ShortStory I Unwelcome Good News (II)

UNWELCOME GOOD NEWS (II)

       “This is serious.” Dan lamented as they watched the lady depart.

       “Really serious.” Chidi concurred.

       “So, we are still coming back here on Monday?” quoth Dan, looking at Chidi. “We are not even sure if it would hold on that day.”

      “My brother, I am tired.” Chidi lamented. “I mean, very exhausted.”

       As they observed others take their leave in tattered moods, they walked to a closest corner and sat on the pavement of a façade, respectively supporting the crude seats with the paper files in their hands that contained the required credentials for the anticipated job. “My brother,” Dan called. “Job-hunting has really eaten me up.” He confessed.

       “I thought I was the oldest in this line until I met you.” Chidi revealed.

       “How long have you been searching?”

       “Eight years now.”

       “Hmm..” Dan sighed. “You are still far behind me.” He observed.

       “Yes I am,” Chidi agreed. “Ten years of job-hunting is enough reason for one to give up all hopes.”

       “My brother, not just ten.” Dan directed. “Ten years and some months.”

       “Wait a minute,” said Chidi. “Is it ten years after graduation, or NYSC?”

       “Which graduation?” Dan ranted. “NYSC of course.”

       “You don’t mean it.” quoth Chidi, dumbfounded. “If it is after NYSC, that means mine is even seven years, not eight.” he corrected, paused. “I finished my NYSC February 2007.” He supplemented.

       “I finished October 2003.” The 35-year-old Dan informed.

        The 33-year-old Chidi looked at him in silent awe. “This is really serious!” He exclaimed.

        “You can say that again.”

        “Bros, how have you been coping?”

        “Menial jobs of course.” Dan answered. “I relocated to this town three years ago after many years of frustration in Calabar.”

         Chidi shook his head. “Where did you finish?”

       “UniCal.” Dan replied, referring to the revered University of Calabar in Cross River State.

       “Discipline?”

       “BF.” He responded, meaning literally ‘Banking and Finance’.

        Chidi shook his head again.

        “And you?”

        “Auchi Poly.” Chidi replied.

        “Course?”

        “EE.”

         That’s the popular acronym for Electrical Engineering, thus didn’t require an exegesis.

        “Hmm…” Dan sighed, shaking his seeming big skull. “When did you come to Awka?”

       “Four years ago,” quoth Chidi. “2010.” He added.

        Two minutes later, a young man who appeared to be in his early forties walked out from one of the offices. “Please gentlemen,” he told Chidi and Dan. “You have to leave this place.” He notified. “You are not permitted to sit like this.”

        “We came for the interview but it has been postponed.” Chidi said.

       “I know.” The man responded. “But we don’t allow people to sit this way, not even our staff.”

       “Okay sir.” Dan replied, stood up alongside his file. “Thank you.”

        Chidi hastily followed suit. “We have heard you, sir.” He supplemented.

       “You are welcome.” the man said, turned and took his leave.

         Some minutes on, the two departed for their respective residences having exchanged contacts.

         When Chidi got home at about 2:40pm, he felt like fisting himself to stupor. He kept wondering what was actually happening to him. His miserable life, according to him, had gotten to a point when he had to travel to his ancestral home in Abia State to ask some certain questions regarding his lineage. He sat on his foam while still in his suit, and stood up. He repeated the action subconsciously for the umpteenth time till he became very saturated. He dished the jollof rice left in his pot to see if he could take some bites, but the appetite was far away. He sat, fixed his eyes on the well oiled half-plate rice positioned right before him. Some seconds later, he summoned courage and began to devour the meal. He was eating not because he felt hungry, but just to ensure that something was taken into his bowel for the day towards avoiding further crises.

       Three days on, the awaited Monday came calling. He dressed properly, as usual, and headed for the manufacturing company for the long awaited interview. When he got there, at 8:00am, everywhere was already flooded with the invited applicants. The current number seemed greater than what was recorded the previous week.

        He looked around to see if he could see Dan, to no avail. He called him on phone. Initially the calls weren’t reachable, but when the call eventually went through, Dan told him that he was no longer interested in the job, stating he wasn’t sure if the firm really wanted to recruit some persons.

       At exactly 10:05am, the job interview commenced to the utmost amazement of the guests; they were earlier of the view that there would be another postponement, probably till further notice. In thirty minutes time, Mr. Chidi Okafor was ushered in. He was therein interviewed successfully by a 5-man panel.            
        After all the applicants present were through with the oral section, a written aptitude test that lasted for barely twenty minutes was conducted among them. At about 2:25pm, all had been said and done as planned. They were asked to return to their various homes and wait for further notification.

       As Chidi was returning devastatingly, he was of the opinion that the interview was just a mere waste of time. According to him, if there was any hope, at least, he would have received a tip of an iceberg from the panel of interviewers.

       On his way as he walked toward the bus-stop where he was meant to board a cab that would take him to his destination, there was a scene where a group of people were crowded. It seemed two able-bodied young men who had a misunderstanding created the scene. The moment he got closer, he noticed a wallet placed in the back pocket of one of the spectators. He stylishly went nearer, surreptitiously grabbed the wallet and hurriedly took his leave.

        The victim immediately felt the anomaly, turned, sighted Chidi, and quickly raised an alarm. The latter began to run but his swift was like that of an amateur. Before he could run for about hundred metres, the crowd was already on him. He started begging, saying it was the first time he would indulge in pick-pocketing, but his plea fell on deaf ears. Within a few seconds, he was lynched by the mob, and his burnt carcass was left on the roadside to be enjoyed by vultures.

        Before he was killed, his cell phone was taken away from him by a member of the mob. The following day, a message came to the phone informing Chidi that he had been gainfully employed by the manufacturing firm. According to the SMS, he was instructed to resume work in two days time being Thursday 3^rd of April 2014.

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ShortStory I Unwelcome Good News (I)

UNWELCOME GOOD NEWS

      As Chidi lay in his foam at his humble abode situated in Awka, the Capital Territory of Anambra State, he couldn’t wait till daybreak. He kept rolling from one end of the outdated foam to another as sleep ceased to come at that ungodly hour of the night. All he was focused on was the job interview that lay ahead of him, which was scheduled to take place at 9.00am the following day being Friday 28^th March 2014. As he rolled and rolled on the foam, he stylishly glanced at the well-ironed black suit he was to wear on the D-day as it hung by the wall sited directly opposite the foam. He quickly returned his seeming vigilant sight to the pathetically-looking multiple-coloured carpet spread on the room’s floor, felt like shortening the remaining five hours he was supposed to spend on the archaic foam but all the wishes were obviously to no avail.

       Mr. Chidi Okafor who graduated from Federal Polytechnic Auchi, Edo State, Nigeria over eight years back, precisely in November 2005, had earnestly been job-hunting ever since he concluded his National Youth Service programme a year after his graduation, but it seemed his best was not good enough in spite of the fact that he finished with Upper-Credit in Electrical Engineering. Since four years back he relocated to Awka from Benin-City, he had almost toured round the city on foot in the name of searching for a white-collar job that was apparently not forthcoming.

        However, he couldn’t despair as he had vowed to remain resolute and resilient regardless of the circumstance. All he depended on was the menial jobs he had been into right from his school days. As one who hailed from a poor parental background, while in the Polytechnic, he catered for almost sixty per cent (60%) of his needs yet was able to graduate with promising grade.

       “How long would I wait for the day to break?” he thought amid the restlessness, fumbled his weary pillow. “Please, I can’t wait any longer.” He added as the wall clock in the room read 11.56pm.

       He got the notice of the interview the previous day, and since he received the information via Short Message Service (SMS) he hadn’t rested emotionally, thinking that would mark the end of his job-hunting era, not minding that he had been invited for such occasion for the umpteenth time yet nothing fruitful was recorded.

       In the last interview he participated, he was asked to undergo a certain professional programme that could cost over half a million naira, before he would be eligible to be employed by the firm; each time he recalled the experience, he kept pondering over what the country was turning into. According to him, if HND/B.Sc wasn’t enough to secure an employment for the bearer, then it was needless to delve into the four-walls of a higher institution in the first place let alone spending about four to five years therein, as the case may be. Nevertheless, he wasn’t deterred by the lingered challenges surrounding the seeming endless odyssey.

       Indeed, there was still a longtime to cover prior to the awaited daybreak. The electric bulb hung on the old ceiling was on, thus its brightness enabled him to see each of the few items in the small room as sleep frankly refused to visit his eyes. He calmly stood up, took his time to walk round the room, taking note of each of the wears he was to use for the interview. He went to the black plain shoes positioned on the floor directly below the hung suit and plain trousers, raised and re-dusted them with a very clean rag kept beside where he stood. He looked at the clock once again – it was 12:15am. He sighed as the night appeared to have already taken over twelve hours, went back to the foam, and grabbed the pillow while keeping his eyes closed. In few minutes time, he was eventually caught by the sleep that was earlier not forthcoming.

       Five hours on – at exactly 5.00am – he was awake as if he was working with an alarm. He rose, went for his towel, soap and sponge, and dashed outside to have his bath. It was a public yard, so someone was already in the bathroom, thus he had to queue up and await his turn.

       “Who is there?” he shouted after fifteen minutes of wait. “Please, do quickly.”

        “Abeg, wait joor.” A lady’s voice replied from the bathroom. “Did you rent this bathroom?’ she rudely added.

        He was quiet, couldn’t utter a word towards avoiding further delay. He had planned to be at the company’s premises latest by 7.00am about two hours before the scheduled time.

        After all said and done, at exactly 7.10am, he found himself at the firm’s premises.

       “Good morning, sir!” He greeted the gateman, standing.

       “Morning, my brother.” The gateman responded cheerily. “Are you for the interview too?”

       “Yes sir.”

       “Okay, go inside.”

       “Thank you.”

        When he walked in, he noticed an applicant was already there before him. He wondered when the young man left home. “Good morning.” He greeted as he stood next to him.

       “Morning brother.” The colleague responded. “Are you for the interview?”

         Both were well-dressed in their black suits.

        “Yes.” Chidi said. “Are you?”

        “Yea.” quoth the applicant, stretching out his arm for a handshake. “I am Dan.” He introduced.

        “Chidi.” He succinctly said as he reciprocated the gesture. “You really came so early.” He added.

        “Yes I did.” quoth Dan. “I have been in this train for ten years now.”

          He was actually referring to how desperate he was to secure a job.

        “Which train?” Chidi naively inquired.

        “Job-hunting of course.”

        “Are you serious?” Chidi exclaimed, astonished.

         Dan nodded.

         Prior to this time, Chidi thought he was the oldest member of the ‘Job-hunting People’s Association’, not knowing that many had subscribed their membership years before he joined.

        9.00am – the time for the interview – came calling, yet there was no sign of commencement. Two hours later being 11.00am, the littered applicants of about a hundred and fifty individuals were still earnestly waiting for the commencement yet no iota of sign was perceived let alone seen.

       “Are you sure this interview will still take place?” Chidi anxiously asked Dan who was still standing very close to him as they continued to converse about life amidst the hardship. 

       “My brother, I am tired ooh.” quoth Dan. “I don’t just know what is really going on.” He lamented, paused. “No staff has come to address or even welcome us.”

       Within a twinkle of an eye at about 11.16am, a female staff eventually surfaced from the company’s building and stood in front of the crowd. “Sorry, for keeping you waiting.” she said. “I am here to inform you that the interview has been shifted to next week Monday being 31^st March 2014, by same time.”

        The teeming applicants watched with utmost surprise, dumbfounded.

       “Thank you!” she concluded, quickly turned and walked towards her office.

        What transpired afterwards ought to be a narration for another day, so stay tuned.

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ShortStory I A Trip to Italy

A TRIP TO ITALY

       Ada just caught sight of Bunmi afar in the departure room of the Murtala Mohammed International Airport, Lagos State, Nigeria, walked hastily towards her holding a brief luggage, nudged her and kept quiet.

       Bunmi whom equally held a luggage involuntarily turned to her left in response to the nudge. “Oh my God, who am I seeing?” she shouted. “Ada, it’s a lie…!”

       Both were course mates during their university days. Six years had passed, they couldn’t see, nor hear from, each other. They had probably lost contact since after graduation.

       Ada smiled. “Bunmi, so it’s you?” she said. “I can’t believe it.”

       They hugged each other tightly. “So, where are you coming from?” Bunmi inquired as they freed themselves.

      “My dear, it’s a long story.” Ada replied, looked exhausted.

      “Long story?”

       Ada nodded. “And you, where have you been?”

      “I am just returning from Italy.” answered Bunmi. “I have been there for five years now.”

       “Are you serious?’

       “Yea.”

       “That means you left this country immediately after youth service?”

       “Yea.”

       “Interesting.”

       “Let’s not prolong our stay here.” Bunmi suggested. “Please, how do we see?”

        “When are you going back?” quoth Ada.

        “I will be around for about three to four weeks.”

        “Hope your family is still in Lagos?” Ada added.

        “Yea.” responded Bunmi. “What about you?”

        “Mine is still here.”

        “That makes it perfect.” Bunmi enthused.

        “You can say that again.”

        “I don’t have any Nigerian number to give you.” Bunmi informed. “Do you have any?”

       “Hmm…” said Ada. “No, but let me give you my mum’s number.”

       “So, you base abroad too?” Bunmi stylishly inquired.

       “Please, let’s talk about that later, okay?”

       “Nah wah ooh!” exclaimed the Italian babe.

        Ada managed to smile. “Let me give you the number.” She reminded, collected Bunmi’s phone, typed the number, and returned it.

        “So, this is your mum’s number, right?”

        “Yes.” replied Ada. “It’s always available.”

          They departed for their respective destinations a few seconds after.

      * * * * * *

        “So Ada,” said the 36-year-old Bunmi as they were seated at a public lounge in a popular locality in Lagos State at about 4.05pm. “Tell me the long story.” She landed, staring at Ada.

        It was barely forty-eight hours after their previous encounter at the airport. They sat opposite each other at a white plastic roundtable sited at one of the corners in the lounge. Since their last meeting, Bunmi couldn’t wait to hear the ‘long story’ Ada cited when asked where she was coming from; in fact, the suspense really told on her. They were already emptying a bottle of red wine ordered by the former.

        “I know you can’t wait to get the gist?’ quoth the equally 36-year-old Ada.

       “Wait keh?” said Bunmi, placing her arms on the table. “Since that day you told me your trip was a long story, I haven’t rested.”

       “Sure?”

       “Of course.”

       “My dear,” said Ada. “It’s really a long story.”

       “I am listening.”

       “That very day you saw me,” she began hesitantly. “I was actually deported from the U.S.” she eventually disclosed.

       “You don’t mean it?”

       “Honestly,” she continued. “They just threw me back to Naija.”

       “This is not funny.”

       “My dear, it was really a tough experience.”

       “What actually happened?”

        “They said my papers were not complete.” Ada clarified. “This Trump regime no be small thing ooh.”

        “Hmmm…” Bunmi sighed. “When did you travel?”

        “About four months ago.” Ada answered. “After all the years of joblessness, I decided to try my luck over there.”

        “Nah wah ooh…!”

         There was a moment of silence. “My dear, let’s forget about it.” Ada broke the silence.” So tell me, how is Italy?”

         “Italy is hot.”

         “Hot..?”

         “Yea,” said Bunmi, sipped the wine from her glass. “I mean, very sweet.”
        “You said you have been there for five years now?”

          Bunmi nodded.

        “My dear, you need to help me ooh.”

        “What’s it?”

        “I need your connection nah.”

        “You mean, to Italy?”

        “Yes, of course,” Ada said. “I can’t continue like this.”

        “Is that what you are saying with small voice?” quoth Bunmi. “That one na small thing.”

        “Are you serious?”

        “Am I serious?” quoth Bunmi. “Just tell me when you are ready, and you will see yourself in Italy immediately.”

       “Oh, I no fit shout oooh.” Ada exclaimed elatedly in vernacular, sipped from her glass again and again.

        The two spinsters spent almost two hours in the joint before they left for their respective homes. Bunmi firstly drove Ada to her residence in her (Bunmi’s) Honda SUV Jeep before leaving for hers.

       Two months later, Ada found herself in Italy as planned via Bunmi’s assistance. Days on, she understood prostitution was what her friend did for a living. She was left with no choice than to join the chorus having been persuaded. As weeks unfolded, she comprehended the intricacy of the occupation, thus needn’t be told that she could indulge herself in any other dirty game in addition to the commercial sex-work. “So this is how Bunmi made all her money?” she thought. “I must shine my eyes ooh.” She added.

       At the moment, Bunmi had already built duplex both in Lagos and her ancestral home, and could boast of any car of her choice. Even there, in Italy, she harboured many Nigerian ladies including Ada who just came in.

        Afterwards, the game was all fun till one certain night Ada stole from an Italian business mogul who lodged in a hotel with her. Over five hundred thousand dollars ($500,000) was involved in the scandal. The victim reported the case to the police who went in search of Ada in every nook and cranny of the country with the aid of her portrait that was handed over to them by the victim.

        Few days on, Ada was clamped down at an Italian airport as she was about leaving the country for Nigeria in disguise. The money was recovered from her at the airport. Thereafter, she was charged to court, and four months on was sentenced to fifteen years in prison with hard labour.

        Bunmi who was at the court when the verdict was served couldn’t believe her ears. Prior to this time, she made every possible effort to see that Ada was released unconditionally or at worst serve a less-severe sentence, all to no avail.

        On their part, Ada’s parents almost ran mad the moment the news filtered in. They were totally taken unawares; no one informed them regarding her apprehension let alone court trial, not until after the sentence was pronounced.

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