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The Choice of Freedom

Bisola looked at her husband of thirteen years with confusion clearly written on her face. “Was he serious about what he just said?” She thought. “Where had she missed it?” “Was this a result of something going on that she had been blind to?” So many questions that begged for answers.

Ikechukwu walked out of the house and slammed the door behind him. Bisola looked on unable to stop him. Her husband’s statements had torn her and she wondered what she was supposed to do.

******

Ten years ago, Ikechukwu and Bisola had a registry wedding followed by a small reception for close family and friends. It was an agreement between both of them to cut out the unnecessary expenses associated with large weddings and save for their future and that of their kids. They had both prevailed on both families to agree to their decision. It had been difficult for Ikechukwu’s family to accept as he was the first son of the family but he had been adamant. His family insinuated that Bisola was the one manipulating  him do a small wedding. He however explained to them that Bisola’s father also wanted a large wedding but after consultations, her father had agreed to what he proposed. He therefore, told them if his proposed father-in-law could agree; they had no choice but to consent as well.

Ikechukwu worked as a top executive in a commercial bank while Bisola was a sales executive in a pharmaceutical company. In four years, Bisola gave birth to three boys in quick succession. Ikechukwu asked her to take a break from work so that she could give their kids undivided attention. He said he did not like the idea of maids taking care of his kids. Bisola agreed and resigned her job to take care of the home.

However, Bisola knew that she couldn’t sit at home and do nothing while tending to her kids. She therefore, wrote professional exams and acquired entrepreneurial skills. She started bead-making from the money she had saved over time and soon, she became sought after by all and sundry because of her penchant for durable products.

 

Everything was going well for the family of five until last year when Ikechukwu lost his job at the bank as a result of a mass restructuring programme. Ikechukwu became depressed. Bisola tried to cheer her husband up by asking him to invest their joint savings in a business. Bisola advised that they invest in a poultry business which would bring steady income but Ikechukwu wanted more. He couldn’t wait for a gradual increase in their profits. This caused a friction between them as Bisola was skeptical about the business he wanted to invest in.

 

After many weeks of friction in their marriage, Bisola agreed reluctantly and signed the cheque authorizing Ikechukwu to withdraw eighty percent of their savings. In four weeks, Ikechukwu realized he had been scammed and their whole savings of about ten years went down the drain. Bisola was devastated. Their last son had just gained admission into the secondary school. Their upkeep at home had been solely from her bead-making business which had expanded over time.

 

Just when everything seemed to be going downhill, Bisola received a call from an old friend. Her friend told her that a marketing manager was needed in her organization. The company was a pharmaceutical company of repute and she asked Bisola to forward her CV to her. Bisola immediately brushed up her CV and sent it to her friend by email. She hoped and prayed for the much needed break.

Two weeks later, Bisola was invited for an interview and in a month, she received a letter of appointment with a decent salary and an official car. She got home to share the good news with her husband. She had intimated him about the call and had carried him along but she noticed he had been indifferent.

 

Bisola looked at the letter of appointment opened on her laptop. Ikechukwu couldn’t be serious about her having to choose between the job and him. She had listened to him when he asked her to resign her job years ago to take care of the kids. The kids were in boarding house and the last one was going to join them in September. “Why was he being selfish?” She thought. She understood that his inability to provide for them like he used to was depressing for him but now that she had an opportunity to assist financially, why was he giving her an option of choosing between him and a job.

Bisola put her hand on her head as she contemplated on what to do. No, she wasn’t going to reject the offer. She would plead with her husband when he returned to listen to the voice of reason. She prayed in her heart that his ego would not stand in the way.

——

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

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Behind the wheels

I love to drive (well, when the roads are free and not pothole ridden). Anytime someone drives in a way that lacks decorum and I hear “na woman” or “na only woman go drive like that”; I always feel slighted. I am like “what do you mean?” “Is it only women that drive that way?” When we eventually sight the driver and it happens to be a man, I usually feel vindicated.

However, in the last few weeks, I have had course to see a number of women drive without decorum. Women refusing to let others pass through even when they can see that the road they intend to navigate is blocked. In one instance, a woman parked her car right in the middle of the street and left it to only God knows where. Drivers going in and out of the street could not do so and a number of them cursed and even attempted to deflate her tyres.

The men also have their fair share of lack of decorum while driving as this attitude is not restricted to the women alone. For men, it is more of an “ego” thing. Most feel that if they let the other driver have his way, they would be seen as “not man enough”. Therefore, you see handsome men behind the steering struggling with themselves or with a danfo driver. Most times, such situations result in a “you don hit my car” later on; which could have been avoided by a “let my people go” attitude.

One thing I have however noticed is that staff bus drivers (mostly men) have this unspoken brotherly code even when they have never met each other.  I am yet to see a staff bus driver struggling with another staff bus driver over right of way. Sometimes, you see a driver “flash” another staff bus driver to take a position ahead of him.

It cannot be that the staff bus drivers are scared of losing their jobs. I would expect that to also apply to drivers of private vehicles as well. But these private drivers are also known to drive recklessly especially when their bosses are not in the car to caution them.

So what makes the difference? Why are most staff bus drivers sane behind the wheels? Why do most men and women who drive do so aggressively as if there is a contest on the road?

I really do wonder.

——

Photo Credit: http://www.allowme.ng

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Forest living

I attended a secondary school that was surrounded by thick forests on three sides with no fences. The fourth side which was the school gate had farmlands opposite the school . The school was a natural habitat for rats, snakes (mambas and pythons), scorpions, beetles, crickets, millipedes, centipedes, soldier ants and termites.

I remember the day I was almost bitten by a scorpion. I was walking towards the back of the hostel after dinner with my friends to go shot-put. It was dark and I was carrying a lantern with me. As we were gisting and heading towards our mission, for some strange reason, I decided to take a step back. I turned the lantern towards the ground and right in front of me, where I was just about to place my feet was a scorpion with its sting facing up. I was terrified.

A black snake also fell on my shoulder in another incident. I even remember a student doing his morning duty of sweeping the administrative block when he felt a huge stone fall on his head. He assumed a friend was playing pranks and looked up but saw no one. Another look at the ground revealed that a snake had been the culprit.

A room mate packed her clothes which she had dried on the grass outside the hostel and carried a snake with the clothes. If I ever had any intention of drying my clothes on the grass; which I never did because of beetles and crickets, the incident that evening in my room ended such thought.

A senior boy once killed a large python and carried it on his shoulders like it was an award. A green snake which I assumed was a mamba slithered out of the field right in front of my friends and I when we were going for an afternoon prep.

Rats had a party running around in my hostel and also eating students feet. This happened mostly to students who went to bed with dirty feet. Students took joy in killing them but they gave the rodents a slow and tortuous death. The rats were caught and their tails were burnt in a lantern. Next, students put their whiskers into the lantern. It was funny hearing the cries of a rat. Trust me, their cries warned all other rats to stay away and for the next few weeks, we saw no rats in the hostel.

At night, after lights out, we often heard the cries of foxes in the forest. Their barks and cries were so loud on some days that we almost felt like they were right behind our room.

Different students had encounters with soldier ants and termites as they walked into their long armies. I learnt early to always look on the ground while walking to avoid becoming a victim.

A classmate had a weird liking for millipedes and she picked them up every time she saw one and caressed them like a baby……ewwww.

I look back today and I still wonder; how did we survive living in the midst of all these?

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

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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

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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

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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

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Buy Market

Various food stuff lined the narrow street on the left and on the right. Starting from the beginning of the street to the end, wares were displayed barely leaving enough room for a car to drive through. The taxi driver maneuvered through the market struggling not to hit any wares. A few times, he honked for either a buyer or a seller who stood brazenly on the road ignoring the oncoming vehicle. Some insulted the driver while some simply ignored until the car was beside them before shifting their bodies a bit for the car to pass by.

All of a sudden, screams rent the air and everyone looked in the direction of the noise. A loose cow ran towards the market and a few women rushed to grab their wares off the road. The other women whose goods could not be easily grabbed in a jiffy and the shoppers ran helter skelter. The whole market was in chaos. Two young boys came running after the cow in a bid to tame it. They eventually did and got it under control.

By the time the commotion died down, tomatoes had been trampled on, garri basins had been upturned, ugwu and ewedu leaves had become mixed with mud. The women came out of their hiding places cursing the cow and its handlers.

The taxi driver who had parked when he heard the commotion looked at the women and laughed. “So you fit run when you see malu but if na car, you go dey do yanga.”

The women looked at the driver and started raining curses on him but the man drove off laughing.

——

Photo Credit: http://www.jujufilms.tv

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Blood on his hands

Ikenna ran after his elder brother and pulled the trigger. “Pa pa pa.” He shouted as he pumped the bullets into him.

Blood gushed out as the bullets hit Chidi in the head. Chidi slumped and the sight of blood shocked Ikenna.
He looked at the pistol in his hand and immediately flung it away. Even though he had seen blood gush out in the movies, he hadn’t expected to see the same happen right before him.

They had played this same game many times and blood had never gushed out of his elder brother. The gun they had played with was exactly the same as the one he held a moment ago but it had never caused a flow of blood.

Confused at what was going on, he began to cry. “Mummy, mummy.” He screamed.

******

Adaeze was jolted out of her sleep. She had taken a brief afternoon nap and had just had a bad dream. For some reasons, she felt something was amiss. She had no idea what it was but she knew she needed to get up and attend to her sons. She was heavily pregnant for her third child and the scan had shown that she was carrying a girl. She was happy as she had decided that after this, she was done with child bearing.

The birth of her sons; Ikenna and Chidi who were four and six respectively had been traumatizing for her. She had both of them through a caesarean operation and the doctor had advised her after the birth of Ikenna to give child bearing a wide berth. When she confided in the doctor that she wanted to have one more child and try for a girl, the doctor had wondered why. But she had been adamant and told the doctor; just one last time.

Her son’s scream echoed round the house and she immediately jumped up and ran up the stairs to see what was going on. As she entered into the room, the sight before her made her knees buckle and she went down.

“Mummy.” Ikenna ran to meet his mother and fell into her arms.

Adaeze looked at her younger son and burst into tears. She crawled to where Chidi lay in a pool of blood and pulled him close. She gave a cry of anguish as she hugged her son who lay still in her arms.

How many times had she warned Nnanna about keeping a loaded gun in his room? How many times had she pleaded with him to get rid of the gun? How many times had she told him to get a safe and lock up the deadly weapon if he had to keep it in his room? How many times? How many times?

As she cried out and held her first son’s still body, the only thing on her mind was hurt, regret and sorrow.

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

 

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Shine your eyes!

The popular market was busy. Passersby, buyers and sellers all struggled to walk past or have business transactions on the already crowded street. People and vehicles jostled for space as cars honked to get their attention. The sun beat hard and various bodies glistened with sweat. A conductor hung precariously on a yellow J5 bus as he shouted his destination at the top of his croaky voice. Passengers shoved each other to get into the bus.

“Na five five oh. Madam, dress. I say na five five.” The conductor shouted at a woman in the bus.

Within a few minutes, the bus was filled and the conductor tapped the roof of the bus to signal to the driver that they were ready to move.

A woman who was seated by the window at the back seat of the bus called a pure water vendor. She collected a satchet from the young boy and paid for it. As she bit the bag with her teeth to tear open a small portion, she dipped her head out of the bus and started to wash her face with the water. I was seated next to the woman and I noticed that as she put her head back into the bus, there was an expression of surprise and regret on the face of the bus conductor.

A hand appeared from outside and was on the woman’s neck. The woman held on to the gold chain on her neck but the guy who later showed his face was faster. As he pulled the gold chain, the man who sat beside me stretched his hand over me and tried to stop the thief. His outstretched hand came face to face with a shining metal and he withdrew his hand immediately. He did not want to get stabbed. Everything happened in the twinkling of an eye.

As the bus moved forward, the conductor said to the woman. “Madam, shine your eyes oh. You no dey do that kain thing for inside market. If you wear gold, you go comot am once you enter market.”

The man scolded the conductor. “Didn’t you see him when he was coming? You no fit tell her?”

“Oga, she don put her head outside already nau and dem don see the chain. If I talk, dem go know say na me tell her.

As the journey proceeded, the woman mourned the loss of her chain. While some passengers sympathized with her, others began to tell various incidents of robbery in the market.

——

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The Baby Thief

It was a Vigil and the pastor asked everyone to stand up and pray. While some closed their eyes for full attention on their heart desires and to avoid distractions; some prayed with their eyes open. The prayers were going on for a few minutes when suddenly noise emanated from outside the church auditorium. Many who had their eyes closed opened their eyes to find out the source of the distraction.

A woman was carrying a baby, who was about six months old. The baby was sleeping peacefully, unaware of the commotion around her. A young girl who would probably pass for an eight year old was standing beside the woman. Another woman, clearly agitated held on to the woman carrying the baby. She was screaming at the top of her voice as she refused to let the woman go.

“Give me my baby.” She cried.

Her screams attracted stares from the congregation who sat at the far end of the hall and the church security operatives swung into action. Prayers were still ongoing; so they moved both women, the young girl and the baby away from the prying eyes of the congregation.

“Give me my baby. She’s a thief.” The woman kept shouting at the top of her voice as she attracted more stares.

“Madam, is this your child?” The security operatives asked the woman carrying the baby.

“No, she is not. I saw this girl carrying her and I was wondering where she was taking the baby to; so I accosted her and collected the baby from her. I was going to meet the security when this woman started calling me a thief.”

“It is a lie.” The second woman shouted as tears rolled down her cheeks. “I put my baby on the floor beside me while I was praying. By the time I opened my eyes, my baby was no longer there. I searched everywhere to know maybe she woke up and crawled away. It was when I looked outside the hall that I saw this woman with my baby. She stole my baby.”

“I did not steal your baby.” The first woman said.

The security operatives looked from one woman to the other; unsure of the true situation of things. “Do you know this girl?” One of the men asked the second woman.

“No, I don’t know her. I have never seen her before.”

The security operatives turned to the first woman. “We are just outside the auditorium. Which other security operatives were you going to meet?” They asked her.

While they questioned her, one of the security operatives took the young girl aside to interrogate her. He knew that if she worked with the woman, she would probably refuse to say anything while the woman was beside her.

 

A few minutes later, the mother walked into the church auditorium holding tightly to her baby. She knelt down; her baby on her left shoulder and her right hand lifted up in thanksgiving. Members of the congregation who had witnessed a bit of the drama tried to stretch their necks to see how the security operatives would handle the woman and the young girl; but they had been taken away from prying eyes.

The incident gave the biblical injunction “Watch and Pray” another meaning.

——-

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