ShortStory II Complicated Odyssey

COMPLICATED ODYSSEY
(A True-Life Story)

       I was conspicuously a vibrant and outspoken but gentle chap as an undergraduate of the revered Federal University of Technology Owerri (FUTO) in Imo State, Nigeria. Being a Lagos brought-up, I found it more convenient spending my school holidays in the ancient city of Lagos State where I had countless reliable friends as well as relatives.

       During one of my semester breaks, I had travelled to the said territory, as usual, to catch funs with my childhood contemporaries who could not apparently wait to have my presence. On my arrival to my destination by land, at about 6:30pm on a Thursday, I was sure penniless that I needed to visit the nearest available bank first thing the following day towards making a withdrawal from the account I maintained, via an Automated Teller Machine (ATM). I needn’t bother making the proposed transaction that same day since it was already late, and perhaps my chief host wouldn’t want me to further undergo stress after all the hurdles encountered on my way.

        First thing the following day being Friday, as planned, I got dressed and headed for one of the commercial banks in my vicinity. On reaching the area in question having stepped out from the cab I boarded, popularly known as ‘Keke’, I caught the sight of a very frightening queue whose members were expected to make use of the ATM; the queue was not unlike an Independence Parade that took place at Eagle’s Square in Abuja, the Federal Capital Territory (FCT) penultimate year during Nigeria’s Independence anniversary. Funnily enough, there were about five ATMs mounted at the arena but only one was seemingly functional.

        Beloved, I was therein bewildered as I contemplated on the next action to take. I took a deep breath and hastily exhaled the gas while I stood aloof from afar watching each member of the pathetically-looking queue moved like a millipede that was deeply drenched, as I was yet to make up my mind whether or not to follow suit, or consider going to another bank located about fifteen kilometres (15km) away. Each of the thoughts emanating from my smart mind amounted to fear of the unknown. First, I wasn’t sure and could not imagine how long I had to wait if I joined the sluggishly-moving train. Secondly, I was still unsure if the ATM of the next bank was functional at the moment since it was no longer news that most ATMs mounted at various banks across Nigeria were just for decoration’s sake. Thirdly, assumed that the bank’s ATM was functional, I was not in good position to foresee the length of the queue I would encounter over there. Hence, I was placed in dilemma.

        At last, having taken a well-thought conclusion, I joined the intimidating queue. Mind you; while I stood aloof watching the queue, about twenty persons had already walked in and queued up. In other words, I was now standing behind those who came after my arrival; acknowledgement of such fact alone widened the size of my perturbed mood and annoyance. Notwithstanding, I told myself I had to wait patiently till the end since ostensibly I had no other choice, coupled with the fact that I was desperately in need of cash because my humble pocket was damn wretched.

         Before I realized it, one hour had come and graciously passed, yet there were about fifteen individuals to make use of the machine before it gets to my turn. I quickly looked around and smiled inwards; rather than being more anxious, I was consoled that over forty persons were standing behind me. Minutes later, I was eventually the fifth person to transact with the machine; but at this point, the network became so slow that it took an individual over fifteen minutes to scale through his/her transaction. Thus, my temper increased unannounced.

        “What kind of country is this?” I murmured.

        “I am sorry.” said the young lady who stood directly behind me.

          I turned and looked at her. “You need not be, my dear,” I replied, got my eyes fixed on hers. “Because you are equally in the same shoes with me.” I added in a jiffy.

        “But I can see, you are more disturbed than me.” She observed.

          I smiled. “Really?” I exclaimed and turned completely to her as if I wasn’t in need of the ATM anymore.

         She was obviously pretty – tall, slim and dark – clad in a purplish gown designed specifically for a red-carpet occasion.

         “Of course,” she responded. “It’s obvious.”

         “How?” I enquired. “Why do you think so?”

         “It is written all over you.”

         “Hmm..” I murmured.

         “You don’t need to be surprised.” she urged. “Anyone around would notice that you can’t wait any longer.”

          Her outspokenness further attracted me to her person. By this moment, I was the third person to use the seeming god-forsaken machine that had kept me waiting impatiently for almost two hours.

         “You must be a student?” I thought aloud, still facing her but not wholly anymore. “I mean, an undergraduate?” I hurriedly supplemented.

         “Why did you say so?” inquired she.

         “While looking at your level of composure,” I said, twisted myself. “One would know you are not from the gutter.”

         “Really..?”

         “Yea.”

         “Well, sorry to disappoint you.” quoth she. “I graduated from the university three years ago.”

          I was immediately shocked over the information, though I was still of the view that she was merely pulling my leg.

         “I am currently on my P.H.D.” She added frankly.

          The last notice brought another shocker. I stared at her again and again as if I was yet to notice her presence. Going by her countenance and stature, she could not be more than 22-year-old. I was then 23 but in my fourth year in FUTO; my degree studies were meant to last for five years.

         “Are you sure about this?” I managed to utter, remained jittery.

         “Of course..” she frantically replied. “How could I lie with such thing?”

         I strongly looked at her in silent awe.

        “I studied Mass Communication in Convent University,” she rode on. “I did my Masters in California University.”

         I shook my head uncontrollably. “Please,” I uttered. “How old are you?”

        “I am 21.” She answered.

        “Oh my God..!” I exclaimed at the top of my voice as I marveled over the challenging revelation.

        All eyes were shifted to my side. I was the next person to use the ATM, so the crowd thought I was grateful that it eventually got to my turn. I hastily backed her, shifting my attention to the awaited machine as I pondered over the uncommon information.

        I felt like strangulating myself since at 23, I was still struggling to acquire a first degree; whilst at her 21, she was already undergoing her P.hD programme. However, I had to console myself with the fact that we all were created with different destinies.

        Beloved, worse still, few seconds later as I was damn ready to make use of the ATM, the fucking machine stopped working abruptly. The unimaginable mirage took my person to a slight state of coma.

        To be continued, please!

FDN Nwaozor 

Executive Director, Docfred Resource Clinic - Owerri

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