“Ahan? Maami, that’s not entirely true, a roaring lion kills no game.” Ali protested, while his mother fried groundnuts; she sat on a small stool. He held in his right hand an A4 paper, and printed on it boldly was the crest and name of a school. He had gained admission to study Chemical Engineering.
“Obafemi Awolowo University is one of the best schools in Africa offering this course,” Ali said, “Besides, you are aware of my sentiments for that school and its rich heritage and history. You should be proud Maami, very proud.” he teased his mother. Ali stood tall and glowed with pride.
He was only nineteen and had finally been given the chance to study his desired course --his ‘dream course’ as he always put it-- in the most coveted university in Africa. He had an IQ of 149 which oftentimes made him solve mathematics and chemistry in his dreams, and whenever he woke up without completing it, he immediately got himself a pen and sheet of paper, and continues till he got the final answer.
He’d written UTME on three different occasions, and had been admitted on all three; however, he wasn’t given his dream course until his third attempt. The first, he was admitted to study Medicine and Surgery; his second, Computer Science; he declined both admissions.
Obafemi Awolowo University
Chemical Engineering
Their Papa!
He was on top of the world. “I best them!” he said to himself countlessly. His mother indeed was very proud; he was her pride, her morning star.
Since she lost her husband to cancer (how Baba Ali got cancer was still a mystery, because cancer is believed to be a wealthy man’s illness), she had grown an inexplicable fondness and extreme love for her children - the eldest being Ali, and his two siblings, Aishat and Gbenga- and the feeling was mutual.
Aishat, now in senior secondary school 3, was fast causing stares amongst boys in the neighborhood; but none dared ask her out because of her brother. He was fiercely protective; a ferocious tiger that could be dedicated to a goal even if it was to kill. Gbenga on the other hand was in junior secondary school 2, and all he could do was eat, sleep and talk to animals, insects and birds.
At age six, he once climbed an electric pole all in an attempt to talk to a bird that appeared to have a few detached feathers. He was however disappointed because as soon as he got hold of the electric wire, the disturbed bird jets to the sky.
People shrieked in horror when they finally noticed a little being up there on the pole, and before one could say “Goodluck Jonathan” the land was covered with people. The boy’s saving grace was the fact that there hadn’t been power supply for four years; so the pole to little Gbenga was a bigger drier than that at his backyard. Mama Ali’s eyes were bloodshot and tears were beginning to blur her vision as she stared at her last born in utter disbelief.
Later that night when she recounted the ordeal to Baba Ali, he almost died of laughter. He watched his sleeping son and said, “Definitely we have a NEPA official in our family already,” then he laughed some more. Of course Mama Ali didn’t find it anywhere near hilarious.
“What in the world are you saying?” she argued furiously with her husband before leaving for bed.
That night Baba Ali served himself dinner, and pleaded all night long as he tried to get friendly when something hard hit him. However, there would be no forgiveness on this day –heaven’s gate was shut.
Gbenga nevertheless, would boast of his solo feat of being the only child in the neighborhood to have ever climbed an electric pole without a ladder, although never did he try it again.
“Congratulations my son,” Mama Ali finally said to her son, “I’m sure God will surprise us.”
“Thank you Maami, Iyanu ma shele,” Ali said.
“Sugarcane is sweetest at its joint. Very soon, we’ll leave this slum. I’ll buy a mansion for you on the island once I start working with Chevron,” he paused and continued, “And when I become the petroleum minister, Maami! You will enjoy ooo!” His mother could only smile as she put both her hands forward as though to receive a gift and muttered softly “Amin,” she rubbed her hands on her face and placed it on her chest. This was a sign in acknowledgement of her son’s wishes, whilst she carried it to a supreme being.
Then she said, “You must go to Ogba and tell your uncle about it,” she had finished frying the groundnuts and began to pull out the firewood; Ali instinctively took a bowl of water and sprinkled it on the red hot firewood. The conviviality between smoke and ash produced a hissing sound that settled on everything close.
“You know I can’t afford to send you to the university, and this factory work you are doing cannot pay for your education either,” she paused and studied her son, he was growing faster than she’d anticipated, “Besides you will have to resign and the stipends will stop coming in.” Ali nodded in agreement, “Yes I will see him on Sunday. I am off duty on Sunday.” He said. “By the way where is Gbenga?” he suddenly asked his mother, “I told him to bring the bottles I washed earlier this morning at the backyard. That boy, will he ever be able to carry out petty chores?” he beleaguered, “Gbenga!” he shouted and folds his admission letter into his brown leather side bag. He now sat with his mother as they both separated the skin from the nuts.
“G b e n g a!” he cried yet again,
“Yeeeeeeeesss! I am coming ooo!” Gbenga cried from a distance, he carried a big bowl filled with clean empty bottles of dry gin -chelsea, seaman, squadron- on his head.
“You no dey hear word once. Since wey Ali don dey call you! Nonsense boy.” A short, fat woman blessed with zebra-like stretchmarks and discolouration due to bleaching bursts open her door and caught Gbenga just in time as he walked past, she held a small covered bowl. It stunk and Gbenga instantly knew what was in the bowl. He could only wrinkle his nose and quicken his steps.
She has been caught defecating in her room again for the umpteenth time. Mama Bornboy never listens to anybody, not even the landlord could coax her to use the toilet. “I cannot go and carry ‘goloreah’ (gonorrhea) or ‘stafilokocos’ (staphylococcus) from that dirty toilet abeg,” she dared to say to anybody that cared to listen. She was the only tenant capable of engaging the landlord in series of heated arguments and fights -other tenants referred to her as the landlady.
“Can you imagine ehn? Ai fini peni, ai fiyan peyan lo mu ara oko san bante wo lu; meaning, it is the lack of decency that makes a bush girl ro attire into the town; what nonsense! Ehn?! It is your husband that will give you gonorrhea o, not my toilet. Besides when it’s your turn to wash the toilet that is when you will have back pain or malaria, and your children are as useless as you are,” the landlord once said to her when he first caught her some few years ago with her mobile toilet, and she gave him her petty excuse.
The stench was awful and the Landlord flexed his verbal muscles on her; Mama Bornboy however was a typical Benin woman, she would not be dilacerated “Warri no dey carry last.”
(To be continued)
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