Horrible Monday

HORRIBLE MONDAY

     “Hello!” Biodun exclaimed, stopped the moment he walked into a very pretty looking damsel at his departmental block on his way to class.

     Biodun, a three hundred level (300 Level) student of Mass Communication department in the Olabisi Onabanjo University (formerly addressed as Ogun State University), Ago-Iwoye, Ogun State situated in the South-West geo-political zone of Nigeria was actually headed in opposite direction to the supposed recipient of the unexpected greeting.

     Unfortunately, the lady in question ignored him, kept on moving, which wasn’t unusual to the public lifestyle of most Nigerian single ladies.

     Persistently, Biodun hastily reversed his movement and double-crossed her, though he wasn’t standing directly in her front but very closely by her left side.

     She stopped furiously. “What is it?” She eventually uttered though in a low tone, frowning.

     Both parties whom had campus notebooks in their respective right hands were still facing opposite directions based on their original destinations.

     The melodrama was taking place at about 08:12am on Tuesday March 5, 2002 during the first semester in the university’s academic session.

     “Honestly, I’m deeply sorry for bothering you,” Biodun apologetically said. “I never meant to hurt a pretty damsel like you.”

      He was really looking sorry; with the look on his face, only a Jezebel-like creature wouldn’t succumb.

     “I’ve heard you; it’s okay,” she responded. “Just that I detest strangers embarrassing me this way.” She said, gesticulating with her left arm which was her only free arm.

     “I understand.” The hustler appreciated.

     “So,” she chipped in. “To what do I owe this?”

     “Well,” he submissively replied. “I’m Biodun.”

     “Okay,” she said. “I’m Kemi.”

     “That’s a lovely name,” he teased, smiling. “Belonging to a lovely creature.”

     “Thank you.” She stylishly appreciated.

     Kemi who was dark, about 5.1-foot tall and slim wasn’t just beautiful but magnificent. She was putting on a grey skirt, white top and black cum white flat-heel sandals; her hairs were gorgeously plaited. Whilst, Biodun who was clad in black jean trousers, multi-coloured polo, black baseball cap and ash trainers was chocolate, plump and about 5.4-foot tall.

     “As you can see,” she added. “I’m on my way to the class.”

     “Sorry for going further,” Biodun pleaded. “Are you in this department?”

     “Yea.”

     “Interesting…”

     “What’s interesting about it?” Kemi interrupted.

     “This is my department too.”

     “Okay,” she said. “Now I understand.”

     “You must be a fresher?”

     “Why do you think so?”

     “Because you’re looking very fresh.” Biodun cleared the air.

     She smiled. “You might be right.”

     “So, you’re a first year student of Mass Communication?” He verified.

     “Yea.”

     “Be my guest then.” He hinted cheerfully.

     “How?”

     “You just came in of course,” Biodun highlighted. “So being an old student, I’m meant to be your host.”

     “You’re so funny.” Kemi applauded, displaying her white teeth.

     Biodun couldn’t hold his heavy smile; he was very glad to see her laughing.

     “So, what level are you?” She enquired.

     “300.”

     “300 level?” she exclaimed surprisingly.

     “Yea.”

     Apparently, he needed not an interpreter to notify him that he had won a bit of her seemingly invisible heart.

    “Wow,” she said. “You are already through.”

    “You can say that again.”

    “I’m so happy for you.”

    “Thank you.”

    “As you can see,” Kemi observed. “I’m already late to class.”

    “Oh, so sorry about that,” the lover boy appreciated. “What time is your lecture?”

     “My first lecture begins by 8:30am.”

     “Same here.”

     “You mean, you also have a class by 8:30?”

     “Yes,” he replied. “And the lecturer in question is a no nonsense woman.”

      By this time, it was about 08:25am.

      “So, can I take my leave?” She requested.

      “Of course,” Biodun approved. “You’re not in a prison yard.”

      She smiled. She was no doubt really fascinated by his sense of humour.

      “Please, before you do that,” he urged. “Can I have your number?”

      “You mean my phone number?” She pretentiously enquired.

      “Yes.” He responded. “So I could glance at this lovely face again.”

      “Okay,” she admitted having smiled. “Let me have your phone.”

      Having transferred his notebook to the left hand, Biodun quickly dished his right hand into his right jeans’ pocket, brought out his cell phone and handed it over to her.

      She hurriedly but stylishly typed the awaited eleven-digit number on the phone’s keyboard and returned it to the owner.

      As soon as he received the handset, he hastily and gladly flashed her so she could have his. “Please, save the number.” He enjoined.

     “No problem.” The apparently 20-year-old girl pleasantly replied, left immediately for her lecture class which was situated upstairs.

      Biodun who watched her depart, quickly took his own leave for his classroom.

      Considering the warmth feeling he was abruptly filled with, it was indeed an epoch-making day for his person.

      Barely two weeks later, Biodun and Kemi became best of friends on the campus; the unannounced intimacy was undoubtedly to the envy of their friends and foes. The relationship continued persistently that they could never spend a day without seeing each other.

       One year after being 2003, Biodun successfully graduated and left the university. The distance created after Biodun’s graduation almost took Kemi’s life; everyone around her was of the view that she wouldn’t survive the ordeal. In spite of the inevitable challenges, the relationship, which could be best described as that of oil and salt, metamorphosed into a more formidable entity to the utter amazement of everybody within; apart from his unending and regular phone calls, Biodun was frequently paying her visit on campus even during his National Youth Service programme which took place between 2004 and 2005 notwithstanding that he was serving at a distant destination, Kogi State precisely.

      Kemi completed her four-year degree programme in 2005 and consequently embarked on her compulsory Youth Service programme in Niger State in 2006 which lasted till early 2007. Before this time, Biodun had secured an employment in a broadcasting firm in Lagos State.

      In April 2007 immediately after Kemi’s youth service, the two vibrant and brilliant youths (Biodun and Kemi) who hailed from Ogun State got engaged. Thereafter, they were addressed by their close friends and relatives including their parents as ‘Tom and Jerry’ owing to the manner in which they were piloting the love affair.

      Same year (2007), Kemi got a job with a national daily newspaper in Lagos State; this development made them became closer again just like when they were still on campus that they could see each other even on a daily basis if they wished. At this point, Kemi who had clocked 25 couldn’t wait to embrace her wedding day.

      In January 2008, Biodun who was 28 thought it wise to quit bachelorhood, thus he and his fiancée agreed to have their traditional marriage as well as church wedding in March 2008, which would mark exactly six years they met each other. Their traditional wedding was scheduled to hold on Wednesday 5^th of March 2008, which was the very date their first meeting transpired six years back.

      On Monday March 3, 2008, which was barely 48 hours to the D-day, something very tragic and unthinkable occurred; Kemi was killed by a stray bullet during a robbery incident that took place at one of the commercial banks within her place of residence when she was headed for her office. It was unarguably a horrible Monday.

      On his part, the incoming groom almost committed suicide when the terrible news got to him.

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The Peculiar Queen

THE PECULIAR QUEEN

     Ab initio, Amaudo an ancient kingdom situated in Enugu – the then capital city of East Central Zone, Nigeria was unarguably known for its uniqueness in the whole of Igboland, especially during early eighties (1980s), based on the innumerable number of respected personalities found in the area in addition to the invariable and rare farming prowess peculiar to its indigenes in their entirety that it obviously became a point of attraction to every rational being that existed within the aforementioned calendar period. Traders and farmers were frequently touring to the area to purchase their wares and farming materials as the case may be, thereby making it reckoned to be a commercial kingdom to the envy of other neighbouring communities. Owing to the booming nature of the locality, its Traditional Ruler Igwe Ogadi Nduka – Ama II of Amaudo was recognized by all and sundry as the most influential King across the entire Igbo nation; this remarkable phenomenon attached to the throne made it seemed like what every illustrious son of Amaudo wished to sit on. The most fascinating scenario was that anyone either indigene or non-indigene who received a chieftaincy title from the kingdom was widely regarded as one of the most important chiefs in existence; thus any personality within the clan whom was yet to bag the title was seen as one who hadn’t arrived, thereby constituting an unending inconsequential controversy among the people especially during occasions or festive periods.

     “Igwe..!” the community’s town crier Uzondu saluted Igwe Nduka, head bent as the custom expected right in the king’s palace. “Igwe…ee!!” the short, dark and plump young man repeated.

      He was standing about two metres away from the King who was seated on his magnificent and adorable throne surrounded by two palace male servants whom were busy blowing some air on him with native hand-fans made of wicker material.

      He had been ordered by the king just a few minutes ago to appear before him in the palace.

      It was on Friday September 10, 1982 at about some minutes past six in the evening.

     “Uzondu.” Igwe Nduka called.

      “Igwe.” He responded, lowering his moderately big skull.

     “Summon all the sons and daughters of Amaudo,” the King mandated. “Ask them to be in this palace as soon as the cock crows tomorrow.”

     “Igwe…ee”

     “Go immediately.” The King commanded.

     “Igwe…ee.” He said, bowing as usual and hastily dashed out of the palace as demanded.

     The following morning being Saturday 11^th of September 1982 at about seven o’clock, the palace was flooded with every dick and harry in Amaudo as requested by the king; the alarming number of people present at the palace was no doubt an indication that Igwe Nduka was highly adored by his people. An open place at the King’s residence was used as the venue for the gathering rather than the palace due to the intimidating number of persons at the arena.

     Every elderly man and woman was comfortably seated while the youth as well as the kids were all on their feet as a result of insufficient seats.

     “Great people of Amaudo,” Igwe Nduka who sat on his throne commenced his awaited speech in a very high and pleasant tone. “You are all welcome.”

     On the King’s right hand was his immediate younger brother Chief Amaechi Nduka while High Chief Amasiri Ogbuehi – the Traditional Prime Minister (TPM) of the ancient kingdom was rightly seated by his left side.

     “Igwe…ee!” The people chorused in unison.

     “Without being told,” Igwe Nduka who dressed in his kingship regalia proceeded. “You already know why we are gathered here.” He hinted.

     The elders amidst the crowd nodded.

     “Of course, a week today September 18 would be our Iri Ji festival,” the king said. “So, I thought it wise to remind you of the formalities involved based on our ancient tradition.”

     ‘Iri Ji’ festival, which was an annual event, meant New Yam festival; the remarkable ritual which was celebrated every 18^th of September marked the beginning of yam consumption for each farming year in the kingdom. Thus no one, not even the king, was supposed to consume a newly harvested yam until the ‘Iri Ji’ ceremony is observed.

     “And more importantly,” Igwe Nduka rode on. “On that very day, the heir to this throne I’m sitting on would be presented to the entire people of Amaudo.”

     The elders nodded in appreciation. There was maximum silence among the gathering.

      Interestingly, the heir to the throne of Amaudo was meant to be ceremoniously presented by the serving king in every fifty years interval, and the ceremony was designed to coincide with the day of the new yam festival of the affected year. Igwe Ogadi Nduka – Ama the second (Ama II) of Amaudo whom was eight-three years of age was presented by his late father, the pioneer and immediate past king, Igwe Obifere Nduka – Ama the first (Ama I) of Amaudo as the heir to the throne in question fifty years back when he (Igwe Ogadi) was 33-years-old; and he succeeded his late father two years after the event at 35, after his father’s eternal exit. Suffice it to say that he had consecutively spent about forty-eight years on the throne as the Ama II of Amaudo, making him the longest served king in the kingdom so far.

     According to the tradition, the kingship of Amaudo wasn’t rotatory rather hereditary. The first son of the serving king was meant to succeed him when he dies, but the second son of the king could be enthroned if the supposed heir to the throne (the first son) dies prior to his father’s departure. And a situation where the king had no male child to succeed him, his immediate younger brother would assume the throne if he eventually passed on.

     “As it stands,” the old but vibrant Igwe Nduka continued. “Ahamefula my son will be officially presented on that day as the heir to this throne.”

     “Igwe…ee!” They chorused unanimously.

     Prince Ahamefula, who was 51, was the fourth child and only son of Igwe Nduka whom had two wives; he was begotten by the King’s second wife. The said Prince was seated very close to his father - the King, clad in complete royal regalia.        

     The gathering, which lasted for over one hour, ended successfully after light refreshments. At about half past eight, everyone departed for their respective residences.

     On Friday 17^th of September 1982, less than a day to the proposed New Yam festival coupled with the presentation of the heir to the throne, something very terrible transpired; Prince Ahamefula Nduka – the incoming heir to the throne kicked the bucket unexpectedly. He passed on in the evening of that fateful day in his matrimonial room. The incident, which generated an unquantifiable uproar in the royal home and among the people of Amaudo interrupted every activity taking place in the kingdom including trading, farming and what have you. Owing to the painful development, Igwe Nduka died of heart attack at the night of that very day.

      Consequently, in one year’s time after observing all the burial and mourning rites of the late king and that of his late son, on Saturday October 22, 1983, Chief Amaechi Nduka the late king’s immediate younger brother was enthroned as the Ama the third (Ama III) of Amaudo by the Chief Priest of the land as the custom demanded.

      Subsequently, Igwe Amaechi Nduka’s reign as the king of Amaudo brought a total hardship to the entire people of the kingdom and its environs; to say the least, he was not unlike a tyrant. His leadership was completely contrary to the reign of his late elder brother.

      Amazingly, four months on, precisely Tuesday 14^th of February 1984, he mysteriously died on the throne. Prior to his exit, he confessed that he, alongside Late Igwe Ogadi’s first wife – Ugoeze Obiageri was responsible for the untimely death of Prince Ahamefula; according to the confession, the late Prince was killed via food poisoning with the help of the aforesaid queen.

     She willingly accepted the offer due to her silly jealousy; she couldn’t imagine seeing the son of her sister in-law recognized as the heir of the throne, or succeeding her husband Igwe Ogadi Nduka when he dies.

     Two weeks later as nemesis would have it, the peculiar queen was overtaken by psychosis.

 

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Unceremonious Step

UNCEREMONIOUS STEP

    Walking lonely along the lonely street situated in the city of Umuahia, South-Eastern Nigeria at about few minutes past six in the evening on Saturday 10^th of March 2007 was all Chukwuebuka cared for at the moment; the 36-year-old slim, dark complexioned and about 5-foot tall young man dressed in casual attire thought it wise to take a walk having embarked on his not unusual thinking section all through the day in his humble abode otherwise known as Boys’ quarters. Chukwuebuka Okere who was definitely headed for an undefined destination was a graduate of English Linguistics from the University of Calabar, Cross River State, Nigeria popularly known and addressed as ‘UniCal’; he obtained his Bachelor of Arts (B.A) eight years back, 1999 precisely, and since he rounded off his compulsory National Youth Service programme in February 2001, the dude who was actually reckoned as one of the best brains in his department during his school days was still endlessly roaming in all the streets and major roads of Umuahia – the capital city of Abia State in search of a white-collar job, which was seemingly not forthcoming. Owing to his unending joblessness, he almost hanged himself few months back in the name of ‘frustration’. As he strolled calmly along the apparently endless street where he resided, so many terrible thoughts dawned on his miserable mind as he was subconsciously observing his fellow passers-by in their to-and-fro movements, though in about five minutes intervals which made the street appeared sparingly lonely.

     “Ebuka!” a feminine voice called from behind to no avail. “Ebuka Okere!!” She reiterated in a higher tone.

     He stopped and turned back on hearing the second call, and surprisingly he sighted a female being that seemed a bit familiar standing about half kilometer away from him with car keys in her left hand. He hastily took a few steps backward to meet her.

      It was Ogechi. Ogechi Okafor who was a graduate of Marketing happened to be Chukwuebuka’s schoolmate as well as girlfriend way back in the university but he graduated ahead of her because she was two years lower than him in level. Pathetically, Chukwuebuka dumped her in April 2000 during her third year (300 Level) when he was undergoing his youth service programme; the unexpected and unspeakable estrangement from a man she cared so much about, which caused her a severe heartbreak, almost claimed her precious life if not the intervention of her close female friends on campus.

     Ogechi who was light-skinned, slim and about 1.5 metres tall was putting on blue trousers, pink top and high-heel pink foot wears; the high heel made her appeared taller than Chukwuebuka. Ab initio she was unarguably a pretty damsel; and at that very moment she seemed extremely prettier to Chukwuebuka’s greatest amazement.

     “Ogechi…Okafor!” He exclaimed, folding his arms while standing about a metre away from her.

     “Surprise?” She enquired, smiling.

     “Oh my God,” he said. “You are completely different now.”

      She smiled.

     “What’s the secret?”

     “Well, na God oh.”

     “So, what are you doing here?” He inquired. “What brought you to Umuahia?” He added.

      “I live here.”

      “You mean,” he said. “You are a resident of Umuahia?”

      “Of course.”

      “It’s a lie.”

      “Honestly.”

      “You don’t mean it,” he said. “Since when?”

      “Since I finished my NYSC in 2003.”

      “Oh my God,” he dished out. “This is getting more interesting.”

      “Actually, I live around here,” she chipped in. “In the neighbouring street, Ekpoma Crescent to be precise.”

      “Ekpoma Crescent?”

      “Ya.”

       Ekpoma Crescent was a residential corner peculiar to notable personalities.

      “And you,” she said. “You live around?”

      “Ya,” he replied. “This is my street.”

      “Are you serious?’

      “Yes,” responded Chukwuebuka amidst a nod. “I reside at the beginning of the street, Number 3 precisely.”

     “Since when have you been in Umuahia?”

     “Ever since I concluded my youth service.’

     “So what have been happening since then?” she curiously enquired.

      There was no response.

     “Look at you, Ebuka,” she observed, frowning. “You used to be plump.”

     “My dear,” he broke the silence. “It’s a long story.”

     Since after his NYSC, he had only been occupied with one menial job or the other just to make ends meet.

     “Well, I’m actually catching fun here with some of my colleagues,” she abruptly changed the topic. “One of us is marking her birthday.”

     There was a relaxation outlet behind her; the sound coming from the joint was obviously felt by the passersby. That was where she was seated among her friends before she caught sight of Chukwuebuka in the distance the moment he passed.

     “Would you mind joining us?” She urged.

     “Joining you?” He said. “Like this?” He added, pointing at his dress.

      The casual wears he was clad in comprised black three-quarter jeans, green polo and brown leather slippers.

      “You are okay,” she admitted. “After all, you are a man.”

      “Sure?”

      “Of course,” she said. “Besides, this is your street.” She added, paused. “So, you are equally the landlord or the host.” She declared cheerfully.

       He smiled. “Okay, if you say so.” He said opening his hands, indicating that he had surrendered.

     “So, shall we?” She landed pointing towards the joint with her left arm.

      They majestically walked hand in hand to the joint.

      She introduced him to the gathering that was made up of various sophisticated ladies and gentlemen as soon as they got to the point before they assumed their seats; they were seated opposite each other at one of the free white plastic tables in the arena.

     Initially, he refused to take anything when he was asked to name what he cared for owing to the enormous guilt his mindset was preoccupied with, until he was profoundly persuaded by Ogechi to do so. Finally having succumbed, he ordered for a plate of pepper soup to be accompanied with a bottle of chilled malt.

     The fun lasted till about eight o’clock at night when everyone departed for their respective residences. Ogechi who was the Marketing Manager of one of the renowned firms in the city gave a copy of her complimentary card to Chukwuebuka prior to her departure; she asked him to see her in the office first thing the following Monday.

      On the said Monday being March 12, 2007, Chukwuebuka arrived at Ogechi’s office as instructed. The moment he walked into her magnificent office, he knelt down to seek for unconditional forgiveness with tears on his eyes. She made him understand right in the office that she had forgiven him long ago, if not she wouldn’t have asked him to join her at the relaxation outlet let alone inviting him to her place of work; a pronouncement that made the guilty poor man to develop an abrupt high fever.

      Two weeks later, she helped him to secure an employment in her company. When her friends and colleagues confronted her for the seemingly silly and unceremonious step she had taken having learnt what the man in question did to her years back, she categorically disclosed to them that she bore no grudge for him again, stating that a known devil was far better than an unknown angel. Ogechi who was still a splinter at 33, unequivocally went further to notify them that she was damn willing and ready to settle down with Chukwuebuka if he eventually proposed her. Apparently, she couldn’t forget in a hurry the juicy and remarkable moment they shared together, and she was of the view that he could not forget either; thus that remained her motivator.

     Amazingly, in about three months later, Chukwuebuka and Ogechi who were now colleagues re-established another intimate emotional affair to the envy of all and sundry that were within. Subsequently, six months on, Saturday September 8, 2007 to be precise, they tied the knot; their ostensibly divine union remained an interesting story headline to their teeming friends, relatives and well-wishers.

     Thereafter, they were happily married with three kids – two males and a female.    

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