IstillseeMummyinapool ofherblood.Idiscoveredthatwatchingherconstantlywasthe onlywayIcouldreassuremyselfthatshewasfine.Thatshewas aliveandnothingwasgoingtohappentoher.Thishappenson thosedayswhenIseeherlaughing.Duringthesedays,itfeltlike everythingthathadhappenedinthepastwasabaddream.A nightmarethatIhadsimplysufferedonsomefeverishnights. ItwasonthedayswhenMummywouldsuddenlylaugh,sometimesatwhatAuntyDoramighthavesaidorevenwhentalking withDaddy.Herlaughterwouldrumbleassomedeepcontagioussoundthatslowlyspreadthroughoutherwholebody.We all,particularlyDaddy,feltit.Andinresponse,weallburstout laughing.Ihadneverheardherlaughbefore.Ithadstartledme thefirstdayIheardit,justasIhadexperiencedsomeshock,the firsttimethatIsawhersmile.Iwassousedtohertearsthatseeinghersmilesohappily,momentarilydazedme.
Herlaughterfeltlikeabandage,ahealingdrugformysoul.And fromDaddy’ssurprisedexpression,hemusthavefeltthesame wayIdid.Hemusthavelovedthesoundofherlaughterjustas muchorevenmorebecauseeveryotherdaysincethefirstday shelaughed,hewrotehercornyloveletters.Theyalwayscame withflowers.Thelettersmadeherlaughandinturn,itmade DaddyandIsmileaswell.Hewouldsmileathersolovingly,so tenderlythatitwouldmakemewonderwherethislovingman hadbeenallalong.CloselywatchingmyDaddyalsoopenedmy eyes.Itmademeseehowhestruggledwithdifferentemotions thatIonlywishedIcouldunderstand.Sometimes,Iwishthat someonewouldexplaintheseemotionstome.
Aboveall,althoughImissedourhouse,Iwasgladthatweare atAuntDora’shouse.IwasgladtoseeMummylaughandsmile happily.IwasgladthatDaddybehavedhimselfwheneverhevisitedher.Inall,Icouldseethatthiswasaperiodofhealingforall
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ofus.Itwasanewbeginningforourfamily.Imarveledthatfor thefirsttime,wecouldfindsomeformoffamilytogetherness. Manyofthesedays,sherarelyworehermake-uporappliedher MckayFoundation.Perhaps,itwasbecausetherewasnothingto coverorshesimplycouldn’tbebothered.Theblackbotchyscars onherfacehadallbutdisappeared.Herfacewasslowlyturning radiant,youthful,andbeautiful.Itwasapeacefulfaceandgazing atiteverytimeassuredmethatIwassafe.Itwasthisreassurance ofanewbeginningthatIstronglyclungto,asIprayedforabetter futureformyfamily.
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2.ASEED IaninaVolkovaisaRussianPostGraduateStudentWriter. 16 IaninaVolkova
ASEED
Iamaseed.I’mjustaseed.I’veseensomuchwithmyancestors’ eyes.Somanydifferentworldswithinone.Iwastoldthatthe handoftimechangestheworldsoitlooksdifferenteverysingle timethesuncomesup.Iwastold,Iwasbroughtherebythesame hand.Iwastoldnothinginthisworldcanhappenbyitselfand timeconcordsall.Thathasmademesad.Ihavebeenwaiting impatientlythroughsomanygenerations.Throughoutsomany lives,Iwaswaitingformyownlifetostart.Andnow?WhatamI supposedtodonow?
Doesanyoneknowwhattodo?ShouldIbetoldwhattodo?And ifso,whatdoIdowhilewaitingforthecommand?
Meanwhile,Timehasbecomeimpatient.
“Whydon’tyougrow?”saidTime.
“Idon’tknowhowto...”Ianswered.
“Youdon’tneedtoknow.Youjustneedtogrow.That’sallthat youneedtodo”.
Itsoundedsofrightening.Itwasasifnoonewaswillingtohelp me.NotevenTime.
Itookalookaround.Thisworlddidn’tseemaswonderfuland joyfulasitusedto.EverywhereIlooked,Isawnothingbutspace, orevenworse,therewasnoplacetogrow.
Ifeltdesperate.WheredoIgo?HowdoIfindaplacetobe? Iwillnotsurvivehere.Ineedtorun.Ineedtofindabetter place.Wherethesoildoesn’ttastedeath,thebreathofairisfree ofpoison,andwater,oh,water,doesn’tbringcutsthatappear everysingletimeItrytodrinkit,somewhereyoudon’tfeellike everythingaroundistryingtodestroyyou.
“Areyoustillnotgrowing?–Time’svoicesoundedirritated,youmakemefeellikeyoudon’twantto”.
“Ido!Iwanttogrow!ButhowcanIgrowhere?Thesoilispoi-
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soned,theairbringstears,andthewater,thewaterissocold everytimeItouchit.Ifeellikenoonewantsmehere”.
“Ifnoonewantsyouhere,thenhowdidyouappear?”–asked Time.
“Idon’tknow...-foramomentIgotstuck,-I’veneverthought aboutit.I’vejustwantedtoseetheworldIwaswatchingallthis timethroughtheeyesofothers”.
“That’sright,”saidTime,“they’veonlyshownyouthebestofthe world.Becausetheylovedyou.”
“I’veneverthoughtaboutit...”
“Youdon’tneedtothink,youjustneedtogrow”.
Therewassilenceagain.Timewasn’ttalkingtomeanymore. Iwasallalone.SurroundedbyDarkness.ThensuddenlyIfelt thatsomethingaroundmehadchanged.Ithassuddenlybecome warmerasifsomethinginvisiblewasembracingme.Irelaxed andclosedmyeyes.Itfeltsogood.JustlikethesedayswhenIwas lookingattheworldwhichwasfullofwondersandadventures.
“Anditstillis,”thesuddenvoicecameoutofnowhere.Ishould havefeltfrightenedbutIdidn’t.
“Who’sthat?Whoareyou?”
“Iamyou”-theVoiceanswered.
“Whatdoyoumeanyouareme?Iamme”.
“Yes,youare.AndsoamI”.
“How’sthatpossible?”
“Thesamewayitwaspossibletolookattheworldbeforeyou wereborn”.
“BeforeIwasborn?”Iquipped.
“Ofcourse,-repliedthemysteriousvoice,-youwerebornand youarewelcomeintotheworld.Nowit’smyturntoobserveit withyoureyes”.
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Therewasamomentorafewofsilence.
“I’msorry-saidI.AndItrulymeantit,-I’msorrybutIdon’t thinkyouwillseeit”.
“Why?”–TheVoicesoundedsurprised.
“Ican’tmakeit.Thesoil,theair,thewater–theyallwantme dead!AndTime?Itdoesn’thelpatall!”
“Doesit”?theVoicesoundeddoubtful.
“DidTimetalktoyou?”theVoiceasked.
“Yes,actually,twotimes,”Ireplied.
“Whatdiditsay?”theVoiceasked.
“Ittoldmetogrow,”Isaid.ThenIasked;
“Whydoeseverybodytellmetogrow?”AsIaskedthis,Ifelt somethingwasgoingonunderneathmywordsforthefirsttime. “Butdon’tyouwantto?”
“Idobut...”
“Look,”saidtheVoice,“whatiftheseso-calledenemiesofyours arejustwillingtomakeyoustrongenough,soyoumaythrive andenjoylife,notjustsurvive?”
“Ineverthoughtaboutitthisway,”saidI.Andthatagainwastrue.
“Youdon’tneedtothink,youjustneedtogrow.”
“Notthisagain!”Iscreamedinsilentcomplaint.
“Don’ttheyunderstand?That’ssimplyimpossible!”Outwardly, Iasked;
“WhatdoIgrowfor?Iamallalonehere!”Again,Ifeltlikesomethingwasmovingunderneathmywords.
“Areyou?Whomareyoutalkingto?”
TheDarknesswasstillaround.Butitfeltwarmandfeltdifferent. Ididn’tknowwhatitwasthatwasstillmovingunderneathmy silence.ButsuddenlyIfeltlikeIcanmovetoo.AndItried.One
19
littlestepandthenanotherone.TheDarknessaroundmehas startedtochange.Therewasnomoresilencebutthousandsof voicesweremovingaroundme,cradlingmeinawarmembrace.
That’strue!I’veneverbeenalonehere.Througheveryvoiceand everysinglepairofeyes,Ihavebeenhereallthistime,watching memakingmyfirststeps.Becausethat’stheonlythingIneedto do.
I’mjustaseed.ButIcangrow.
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VictorOkechukwuisawriterbasedinEnugu,Nigeria.Heisfrom Nnewi-North,Anambrastate.He’sreadingmasscommunicationattheUniversityofNigeria,Nsukka.Heloveswritingabout hiscountry’sproblemsandlifestyleandwhennotwritingheis readingablockbusternovel.HisworksarepublishedorforthcominginMycelia,GordonSquareReview,Rigorous,Magazine, andelsewhere.
VictorOkechukwu
3.THERESIGNATIONTOOURMADSELF
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THERESIGNATIONTO OURMADSELF
PatrickUgwuanyireturnedfromhisbusinessatLadipomarket withoutsellinganygoodsandhetriednottocryaboutit.But,he washoldinguppainsomewhereinhisbody.Herantothetoilet andcriedthereforoverhalfanhour.Becausetheswollenand inflamedveinsinhisrectumandanuscausedaseriesofdiscomfortandthistimehebegantobleed.Itwasasthoughhisanuswas burningandtheslimymucusdropping,worsenedthepain.He wasstillcryingwhenhecleanedproperlyandmanagedtowalk intohisdarkroomandlayonthebedhungry.Thiswasaneverydayexperienceandeversincehisboyranawayithasbeenhard forhimtoresistthepainofhishorribleconditions.Hisboyran awaywithpartofhisprofitandaftersquanderingit,wenttothe villageandtoldhispeoplethatheneverfedhimproperly.While ontherectangular-longbed,holdinghisbelly,hetriedadjusting tolookathisdesktocheckifhehadanymoneytobuyfood,and therewasnothing.
Heheardabangonhisdoorandalmostjumpedfromhisbed. Hebecameirritatedthatrecently,peopleknockedrudelyonhis door.Hehadsecondthoughtsaboutwhethertoopenitorto remainquietasthoughhewasn’tinhisroom.
"Whoisthat?"Heaskedfinally,walkingtothedoor.
Therewasnoreply,hesighed,feelingthepaininhisbuttocks increase.Heopenedthedoor,onlytoseetheglaringfaceofthe landlord,adark-brownbroad-facedman,withashortbody.The
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passagewasdark,buthestillrecognizedhim.
"Areyoutryingtointimidateme?"Thelandlordshoutedassoon ashesawPatrick.
"No...No,"Patrickstammered.
"Ok,Ihopeso."Hesaid,"Howaboutthemoneyforyourrent?" "I’mworkingtowardsit,sir."
"Butyoutoldmeyouwouldpaymethisweekorwasn’titsupposedtobelastweek?"
"No,itwasthisweek"Patricklied.
"EverybodyhaspaidPatrickandyouaretheonlyoneremaining." Hesaidpointingtohim,"Idon’tlikethewayyoukeepturning mearound."
"Landlord,givemesometime,Iamabouttomakeabiginvestmentthatwouldfetchmeahugeprofit."
"IhopeitdoesandwhenithappensIknowyouwouldcometo appreciateagoodmanlikeme."
"Ofcourse."
"ButIcan’tgiveyoumoretime."Saidthelandlordfrowning.
"IfIdon’tseemymoneybythefirstweekofnextmonth,Iwill-"
"Please,ogalandlorddoyoubelieveIhaven’tsoldanythingfor onemonthnow?"Patricksaid,"theheavyrainoftwodaysago spoiltmygoods."
"That’snotmybusiness.IhavetoldyoualreadyandifIdon’tget mymoneyI’mgoingtochaseyouout."Thelandlordsaidand walkedawayinanger.
Patrickshutthedoorandrestedonitforawhilestillsubduing thepainandhefeltthebitingacheofhunger.Hewentandlaid backonhisbed,tryingtoforgetabouthisboy–Samuel,andthe landlord.Hesleptoff.
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Thenextmorning,hedressedforbusinessandboardedabusto Ladipomarket.Themarketwasrowdyandpeopleyelledateach other.Theblackearthwasslippery.Theonlygoodssoldthere weresecond-handcarparts,especiallycarengines.Ashewalked tohisshop,hedidn’tdaremakeeyecontactwithanyone.Hekept spittingonthefloor.Hekeptanangryexpression,whilehalfnoticingsomecrazypeoplehuddledatthecornerofthefence. Whenhegottowherehisshopwas,heunlockedtheirongate, glancedupatthedistantbrightsuninthebluecloudysky,and rememberedthedayhefirstarrivedatLagos,dejected,withonly anylonbagandtwentynairainhishalf-tornpocket.
Heturnedwhenheheardhisname.ItwasAkajiakuwipinghis brownoilyfacewithhishandkerchief,hisbroadshoulderand handshowedamanusedtohardlabour.
"Whatishappeningtoyou?"Akajiakuasked.
"What?Nothing."Patrickreplied.
"Butyoukeptonlookingupshakingyourhead."
"Ihavesufferedsomuchinthislife."
"Butyouaren’ttheonlyonesufferingorthatsuffered."Akajiaku said.
"Don’talwaysaskforpitybecauseyouwillnotgetit,"headded.
"EverybodylooksatmeasthoughIamafool."Patricksaidshakinghishead,"whatdoyouexpectfromme"
"Tothinklikearichman."
"So,youthinkIwouldliketobeoneofthesemen,whoalwaysintimidatemebecausetheyhavethreeorfiveshopsandIhaveone. Andtheyarealwayscountingtheirmoneyinpublicasthough theyhavewhatittakestobeagreatbusinessman."
"Patrick,canyouhearyourself?"
"Forgetaboutthat,arichmancan’tdobusinessinthiskindof placeandIdon’tliketoworry."
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Hesaid,"Icouldhavebeenworkinginoneofthosebigcompanies,butthiscountryisdamntoouseless.’
"Haveyouthoughtaboutthe’sleepandmakemoneyinvestment?"
"Yes,thatiswhatIwasabouttotellyou.HowmuchdoIhaveto invest?"Patricksaid.
"Anyamount,ifyouhavetoleavethisplace,youneedtoinvest tobuildyourcompany,controlyoureconomy,andonedayhas anempire,likeForbesrichestmen.Peoplewhostayinthisplace playwithpovertyandyoucan’tbeoneofthem."
"Iknow,myfatheralwaystoldmethatmoneydoesn’tcountbut it’sthebrainbehindthemoney."
"Thatmeansyourfatherwasawiseman."
"Yes.Onlythathedidn’tuseittomakeenoughmoney."
"Butyoucan.Youcanbuyacarandreturntothoseyourvillagepeople,whonowcondemnyoubecauseofthatboycalled Samuel."
"Iknowthathesaidthosethingsmerelytoprovesomething, butwhenIdrivearoundthevillagewithmyLexus,thoseladies thattoldmetheymarryonlyrichmenwouldcome,andIwould laughatthem."
"Ithoughtyoudidn’tliketheideaofmarriage,exceptcohabitation."
"Theyarealmostalike,justthatIwouldlovetohavealadyinmy life."
"Howmuchareyouinvesting?"
"ThreehundredandfiftythousandNariaandhowmuchdoIget inthenextonemonth?"Patrickasked.
"FivehundredthousandNaria.Andifyouinvestthreehundred andfiftythousandNairainthenextthreemonthsyouwouldbegintoreceiveanalertofsixhundredthousandNaria."
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"ThetwaswhatIexpected,thatkindofmoneythatmakesone rich."
HecameclosertoAkajiaku,"IwanttosellallmygoodsandI haven’tpaidmyhouserent,promisemethatthisisgoingto work."
"Patrick."Akajiakuheldhisshoulderandsmiled,"youwouldregretthisdecision,trustme."
"YouarethebestfriendI’veevermet."A
kajiakuslappedhisrightshouldertwiceandwalkedawaywithout lookingback,whilePatrickstoodfeelingasthoughhewasachild whosemotherhadlefthimunderthecareofthemaid.
InOdengwe,theUgwuanyifamilywasknownasthe’virusof calamity’.Theirancestrallineagehadapeculiarityassociated withcowardiceandmediocrity.Patrick’sforefatherwassaidto haveboughtthewhiteman’sreligionandhadgonetoMission schoolinEnugumetropolis,beforebeingtransferredtoAbaasa clerkandthenpromotedasataxcollector.Whenhewenttocollecttaxfromthewomen,heandothercolleagueswereshocked atwhatthewomencoulddoandfledwhentheriotof1931began. HeranbacktoEnugubutthemissionaryandgovernmenthad abandonedhim,theyfeltthelossandsenthimaway.Hewentto Uliandlivedtherewithhisfamily.Buteverymorninghealways wokeupandwenttoviewthestreamfromahighhill.Oneday heseemeddifferentwhenhewokeup,hefeltcompelledtowalk tothestreamunderthebrightmoon.Hestoodtheregazingand feltahandpushhim.Aftermanydayswhenthevillagepriest’s daughtercametofetchwater,shesawhisbodyfloatingonthe bodyofwater.So,thepriesthadtopurgethecommunity.
Patrick’sGrandfather-Obiorah-wasquitepopularwhenhereturnedtoEnuguandownedaplantationinObollo-AforatNsukka. Thiswasalargedistrictofscatteredrocks.Everymorninghe walkedarounditunhappily.Hejustcouldn’tseethereasonhe hadtolaboursomuchinlifeinordertobebetterthanhisfather.Hefedfiftyfarmersandtheirfamilies,andonedaythe sonofoneofthefarmersburntalargepartoftheplantationout
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ofcarelessness.Henearlybeathimtodeath.Afterthat,some workersranawaywhileotherscomplainedofhismeannessand anger.Theysaidthathetendedtoboileasily.Onedayinanger, hebeatoneofhiswivestillshecouldn’twalkagain.
Onethingwasverycommonintheextendedfamily-death.His cousin’sbrotherdiedfrompoisontheverydaythathecelebrated hisson’soneyearbirthday.AndObiorah’sfirstsondiedfroma hunter’sbulletwhenhewenttoplaywithotherboysinthebush. Hissisterdiedwithherbabyinherwomb.Thenthecivilwar cameandwhentheNigerianvandalswerebeginningtopenetratetheEasternterritoryofdefunctBiafra,heandhisfamily fledtoAnambra,andso,theBiafranmilitarytookhimforforced conscription.Hewantedtofleebutfeltsurrounded.Without muchtraining,hewasgivenagunandtwobullets.Thenextday hewalkedtothebackyardandblastedhisjaw.
Patrick’sfather-Nnoromsurvivedtheterrorsomehowandbegantoreadlargelyathisownwill.Hehadthreesiblingsand thoughheinheritedtheplantationheabandoneditwhenhegot ascholarshiptoreadarchitectureAtUmuahiaTechnicalCollege whenhegraduated,leftforLagos,andgotajobatJJonescompany.AftertwoyearshefeltlonelyandtiredofLagos’scommotionandnoisylife,hereturnedtohisfather’splantationthathad rotted.Hewantedtofindhispurpose,bythenPatrickwasfive, andonedayhetookhimtohisgrandfather’sbrownwithered plantationandtoldhim’son,aseedwillalwaysdiebutknowledgewouldliveon.’
Heappliedforthepositionofprincipalatcomprehensivehigh schoolObolloandtheyrefusedtohirehimonthegroundhewas toogoodforthejob.Hewrotealettertotheminsistingthathe waswillingtoacceptanysalary,whiletheplantationstillstood brownwithreddustallover.Hetookthejobin1987,nearlyfifty years.Helovedthejobeventhoughtheywerealwaysattheedge ofpovertybeforeeachsalarycame,hepreferreditthatwaybecauseitwouldmakehischildrenwise.Hetoldhiswifethatbeingahousewifeinhishomewaslikelearningtobagadegree. Patrickfeltdisappointedwithhisfather’sphilosophywhenhe beganbeatinghimhysterically,especiallyhistwinsisters.The
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worstcameafterheforcedhissisterstomarryattheageofsixteen.Hebegantoarguewithhisfather,andmanytimeshedidn’t sleepathome.
Twelveyearsafterhereturnedandtenyearsaftertakingthe job,Nnoromwasspeakingtotheschoolchildrenandfellunconscious.HewasrushedtoStMary,ahundredmetersaway journeyfromtheschool,andwasdeclaredtobesufferingfrom abrainhemorrhage.Aftertwoweeksofmedication,hewrote totheeducationministryofEnugustate,explainingthathewas fullyfitandallthatthedoctorssaidwere’festeringlieswantingto griphissoultohell’.Hewasreinstatedbacktohisposition,and thoughhiswifepleadedwithhimnottobefoolish,heclaimed thathewaspossessedwiththe’spiritofdivinity.’
Somedayslateratwork,hissecretaryfoundhimlyingunconsciousinhisoffice;foraweekhewasinacomatillhediedwith awearysmile.BythenPatrickwasthroughwithhissecondary schooleducation.Hewokeuponemorningandtoldhismother thatthevillagewasnotmeantforhimandthathewasgoingto Lagostomakemoneyandnevertoreturn.Aweeklaterhegota letterfromhissistertellinghimtoreturnquicklyforhismother’s burial,buthenevercaredaboutanybodyonlyhimself.HeexpectedthathewasgoingtomakesomuchmoneyinLagos,but afterayearhestilllivedinanuncompletedbuilding.Andafter ayearoftradingattheladipomarket,heachievedsomething,at leasthehadashopandaself-containedapartment.
Heneverhadanywomaninhislife,havingdistancedhimself fromhissisters,hegrewuphatingthenotioncalledmarriage becausehefeltthatitwaswhatmadehisfathersfallpreytoan unsuccessfulambition.
AfteramonthandaweeklaterofinvestinginwhatAkajiaku called’becomerichwhileyousleep’,Patrickwalkedintothemarketandnoticedpeoplewhisperingincorners.Hesawmanylookingdejectedattheskyintears.Severalofthemrepeatedlyscreamed andputtheirhandsontheirheads.Hefeltintheairastench ofdejectionanddisillusionment.Heopenedhisshopdesperate tosellallhisgoodsafterhislandlordslappedhimtheprevious
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night.HehadbeencallingAkajiakubutheneveranswered.By middayeverywherewascalmandbusinesshadtakenitsusual break.Whileotherswentout,hetookhisNokia210,toplaya snakegame.
Bojoapproachedhim,hiseyesredandashshirtblack,likeone whohasfallenintotheblackengineoilinagutter,astone’sthrow fromhisshop.Hehadtribalmarksatthetwocornersofhis faceclosetotheeyeandhischeekboneshoweddeepsuffering. Patrickstooduptomeethimandheldhisshoulder.
"Whathappened?"Heasked,
"Don’tcrybeaman,youareinpublic.Alliswell."
"The’investandsleep’haverunawaywithallmymoney."
"Whataretryingtosay?"
"Hehasgone-hetookallourmoney."
"Who?DoyoumeanAkajiaku?""Didyoualsopayintohisinvest andwhatdidhesayitisagain?"
"No,mycaseisdifferent,"Patricksaid.
"Different,inwhichway?
Hehasdupedusall."
"No,itcan’tbepossible,youguysinvestedinsomeoneelse."Patrick saidtrembling,"IknowAkajiaku."
"Howmuchdidyouinvesttobecomerich,"Bojoasked.
"ThreehundredandeightythousandNaria."Patricklied.
"Jesus!Youareafool.Youwerebornstupid."
Patrickgazedaroundhimspeechlessly.Hewastryingtounderstandwhyhehadliedandwhatmannerofinformationthiswas.
"Othersgavehimeitherhundredthousandoronehundredand fiftythousandNairas,butyoufoolishlywenttogivehimthree hundredandeightythousandNaria.Whodoyouwanttoimpress?"
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Patrick’sheadseemedtobeswelling.Hiswasbodyhotandcold sweatsproutedfromhisforehead.HedidknowwhyBojowas angrywithhim.
"Please,I’mcomingletmegoandgetwater,"Patricksaid.
"Whereareyougoing,myfriend?WhenGodwasgivingother peoplebrainswherewereyou?Howcanyoubesofoolish?"Bojo shoutedafterhim.
Patrickkeptwalkingandwhenhegothimselfhewasinsidehis one-roomapartment,andthenherememberedhedidn’tlock hisshop.Hisheartwaspoundingashepacedabouthittingeach brownwallwhenhereacheditsend.Hishandsweretrembling hecouldn’tholdhimself,hescreamedandfellonthecoldcarpet floorandbegantocry.
HethoughtabouthowSamuelhadbetrayedhim,howhehad betrayedhismotherandsisters,andnowAkajiakubetrayedhim, howhislandlordhadinsultedhimthismorningbecauseofhis houserent,andthemorehethoughtaboutthemthemoretears rolleduntilhefellasleep.Hewokeandfeltcold,butdidn’tknow whyhewasn’ttired.Hetriedrecallingwhathadhappenedthe previousdayandhedidn’tfeeltheslightestworryoverhisproblems.Hewenttothetoiletandthepainaroundhisrectumand anuswasawful,butheresisteditasthoughitwasjustahotbreeze. Hedidn’tknowwhathewasdoingbutbegantopackhisclothing intoabagandwhenhewasthrough,heworeablackcap,stared atthemirror,andknewitwasn’thimbuthisfather’sdemonthat wasstaringbackathimfromthemirror.
Hethoughtabouthowhewasgoingtoliveifheevacuatedthe apartmentandherememberedtheempty,plantationinthevillage,buthehadn’tspokentohissistersforsixyearsnow.He openedthedoorlookedbackandsawhissufferingandconfusionandsmiledatthemwithawavinghand,thenhewalkedout, leavingthedooroftheroomopen.
Hewenttothebackofthehouseandstoleagallonoffuel.He lookedupandinstinctivelyknewitwasmidnight,becauseagrave quietbreezeblewaroundhim.Hewalkedunderthemoonlight
30
andblacksky.Hedidn’tknowwhathewanted,butadmittedly hefeltlikebeingfreeandwasbentonbecomingfullyfree.He walkedahundredmeterstoLadipomarket.Whenhegotthere hesawsecuritymenatthegate.Hecorneredlefttoasmallstreet byitsside,noticedafewpeoplestrollingaround,anddecidedto jumpafencetogetintothemarketwhentheywerenotwatching. Hewalkedtohisshopandhefounditclosedbutnotlocked.He openeditandlookedaroundthegoodsandrememberedwhat Bojosaidtohimyesterday.
Hefelthewasafullygrownstupidman.Butthesethoughts didn’tdepresshim.Insteadhefeltbuoyant.Hewasregenerated. HefeltverydifferentfromthePatrickthatlastcametotheshop. Carefully,hebegantopourthefuelaroundhisshop.Thenhe setitonfire.Astheshopbegantoburn,thefirespreadfastto othershops.Then,analarmbegantobeep.Althoughhedidn’t wanttorun,buthefoundhimselfrunningawaywithacertain glee.Heracedtothefencewallclimbeditandsattherelooking atthewholefierysight.Thenhesaidhappily:"I’mborn-again, nolongeraslave."
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