The Untold Story

THE UNTOLD STORY

    “It’s a great day, indeed!” Mr Sule exclaimed right in a prison yard.

    Mr Sule Bala who was sentenced to the prison five years back for a crime he knew nothing about had just exhausted his 5-year jail term, hence he would be headed for his country home on the so-called great day having been discharged and ‘acquitted’.

    On their part, his wife, Risi and only child, Kazim who was barely 2-year-old when he was imprisoned, but now seven, could not wait to embrace the long-awaited moment having been notified on his proposed return. The little Kazim who had been intimated by his lovely mum that his ‘ghost’ father would be home that very day, had been excitedly busy going around the neighbourhood informing every dick and harry that they were awaiting his dad’s arrival.

     Finally, Sule was out of the prison yard as expected at about 11:15am, and he was meant to cover about 25-kilometre distance prior to reuniting with his family which was supposed to last for at least 80 minutes as a result of bad road. While in the commercial bus, though petrifying due to fear of the unknown, the journey was the best experience that could be felt by anyone in his shoes; roughly 260 weeks away from home was enough reason for his mindset that was in tatters to be preoccupied with escapism.

    There and behold, the millennium odyssey was over in about one hour and ten minutes as anticipated. Sule hesitantly stepped down from the bus, filled with scepticism, “Could this be my place?” He thought.

    Obviously, a lot had really changed; his country home Abasi in Kwara State, North-Central zone of Nigeria, which was a rural settlement, was actually wearing a new look. Most of the trees had been brought down, several new houses and lock-up shops erected, and most significantly every old feature that was still present was appearing totally differently. “So, development has finally come to the Ancient Abasi Kingdom?” Sule murmured as he stepped down from the bus.

    He needn’t to board any other cab or bike that would take him home; his house was barely a stone’s throw from the bus-stop. He hurriedly transferred the polythene bag containing his belongings from his left hand to the other, and was set for a pleasurable trek that would eventually usher in his lovely home comprising his wife and kid.

    As soon as he walked into the narrow path that led to his house, so many thoughts came over him. ‘Who knows how my boy would look like?’ and ‘My wife had really missed me’ were a few of the paramount thoughts that ran across his medulla oblongata. While he kept moving, the continued chorus whispers of the bush birds, as usual, made him filled with enormous nostalgia; no doubt, the seemingly forgotten memories of the past were gradually finding their way back to his heart, body and soul. As he moved in his good for nothing dress that could best be described as ‘rags’, he was relentlessly and cheerfully waving to passersby, whom were mainly his kinsmen, that were passing intermittently. He was taking his precious time to walk along the sparingly lonely pathway so could observe every content of the ancient heritage.

    The endurance trek lasted for approximately twelve minutes. At last, the purported ex-convict arrived home, “Home has changed too.” He observed aloud, loaded with unquantifiable gladness.

    Everywhere was absolutely tranquil exactly not unlike a graveyard. The goats and domestic birds in the house just variously but simultaneously greeted his presence with an abrupt unprecedented stare. It appeared they knew a stranger just joined them.

    “Is anyone here?” Sule added immediately.

    His darling wife, Risi who got a glimpse of the exclamation as she was busy in the kitchen, adjusted herself so she could comprehend fully where the sound was actually migrating from.

    “Is anyone home?” Sule reiterated with alacrity.

    “That’s my husband!” Risi exclaimed aloud elatedly, dashed out of the kitchen only to see a young man, though seemed old, who wasn’t just looking tatteredly and hungrily but pathetically. She hastily ran to him and frantically hugged him.

    Sule reciprocated in a more tightly manner. The nylon bag slipped from his hand and fell to the floor helplessly.

    Ever since he was transferred to a farther prison yard two years back, she had been unable to visit him unlike before.

    Her face was instantly covered with fathomless tears; Sule followed suit unconditional.

    It was conspicuously a scene of real pathos.

    While they were still holding each other at the house’s balcony, the 7-year-old Kazim who had been in the bedroom rushed out on hearing some unwonted noises. His mum who was facing where he (Kazim) stood couldn’t observe his presence, neither did his dad who was backing him noticed any sound behind, although the couple was standing very close to him. The little Kazim who had seen the uncontrollable tears on his mother’s face stood aloof while observing the highly emotional drama with keen interest.

    Since he was yet to see the face of the man that seriously and unusually held his mum, he was of the view that Sule, his father was Mr Ali. His mum had earlier told him that his dad would be back probably at night, so he never imagined having his dad’s presence at noon.

    Mr Ali was Risi’s concubine who had been coming to her matrimonial home from time to time ever since her husband was imprisoned. Perhaps, she couldn’t cope with her hubby’s prolonged absence.

    “Uncle Ali, what is it?” Kazim eventually broke the silence.

    Risi was very shocked over the exclamation, particularly as regards the name mentioned.

    Sule turned instantly on hearing the sound that came behind him, “Oh, my boy!” he exclaimed, stretched out his hands for a pleasant hug.

    The brilliant kazim who was able to recognize the face owing to the various pictures he had been glancing at all long, rushed his dad and hugged him emotionally.

    After the hug, Sule quickly turned to his wife, “So, who’s Ali?” He queried calmly.

    The wife gushed out tears again uncontrollably, “Honey, I’m so sorry…!” She managed to utter, fell to the ground.

    “Oh, my God!” Sule who had understood the scenario shouted. “So, you couldn’t wait for me?” He added furiously, left the arena for their bedroom.

    She remained on the ground helplessly and pitiably. Her unfaithful lifestyle was reoccurring to her senses just like a mere daydream. She couldn’t believe it. Therein, she stood up and followed him to the room. Kazim joined her.

    As Sule got to the room, he noticed a female kid who was about 3-year-old that was lying in their matrimonial bed, “Who’s she?” He asked the wife who was coming behind him.

    She was speechless, felt like taking sips of an acidic solution to enable her join her ancestors in a grand style.

    Unbelievably, the kid in question was a product of her infidelity. She alongside Mr Ali mistakenly gave birth to the kid while her hubby was observing his second year in the prison. The moment Sule informed her that he would be home soonest while still in the prison, she was profoundly worried over how best she would handle the ugly situation when he returned.

    Having psychologically comprehended every bit of the untold story, Sule felt like strangling Risi; consequently he madly ran out of the room to an unknown destination, leaving her untouched.

    Subsequently, he couldn’t withstand the ignominy, thus he divorced her and got married to another woman.

   

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