LEAVING

Barry was mean to me. He was always mean. Yes, he was a bully. He was never nice to anyone. All the kids on the playground were scared of him. Maybe because he had an oversize head, a bulging tummy and excess baby fat, nobody knew why. But we all knew that his blow could send you to lala land. He was responsible for a dozen broken teeth, a million black eyes and some contorted bones.

He was violent and no one said anything about it. The teachers always said they would punish him, our parents always told us to stand up against him (the result was a worse beating than the last) and the principal had called him to his office (the most dreaded room in school) a dozen times. Still, nothing was done. A week after he leaves the principal’s office, he goes back to bullying. Were the grown ups scared of him or what? His minions, Lou and Bill, were faithfuls who picked out kids that were good for picking on. No one ever wanted to be in their tracks.

I’d been a victim more than twice. I think it’s because I’m small. Well, what options do you have when your mum and dad are both under 5’ 10”. One incident I remember was getting poked for wearing a sweater my grandma had made for me. It was a white sweater that had a green cow on the front. I had a fetish for cows at the time and dreamed of owning a farm when I grow up. The sweater never remained the same after that day. I was taunted, pushed here and there by Barry and his boys and called a wuss because I liked cows. I fell to the floor and got a few kicks. I rolled round in the dust and got a little tear on my lip. The sweater turned a dusty brown and was ripped severally. When I got home, I told my mum I was beat up by some bullies. She followed me to school the next day and reported to the principal. Barry took a trip to the principal’s office. I was even scared on his behalf.

The next week, he beat me more and challenged me to go running to my mummy because I was a sissy who held my mummy’s skirt around. It hurt my 6 year old ego and that day, I knew the world and grew up. Getting home, my explanation for the rough clothes was that we played really rough games at school and I had fun. Fun indeed!

Lots of times, he’d called me ugly and lots of names. The girls laughed at me in class and even some of the other boys called me skirt instead of my real name. I was sick of it all, seeing my “co-bullieds” getting beat up for nothing and Barry flying high on a horse that wasn’t even there. I constantly told my mum about the beatings but after her third visit she kept telling me to stand up for myself. Even my dad gave me a few pointers on how to tackle Barry. I stopped telling my parents when it looked like I was complaining a lot. The breaking point was when my father called me ‘a skirt’

So far my dad could say that, I agreed with Barry. I would never be a man in my life. I would always keep getting beat up. Not a problem, I could get used to it. I hope.

No one liked The Mound. It was just a heap of sand that marked the presence of bullying in the playground. Every other day, some unfortunate boy was taunted and beaten till Barry decided the boy looked just right. Today, I was a victim of The Mound. Barry had taken my lunch money and while I struggled to get it back, Lou and Bill grabbed my little legs and carried me to The Mound. There I got a few slaps and kicking. When I couldn’t cry anymore, I just choked on them. I was left there. I lay curled on The Mound. Break was over but I stayed on The Mound. No one bothered me. I looked up at the sky. It was a beautiful blue. The clouds a cotton white. Beautiful. What was beyond it?

Mummy always said heaven. And heaven was a beautiful place. Nothing bad- No Barry, No Lou, No Billy. Just happiness. Maybe if I went there, I’d be free of them. But what about my friends? Will they be there? Why not, they’re good too.

I’d thought about this a thousand times. I was sick of people calling me a skirt and looking at me like I was a weakling. Even my parents thought I was weak. What was worse than that?

Tonight.

I got home and went into my room. I was leaving. I was going to runaway from it all. I’d be free from all this nonsense. What did I want to pack with me? I picked out my Ben 10 back pack from the side of my wardrobe. I stuffed my Ben 10 toy and a few of my drawings into the bag. My teacher said I would be a DaVinci some day. I picked my toothbrush and paste. Don’t forget bathing soap and a fresh pair of underpants, two tees and my art box.  The bag was full. I was packed and ready. I shoved it under my bed. It would soon be over.

Tonight.

After a delicious meal of smoked chicken and sautéed potatoes, I took my bath and my mum and dad tucked me in. I got a warm kiss from my mum and my dad put out the light and shut the door. I jumped out of bed, and ran to the door. They had gone down. I had enough time to leave. I dressed up to the hilt, backed my pack then jumped on my bed. I reached out for the cough medicine on my bedside table. I had taken it from my parents room yesterday. I downed it all. It was expired- about 8 months back. I had a happy feeling as I lay down on my bed. Sleep was coming already. This was easier than they way Lilly said it. Her mother told her the easiest way to get to heaven was in your dreams and you had to wish hard to get there so you don’t miss your way. The cough medicine was to make me sleep quickly and to ensure a speedy transport.

There I lay on my bed, fully dressed with my pack on my back. Heaven here I come with my back pack. It’s going to be alright now. Just sleep.

And that’s how I left.

THE BEST MAN

He held his glass high up and spoke into the microphone, ‘I would like to make a toast to Marie and Kev. Both have been very good friends of mine since childhood. The struggle to get Marie was a tough one but in the end, Kev was the one that gave her the ring. I must say that I also tried to pursue her but unluckily failed. And here we are joined together to celebrate this union of which I am not happy about’

At that moment, he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a pistol and aimed at the couple. Everyone in the hall screamed and scampered around; trying to shield themselves from any possible misfire.

He aimed the gun at the bride and groom who clung to each other desperately for dear life. Other members of the high table already dove under it.

He walked in close to them, the bride crying hysterically, and said, ‘Kev, you knew Marie is and always has been mine. I begged you to stay away and you refused. We are friends and I thought we looked out for each other and besides, you gave me your word’. He turned to Marie, ‘You once told me you loved me and the next thing I know, both of you are walking down an aisle. To rub it in, you ask me to accept his offer of being his best man. This is just a matter only God can settle’

At that he put a bullet in the groom’s heart and another in the bride’s head. Then he turned to face the chaotic audience who had turned the hall into a rowdy session from the floor. Those who could hide hid, those who peeped to catch every minute of the drama peeped and some others wailed as loud as their voices could allow them.

He turned the pistol to his right ear and said, ‘For those of you who love me or know me, Good bye’, then he lodged a bullet in his brain and crumpled to the floor.

THE THIEFRY MISSION

I popped my head into the kitchen. My eyes darted round. Nobody. My mother was probably up in her room and the help was certainly in the yard washing some plates. The coast was clear. I allowed my nose to take in the waft of the freshly prepared vegetable soup my mother had just prepared. The soup called me. It beckoned my name, Kalu, take a taste out of me; else I’ll never be complete.

I’m coming already, my mind was already fiddling through the beefy ‘ugwu¹’ vegetable, the silky palm oil, the irresistible pepper, the thick strands of dried fish and the tender shrimps and the goat meat that struggled with the soup for space in the pot. Though I hadn’t opened the lid, I could envision the contents. Go-slow vegetable soup. Oh yes, my mother’s cooking was always a delight to the mind and heavenly to the tongue.

I danced to the stove where the stainless pot still simmered silently. I lifted my nostrils to the air as if in ritual thanks to the Almighty for giving my mother the skill to make such divine meals. I touched the lid; it was still very hot. A rumpled napkin laid on the worktable beside the stove, so I picked it to prevent burnt fingers. I didn’t want another episode of silent crying today. My elder brother, Dimka, had taught me well. Always be careful and watchful; be sure of where everyone is before carrying out any operation, he always told me.

With my fingers safely couched in the napkin, I lifted the lid of the pot. The mist from the soup covered my face and my heart once again rejoiced for the miracle that filled the pot. The green, red and brown watered my tongue. It was definitely a rich soup. I dropped the cover on one of the burners and proceeded to do the swift task.

I pulled out a small black nylon bag from the back pocket of my jeans, put my pseudo-gloved had in it and aimed for a large piece of goat meat. The meat looked so tender and brown. I could tell that the pepper has seeped into the meat. Oh, jolly me! Today was a lucky day. I darted at the meat, grabbed it into my palm with all ferocity, and then turned the outer part of the nylon out so that the contents of my palm were safely nestled in the nylon.

What? What is that? I felt a seeping heat from somewhere! That’s not possible; I had the protection of a napkin and even nylon so where was it coming from?

I quickly dropped the nylon on the work table. Suddenly, I saw a glistening brick red on the napkin dripping to the floor. It could only mean one thing- the nylon had a hole that I was not aware of! I could have sworn I double checked it. I began to shake and find ways of clearing up the mess as quick as possible before my mother came to meet me stealing from her pot.

Like the jinx I always hoped would never come to pass at times like this, my mother came in through the kitchen door and saw me holding the lid of the pot in one hand, the stained napkin in another and the dripping black nylon beside the stove. All at once, I could feel the rage boiling in her eyes and the quiver of my hands. The lid fell from my hand and crashed to the kitchen floor. The noise was deafening and I wished it would stop especially when the lid decided to do a final dance, rolling and rolling on its edges before finally settling on the clean floor.

My mother dashed for my ears while I dashed for the door, behind her, unwittingly through the little space between her widespread legs. She caught me by my right ear, twisted and rubbed it till it turned red. One of the good things with my mother was she never flogged us. Her key area was the ear. She believed it was the way through which good things would enter the brain and to stimulate its entry, either a violent twist or a slap always did the trick- it usually worked.

While in her grasp, I violently tried to shake myself free but the more I struggled, the more my ear hurt.

‘Kalu, so this is where my meat always disappears. No problem, I will so deal with you, if you see a pot in your life, you will run!’ She dragged me to the courtyard with my already red hot ears and took the nylon.

I cried loudly, my eyes were already streaming tears and my face contorted to a caricature. All this I did in a bid to ignite a spark of pity from my mother to let me go.

‘You should see how ugly you look. Now, pull your ears, hold the nylon and give me a thousand frog jumps! Never in your life will you steal again!’

Dimka came to the courtyard to see what the matter was. As soon as he spotted the nylon, he understood.  He stifled his laughter so our mother will not point any kind of accusing finger at him. Seeing the gravity to which my mother had taken my crime, he pleaded with her on my behalf. ‘Mama, please. He’s only 7. He’s still small. He won’t do it again. Or will you?’ he turned to me

Through my stifled cries, I yelled an irritating NOOO!

‘Gerrout! I’m sure you were the one that taught him’, Mama shouted at Dimka. ‘He will do the one thousand, right here and now. You can take his place if you like’

Dimka quickly disappeared.

‘One’, I cried. ‘Two, Three….’ I went up and down. How was Dimka always able to do it? Mama never caught him. I replayed the scene in my life and vowed that I would never steal mama’s meat except Dimka heads the mission. All I could think of was the soup. Now there was no way I would have a share in it.

By the time I got to a hundred, everyone had eaten dinner and the help was clearing up the plates. I was tired and hungry. I had lost all hopes of tasting out of the vegetable soup. I even heard the sound of the pot being washed. It’s all over now. No more. Suddenly, my mother called me, ‘Kalu! Kalu!!’

I ran to her. ‘Yes, mama’, I tried to regurgitate the remnants of my tears. It didn’t work.

‘In your life, if you ever steal from me, I will make sure your fingers are cut off and you will not be able to hold anything again, let alone steal. Is that clear?’

I nodded my head. The thought of loosing my fingers sent a shiver down my little spine. I repeated my vow in my mind. Never again.

She pushed the covered plate beside her to me. ‘That’s your dinner’

I opened it and saw a wrap of fufu² with the delicious soup that had almost made me lose my ear earlier. I was overjoyed. As soon as the soup touched my lips, I was in heaven. Yes, it was as I had predicted- the soup was worth stealing and suffering for!

Note:

1-      ‘Ugwu’- pumpkin leaves

2-      ‘Fufu’- morsel made from fermented cassava

STRANGER

“Hello”

“Hi”, he wasn’t sure he wanted to reply. I could tell.

“Don’t worry for the next 3 minutes; I will try to talk to you because I don’t know you. And if I have to harass you, please understand!”

He looked at me like I was nuts.

“Oh yes! I’m nuts. I’d like to ambush you for your shoes because I must say they look nice”

He looked at his shoes; covered in dust and cutting at the heel. He tried taking a step away.

“If you run, I’d follow you and scream to the world that I love you. And don’t worry, I’m not flirting with you because I’m married”, I quickly lifted my right hand and showed him the huge twisted cocktail ring that nestled around my middle finger

“But-”

“Doesn’t matter either way. We were talking about the shoes. They really are a classy pair. Are they designer?”

“Yahoo?!” Thankfully, he played along

“They’re into shoes now? That’s amazing!”

“You have no idea! And I think they’ve got something on baby food too”

“That’s great but I think I’ll stick to these pair of shoes in front of me. I’d like to steal them and mail them to my ex-boyfriend”

“Huh?!”

“Long story. But I never got to give him a good bye gift. He got me a dead rose”

“I’m sorry”

“Oh don’t be. At least he was careful enough to make sure all the dried petals were intact before giving it to me. He told me his love for me had dried out”

“And what did you do with it?”

“Guess”

“You threw it away?”

“Now, that's not nice, is it?! I did better. I laced it with an itchy powder, sprayed it with silver paint, then sent it back to him”

“Awww” He laughed

Matt- Erik Olsen

“But the shoes, I’m sue he can use them. And I’ll send a note saying ‘walk your way back to me, to hell’”

He laughed some more

“We’re in the third minute now. It’s been an ironic pleasure talking to you”

“Pleasure listening”

“The name is Weilder. Just in case you hear of my name in the future or if I become famous for something good or bad, you can honestly say I’m not a lunatic”

“Honestly, I think you are”

I grabbed his hands and shook them firmly. A smile spread across my face. “I thought you’d lie!”