Strange Friday

STRANGE FRIDAY

     “Bros,” Chris called. “Good day ooh!” he greeted elatedly.

     “Good day, my brother.” Akpan replied in his police uniform.

     “How was work today?” Chris enquired.

      Both men whom were closest neighbours in the city of Uyo, Akwa-Ibom State, Nigeria just returned from their respective places of work. They were speaking respectively from their apartments situated very close to each other in the same compound as they were about to hop in.

      “My brother,” the 43-year-old Mr. Akpan Okon said. “This our suffer-suffer work sef.” He lamented amid false pretence.

      “Suffer-suffer work?” verified Mr. Chris who seems to be in his late 40s. “No be you dey build duplex so?” He spoke in Pidgin English, trying to differ from him that his police job was a ‘suffer-suffer work’ as he asserted.

       Mr. Okon, a father of four, was reckoned to be a successful police officer. Though he was ostensibly of a low cadre, he could boast of the prime needs of a man of his age. He alongside his family lived in a 3-bedroom flat, and was at the moment erecting a residential duplex in the same city (Uyo) having already built a befitting bungalow in his hometown – equally in Akwa Ibom. No one, not even any of his intimate friends, truly knew the secret behind his excess income. Since it was apparent that an average Nigerian police personnel of his rank could hardly boast of two-square meal on a daily basis, let alone a befitting place of residence, people far and near were very much convinced that he wasn’t depending only on his supposed basic salaries and allowances.

      Although everyone was informed that ever since Mr. Okon purportedly joined the Police Force, he had never worked or been posted elsewhere except on the road – mainly the highway – where he and his teammates invariably focused majorly on collection of gratification, but they (everyone) were still of the view that such earning wasn’t enough to cater for those cost-intensive assets owned by the latter (Akpan).

      “My brother, if I tell you what I pass through every day to ensure that I build that duplex,” Mr. Akpan Okon responded. “You will pity me.”

     “What you pass through?” quoth Chris – the father of five. “Is it not just to stand on the road?”

     “Just to stand on the road?” Akpan echoed. “You call it just?” He added, paused. “Chris, you won’t understand.”

     “Well,” quoth Chris. “Whatever stress that is involved, I wish I am in your shoes.”

     “Are you serious?”

     “Yes nah,” Chris reiterated. “Take a look at me; I worth no penny.” He asserted emphatically, paused. “This my trade, how much is it giving me?”

     “So, you prefer police work?”

     “Yes nah,” answered Chris. “So far money is flowing.”

     “Okay ooh…” exclaimed Akpan. “But I will advise, you shouldn’t ever wish to be a policeman.” He warned, paused. “The job is for hungry men.”

      “For hungry men..?” Mr. Chris inquired, surprised. “And, you are getting richer every day?”

       Mr. Akpan smiled, kept quiet.

     “Look at me,” Chris rode on. “I can’t even pay my house rent talk less of taking care of my family.

      “My brother, leave mata for Matthias.” Akpan enjoined in vernacular. “I am very tired.” He added, opened his door.

      “Well, to be continued.” concurred Chris, kept his own entrance open and hopped in.

       Mr. Akpan followed suit, seemed really exhausted as claimed.

                      * * * * * *

      “Hold it there!” Bassey – a member of an armed 4-man police team, which Akpan was the leader, just stopped a moving Range-Over Jeep on an expressway at about 4.20pm on Friday.

     Bassey was with Akpan at one side of the road, though they were separated by a reasonable distance while the other two were at the other side.

     The vehicle’s driver who was carrying his boss in the car had earlier attempted to ignore a signal from Bassey ordering him to apply his brakes based on the fact that his boss whom was a prominent business tycoon was already late to a crucial board-meeting he was headed for. But he was left with no choice when Bassey pointed his gun at one of the jeep’s front tyres.

      “Officer, we are already late to a meeting.” The young driver informed as he parked by the roadside.

     “So,” Bassey said. “Because you are late, you wanted to disobey the law?” he replied, hurriedly looked into the car and saw the boss who was seated at the owner’s side. “Good day, sir.” He greeted.

     “Good day, my dear.” replied the boss – Chief Ude, who appeared to be in his mid 50s, in a bass tone. “Please, we are late.” He reiterated.

     The stubborn Bassey overlooked the plea and urged the driver to park very well.

     The driver complied.

      In the process, Mr. Akpan who stood about two metres away walked closer to the scene to observe the scenario which seemed dramatic.

     “Can I see your papers?” Bassey urged the driver.

      This time, he was standing alongside his leader, Akpan.

      The driver quickly brought out the papers as requested, though seemed very worried over the time being wasted.

       Bassey who was well dressed in his police uniform, likewise his colleagues, was taking his time to peruse the papers towards ascertaining at least a single fault, but all to no avail. He insisted, thus continued going through the papers painstakingly for the umpteenth time.

      Chief Ude, who wasn’t willing to offer them any gratification, got irritated; hence, picked up his cell phone and dialed the number of the state’s Commissioner for Police (CP) unknowingly to Bassey and Akpan.

       Just a few minutes after the information was sent across to the police CP, a squad of seven able-bodied security personnel from the Department of State Services (DSS), dressed in mufti, arrived at the arena in a civilian patrol vehicle. Before Akpan and his men could realize what was happening, they had already surrounded them. They immediately freed Chief Ude and therein tried to ascertain the division Akpan’s team came from, only to discover that the men in question were nothing but a set of fraudsters who had been operating in disguise.

     The fascinating, perhaps bitter truth was that Akpan was never a policeman, and was never recruited at any time in the Police Force. Owing to joblessness and desperation, he founded the unscrupulous and illicit police team just to extort money from commuters on a daily basis. The worst of all remained that, they weren’t only indulging in collection of gratification; sometimes, they would embark on other criminal adventures, still under police guise, thereby extorting money from their preys. They had successfully operated the syndicate for over two years until that fateful day that could best be described as ‘strange Friday’ when luck thought it wise to turn its back on them.

       Interestingly, one of the members of the fraudulent team happened to be Chris, the neighbour to Mr. Akpan; the latter integrated him into the syndicate after he severally pleaded with him to help him secure a job in the Police Force having decided to abandon his trade. His first outing with the gang ushered in the bad luck.      

      “Guilty or not guilty?” the clerk enquired from the syndicate whom was sued two weeks after the incident with a 5-count charge bordering on unpatriotic indulgence, conspiracy, sabotage, robbery, as well as illegal possession of weapons and police uniforms.

       “Guilty!” the leader – Mr. Akpan Okon testified on behalf of the gang.

       “You have, therefore, been convicted of the charge levelled against you, …” the jury pronounced. “You are hereby sentenced to 35-year imprisonment.” He succinctly landed having made other consequential announcements.

      “Court..!” the clerk exclaimed with alacrity as the panel of Judges took a bow amid the intense uproar that emanated from the verdict.

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Unfortunate Wedding Ring (II)

UNFORTUNATE WEDDING RING (II)

     “What exactly is going on here?” Reverend Fr. Ebo inquired the moment they got to the ‘inner chamber’ having offered Chima and the intruder seats.

      The priest was flanked by the two guests.

     “Father,” the intruder called as she sat on the wooden backseat, carrying the seemingly 2-year-old girl on her laps. “This man here is my man.” She claimed, pointing at Chima who was seated opposite her.

      Chima was quiet in his white suit coupled with white plain trousers, remained perturbed.

     “Your man?”

     “Yes Father.” She answered emphatically as she dressed in a multi-coloured maternity gown.

     “What do you mean by that?” the cleric further enquired. “Besides, what’s your name?” He quickly changed the query.

     “Abigail.”

     “Abigail?” He verified.

     “Yes,” she said. “Abigail Ete.”

     “It’s alright.” quoth Fr. Ebo. “So what did you mean by, he is your man?” He retrogressed.

     “Both of us have been together for years.” Abigail responded. “This is our child.” She informed, tenderly tapping the kid.

      Rev. Ebo was shocked, adjusted himself. “You mean,” he said. “This kid belongs to both of you?”

     “Yes Father.”

     “But, is he married to you?”

     “No Father.” She replied hesitantly. “But we have been dating for over six years.”

     “This is damn serious.” The priest exclaimed.

      There was tranquility.

     “Chima,” Rev. Ebo continued, looking at the unfortunate groom. “What do you have to say?”

      Chima remained calm and speechless.

     “You heard her,” the cleric said. “Didn’t you?”

     “Father,” Chima finally uttered. “I have nothing to say.”

     “Meaning?” the priest queried, frowned.

        Chima couldn’t dish out a word.

     “Didn’t you hear the allegation?” Fr. Ebo rode on. “Is this your child or not?” He ranted, pointing at the kid.

      “Yes, she is.” Chima cleared the air, frowning.

       Rev. Ebo shook his head. “Oh my God!” he managed to exclaim.

       The worst was that, Chima never cared to disclose his plans to his ‘Baby mama’; rather, he concluded to take her unawares, thinking that she wouldn’t realize the upcoming wedding ceremony he had arranged with another lady since they weren’t resident closely to each other. But Abigail got the news from her well-wishers and decided not to inform the church when the marriage banns were being read till the D-day. Funnily enough, he had nothing serious against her; just that he wanted to change his taste because he was now a changed person, financially.

     “But…” Chima voiced out.

     “But what?” the cleric interrupted.

      Abigail remained quiet and attentive.

     “I can’t marry her.”

       The statement further fuelled the priest’s anger. “You can’t marry her?”

       He nodded calmly.

     “But you could sleep with her?” the priest quarreled, got irritated.

       Abigail concurred with the cleric, considering her countenance.

       Chima, on his part, was speechless.

     “Just listen to yourself.” Fr. Ebo enjoined.

       Everyone was silent.

     “Come to think of it,” the cleric broke the silence. “Is Oge aware of all these?”

      Chima was mute.

     “Am I talking to someone?”

     “She’s not.” Chima eventually disclosed.

     “Chima,” Fr. Ebo called unfriendly. “Don’t you think you are just being wicked?” he clarified, paused. “You only wanted to punish that poor girl.”

      There was maximum silence.

     “You planned to settle down with someone who knew nothing about your past,” Rev. Fr. Ebo proceeded in a jiffy. “That’s indeed a wicked act.” He asserted, paused. “After all we taught you people during the marriage class?”

     No one could utter a word.

    “If I may ask,” the priest went on. “Is any of your parents aware of this relationship?” he enquired, looking at their faces intermittently.

     Abigail hurriedly shook her head that bore plaited hairs. “He has never met my parents.” She informed. “And each time I tried to meet with his, he would come up with frivolous excuses.”

      Fr. Ebo shook his apparently big skull. “So,” he said. “You mean your parents are yet to know the father of this child?” He inquired from Abigail, pointing to the kid.

     The baby mama nodded. “When I took in, I asked him to come and meet my parents,” she notified. “But he refused, stating that he was not ready for marriage.”

      Fr. Ebo bitterly glanced at Chima who was seated like a drenched peacock.

     “He even persuaded me to abort the baby.” She further disclosed.

     “Oh my God..!” the priest ranted. “May God forgive you.” He told Chima.

      Few minutes later, the interrogations were over, thus the cleric walked out of the inner room in their company to meet with the congregation.

      Therein, Oge got to know the other side of her supposed husband-to-be having recovered from the moment of unconsciousness. The knowledge of the fact that Chima already had a child with another woman further threw her to the dust; she couldn’t withstand the ordeal. Consequently, she thought it wise to denounce the proposed marriage since she was only getting married to a mere stranger. Hence, the congregation was dismissed.  

     “Chima my son,” the 82-year-old Mr. Agbo called as he was seated in his parlour alongside his wife in a two-in-one upholstery chair, the following day. “I want you to tell me nothing, but the truth.”

      Chima who was seated directly opposite the couple adjusted himself in his single upholstery chair.

      “Why didn’t you tell us about this all these while?” Mr. Agbo rode on.

       “I didn’t think it was necessary.” Chima said.

       “You never thought it was necessary?” the host echoed.

       “Yes dad.”

       “Okay,” quoth Mr. Agbo. “So, why did you refuse to marry her?”

       “She is not my type.”

       “Not your type..?” the old man echoed.

        Chima nodded.

       “How?” Mr. Agbo inquired. “Why?” he added immediately.

       “She is just not my type.”

       “And you were with her for over six years?”

       “I was only managing her.”

        Mrs. Agbo shook her head. “Managing her..?” her hubby said, frowned.

       “Exactly.” Chima responded unequivocally.

       “And in the process of the management, she got a child for you?” the octogenarian frankly reviewed the paradox.

      “That was a mistake, dad.”

      “A mistake?”

      “Yes dad.” He insisted.

      “Hmm,” Mr. Agbo sighed. “You amuse me…” He added, leaned on his seat.

      “My son,” Mrs. Agbo interrupted. “You have brought disgrace to this family.” She informed, paused. “You have taken the family name to the mould.” She reiterated, equally leaned on the seat.

      “I am sorry, mum,” he declared hesitantly, looking really apologetic. “I am sorry, dad.” He added.

       There was absolute silence.

      “So,” Mr. Agbo proceeded. “What’s your plan now?”

      “I will go and plead with Oge,” Chima thought aloud. “I am sure she would forgive me.”

      “Just like that?” Mr. Agbo enquired, smiled unfriendly.

      “Yes dad.”

      “It appears,” Mrs. Agbo observed. “You are yet to understand the gravity of what you did to that poor girl?”

      Mr. Agbo shook his head sympathetically. “I can see you are a dreamer.” He landed, stood up and walked towards his bedroom. His wife followed suit.

      After all said and done, Oge couldn’t reconcile with Chima with the view that the latter wasn’t meant to be trusted since he could have such arrangement without letting her realize even an iota of it.

      Soonest, Chima was left with no choice than to go to Ms. Abigail Ete and tender his unreserved apology as expected. Both reconciled and soon afterwards, they tied the knot to the glory of God. Subsequently, they were happily married and were blessed with more children.

     If you were in Oge’s shoes, what would you do after she was left alone? Think about it!

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Unfortunate Wedding Ring

UNFORTUNATE WEDDING RING

      It was obviously a beautiful Friday. But, to Oge, the day could not be more beautiful than the awaited following day being Saturday that was expected to usher in the long awaited wedding ceremony between the lady in question and a widely celebrated bachelor in the person of Chima. The 34-year-old Oge, reckoned to be a humble and marriageable spinster, had waited patiently for the D-day she was meant to join hands with her husband-to-be, Chima right before the golden altar of Saint Mathew Catholic Church, Rumuokwoso in Rivers State, which was the designated venue for the scheduled epochal outing. She couldn’t wait for the next 24 hours as she lied in her bed in her parental home, filled with fathomless ecstasy. As she anxiously lied, she couldn’t keep her sight off the wedding gown hung in her wardrobe that was kept widely open; the unending observation brought endless smiles to her roundish face, thereby showcasing her real angelic outlook.

      Few minutes later, her mother - Mrs. Alo majestically walked into the room; it was about 7:30am. “Oge.” the elegantly looking woman called, standing closely to her.

     “Yes mum.” Oge answered, still lying in the bed.

     “You are still in the bed..?” Mrs. Alo queried, couldn’t afford to sit. “Have you forgotten we have a lot to do today?”

     “Sorry mum,” Oge said. “Just that…”

      The 61-year-old mother of four gushed out huge smile. “I understand how you feel my daughter.” She interrupted, walked to the bed and sat down. “During my time, I was more elated than you are right now.”

      Oge happened to be her first child and only daughter.

     “Really..?”

     “Yes dear.” Mrs. Alo responded, nodding. Hastily recollected the past.

     “Tell me about it.” She curiously demanded elatedly.

     “Your daddy was my dream man.” quoth Mrs. Alo. “So, I couldn’t wait for the D-day.”

      Oge was very attentive.

     “And,” she rode on. “Being the first daughter to my parents just as you are, the heat was really felt by everybody.”

      Oge dished out a dazzling smile.

     “My dear,” Mrs. Alo called. “We can’t finish everything now.” She asserted. “We have a lot to do today.”

     “Mummy nah…” Oge murmured, wanting her to continue.

     “Please, get up, get up!” Mrs. Alo urged, stood up.

      Oge equally stood up immediately, grabbed her mum. Both of them walked out of the room holding each other by the waist.

     On his part, the 36-year-old Chima who happened to be a very successful entrepreneur was as well perturbed; in fact, his was greater. But, as a young man who had tasted life so much, he knew how best to handle it. As he stepped out of his room on that Friday morning having taken his precious time to admire the white suit meant for the occasion, the moment of anxiety was conspicuously written all over his face, just exactly like Oge’s; hence, his father Mr. Agbo who was seated at the (Chima’s) house’s front balcony asked him to come over and join him. He complied accordingly, thus sat very closely with him on one of the vacant coloured plastic seats sited at the arena.

     “Son.” Mr. Agbo called tenderly.

     “Dad.”

     “Tomorrow is your day.” The octogenarian enthused.

      Chima happened to be his last child.

     “You are right, dad.”

     “By tomorrow, you would be a complete man.” The old man asserted. “And definitely, your identity would change.”

      Chima nodded calmly.

     “I and your mum can’t wait,” quoth Mr. Agbo. “Likewise you.” He added in a jiffy, paused. “In fact, the entire family and of course the whole world, would be celebrating you tomorrow.” He proudly exaggerated.

      Chima smiled, remained quiet.

     “Mind you,” he proceeded. “Don’t over labour yourself today so that you would be very fit tomorrow.”

      Chima nodded.

     “Have a good rest after today’s finishing touches.” He emphatically advised.

      The bachelor nodded as usual. “Thank you, dad.” He appreciated, stood up.

     “Good luck, son.” Mr. Agbo landed, still seated.

      Chima calmly took his leave, felt very excited, though the innermost feeling he was nurturing could best be expressed by him.

      Behold, the D-day being the following day eventually unfolded. By 10am of that fateful day, the incoming couple found themselves at the venue of the event, St. Mathew Catholic Church precisely. They were like newly and specially created creatures meant for each other; the joy on their respective faces could be observed by all and sundry, even the virtually impaired.

     At 10:30am, which was the actual time for the ceremony, the priest-in-charge, Reverend Father Ebo graciously commenced the wedding mass. In his sermon, he reminded the congregants that ‘What God has joined together, let no man put asunder’. He equally took time to expatiate the essence of the biblical citation to everyone’s understanding.

     Approximately at 11:10am, tying of the nuptial knots, which was the real reason for the mass, began in a grand style. At this point, all the photographers in the church, including paparazzi and quacks, surrounded the about to be wedded couple comprising Mr. Chima Agbo and Miss Oge Alo. Fascinatingly, they were incidentally the only couple to be wedded in the church on that very day.

     “If there’s anyone here who is against this union,” Rev. Fr. Ebo announced as tradition demanded. “He or she should say something now, or forever remain silent.”

      Before he could finish the statement, a young woman holding about 2-year-old female kid in her left hand, dashed into the magnificent church building. “Yes, this wedding will not go on.” She fiercely hinted aloud from afar.

     It wasn’t even a ‘man’ as the cleric earlier cited in the biblical quote; a woman was the person wanting to put the forbidden asunder. One may wonder: where had she been all those while when the marriage banns were being announced in the church?

     Everyone present looked at her in silent awe, whilst Chima bent his head, felt ashamed and mesmerized.

     “This man here is my husband.” The intruder claimed, pointing at Chima. “And, this is his daughter.” She added, pointing at the kid with her right hand.

      The teeming congregants were in disarray whilst the supposed incoming bride passed out.

      The officiating priest, Rev. Ebo therein called Chima as well as the ‘august visitor’ into an inner chamber for further enquiries, whereas others concentrated on the fainted Oge towards resuscitating her.

      What transpired consequently ought to be a story for another day. Or, what do you think? Think about it!

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