An act of love

April 15 1998.

In terms of loudness, the loud blarring of the police sirens a few metres away from us was second only to the two shots that had been  fired from the SIG Pro my brother was now holding.  I do not know which of the rounds that killed John, but what I do know is that there was a hole in his chest, and one in his head; blood flowing from both holes like freed slaves as he laid dead in front of us; my brother and me.

April 15 2016.
10:30am
I pick my favourite suit from the wardrobe and a matching pair of shoes - both of them blue. The shoes are somewhat tight, but I don't mind; today is a special day.

"Honey must you go for this business meeting sef?..." My wife's soft voice rings from the far side of our bed. "...every Saturday, meeting, na wa o!"
"Baby, you know I wouldn't have to leave  if this meeting was not important. Besides, I didn't go on our wedding day remember?"
She laughs and says "goodbye"

11:00am.
"I was beginning to think you wouldn't show up" says my brother from the other end of the table"
"Today is not my wedding" I try to be funny again, but he ignores my effort.
"How's your wife? Have you told her yet?"
I feel the weight of guilt on my chest.
"No, not yet..." I finally reply. "...But I'll tell her soon".

"Oya oga come dey go, time don reach!" An impatient voice erupts from behind my brother.
It was the prison warden's.
As I watch my brother being taken away, our eyes meet one more time. And I see the strength in his eyes, the same one I saw exactly  18 years ago; when he collected the gun from my bloody hands and then told the policemen "arrest me, I did it".

Mama is not dead

His heart jumped with his legs as soon as he saw the doctor come out of the room where mama was being treated. His fingers were cold, his heart was racing, his chest suddenly felt heavy.

"Doctor, how is she? how is my mother?"- even his voice spoke fear.

Silence

"Answer me doctor, how is she?" he asked again, this time grabbing the ward coat of the light skinned doctor with both hands, his eyes dead on the doctor's.
"I'm sorry, we lost her" the doctor's tone was low and sad.

Then slowly, he released the doctor from his grip, as tears gathered like a small stream in his eyes- getting ready to flow. Then he said "how can you say you have lost her?" Now, turning to the nurse that had helped take mama to the ER, flashing a sad smile at her, he said "my sister remember that fat woman I brought in about 20 minutes ago?" he paused to hear her reply; but her response was only but a sad stare. So he continued..
"that woman is my mother, she is the one I ask of. You people took her to that room, you can not have lost her just like that.

So he asked again, the tears still traped in his eyes, the smile still sad "How is my mother?"

"She is dead".

The news hit him like a wrecking ball, sending him helplessly to the ground and crushing the faint hope that held back his tears. He wept.

Suddenly, he stood up. He wiped his tears with his hands, straightened his cloth and smiled to himself as he said "mama is not dead, these people are joking". Then he left the hospital.

* 10 years later *

Ugo was more tired of asking people for direction, than his legs were tired of walking in the scourching sun. This will be the last person I will ask, he thought to himself as his eyes caught sight of a man sitting alone on a stool beside a mechanic workshop; his head lowered.

"Sir, how can I get to Fiction Isle tower?" he asked.
The stranger raised his head and flashed a smile at Ugo - that sad smile -  revealing a set of teeth that looked like they hadnt been washed for years. Then he said "mama is not dead, these people are joking".

Beggar!

"Excuse me sir! Excuse me sir!"

I turn back, he is standing some metres away from me, close to a pillar in the church compound. Why didn't he call me earlier when I walked past the pillar? Did he not see me pass?
"Excuse me sir". He signals that he wants to speak with me. I stop walking. I can't walk back to the pillar, he should come to me - forward ever, backward never.

He walks up to me - slowly. I feel irritated already. Bros add one more leg na.
"Sir please I want to ask you for something".
Of course, he is a beggar! His hair looks like partially weeded grass, his clothes have seen better days; he surely has come to beg for money.
"ok, ask". I reply
"Please I need a job,  can you be of help?" I am suprised! He probably has not come to beg for money after all. I am still not convinced, he surely wants my money.

"What did you say?" I ask. I probably did not hear him well
"Please I need a job, any job. Can you help me?"
He picks his words, talking as slow as he walked. His set of teeth are revealed when he says "need"  - he drags "need" - those teeth bear the same colour as his shirt - yellow and brown.

I appreciate his dignity; I am not totally convinced though- he will still beg for money, I am certain. I lead him to the parish office; a job in the church is an official thing, so you apply in the parish office.
The office is locked, I forgot they do not open on saturdays.
"Come on Monday" I tell him.
He thanks me and leaves. I am suprised, he did not beg for transport money. Myabe he is not a beggar.

I am still lost in astonishment when I see him coming back. I knew it! bloody beggar!. He has come for the usual- transport fare: "I stay in kafanchan, please I need 200 naira to complete my transport" or some story like that - all lies.

He is getting closer, now I am rehearsing how I will tell him that I do not have money. "ehya! Me too I'm broke. Infact I stay at kafanchan too; let's trek home together".

He is finally here, his eyes fixed on mine. I am ready to hear the 'touching story' he will tell me...

"Please sir, what time should I come on Monday"
What!?
"10am, come by 10"
I am completely  stunned.

It is love

Eniola sat in her bedroom listening, as the voices of her husband and his friends broke through the walls of the well furnished sitting room; they were speaking rather loudly.

"So you mean you pound yam for her? a very deep voice sounded from the sitting room.
"That one is even small Akpor, Nonso washes her clothes too" another voice said, a sharp contrast to the first voice
"And her underwear o, her underwear! Abi Nonso you won lie sey you no dey wash woman pant?" A third voice added. It seemed close.

"Chai!" The first two voices chorused.

"You guys should not make a big deal out of this..." it was her husband's voice. "...It is not wrong if I do all these things occassionally.."
"Nonso it is not occassionally!" Akpor cut in.
"Well.." Nonso continued ..."I love my wife an..."
"Eehhnn!" All three voices chorused before he could finish talking.

Eniola's phone rang, it was her mum.
"Mummy ekasan"
"Omo daada. Ba wo ni?"
"I am fine ma" she replied
"Baba gave me a new one o" her mother said. "Any woman he sees will be like maalu in his eyes. Should I bring it?"

Eseosa's gait

Eseosa was late! But when I saw her approaching from about a hundred metres away, the anger that had formed venom stains on my chest was quickly washed away by the clear water our hearts danced in - love.

Eseosa's gait reminded me of the day I first saw her; before our love story began.

I used to be the choirmaster of the church choir, and dont even me ask if I could sing. When Eseosa walked into the choir room that evening, singing came to a halt for some seconds! Well, that was 'partially' my fault because I had stopped conducting; my hands froze in the air -  in a suspended state - while my gaze shifted from the soprano singers who hardly hit the right notes, to the Angel that walked on earth that day.

Everyone thought my reaction was as a result of the irritation I may have felt having to notice someone barge into the choir room and walk so majestically like she was the queen of the world; taking each step such that her opposite hip created a profound bulge, the bulge which also reflected between my legs.

Of course this was no irritation and on the contrary I actually thought she was the queen of the world!
So you would understand the joy that drew fine curves on my face, when her reply to the usual question I asked when an 'intruder' came in was "Yes sir, I have come to join"

*****

"Baby I'm so sorry..Traffic" she said as she sat down beside me quietly and kissed my pregnant lips. She did not mind public display of affection. And the park itself, was quite open.

"Baby Say something naa"
"What do you want me to say?" I wasn't smiling. "Babe I've been waiting for over an hour, you should have left home earlier" my voice was raised this time
"I know..I'm really sorry"
Then she gave me three kisses that formed a straight line on my neck - my 'weak' point.
I smiled at her, "You still should have left home earlier".
"Don't worry, I won't be late on our next date, I promise"

Those words struck my heart a thousand times. I knew there would not be a next date, I wasn't sure if I would be given another chance.

You see, about an hour ago, my body laid lifeless a few metres away from us, close to the road. The driver that hit me must have been drunk - I guess.