Just a Dream (II)

JUST A DREAM (II)

     “Just a dream?” Madam Ade pondered, pop-eyed as she sat lonely on a plastic seat at her matrimonial home’s balcony.

     It was barely one week after the burial of her late husband’s remains, at 8:00am on Saturday precisely. She was yet to get the picture of that very dream clearly. To her, Chief R.O. Ade’s abrupt murder was a true manifestation of that nightmare experienced by her last child, Tunji. But she needed a clearer interpretation in order not to go astray. The question remained: who would do the long awaited interpretation? A prophet, chief priest, soothsayer, or a native doctor? Nevertheless, all she knew was that she needed an interpreter, but how to go about it was what the poor widow was yet to come about.

    “What type of dream was that?” She continued in her mourning attire – white silk wrappers and top coupled with white hair scarf and earrings.

     “Mum,” said the 23-year-old Lola who happened to be the firstborn of the couple as she walked to the balcony. “So, you are all alone here.”

     Lola was a three hundred level (300L) undergraduate. She alongside her immediate younger brother named Tunde was the only one who had gotten to a tertiary institution among four of them.

     “My dear,” Madam Ade responded. “Don’t mind your mother.”

      Lola sat closely to her. “Mummy,” she called. “You have to stop thinking about this.” She advised, paused. “Only God knows why dad left at the time we needed him most.”

     Lola and her other two siblings were yet to be briefed on the much-think-about dream. It was still a matter between Tunji and his mum.

     “Where is Tunji?” Madam Ade verified.

     “He’s in his room.” replied Lola

     “Please, go and call him.”

     “Okay mum.” She said, stood up and walked away.

     “Yes mum.” Tunji said the moment he joined his mother in a jiffy as requested in the company of Lola.

     “Please, sit down.” Madam Ade urged him.

    Tunji quickly sat on a separate plastic seat situated very close to his mum’s. On her part, Lola resumed hers. Both siblings were seated opposite each other, facing their mother who was flanked by them.

     “Tunji,” madam Ade called calmly. “Please, tell me more about that dream.”

     “The dream?” quoth Tunji.

      Madam Ade nodded continuously.

     “Which dream?” Lola interrupted.

     “Your kid brother here,” quoth Madam Ade, gesticulating. “Had a very terrible dream prior to your daddy’s death.” She cleared the air hesitantly.

     “A terrible dream?” wondered Lola, looking at both parties.

      Madam Ade nodded. “I am still pondering on it.” She confessed.

     “Tunji,” Lola called. “What’s the dream all about?” She inquired, became perturbed.

     “Daddy was shot in the dream.” Tunji disclosed.

     “Shot…?”

     “Ya,” said Tunji. “He was shot dead.”

     “You mean,” quoth Lola. “daddy was shot dead in the dream?”

      The pale-looking Tunji nodded.

      “Oh my God!” Lola exclaimed, occupied with burning sensation. “Who shot him dead?” she added.

      “Uncle Alagbo.” responded Tunji.

      “Uncle Dada Alagbo?” She enquired, agitated. “His closest colleague in the office?”

      Tunji replied via a nod.

      “No, it can’t be true.” Lola disagreed. “Uncle Dada was daddy’s best friend nah.”

      “That is exactly where I am deeply confused.” Madam Ade interrupted.

      Intriguingly, the man in question, Mr. Alagbo played a very major role, both financially and otherwise, during Chief Ade’s burial rites. And, he was as well greatly touched by the incident.

      “Tunji,” Madam Ade proceeded. “Where was your dad shot in the dream?”

      “In the head.”

      “I didn’t mean the part of his body,” said Madam Ade. “I meant, at which area?”

     “In his car,” replied Tunji. “When he was returning from office.”

     “Were you in the car?” quoth Madam Ade.

     “Yes mum,” said Tunji. “I was seated at the front with dad.”

     “And, you were not shot, right?”

     “Yes mum.”

     “How many persons were involved in the assassination?”

     “Three.”

      Lola shook her head. “Same number of persons that came to the house.” She thought .

     “And, they weren’t masked?” Madam Ade inquired.

     “Yes, mum.” Tunji said. “Their faces were left widely open.”

     “So, one of them happened to be Mr. Alagbo?”

      Tunji nodded frantically. “He was the one that pulled the trigger,” he notified. “Thrice.”

     “Thrice…?” Lola interrupted, bemused. “Exactly the number of times I was told daddy was shot.”

      Madam Ade shook her head. “This is getting more confusing.”

     “Tunji,” Lola called. “What time was that in the dream?”

     “In the afternoon, about 4pm” responded Tunji. “The time daddy usually returned from office.”

     There was absolute unsolicited tranquility.

      In a few seconds time, Late Chief R.O. Ade’s younger and only brother, Mr. Dele Ade who lived closely joined them, hurriedly sat on one of the plastic seats situated a bit farther from the gathering, looked very rejected and tattered.

     “Good morning Uncle Dele!” Lola and Tunji chorused.

     “Good morning, Dele.” Madam Ade followed suit.

     “There is nothing good about the morning ooh…” Mr. Dele exclaimed, scratching all over his body.

    “Such is life.” Madam Ade said, thinking he was still much disturbed by his brother’s departure.

     “I killed him.” Mr. Dele hinted immediately. “I killed him ooh…”

     “What a hell are you talking about?” Madam Ade quarreled apprehensively. “You killed who?”

      Others looked at him in silent awe.

     “I killed Brother Remi ooh.”

      Remi was the first name of his late elder brother, Chief R.O. Ade.

     “You killed who?” Madam Ade shouted, stood up.

     “Yes, I killed him.” He said repeatedly.

      Lola and Tunji couldn’t fathom the unforeseen scenario; they were both trapped in their respective seats. In the process, their other siblings rushed to the balcony having overheard the unwonted noise coming from their mother, only to encounter the mind-boggling disclosure.

     “You mean,” Madam Ade ranted. “You killed your only brother?”

      Mr. Dele Ade had been looking for a means to eliminate the deceased owing to greed. He wanted to own all the plots of land they inherited from their late father all alone. He was of the view that once he succeeded in eliminating Chief R.O. Ade, his two male children wouldn’t be a serious case or a troublesome issue afterwards.

     It might equally interest you to acknowledge that during the burial, while the deceased corpse was dressed in a coffin, according to their custom, it was accompanied with a blunt cutlass to enable his spirit haunt anyone responsible for his demise; though Mr. Dele made a futile effort to oppose the arrangement, stating that it was fetish thus against their family’s faith.

     The uncontrollable uproar raised by Madam Ade immediately after the confession, attracted everyone far and within to Late Chief Remi Ade’s compound. They couldn’t believe their ears as soon as they were briefed on what was going on.

     Therein, Mr. Dele took to the street in an insane mood, leaving his clothes except pants behind.

     Arguably, the evil that men do lives with them, contrary to the famous presumption that it lives after them. Or, what’s your opinion? Think about it!

Follow me: @mediaambassador

http://facebook.com/fred4nwaozoor

   

Just a Dream

JUST A DREAM

     Tunji who just stepped outside his father’s house in the early morning of the day was so numbed that he couldn’t recognize his mother who was very busy on the premises of the building let alone tendering a salutation as courtesy requested. The nightmare he had the previous night was, to say the least, the worst of its kind ever since he realized the essence of dreams; his ever loving father was shot dead by one of his male colleagues in his working place.

     “Tunji?” the surprised 51-year-old Madam Ade called as she was occupied with her household chores.

     “Yes, mum.” responded the 15-year-old Tunji who happened to be the lastborn of his parents, walked towards her.

     This time, they were standing about half a metre away from each other. The woman in question tied a single wrapper up to her chest whilst the poor boy put on only boxers.

     “Are you alright?”

     “I think I am.” He replied, scratching his head with his right hand.

     “You think you are?”

     “Yes mum.”

     “What’s the meaning of that?”

     “Mum, I am fine.”

     “Are you sure you are okay?”

      He nodded calmly.

     “So,” she said. “How come you couldn’t remember to greet your mum this morning?”

      He was speechless, head bent.

     “Hmm…,” she sighed. “You can go.” She urged, gesticulating, wasn’t satisfied by the responses though.

      He quickly took his leave, walked straight to his room.

     “No, this boy is not fine.” Madam Ade thought as she watched him depart. “This is not him.”

     No doubt, a mother needn’t be told when her child isn’t sound in all ramifications, and Madam Ade wasn’t exceptional. The encounter kept her wondering what actually could prompt such abrupt countenance. She had known Tunji, from day one, to be a happy and well-cultured chap; in other words, he couldn’t possibly forget to greet his beloved mum at such hour of the day. She stood aloof not unlike a sentry as she wondered.

     “Oh God,” Tunji exclaimed aloud after a few seconds he got to his room having sat on his bed. “Was my dad actually shut dead in that dream?” He said.

     “What dream?” queried Madam Ade, who followed him to the room hesitantly, having slightly overheard his soliloquy.

     He was shocked, never expected his mum’s presence. “What?” He managed to utter.

     She sat very close to him. “Were you not the one who mentioned a dream right now?”

     “Mummy, I have told you,” quoth Tunji. “I am fine.”

     “Shut up,” enjoined Madam Ade. “You are not fine.” She added, paused. “It is written all over you.”

       He kept calm.

     “And if you don’t tell me what is eating you up,” she proceeded. “Your dad will hear about it.”

     “Please mum,” he pleaded. “Don’t tell him.”

      His father Chief R.O. Ade was a no-nonsense man who understood the most accurate way to discipline a child whenever he/she misbehaved or how best to make him/her answerable to, or confide in, his/her parents regardless of the situation.

     “Then, you have to start talking,” she urged. “Besides, are you not going to school today?” She added.

     The time check was 6.50am. Their four children were meant to comprehend the essence of going to school early or on time.

     “Well,” she rode on. “First, tell me what’s bothering you.”

     “I had a dream last night.” He eventually disclosed sluggishly.

     “A dream?’

      He nodded.

     “Last night?”

     Tunji nodded again. “But, it was terrible.” He informed. “Very horrible.”

    “Terrible?”

    “Yes mum.”

    “Tell me about it.”

    “Daddy was shot dead.”

    “What..?” shouted Madam Ade, bemused. “Shot dead?”

       He nodded.

     “Your daddy?”

      He also replied via a nod.

     “By who?”

     “Uncle Alagbo.”

      Mr. Dada Alagbo was the name of his father’s junior colleague who pulled the trigger in the said nightmare.

     “Mr. Alagbo?” Madam Ade said.

     Tunji nodded.

     “Dada Alagbo?” She reiterated.

      She couldn’t fathom the story owing to the fact that the man in question happened to be one of the closest colleagues, if not closest, to her husband – Chief R.O. Ade.

     “Yes, mum.” responded Tunji, head bent.

     “Hmm…” Madam Ade oozed out a huge air. “This is serious.” She thought aloud.

     “I am confused too.” quoth the poor teen.

     “Your father must hear this.”

     “Mum, don’t tell him,” Tunji suggested. “After all, it’s just a dream.” He thought it wise.

     Madam Ade tenderly looked at him. “I think you are right.” She said, nodding. “Please, go and get ready for school.” She urged after some seconds, stood up and took her leave.

    “Okay mum.” He replied, hurriedly left the room for the bathroom.

* * * * * *

     “Where is the money?” One of the three masked robbers, who just invaded Chief Ade’s house, queried the chief as he lied in his matrimonial bed alongside his wife, Madam Ade.

     The couple couldn’t believe their eyes; it was just like a mere dream.

     This was happening at about 12.06am exactly at the moment Madam Ade was still recollecting the ugly story her son, Tunji shared with her in the early morning of the previous day.

     “I said, where is the money?” the baron repeated as Chief Ade coupled with his wife was left speechless.

     “There’s no money in the house.” Chief Ade answered, staggering.

     “Oh,” the other robber said. “You think we are here for child’s play, right?”

     “The money, or …” the third robber who appeared like the gang’s leader added succinctly, pointing his gun at Chief Ade.

     “Please, don’t kill my husband.” Madam Ade stammered.

     “Shut up, woman!” the first speaker ordered.

       Before he could finish, the apparent leader who could best be described as an Iroko tree quickly released the trigger thrice, and the gun’s bullets landed on Chief Ade’s chest.

     He passed away instantly.

     Madam Ade widely opened her eyes and mouth in awe, couldn’t fathom the scene.

     The robbers took their leave in a jiffy.

     The moment they left, Madam Ade screamed and screamed, but pathetically the evil had already been unleashed.

     Therein, her two children including Tunji who were living with the parents rushed out only to meet their father lying helplessly on the bed in cold blood. It seemed, all along, they never knew what was transpiring until their mother’s scream came up.

     They all collectively sobbed uncontrollably right in the room. The other children of Chief Ade - now late, who were in the university, despite their absence, were ostensibly touched by the gravity of the endless gasping, choking sobs coming from their siblings and poor mother.

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

Follow me: @mediambassador

http://facebook.com/fred4nwaozor

        
 

Fearsome Melodrama (II)

FEARSOME MELODRAMA (II)

    “Young man,” Mr. Ama Madu interrupted. “What a hell are you talking about?” He said as he approached where the intruder stood.

    The crowd was still in silence awe. Everyone seemed like an electrocuted being.

    “Maybe you should ask your wife,” Mr. Kedu unfriendly suggested. “I think that would save us from a big stress.” He added, looking firmly at the face of Mr. Ama who stood about a metre away from him.

    “My wife…?” Mr. Ama said, shocked.

    “You heard me clearly.” responded Mr. Kedu.

      Mr. Ama looked at Chizoba who appeared so devastated as she held her son, Chibuzo firmly. She attempted to face elsewhere the moment her hubby turned back to take a look at her but she was emotionally trapped, thus she stood still, fearfully facing Mr. Ama. “What a hell is going on here?” he asked her. “Can someone talk to me?” He reiterated, looking around.

     Chizoba left the arena immediately and ran into her matrimonial home, carrying her cute baby in her hands.

     Mr. Kedu smiled at her reaction. “I guess she cannot withstand the shame.” He thought aloud.

     “This drama is turning into something else.” Mr. Ama observed in a loud tone, also left the crowded arena to meet with his departed wife.

     Okechukwu who had been watching dumbfoundedly, followed his father into the house.

     At this point, everyone in the gathering was left with no option than to take their leave for their respective residents. Mr. Kedu joined them, though followed a different path in order not to mix with any member of the exited crowd.

     While the guests were leaving in various groups, they were filled with several thoughts, insinuations, mixed feelings, and what have you. They couldn’t believe such a thing transpired at an occasion they were specially invited to attend.

     Notable personalities in their midst felt so disappointed and depressed; according to them, Mr. Ama had been designed with an uncalled indelible mark that could usher any man into his unsolicited early grave. They weren’t really sad that they were embarrassed; rather, they felt for their highly respected fellow kinsman (Mr. Ama) who just witnessed an unspeakable ordeal.

     The moment Mr. Ama met Chizoba in their matrimonial room, she began to cry profoundly. By this time, Chibuzo was lying in his cot. “Tell me it’s not true?” He told her.

     Okechukwu arrived at the room in a jiffy.

     “It is true…” She hinted aloud while seated on the bed, choked by sobs.

      Mr. Ama alongside his son was so shocked over the hint.

     “What is true?” Mr. Ama shouted.

     “The child is his,” she eventually confessed. “I am so sorry…”

       Mr. Ama was speechless; Okechukwu astonishly left the room for his. “So you have been deceiving me all these while?” Mr. Ama managed to utter while standing closely to where she was seated.

    “Honey, is not what you think.” She replied.

    “Honey what?” Mr. Ama enquired. “Who’s your honey?” He reiterated, paused. “Before I turn my back, you have packed out of this house.” He urged furiously, dashed out of the room for an unknown destination.

    She fell on the floor, continued sobbing.

    When Mr. Ama returned to the room from the few seconds self-exile, she was still crying helplessly on the floor. “So you are still here, woman?” He said, went for her luggage coupled with her other belongings and threw it outside the house.

     She went to grab him while he was carrying out the mission but he forcefully pushed her away; that was when the reality dawned on her, thus she needed not to be told by a seer that that was fire on the mountain. In view of this, she sluggishly left the house with her baby as well as luggage.

    Mr. Ama Madu who was at this point seated on the bed felt like strangulating himself, couldn’t believe it was a reality. Within a few minutes, Okechukwu joined him in the room, sat closely with him and began to console him while crossed his right arm on his (Mr. Ama’s) waist. “It’s okay, dad.” he enjoined. “All will be fine, okay?”

     Mr. Ama looked at him, felt relieved and nodded. “Thank you, son.” He appreciated hesitantly.

     At least, with Okechukwu he still had something to console himself with. Hence, he thought it wise to summon courage and forge ahead with his miserable life, though the injury incurred some minutes back at that event was something that might not heal throughout his lifetime.

     When Chizoba got to her paternal home with the baby, her father Mr. Amadi whom was also present at the shameful ceremony alongside his wife felt like disowning her. “You have brought an untold disgrace to this family.” He ranted as she walked into the compound in a tattered mood. “You have turned yourself into a forbidden child.” The old man added fiercely.      

     His wife Mrs. Amadi felt for Chizoba. “Is okay naow…” She urged her husband. “After all, she’s still your daughter.”

     “My daughter?” Mr. Amadi said, marveled. “Is that all you could say?” He added, paused. “Is this a conspiracy or what?”

     “Conspiracy..?” His wife quarreled. “How do you mean?”

     “How can you call such a girl my daughter?” quoth Mr. Amadi. “Weren’t you at that occasion, or you didn’t see what happened?”

      Mrs. Amadi sighed heavily, turned to Chizoba. “My dear, come.” She urged her.

     Chizoba walked to her leaving her luggage behind, still carrying her baby.

     Her mother cuddled her and took the baby from her.

     Mr. Amadi angrily left them at the balcony and walked to his room.

     Since she was the one who encouraged her to get married to Mr. Ama despite the fact that she was pregnant for Mr. Kedu, she (Mrs. Amadi) was left with no choice than to embrace her daughter whose plan had crashed unexpectedly.

     The following day, Mr. Kedu came to meet with Chizoba to reconcile with her. He was still very much interested to walk her down the aisle regardless of the inconvenience she had cost him. And he was at that moment ready to settle down having become a bit financially stable unlike when she left him for another man.

    When he arrived at her place, she couldn’t welcome him; she was of the view that he had already cost her enormous pains, thus she wasn’t willing to incur more. But Mr. Kedu let her see reason he took that very step; according to him, that was the only way he could reclaim her.

     After every altercation, having understood that she really erred coupled with her mother’s advice, she agreed to marry the rejected Mr. Kedu after tendering unalloyed apology to him for her stupidity.

    Three months on, they tied the ostensibly inevitable nuptial knots. Indeed, the fearsome melodrama had turned into a glorious moment, though Mr. Ama Madu was still wallowing in an untold grief.

      Fascinatingly, that Chizoba’s childhood pal in the person of Miss Dalu who disclosed to Mr. Kedu that she (Chizoba) was pregnant for him, happened to be the chief bridesmaid of the wedding ceremony.

Follow me: @mediambassador

http://facebook.com/fred4nwaozor