THE WORST OF TWO WORLDS

6.20 am

Something soft and smelly flows close to my face.

It wakes me up. I don’t like it. I do not like being woken up from my sleep. It makes me more angry when I remember the dream from which I was woken.

I was in a large room, filled with all kinds of food. I was enjoying myself. No wonder I had such a dream. I had gone to bed hungry last night. Very hungry.

I lift my hands to check what was nearly entering my mouth. When I try to rub it off, it flowed across my nose and I knew what it was.

Nnanna, my younger brother, had almost wee-weeed into my mouth.

I gently lift one of his thighs which is half way over my face.

We are all soaked in urine, the five of us on the little mat. He only stirs in his peaceful sleep, and continues. Mama is pounding the beans for the bean cakes for me to go and sell later in the morning.

 I had stopped going to school last week. My teachers are already tired of my mother coming to beg on my behalf to let me stay in class. I can not understand those wicked teachers. They even flogged my bumbum so hard I could not sit last Monday.

  ‘Tell your mummy not to come here again unless your fees are paid. In full!’

I hear a loud growl outside. I step out for the first time today.

7.30 a.m

It is the Chief’s large dog in the compound immediately after our own. He is a large, big and fat man. Some people say he is a kind man, but I don’t think so. He comes to our town once every month. They say he is an important man in the government, a very important man. When he comes, he comes in very big cars. Last time, I counted his cars as he drove into his house. Twenty-five cars. His compound is a very big one. He has very big men guarding him. They wear big eye-glasses that makes me afraid.

Anytime the Chief comes home, a lot of people gather in his house. Some of them come out smiling, but most of them come out annoyed. Sometimes I hear them saying, ‘’Let us see how he will return! It is just four years! We know how much we suffered for him!’’ I do not understand it, but I do not like what I am seeing.

10.00am

My legs ache me. I have been walking round this village since in the morning. I have been shouting ‘buy akara’ everywhere I go. I can hardly swallow spit. I have not sold much, and I know Mama will beat me like she always does when I don’t finish the large tray of akara she gives me to sell.

I am hungry.

I eat five of the bean cakes.

I cannot die; I know breakfast will be finished at home before I return; I will have to wait till afternoon before I eat for the first time today. Let Mama beat me; her palms don’t even pain me anymore. She would say, ‘Instead of selling the akara, you play football with your friends, yet you eat the remaining ones!’ she would jump on me and slap my cheeks and knock my head with her fists and bite me. Sometimes I pity her. These days she looks very weak to me. She doesn’t shout much at me. Today I thought in saw her eyes turning yellow.

Is she sick?

When will I return to school?

10.45am

I am close to our house. I must try to look through Chief’s gate when I pass. Who would not like to? The space between the hinge and the wall is not too large, but I can see. I drop my tray, and move straight to the gate.

Chineke……this house is big and fine!

I am happy I can see a lot from there. The house is too fine. Trees and plants everywhere. One of the servants, looking very tired, is washing the cars. There are four of each type of cars in the large garage. Will he wash all of them? That would be too much. There are nearly thirty cars, as far as I can see. Others are sweeping the compound, trimming the trees and flowers. I must have a house like this when I grow up.

The man presses a button, and the shining wheels begin to turn round. But the car is not moving. What is happening? But it is sweet to watch. He enters the short car, and presses a second button. Two of the front doors raise up, like God is calling them. The doors go up slowly, nearly pulling away from the car. Is this a car at all?

He presses another button. The ground shakes under my feet, and a lion roars.

‘Mama-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!’

11.45am

After I had run into our compound, I discovered I had left my tray of akara in front of Chief’s gate. God! I ran back there to find two goats eating from it. I rush there and chase them away. Thank God they hadn’t eaten much.

My younger brothers are sitting round Mama in the kitchen when I entered. The smoke from the firewood stings my eyes. Looks like lunch is almost ready. Nkiko, our last boy, was making painful faces like he wanted to cry.

I give the money to Mama. She checks the tray.

She didn’t say anything today. She doesn’t even count the money.

 She just turns the other way and continues turning the pap. For us. I thought I heard a sniff from where her nose should be. The sniff comes again.

Is Mama crying?

2.15 pm

Our house is so quiet. Everyone has eaten food. The food did not satisfy me at all. Mama says I should learn to make sacrifices for my brothers. She says I must be the first to stop eating, leaving the rest for them. When I refuse she beats me. Today I took only five spoonfuls of pap. I counted it. Three balls of akara. Nkiko wee-weed into his pap. He came to join us on our plate. I wish I were him.

Did Mama eat?

Does Mama eat at all?

I look at her from the floor on which I am lying. She is sleeping on the bed. She is a fine woman, but very lean. I will like to marry someone like her when I grow up. Sometimes she smiles and tells me that I am a fine boy too. I like it when she tells me that.

Today she is breathing very fast. Like she is shaking. Even her lips are moving. Is she praying? I know she likes to pray. She says God can solve all our problems. If God can solve all our problems, why have I not returned to school?

My father is dead, she tells us. But there is a way she makes her face when she says it. Sometimes I do not believe her.

I can’t sleep. I gently tiptoe outside.

4.30pm

Chief comes to the village once every month. Mostly on the last Saturday of every month. Who drives all these big cars? Who sleeps in this big house?

I climb the orange tree in our compound. I can see Chief’s compound clearly now. I hear people laughing in the main house. They are coming out.

It is Nkem, the gateman. He puts his arms around Ugochi, who sells oranges. He puts his mouth close to her mouth. They touch. She laughs. There is also Nnodim, who roasts maize in the evening near the market. Sometimes he will touch her on the chest, and run away. She will go after him. When she catches him, she will jump on his back, and he will carry her and then put her down after some time.

 Soon it is time to take the dog for a walk. The dog is big, black and has a long tongue which is always hanging out. The dog drinks milk, and tea. It eats a large goat every two days. I only eat meat at Christmas, and Mama gives me a small portion. Sometimes I eat meat when I go with my friends to visit people.

Suddenly, I hear a loud noise coming from far away. Soon I see two police cars speeding towards Chief’s house. When the cars stop, they pull him out. His hands are tied behind his back. They push him into the compound.

Every thing in the compound stops. People are confused. No one knows what is happening. Chief looks at the floor as he is being pushed into the house.

A short time, the policemen are dragging two big bags out of the house. What could be in them? They put it in the boot of the car. Chief is pushed in again. The policemen ask everyone to leave the house. They obey. They lock the big gates with two padlocks. They speed away.

I hear crying in our house. I jump down from the tree, and go inside. I cannot recognise Mama. Her eyes are fully yellow. No black part in her eyes. She is dropping spit from her mouth.

‘T…a…k…e----care----- of----them’, she stammers. She stops moving.

I cry for help outside.

What do I do now?

XENOPHOBIA: THE DOOM OF THE BLACK RACE

It’s been months now since the mayhem that occurred in South Africa left many nationalities having their either business or domicile in the country extremely grieved at the human and material resources blatantly and flagrantly wasted. It’s been months now since several  diplomatic relations between countries that have one tie or the other to South Africa have been bruised, battered or all of it.

It’s been months now since whatever measure that has been taken to quell the uprising became effective in stopping the escalation of violent tendencies in the Land of The Rising Sun. Weeks since whatever losses have been incurred as an aftermath of the imbroglio have been resignedly accepted as irreparable and gone forever. Nigeria’s misfortune of a loss stood in the neighbourhood of around 84 million naira (whatever that amounts to in South African Rand) by way of shops and car marts that were both razed down, looted or a combination of both. We are still thanking our stars, and the living God of course, that the forbearance did not get to loss of human life.

I have patiently followed the news items, analysis and opinion pieces that have this subject tag religiously, and the mantra seems to be condemnation, both in strong terms and in soft, written and action-wise. Numerous protests have been staged in different parts of the country, bellying the feelings of a people who expected more from a country which seems to take the stance of nonchalance and deliberate aggression for reasons that have neither logical nor rational information, whether in the books or anywhere that could act as a repository for human code of conduct.

  Racially motivated violence would not come across as new to anyone who has been a keen, no, average follower of world events and discourse. As a matter of fact, it has no respect for whatsoever strata of society and endeavour. We hear of negroid footballers being booed with the extremities of hurling bananas at them in pitches, race-energized injustices and a lot of things which goes on to prove that the painstaking work of the heroes past geared towards abolishing this race cleavage still leaves a lot to be desired. But be that as it may, I never expected it would consume and masticate the West, and begin to consider black African soil the next destination for domicile.

Indeed, the emergence of the race monster on black African soil came across to me as a shocker of sorts, considering the lessons that ought to have been learnt from the origin, aim, and modus operandi of this goblin called xenophobia. The fact that black people would turn on themselves in a killing, maiming and destructive spree is the height of proof of our moral, spiritual and mental level and decadence. What surprises me actually is how the words from a man’s mouth can be so powerful, far-reaching, and deeply consequential. The Scriptures are clear about the origin of the black race and what the first progenitor, Ham did to incure the wrath of his father, Noah to bring about such a dastardly curse that would transcend generations, looks set to be headed right on to the consummation. It only shows how potent the Word of God can be, if the pronouncement of a human can be so laden with determined zeal to be accomplished.

On the flipside as well, one of the variants of the protests was a move to forcefully shut down South African business interests and concerns in Nigeria like MTN and Shoprite. The response of the authorities which was a veiled insult spoke volumes of their rating of us: that we could not afford to do that on the aegis of the fact that we had more to lose than they did. And truth be told, they are right, unless we want to live in wilful denial of a glaring fact. That we have the unemployment malady gripping us in a chokehold to the level that it has become a bargaining tool and an Achilles heel, is not a good thing, for all intents and purposes.

But then again, I do not believe the matter is altogether a hopeless case, on the grounds of the two reasons for which it looks like the black race is doomed. Being a stubborn optimist, I refuse to believe the situation is bleak. For one thing, it was Noah that sentenced Ham to a life of servitude and inferiority, not God. On that premise, it is soluble, by determined spiritual audit, assessment, overhaul and three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn around, Godwards. Thereafter, every other issue will fall in line and we will be the better for it.

Ogbonna Nnaemeka Henry.