Hey Folks, so sorry about
the hiatus, I have been super busy lately. My apologies.
Last time on my hilarious
and memorable childhood story, I RAN,
I stopped at the point when I dropped my run away letter and fled. Oya relax. I know you’ve been waiting for this.
Let me take you through the last leg of the story. It’s finally come to an end
I carefully looked left and right to ensure that no one sees
me with my thread bare “Ghana Must Go’’ bag.
I got on a bus to Izu’s house almost immediately after hitting the road. I sat tensely with different thoughts
streaming my mind. I was blank to the point that I didn’t hear the deafening
voice of the rat killer vendor, until I realized all passengers were alighting.
I walked down the busy road and approached a bike man. I
proudly told him I was going to Chief Edet Street. He rolled his eyes and
exclaimed “Boy! No street dey bear that name for here”!
I left him immediately as I presumed he didn’t know the
popular Chief Edet, because I remembered that Izu Edet told me his father was
wealthy & popular, so I couldn’t have been mistaken. I angrily left the guy
and stopped another bike man and told him where I was heading to. He looked up endlessly
for a while and said he knew the place very well; I hopped on the bike and zoom
we went…
My eyes were scanning all the street names as we drove. I
was looking forward to Edet street. After riding for about 30minutes and consulting
all Lagosians, the bike man grumpily spoke up, “My friend, there is no Chief
Edet street for this Orilowo Ejigbo. Abeg your money done increase o”. We argued
for a while and he briskly dipped his hand in my pocket, took the last money
and took off. Where do I go from here?
I kept walking and asking people for the address but to no
avail. My legs hurt and unfortunately, it wasn’t in the GSM era, when I could have
called for a description. As the Sun retired for the day, I also retired inside
a wrecked danfo (yellow & black stripped commercial bus) along a street.
And like the Disciples, I had my last supper (the loaf of bread that was left
of me) and hit the sacks.
While I was still struggling to get a nap, with so many
mosquitoes feeding on me, I got a sharp hit on my head, I looked up to see
three terrible looking guys. My eyes screamed “horror” as they dragged me out
like a strayed dog. Their hands were glued to my body so I won’t escape, they
shouted “So nah you dey steal our car stereo abi. Today you go die”; I yelled, “I’m
not a thief ooo”. I got the beating of my life that night but I managed to save
some strength to slip out of their hands leaving my Ghana-must-go to stay.
After a reasonable
distance away from the scene, I thought about the Yoruba proverbial quote which
says, “when moving on is difficult to achieve, then going back is the only option.” I checked the time and it was some minutes
before midnight and then began an unknown journey on foot.
I couldn’t even place where exactly I was I but guess it was
Ijegun, which is about far away to my
house. The road was typical of the
clichéd silent graveyard, it was just me, myself & I dilly-dallying home
and I still wonder where I got that strength to move on.
Hours passed, thank God for His safety. I tiredly crept into
my zone some minutes past 2am and then silently climbed the stairs. I peeped through the broken door knob, and
the first person I saw in sight was my dearest mum, seated on the floor, hair ruffled
& puffed eyes accompanied by an unknown neighbour, my heart was heavy. I'd
never seen my mum in that shape before. I felt bad that I made her go through
so much pain.
Suddenly, I heard some steps behind me. As I thought to run
through the next flight of stairs, someone grabbed me and shouted, “Hey boy. Where
are you running to? Will you come in now?” He grabbed me and took me in. Immediately my mum saw me, she shouted “Oluwaseun ooo,
Olamitide ooo”. She jumped at me and
gave me a tight hug, with tears rolling down her face.
I couldn’t help but join her in her tears. I held onto her
chest & uttered, “Mum I suffered and I'm sorry.”
Everyone kept asking where I went, and every time I struggled
to give a response, tears kept flowing uncontrollably.
The doorbell rang and it was Pop with some of his friends
who had been out all night in search of me. I thought he was going to roar, but
he cuddled me in my tears.
Mum still made an effort to prepare my favorite Amala. She
sat with me as I shoved every hot ball down my throat like I have never eaten before.
All eyes quietly watched me as I ate.
The next morning was quiet. Pop called me for a short
meeting. He said it wasn’t necessary for me to run away. That we
could have managed it no matter the situation and he begged that I should tell
the whole story, which I did. He promised that I wasn’t going to repeat the class and
would rather change my school and save myself all the shame (Pop suddenly
became a changed man).
But, I declined.I told him that I would go back to my school, repeat the
class and not mind the shame. But I would let people know that I'm not a
FAILURE. They were all stunned with my response. I re-assured them
that I was going to be the best student at the end of the term.
Mum was impressed by my courage and promised to buy me the
latest shoe (trekkers) that I had been longing to have and I was excited that I
would be getting the shoes, because trekkers were the best shoes for students at
that time. Going back to school wasn’t easy especially when you are one
of the most popular people in school. But, I overlooked it all and faced the
challenge both in the hostel and at home.
Now the story is finally getting to an end innit?
Well I turned out to be the best student of the session
(three terms). It’s not a lie. People who knew me well could attest to
this, and my parents were really proud of me. That experience changed my life
and the memory is still very vivid like the goals of Sunday Mba at the last
African Confederations Cup
More stories to come.
Its Bellz
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