Monthly Archives: April 2018

Pregnant Imaginations

The pregnant lady sitting in the swivel chair at the salon section shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

The manicurist attending to my nails looked at her. “Aunty, you want water?”

“No, thank you.” The lady replied.

“Are you okay?” The manicurist asked; concern written on her face.

The pregnant lady smiled and shifted again; probably trying to find a comfortable position. “Yes, I am fine. Thank you.”

I looked at the pregnant lady and weird ideas for a story just flew into my head. I grinned as my imagination went on overdrive.

I imagined the lady drove to the salon herself.

I imagined this being her first pregnancy and being a little anxious and naive.

I imagined her water breaking while she sat there and going into panic mode immediately.

I imagined me telling her to calm down while I asked for her car keys.

I imagined the whole salon suddenly going abuzz with the salon attendants running helter-skelter wondering what to do and how to help.

I imagined the lady puffing and panting as tears streamed down her cheeks.

I imagined myself driving with crazy speed to the hospital where she was registered (after getting the information from her).

I imagined one of the salon attendants calling her husband through her phone and explaining the situation to him.

I imagined us (myself and one of the salon attendants) waiting patiently in the hospital (after she had been taken into the labour ward) till the arrival of her husband.

I imagined her husband arriving at the hospital with worry lines deeply etched on his forehead.

I imagined her husband calling me hours later that his wife had been delivered of a baby.

I smiled and shook my head as my mind ran different thoughts.

I guess this is one of the reasons I call my mind a creative machine 😄

——

Photo Credit: http://www.pinterest.com

Sidi’s first dance

Late post….Apologies.  Wordpress issues still unresolved.

******
The honk of a taxi blared outside their room. “It’s time.” Rukayat clapped like an excited child. They walked out of their room and waved to the taxi driver who nodded to acknowledge them. Rukayat walked briskly to the waiting taxi while Sidikat took one step at a time. “C’mon Rukkie, wait for me.” She said to her friend. Ruka walked back and held her friend by the hand.

They arrived the venue of the party in about forty-five minutes. Music was already blasting from speakers stationed on the porch. Rukayat looked at her friend and both of them shared a smile. Four guys in their class were standing outside; each holding a glass of wine. “Oh my goodness, Musari is here already.” Sidi said feeling giddy.

Ruka paid the taxi driver and eased out of the car carefully. Musari noticed her and smiled. As Sidi eased out of the car, Musari saw her. Sidi raised her head high and flicked her hair. She locked eyes with Musari as she smiled at him. The air was cool and a light breeze blew her flowing gown. Sidi loved the way her dress danced to the tune of the wind until she stepped on it mistakenly. Before she knew it, she hit the ground as Musari and his friends rushed to help her up.

As they tried to, she realized she had twisted her ankle and she screamed as pain shot through her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she bit her lip.

“Sorry.” Ruka said as she turned round to attend to her friend. She removed her friend’s shoes from her feet. “Should we take you to a hospital? It looks like your ankle has been sprained.”

Sidi nodded unable to utter a word.

********

Two hours earlier

Sidikat put her feet carefully into the shoes and stood up to take a step. She wobbled a bit but regained her composure. “Are you sure you can walk in those heels?” Rukayat asked her.

“Of course, what do you mean? I’m a chic.” Sidi replied.

“Okay oh. If you say so.”

They got dressed with excitement. They had less than thirty minutes before the taxi they booked was due to arrive. They had refused to attend their last lecture in school which was slated for 5.30pm. They wanted to get back to the hostel early enough to freshen up for the night party.

Considering the distance from school to the venue, they decided to book a taxi for 7.00pm. Ten minutes after the scheduled pick up time, the taxi’s timer would start to surcharge them. It was their first party outside campus and they were both thrilled and anxious. They were both 100 level students of the Law department.

Rukayat had chosen a red floor length straight dress and wore a pair of kitten heels black pumps. She told Sidikat that since it was an all-night party, she wanted to be comfortable. Sidi, however had chosen a black flowing dress with a red 6 inch stiletto sandals.

She catwalked to and fro the room trying to maintain her balance.

******

The doctor examined Sidi’s ankle and put an ice pack on it. He bound her ankle in a stirrup splint and asked her to stay off heels for the next three months.

Sidi looked at her friend with tears in her eyes. “I should have listened to you. I was really looking forward to dancing with Musari. I guess that won’t happen any longer.”

Ruka gave her friend a sad smile. “It may happen sometime later.”

“Yeah, sometime later.” She sighed regretfully.

——

Photo Credit: http://www.dhgate.com

Tears, Blood and Death – Part 2

He closed his eyes as tears streamed down his cheeks. It seemed like it had happened just a day ago as the memories came flooding back.

The face he saw yesterday had been so familiar. He had juggled his memory since he met him. As he stood inside the ruins of the old house, it all came back to him. He recognized the face that had haunted him the past twenty-one years. It wasn’t a dream. It was the face that had been etched in his memory. A face he wished he had forgotten. A face he wished he never met again.

********

He had brought his car to his workshop for repairs. The man had mentioned that he had been referred by other people who had been impressed with his job.

He was unable to sleep last night. He tossed and turned as he kept thinking about the face that had come to his workshop in the morning. He eventually dozed off in the early hours of the morning and had a fitful sleep. He woke up at 5a.m and said his prayers. He had a quick bath and instead of setting out to work, he took a trip to father’s house. His mind raced back to the last time he was there.

********

After the men left, he burst into fresh tears as he banged on the door of the toilet. There was eerie silence. He continued to bang on the door until he heard mother’s whisper. She was calling him. He put his ears close to the door to listen. She called him again and he said a silent thank you to God. She was alive.

Mother dragged herself on the floor to the toilet door.

“Màámi.” (My mother). He called when he noticed movements outside the toilet door.

“Ökö mi.” (My husband). She cried.

“Màámi, open the door.”

“The key is not on the door.” She replied.

“Check daddy’s pocket.”

He heard mother grunting as she dragged herself to where her husband lay still. He heard her burst into fresh tears and his heart broke. He wanted to know what was happening outside the darkened toilet.

Mother opened the door of the toilet and he took a while for his eyes to adjust to the bright light. He had no idea how long he had been locked in. When his eyes became accustomed to the environment, he saw mother on the floor. She was bleeding from her leg. He immediately removed his tee-shirt and tied it around her leg. He had seen it done so many times in movies when people were shot.

He got a pillow from the couch and placed it under mother’s head. He then walked over to grandma. There was a bullet hole in her head. He shivered as his lips trembled. He walked over to father. He was bleeding from the neck.

He ran outside the house and went to the neighbour’s house. He banged on the gate continuously until someone came out shouting. “Who is banging my gate like that at this time of the night?”

“It is me, sir.” He said crying. “Please help me sir.”

The man had been their neighbour in the last two years but kept to himself most of the time. He worked in the bank; leaving home very early and arriving very late at night. He lived alone.

“What is wrong? Why are you crying?” The man asked as he got to the gate.

“Please help my mother. Please help me.”

“Your mother?” The man asked.

He dragged the man by the hand towards his house.

********

Mother was rushed to the hospital. The doctors battled to save her life. Father’s brothers came to the hospital and accused mother of killing their brother and their mother. They asked why she wasn’t also killed. According to them, it meant she planned the attack. Mother became miserable as she cried every day and hoped for death. He became a wretched child as none of father’s family was ready to have anything to do with him. He was labelled the son of a witch and a murderer.

Three weeks later, mother died. She told him she had no reason to live any more. He begged her to stay with him but she said her spirit had left her. She felt betrayed that father’s brothers could think the worst of her. She said life had lost meaning to her. He sat by her side all through the night pleading with her but she died in her sleep.

Mother’s younger sister decided to take him in but she had four kids of her own and was just a petty trader. Her husband was a mechanic and he told him that he could not afford to send him to school. He asked him to join him in his workshop and start learning the trade so that he could make money on time to fend for himself.

“You need to grow up.” His uncle had told him. “There is no time for spoon feeding.”

He took his uncle’s advice and became diligent in his work.

********

He walked out of father’s house and drove back to his workshop. He wanted to know this man. He arrived at his workshop at 10:30am. The man was already waiting for him. Even though, he had aged, the features he saw that night were too evident for him to ignore. The man chatted with him as he got to work.

“Sir, did you ever live around Festac?” He asked him as he got his scanner to diagnose the car.

“Yes, I did but that was in the 90s. My son even attended a primary school there before we moved out of the area.”

“Oh right. What is your son’s name?”

“Adeleke Adegbami….”

That was all he heard as his hand stopped moving. He kept looking at the screen of the scanner but he no longer saw the prints on the screen. He saw his best friend’s face smiling at him as they sat down together.

“My daddy is coming tomorrow.”

Will you bring something for me?”

“Of course. You are my best friend. My daddy will bring goodies from abroad.”

The old man kept talking…. “He is in the states now. He is doing very well with a wife and two kids”….. but he no longer heard him. His mind was faraway locked up in the darkened toilet in father’s house.

He got his slide and rolled under the car. He opened the brake valves and began to flush it.

He rolled out. “Your car is okay now, sir.” He said.

“Thank you, my son.” The man said as he paid for his services and entered into his vehicle.

——-

The End

Photo Credit: http://www.shutterstock.com

Tears, Blood and Death – Part 1

He stood before the ruins of the old house. The house was a complete shadow of itself. It was a white duplex but the paint on the outside had totally peeled off. He pushed back the low gate and walked in. The compound had become overgrown with weeds and a big rat scurried away as he stepped forward. He looked up at the louvres on the right and his mind raced back to when he sat on the railings of the balcony turning it into a swing. This action always got him a scolding from mother.

The door was broken down. He walked into the house. The interior looked like a hurricane had happened in there. The cream leather settee that always sat on the right of the living room was no longer there. A cool breeze blew into the room and he began to hear the sound of the wooden rocking chair. He smiled in spite of the situation. He closed his eyes and saw grandma seated on the chair. As it rocked gently, she knitted and hummed a song. She looked up at him and smiled.

“Come here darling.” She said as she patted her laps.

He walked forward and stood before the rocking chair. She would lift him up as she dropped the knitting accessories on the side stool beside her on the right. He looked there and noticed the stool had been upturned. He bent down to lift it up. He placed his hands on it gingerly as if it was an egg that could break. He closed his eyes and a tear slid down his cheeks. The stool was grandma’s favourite.

He heard the sound of clinking glasses and looked towards the kitchen to the left of the living room. As he walked down, he passed by a blue teddy bear lying on the floor. It had become dirty and the colour was hardly recognizable. It looked more brown than blue. It had been his tenth birthday gift from father. He held the teddy bear by the hand and headed towards the kitchen.

“Food is ready.” Mother sang as she held his two hands and danced to an imaginary tune. It had become her signature. “Get seated.” She would say and he would run to set the table ready. Grandma always said the prayers at dinner.

********

“My daddy is coming back tomorrow.” He told his best friend. They were both ten and sat together in class. They were in Primary five.

“Will you bring something for me?” His friend asked.

“Of course. You are my best friend. My daddy will bring goodies from abroad.”

********

Mother was restless as she jumped every time she heard the sound of a car. She had asked him to go to bed as there was school the next day but he refused. He wanted to see father before going to bed. They heard the honk of a car and mother ran to open the curtains. Light from the headlamps reflected into the living room and mother began to dance. Her husband had arrived home from Spain.

Grandma dropped her knitting pins and lifted her glasses from the rope around her neck. She placed the glasses gingerly on her nose as she awaited her son.

Father paid off the taxi driver that brought him home and trudged in as he rolled his travel luggages. Mother ran to give father a hug and a kiss.

“Káàbò, olówó orí mi.” (Welcome, my crown).

“O sé. Sé àláfíà ni gbogbo yín wà?” (Thank you. Are you all well?)

“Adúpé l’ówó Ölórun.” (We thank God).

Father prostrated to greet grandma as he came in and she began to pray for him. After grandma’s long prayers, father hugged him and asked him why he was still awake.

“Don’t mind him. He refused to go to bed because he was waiting for you.” Mother said as she laughed heartily.

They heard the sound of a car parking outside.

“You should go to bed now.” Father told him.

“I want to see what you bought for me.” He told father.

He had promised to bring something to school for his friend and he wanted to fulfill his promise.

The gates outside opened slowly and father looked towards the door. He looked at mother and grandma. “Are you expecting anyone?” He asked.

They both shook their heads.

All of a sudden, the front door was kicked with so much force that it broke into splinters.

Father’s movement was very swift that he hardly understood what had happened until he saw himself in the toilet and he heard the door lock behind him. He knelt down by the door and peeped through the key hole. What was going on?

“Where is the money?” A male voice asked.

“Which money?” Father responded.

“Give me the money before I blow off your head.”

Father looked at mother and grandma with a hard stare. They were the only people who were aware that he was coming home. He had never seen father look at them that way and he wondered what mother and grandma could have done wrong.

“Please my son, don’t do this. He doesn’t have any money.” Grandma pleaded.

“Shut up mama. Tell your son to bring the money he brought back.”

He strained his eyes through the key hole to see what was going on. Grandma looked at father with tears in her eyes. “Which money is he asking for?”

He noticed there was another man in the room. The man pointed the gun at grandma and pulled the trigger. The shot was silent. Grandma fell back like a sack of potatoes hitting her head on the stool. He heard mother’s scream and saw father struggle with the man who had pulled the trigger. He heard three more muffled shots and then silence.

Tears streamed down his cheeks as he peeped through the key hole. He touched his lower body. It was wet. It dawned on him that he had peed on himself.

“Why did you kill them?” The first man shouted at his partner.

“Can’t you see that he wasn’t co-operating and he was even trying to collect my gun?” The man replied as he pulled off the black mask on his face.

“Just carry the boxes and let’s get out of here fast. This was not the plan.”

As the men walked out of the house with the same travel luggages that father had brought in some minutes ago, a black car reversed from the beginning of the street to the front of the house. As the car got to the men, the boot had already been opened. They dumped the luggages into the boot and and the car sped away with lightning speed leaving sorrow, tears and blood behind.

….To be continued

Photo Credit: http://www.shutterstock.com

Security JD

The Pastor stopped the choir and said; “Why are you doing Jerusalem Jericho dance?” He asked as he shuffled his feet from left to right. “If you are glad that the resurrection of your Lord and Saviour has given you victory, then give him a shout and dance like David danced.” The congregation lifted up their voices to heaven and the pastor raised a song for the choir. Everyone in church began to shake their bodies as they danced. Some lifted up their hands as they praised God while some threw their hands and legs in different directions.

While this was happening, I noticed the security team members standing still. They were watching us as we all danced; and I began to wonder. I definitely cannot be a member of the security team in church, because once I hear music especially high praises, I go forget say my job description na to look.

Secondly, I wonder how they are all able to keep straight faces even when the pastor says something funny. It’s almost as if they have been coached not to laugh. Me, I go don laugh forget say I be security.

Thirdly, I wonder if a criteria for joining the team is that your face must always dey strong. For some reasons yet unknown, their faces all seem to be hard. Or shey na me never see the one wey get soft face?

To all the security team in all churches doing a fantastic job out there, I doff my hat and say thank you and well done. The job sure seems thankless.

——
Photo Credit: http://www.shutterstock.com