From the Philosopher… #___INHUMANE____Episode_10_{©2004} {Only Trees would ignore the threat of being axed down by not attempting an escape;…Men would otherwise} Mama Nonso’s business crumbled; a penalty for her callosity. Time was the only physician that can handle the impasse between her and her customers. She fashioned a new biz that she considered more lucrative than her erstwhile and tried being good towards Ikechukwu. She refurbished her shop, turning it to a hair-dressing salon for women only. Mazi Okey was uxorious to a fault. Chiefly because his wife earns more than him and sometimes carter for the family singlehandedly for more than a month; thus, he oblige to pleasing his wife by being submissive to her ideas. ***** ***** ***** Do feeble-minded men play the fatherly role? ***** ****** **** Tonight, Mazi and his wife discussed a way forward for Ikechukwu as they lay on the bed together. Mazi offloaded what happened in his reconciliatory visit to Mrs. Margaret’s house, in connection to the quarrel they made in his house two months ago. “She’s really sorry for what she did though she blamed me for not treating Ikechukwu as I agreed from the incipience.” “What did she want you to do then? Does she know what we’re suffering to make ends meet here?” “She wants us to change. I saw Ifeanyi, Ikechukwu’s twin brother, and mere looking at him assures he fares well. They’ve sent him to school and he’s presently in Primary 2. That my younger sister is strong, she is trying for him oo, so fond of him.” “Why won’t they...? Ify worths it. Something tells me that you were cheated when choosing one of the twins… Ifeanyi must be better than Psycholo and I’m so sure that they wouldn’t have put up with Psycholo as much as we have done already. Notwithstanding, what then did you tell her?” “Well, I had to lie to save my face. I told her that Ikechukwu just completed Primary 1, about entering Primary 2 when the session re-opens by October.” “Hahaha, Papa Nonso, I trust you, hahahaha….very smart of you.” ”Yet I can see her eyes doubting every word I said as if she knows more than highlighted. She do trust me as her brother, I’m hopeful she has no preference else to believe me.” They discussed till dawn, and when it was daybreak Mazi prepared for work. He was on day-duty today. **** ****** ****** ***** ***** ****** **** Loose training groomed Nonso into an uncultured and unscrupulous gangster. All through the days of his college education, he palled BIG BOYS; those whose fathers were elite societal figures and lavishes their pops’ money with them. Arrogantly driven by gourmand of high taste, he de-prioritized his poor root. Nowadays he is extremely broke, unlike during his school days, when he habitually fobs his father of money. Mazi— a stark illiterate is stupidly gullible, so Nonso cached on that and concoct misleading events with connivance of his friends to beguile his father. Sometimes, he comes up with a long list of newly introduced textbooks or workbooks to be bought, class projects and school events urgently money staked—and his extortive revenue flourished. Hereby he is out of college, that revenue is closed. Bankruptcy soon invaded his lofty lifestyle and was out to embarrass him if he fails to liquidize impending debts soon. More worrisome, is a party wear he intends purchasing before the D-day. To maintain his respect among his rich friends, he must command a gorgeous outfit. Like an Igbo adage goes: “He, who follows a rich man, must either pace up his luxuriant steps else service his insatiable bids”. Nonso discerns that his dressing mustn’t be less than superfluous if he must evade belittling remarks or being enslaved by his friends for his underprivileged background. To be a successful criminal involves a lot of thoughtfulness, wit and stress, such is the pensiveness his mind is tasked to unravel means to get hold of money. He wouldn’t mind stealing from a careless fellow, that’s if he wouldn’t be caught. If he is caught, his prestige will be rubbished in Ugbo-Okonkwo, so he developed cold-feet towards stealing from another. “Bingo!!!!”- Finally, a better thought lit his mind: “steal from Mama and implicate Psycholo”. *** **** **** ***** **** **** ***** ***** Meanwhile, poor Ikechukwu had recovered from the trauma that struck him last. A door closes in order for another door to open; that’s life for you. Though Mama Nonso collected the rest of the money which he had, a better alternative opened for him. The advent of the fruit season is here for mango trees, guava tress and pawpaw trees among few. So, whenever Ikechukwu feels hungry, he excuses himself to the latrine; sneak from there to any of the trees at the front-yard and hastily help himself by plucking the fruits, most especially mangoes—whether ripe or unripe. He soon got addicted to this joint, in that whenever other children are searching for him, they start from around the trees at the front-yard. Repeatedly, he was seen atop any of the trees, and his peers wonder how he climbs unto the trees and get down by himself unscathed. **** **** **** **** **** **** **** **** Luckily for Nonso, he later got hold of his mother’s purse and stole N600 naira from it (that will augment what he has to procure what he needs). Smartly, he planted N10 naira inside the pocket of one of Ikechukwu’s casual shorts to implicate him of the theft. The daylight ebbed slowly, soon it was 4:45pm—the usual time Mama Nonso recalculates her earnings for the day. She entered her house to count her money, and after recounting money again, she was cocksure she made more than the actual amount she arrived on. She thought to herself that at least N500 naira is missing, and she ran through her expenditure for the day, but couldn’t compromise the missing link. In her perplexity, she called Nonso to inquire if he had seen any misplaced money in the house, as she is likely to be the owner. “Please, Nonso did you go to my purse while I was away?” “Haaaa! What have I to do with your purse?” “I am looking for N500 naira or more. I don’t know how come.” ”Jesus Christ! 5…whhaaat?!” Nonso exclaimed as if in shock. “You heard me right.” She replied with a depressing look--”Tell me the truth; you took money from my purse?” “Ah.. am I that mean? I cannot do such a thing. I didn’t touch your money abeg oo.” “Oh my God” she sobbed, cocking a snook on her purse. “Mummy stop crying,” Nonso tried to console her—“Maybe, let’s check Psycholo, he can’t be ruled out. It’s good I call him here too.” He left, and returned minutes later with Ikechukwu. “Psycho, why did you take some money from this purse?” she sarcastically asked, opening the very purse before him. “But, I didn’t ma.. Who says I did?” He quickly denied the insinuation. Awhile, Nonso began searching him and ransacked through his clothes, and at last came to the very shorts he planted N10 naira; and dramatically brought out the money before them. “Psycho, who said you, did?” He atypically mocked him. “Chim egbue mu ooo! {I’m finished}” Mama Nonso bellowed, with her hands raised on her head.—“Nonso, keep searching. I just hope you have not squandered all the money you rat in my house that had sworn never to give me peace?” When danger lurks, the rhythm of percussion from a xylophone {Ekwe} changes, in such a way that even a white man lost in an Igbo community needn’t an interpreter to realize imminent danger. Ikechukwu nippily recognized that there is fire on the mountain! Run! Run!! Run!!! Proverbially, it is only a tree would stand still after been told it would be hewed down. So, he rudely opened the door and ran away into a bush farm at the backyard. Nonso pursued him, but when he came outside—at the backyard— he lost sight of him, so he retrogressed to their room to calm his mother. “Mama relax; let him run for now, he definitely will come back home.” *** *** **** **** **** **** **** At the end of the day, they were wrong after all. They had thought Ikechukwu will return home that day, but no eyes set on him again till nightfall. At twilight, when Mazi Okey returned home from work, he was told of what ensued in his absence. Actually, he didn’t believe the summary of the gist…”How can one accuse a small boy like Ikechukwu of stealing N500 naira in the purse with the proof that N10 naira was seen in his pocket? It is outrageous.” He chided Mama Nonso, who was more concerned about her lost money. He, on the contrary, was more concerned of the whereabouts of Ikechukwu, and willing to refund N500 naira to his wife so that peace will reign again. He left the house, and went about searching for where Ikechukwu might be that night; making enquiries from one of Ikechukwu’s friends’ house to another until he went round the whole of Ugbo Okonkwo without a glimpse to the poor boy’s whereabouts. Ikechukwu ran into the heart of a bush farm at the backyard and hid till dusk. Later he hungered, and plucked a ripe pawpaw inside the bush, used his cloth to clean the body of the pawpaw carefully; with his teeth to peel out the membrane of the pawpaw bit by bit without washing it with water. As he scrapes the membrane of the pawpaw, he feeds from its juice. Loathsome, a grave an eye sore reality that beggared description, still, needs must when devil drives. Fortuitously, the pawpaw has a sweet tang and he enjoyed it notwithstanding the hurdles in eating it. After taken the pawpaw so crude, he became thirsty as his stomach makes some funny noise— a product of digestive function. Also he needed water to wash his hands, but since it is unaccessible, he rubbed off his begrimed palms on some cassava leaves in the farm and wiped off the smear all around his mouth with the back of his palms. He preferred suffering thirst to drinking from the hot fury of Mama Nonso. Not until his hands were dried, flies perched disturbingly on his smeared hands—they too took their little share from there. Darkness grew its intensity, ushering out its host in array in the sky like a shepherd would lead out his herds. Humidity grew as Ikechukwu squat on the ground and folded himself against the cold. He preferred battling the cold to turning up at home. Insects crawled into his cloths and bite the living daylight out of him. Helplessly, how can he to stop them from gaining entry into his clothes to render him an inaugurating welcome of bites and itches? Stimulus soon turned him restless and unconsciously slapping out the pests alongside scratching his itchy body feasted by resistant pests. Mosquitoes paid him voluntary companionship, as they summoned themselves for a shindy dance hall show over his head, squealing all manner of languages and ensuring they are well heard over his earlobes. When they got tired swarming over his hair, they descended on him mercilessly and gave him no peace. He got up, gathered some fresh cassava leaves together with plantain leaves and nested a bed with it on a level separating two cassava mounds{cultivated heaps}, there he lay on. The leaves aggravated the itchy sensation; obviously he buries himself amidst real troubles. He recollected what happened and thanked his stars for escaping from those scavenging relatives—Mama Nonso and son. He lay supine as beads of tears journeyed down from the oasis of his eyes through the sides of his face; the tears took their turns liken prison-break prisoners scampering for escape through same route. His stare was on the lucent moon whose florescence was multi-refracted by his bedewed teary eyes. Then, he heard his name been called by his uncle, and could peek him from the bush as Mazi Okey rovers about with a tied wrapper around his waist. Bitter words began bubbling from his mind as he hums these words:— ”I will deal with you, when I grow up.” He shut his eyes and opened it again to stare the moonlight; an action which flushed down copious accumulation of tears down the sides of his face. At the peak of the night, he was in severe problem. The angry mosquitoes were breaking a long dry fasting on him, and they have no time to waste in transfusing all the blood in him if that is feasible, such opportunity as this, seldom knocks. The night, moreover, was too cold to the extent that Ikechukwu nearly got frozen with cold, as dews wetted him. What of the small plant pests which constantly perched on his uncovered skin, alongside military trained black ants which practiced stinging on his body all through the night? He only wished he was rather dead. Sleep was estranged to his eyes, his hearing deafened on deep croaks of the frog choristers— a full orchestra when nocturnal beasts—the moths, the cicadas, the crickets, etc, added to the weird concert. Cold filled him up to the brim, and left him totally numb. To be continued:-
Posted on: Wed, 17 Sep 2014 10:30:38 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015