BROKEN JINX
Life had been so miserable for Mr. Emeka
Okere who was repatriated from Germany a couple of weeks back. His almost
five-year stay in the said country was summarily a waste, to assert the least.
While in the country, he could obtain not even a pin owing to his uncalled
lifestyle; he was so randy, and a drug addict to the core. Ever since he
returned Nigeria, precisely Mbaohia in Abia State – his ancestral home –, he
had remained restless and mesmerized; the only thing he returned with was the
earring he usually wore on the left side.
He kept roaming from one locality to
another confusedly as he earnestly wished Nigerian diplomatic ties with Germany
would forgive him of his past sins towards conveying him back to the latter. He
was accused of theft, thus rather than prosecuting him, the concerned authority
chose to retrace his steps back to Nigeria as that would be the only way the
revered European nation would be freed from individuals of his like. In spite
of the untold misfortune that befell him, at the moment, all he could think of
was how he would return abroad and continue with his rascality; hence, the
reality was apparently yet to dawn on his person.
Being
the first born of his parents, everyone initially hoped on him not until
sometime ago when they got the news of his unbecoming behaviour in overseas. It
suffices to say that his abrupt deportation was absorbed as a welcome development
by his siblings and kinsmen – particularly his aged mother – Madam Ndozi Okere,
76, who joined the widowhood fraternity about two years back when he was still
in Germany. They saw the repatriation as a golden opportunity to persuade the
45-year-old dude who wasn’t privileged to witness his late father’s burial
ceremony, perhaps owing to lack of Permanent Residency Permit, to at least pick
a marriageable lady in the village and settle down. On the contrary, Emeka was
thinking differently from their kind and candid plans that they became of the
view that the ostensibly good-for-nothing man was under a spell.
“Emeka, my son.” his mum, Madam Ndozi
called.
“Yes mama.”
They were both seated adjacent to each
other in separate settees in the family’s lounge at about 5:32pm on Saturday.
The septuagenarian wore a single multi-coloured wrapper, grey top and low-cut
hairs, whilst the dude who seemed not unlike a docked culprit was clad in brown
three-quarter jeans, black T-shirt, plaited hairs and of course his earring as
usual. The irony of their outlook was that the hairs of the woman were cut low
while those of a man were plaited.
“Why are you doing this to yourself?”
the septuagenarian continued.
“What mama?”
The old widow shook her head. “At 45,”
she said. “Look at what you are doing to yourself.” She added, gesticulating.
“I don’t understand you, mama.” he
reiterated in false pretence. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“I can see you are sick.” She observed.
“I mean, very sick.”
“Me, sick..?”
“Will you shout up,” she quarreled.
“Are you looking normal?”
“So, how do I look?”
“Your two younger brothers are happily
married with kids.” She enthused frankly. “And they are doing very well.”
“So?”
“Is that all you could say?” quoth
Madam Ndozi, surprised. “So Emeka, that is all you could say?” she reiterated
amid intense fury.
“And what did you expect me to say?” he
said. “Or, I should start crying because my younger ones are all married and
are doing well?”
She shook her head again
sympathetically. “Whosoever that did this to you will never see peace in his
life.” she cursed.
“Mama, I am okay.” claimed Emeka. “Stop
bothering yourself.”
“You are okay like this?” she said,
gesticulating.
“As you can see,” he insisted,
spreading his hands. “I am perfectly okay.”
“My son,” quoth Ndozi. “What I can see
in you is nothing but doom.”
He was speechless and calm, became
uneasy.
“You really need deliverance.” she
presumed. “That is the only way you can free yourself from this mess.”
She just hit the nail on the head.
Apparently, his son Emeka was deeply in need of rebirth towards overcoming the
seemingly fathomless quagmire that beclouded his person. He needed not a
soothsayer to come up with such a suggestion before he could have a rethink,
yet it appeared his old mother was speaking in tongue right before him.
“What kind of deliverance are you
talking about?” quoth Emeka, frowning. “Do I look abnormal?”
“You look crazy and rejected, if you
don’t know.” She ranted unequivocally.
“Meaning?” he said. “How?”
Madam Ndozi was silent. “My dear,” she
called tenderly, gushed out tears. “Your father died because of you.” She
informed amidst the choking sobs.
“Died because of me?” he echoed, got
flushed.
“Yes.” quoth Madam Ndozi. “After he
learnt of your unruly behavior in Germany, he fell sick.” she clarified,
paused. “And he didn’t recover from that sickness.”
Emeka became sober, shocked over the
information. “Are you sure of what you are saying?”
“Am I sure?” she quarreled as she gasped
for air. “I am telling you what happened in your absence, you are asking if I
am sure.”
“Is okay, mama.” He enjoined, walked
toward and began to console her.
She was seemingly pleased by his
gesture. She never knew he could still be kindhearted despite his weird
transformation, social wise. “It is not okay, Emeka.” she argued. “It would be
okay when you agree to get married and live like a responsible man.”
“Mama, that is not my major plan right
now.” He frankly notified as he was seated in the same settee with her.
“Not your major plan?” she verified.
“Did I hear you right?”
“Yes.” He clarified, looking elsewhere.
“So, what’s your major plan?”
There was absolute silence. “I want to
go back to Europe.” He broke the brief silence.
“Go back to where..?”
“Europe, mama.”
“If you try it, I will kill myself for
you.” She shouted at the top of her voice.
“Mama, mama…” he urged calmly.
“Don’t mama me ooh..” she said. “I can’t
be a mother to someone who doesn’t know his left from right.”
Before she could finish the last
sentence, one of her sons – Chima – who lived in Calabar, Cross-River State
walked in unannounced. It seemed he took them unawares.
What transpired afterwards ought to be
a story for another episode, so stay tuned.
FDN NWAOZOR
Twitter:
@mediambassador
http://facebook.com/fred4nwaozor
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