MY MARRIAGE IS ONE THING I COULD DO ANYTHING TO PROTECT...
.
Years ago, a friend bought a house at Zone 4 in Wuse. I along with a few
other friends of ours who were all members of a club I belonged then
was invited to the 'opening party.'
.
The house owner had made
so much money from a contract job which he was keeping away from many of
us. When I asked him how it all happened, he simply said; “Japh, na God
o.”
.
I was to know soon that in Abuja, people guarded their
contacts jealously. No matter how close you were with anyone, you don’t
carelessly reveal your source of a big deal to him or her. That was the
kind of club I belonged in those days.
.
That Friday evening, we
all set out to Wuse Zone 4. It was a warm and colourful gathering. All
my friends – at least most of them, came in flashy cars. Amongst them
however, I was the youngest; and probably the poorest. I arrived in a
taxi with my pretty young wife whom every other man in attendance wished
was his. We were dressed casually but we stole the day the moment we
arrived.
.
I led the evening with gusto when I was handed the
microphone. My wife told me days later that some of the women had told
her that she was lucky to have had a very humorous person like me for
keeps. A few also told her that she was indeed very beautiful. But all
these acknowledgements faded into thin air the moment the women began to
brag about their husbands’ flourishing businesses, the big
high-charging schools their wards attended and their endless chain of
vanities.
.
“We paid over two million naira to secure admission for my son in that school.” One said.
.
“Ha,” said another, “I will tell my husband about the school so we can take my daughter there.”
.
They talked about the many colourful things in their lives while my
young wife sat there pretending to nibble at her cold salad. She had no
expensive jewelry to talk about. She had no expensive car to brag about.
Her husband hadn’t taken her to any oversea trip worthy of sharing the
experience with anyone. Her only child was in a school whose forty
thousand naira fee was still a challenge. It was a moment of
disillusionment for her. My wife felt empty in their midst. Why did I
bring her there? She kept thinking; her heart burning.
.
The alarm bell struck for me the moment I read her SMS on my phone where I sat with the boys having fun.
.
‘Let’s go home please.’
.
The ride back home was uneventful. We could only talk in monosyllables.
In yeses and nos. I sensed from the way she responded to my gossip and
probing that all was not well. But I couldn’t figure out what it was.
.
We lived in the coldness of that emotional war for two days more before
I finally got to know what had happened. ‘They’ had infected my wife!
.
It was on our way to church on Sunday that she asked suddenly. “Why
don’t you want to tell your friends to connect you? Does the party not
reveal anything to you? How long do you want us to remain like this?”
.
By 'LIKE THIS' she meant that we needed to up our game to enjoy a
better life but I was perplexed. I had two jobs that were draining me.
On the sidelines, I had about three home-coaching classes that paid well
too. My take home pay was a little close to two hundred thousand. Bills
and debts were knocking me out and in pains I still trotted on.
.
It was that Sunday that she told me all the things that the women had
talked about and how one of them asked her if she’d ever gone shopping
in Dubai. That was when I realized that I had joined the wrong gang and
must find a way to pull out immediately.
.
Three days later, I told my wife to pack my few clothing for me because I was traveling the next day.
.
"Traveling?" she threw apprehensively. "You never told me you were traveling."
Saturday, February 10, 2018
I rode with
a politician years ago in one of his many posh cars. We rode past a suburb and
found many a peasant in their misery and poverty. The panes were dark tinted
and wound up. There was no reason to wind them down because the car was only a
few days old and the air conditioner was in perfect order. The tinted glass
seemed to me like the gulf separating the rich man and Lazarus in paradise.
.
“Sir,” I said
suddenly, “how do you big men feel whenever you drive past poor people like
these?”
.
“Japheth,”
he responded with a smirk spread upon his face, “do you want an honest answer?”
.
I gave him
the nod.
.
“You see,
the fact that we have and they don’t is what makes wealth so beautiful. It
makes no sense when everyone is made rich. We are not meant to be equal.”
.
Grimacing, I
told him he did not only sound disdainful and conceited, he was also being
resentful and less concerned over the plights of the downtrodden.
.
“You should
know sir that even if you feel that all men were not meant to be equal, it
shouldn’t be expressly uttered in the manner that you just did. You are only
privileged sir and..”
.
“Japheth, we
need not argue over this. You said you wanted an honest answer, and I gave it
to you. As a politician, I know exactly what you wanted to hear but if I had
told you, you would have said it wasn’t an honest answer. You would have said
it was because I am a politician. Do you think actors are the only people who
could act? No, no, no. We politicians act better. I could begin to cry in your
presence and pretend that I care about the plights of the people and you might
be tempted to believe that I indeed care. But I gave you an honest answer
Japheth; an honest one.”
.
I heaved a
sigh. He went on smoothly;
.
“The poor
always think that the rich hate them with a passion but I must tell you the
truth, the reverse is the case. It is the poor who hate the rich with intense
passion. The rich do not hate them as much. Too bad they hate themselves even
more but the rich don’t. The rich introduce themselves to their children,
exchange ideas and explore greater heights but the poor can’t do that for
themselves. If you get very rich now and decide to still hang out with the poor
people you knew before, they will kill you with envy. They only want to hear
the bad things that happen to you, the battles you did not win and the calamity
that you continually drag with you. They can’t sell an idea to you but if you
do sell one to them, they will betray you. Betrayal is more common amongst the
poor than it is amongst the rich.”
.
I said there
were still good people amongst the poor.
.
“Yes,” he
agreed. “There are quite a handful of them truly but one other problem with the
poor is that they can never be satisfied. No matter what you do for them, they will
still find a reason to complain. They hate us and also hate themselves. That is
the most painful thing about them. They are aggressive and intolerant. They
think you owe them because you are privileged to be rich..”
.
He went on
nonstop. Finally, he said something I will never forget. “Japheth; if I give
you this car and you drive it home, only a few poor people will come to
congratulate you. But if after a period of one month, the news breaks out that
the car has been stolen, they will all come to empathize with you. That is the
trademark of the poor; empathy!”
.
I was to
know a few days later that he was right to an extent. I was chauffeured in a
limo for the very first time and that experience brought to the fore that
indeed there is a deep-rooted hatred buried in the heart of many a poor person;
so deep it could consume everyone in a sweep.
.
That
limo-ride experience which can be found in the subsequent chapter opened my
eyes to a lot of things…
.
THE
WILDERNESS EXPERIENCE by Japheth Prosper
Thursday, January 10, 2013
FROM MY ACHIVES
THE FRESH MILK
Everybody
knew how Gibson loved fura d nunu while we were still in school.
It
was on Christmas day that I finally had time to visit them. When I heard weeks
before that Christy, Gibson’s wife, had given birth to a bouncing baby boy, I
was quite elated. Gibson and I were both in the same
department in school and we did almost everything together.
“Guy,
I just had a bouncing baby boy and his name is Jonathan.” He had announced proudly
that Sunday on the phone. From the manner he spoke, I sensed he was in the best
of moods. Nothing gladdens a man’s heart than knowing he’s not only productive
but has also got an evidence to prove to that effect. The birth of the new-born had
shown that the couple was indeed fertile.
Days
crawled pass slowly and dragged into weeks. I had planned to pay them a visit
but trust what work, traffic and family could do to a man. Each day, a gnawing
guilt sat in my chest knowing that it wasn’t fair what I was doing.
“You’re,
a bad man Japheth,” I constantly heard a voice telling me deep down my
subconscious.
Finally,
free on Christmas day, I decided to pay them the much anticipated visit. They
were all at home. Three other visitors; a woman, a young lady and an elderly
man, were seated sipping juice. I took the seat facing the TV.
“At
last the mountain has decided to come to Moses,” Christy beamed chirpily. We
shook hands and minutes later, baby Jonathan was calmly resting in my lap.
Christy had - like every good mother would - breastfed him very well and the baby was in
a joyous mood.
“Good
guy; Jonathan,” I said playfully making the baby giggle and shriek with
excitement.
Just
then Gibson sauntered into the sitting room from the bathroom. He guffawed when
our eyes met.
“I
wasn’t expecting you to come,” he puckered. “I thought you would wait until my
son becomes the president of the country before you visit us…”
We
chortled at that and then the elderly man announced that he was leaving.
The
woman and the young lady – her daughter perhaps - also stood up to leave.
Christy saw them off leaving me with her husband and the infant who had begun
to sleep.
“What
can I offer you, guy?” Gibson was standing in front of the refrigerator.
I
blinked, “anything soft.”
“Fresh
milk… chilled; very fresh!”
Shrugging,
I gave him the nod. I used to know how he loved fura da nunu when we were in school. Those days, Gibson had over
ten Fulani women who constantly supplied him the fresh cow milk. He had carried
along the love for milk to this day.
“You
and milk,” I grinned as he poured me a glass-full.
Thick,
nourishing and very chilled! I drank it with so much relish as we both sat
across the table.
“Who
supplied this one?” I echoed excitedly as he poured me a second glass. I hadn’t
tasted cow milk that was that nourishing and satisfying before. The taste was
simply out of this world. No wonder Gibson has been shinning like a new coin. I
thought almost aloud.
“You
like it?”
I
nodded in the affirmative. “Man, I want to be introduced to the supplier right
away. Can you introduce me to her?”
He
said he was going to arrange something.
My
mind was on the fresh milk as I drove home. It had soothed my heart and made me
feel so good. I kept telling myself that I hadn’t been feeding on the right
diet all along. Enough of this junk food Man! I almost yelled at myself.
The
next day, true to his words, Gibson supplied me a bottle which I kept in the
fridge and guarded jealously. I told my wife and the maid not to go near it.
“What
is good for the goose…” my wife tried to make a protest but I cut her short
painlessly.
“This
one is not good for the gander. It’s a concoction for jedi-jedi…”
With
that, I had the supplies all to myself.
Three
days later I called Gibson for more of the supplies. It had become to me like
cocaine and I was glad I had developed an addiction.
“I
had a fight with Christy last night” Gibson muted from the other end.
He
had a fight with his wife; so what? What had that got to do with our supplies?
What was my business if Christy had suddenly gone mad? That was their business,
not mine!
All
I wanted was my milk and nothing more.
“Gibson,”
I sighed dispassionately. “What is my business if you had a fight with
Christy?”
“Hey
Man,” his voice rose with indignation. “You don’t bite the finger that feeds
you. Come over and let’s make it up with her…”
I
felt my heart jump into my stomach. What in heaven’s name was he talking about?
“Gibson…
Gibson, what is the meaning of that?” I stuttered curiously.
“Wake
up Man.”
“What?
What? What do you mean?”
“Listen
guy, Christy is the source…”
“I
don’t understand!”
Time
stood still.
The hairs at the back of my neck
bristled; my heart fell into my mouth and cold shiver permeated my entire body as
I heard him say;
“Japheth,
the fresh milk came from Christy…”
NB;
fura d nunu: Fresh cow milk mixed with millet; a fine delicacy popular with the Fulani.
fura d nunu: Fresh cow milk mixed with millet; a fine delicacy popular with the Fulani.
jedi-jedi: An ailment that requires herbal treatment.
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
UNEDITED SHORT STORY ... By Japheth Prosper
THE CAT WITH NINE LIVES
The cat and the mouse were very good friends and always
were often seen together. There was no place the cat would go that the mouse
didn’t know about. They shared almost everything in common.
One day, the mouse visited the cat and when they had
both played for a while, they went out together to the river where they hoped
to fetch some crabs.
They strolled along the sea shore together and after a
while, each found a stray crab. No one loved crabs like the cat and his bosom
friend. As the animals were about to eat their lunch, something strange
happened.
“Please, spare our lives,” the crabs pleaded. “Spare
our lives and we shall reward you.”
Dazed, the two friends stared at each other. Never
before had they heard crabs talk. Who taught them how to talk? They wondered.
They were very hungry and nothing could stop them from having the crabs for
lunch.
“We are hungry.” They both chorused in unison. “We must
have you for lunch for we don’t want to starve.
“Spare us and we shall make you have ten lives!” the
crabs pleaded.
“Ten lives!” The mouse and the cat gaped. “How? What do
you mean by that?”
The crabs went on to tell them a long story. They said
they both were sisters and that they had both lain nine eggs each and had
hidden them in the sands. “They will have nine lives and it will be difficult
for anyone to harm you.” They said.
“But I thought you said ten lives?” asked the cat
curiously.
“Yes,” the two sister-crabs replied. “We haven’t laid
the tenth ones yet. If you spare our lives, we shall lay them for you. With the
tenth one, you’ll both live forever.”
The two friends looked at one another.
“Excuse us for a while,” said the cat narrowly. He held
his friend’s arm and led him a few steps away from the crabs. “Do you think they are telling us the truth?” he asked
the mouse.
“No,” threw the other in negation. “I don’t believe
them. If they had such eggs, they would have eaten them up themselves so they
too could have ten lives.
“Should we spare their lives?” asked the cat.
“I don’t think that’s a wise decision.” The mouse replied. “I am famished and I must have a
crab for lunch.”
“But these are crabs that can talk…” Heaved the cat
“What difference does it make?” the mouse threw
angrily. He was now growing very impatient.
“I think we should spare their lives,” the cat went on.
“We could have nuts for lunch today. Please let us…”
The mouse wasn’t listening to his friend anymore. He
hurried to meet the crabs, pounced on one of them and began to nibble at it
with considerable appetite.
His friend, the cat was furious.
“I told you, we should spare their lives!” he screamed
but the mouse was already halfway gone with its meal.
The other crab immediately broke down and began to cry
and mourn the loss of her dear sister.
The cat came and touched the crab tenderly and in
sympathy, muttered, “Don’t cry dear. I am very sorry over the death of your
sister…”
As he said those words, the mouse continued to nibble
at the crab as if all his life depended on it. His friend, the cat was forever
angry with that callous display.
“You didn’t need to do that. They were going to give us
ten lives.” He lamented, staring woodenly at his friend.
“And how do you know they weren’t lying to us?”
returned the mouse sarcastically.
The cat turned to the living crab. “What is it again
you said about the ten lives?”
“Come with me,” said the crab tearfully.
“But you must promise not to kill me…”
“I will not harm you,” said the cat with a nod. “Lead
me at once to your eggs.”
The crab led the cat to a place where true to her
words; nine eggs were buried in the sand.
“You must swallow the eggs at once and as you do, no
harm shall befall you.” The crab remarked with much emphasis now.
The cat began to swallow the eggs as directed by the
crab one after the other. When he had swallowed all the eggs, he looked at the
crab and echoed;
“So, how do I know that this is indeed true?”
The crab led the cat to the summit of the mountain. The
mouse who had finished eating the crab and still very much in doubt of what the
crab had told his friend, followed the two behind.
When they’d reached the summit of the mountain, the
crab directed the cat to throw himself down.
“I am scared,” cried the cat.
“You have nine lives now,” said the crab in response.
“You will throw yourself down nine times and no harm shall befall you.”
The cat heaved a long sigh, grinned and off he went. He
threw himself down and as he dropped down the valley, the mouse cringed.
But no sooner had he thrown himself, than he came up
again smiling.
His friend, the mouse gaped in awe.
The cat went down again the second time and dropped
down the valley. His friend he mouse cringed, still fearing that he might die.
But no sooner had he thrown himself the second time,
than he came up again smiling.
Again, his friend, the mouse gaped in awe.
“You can do that again,” said the crab nodding.
“Yes, I can,” the cat chuckled proudly and off again he
went. He threw himself down and as he dropped down the valley, the mouse
cringed thinking he might die.
But no sooner had he thrown himself down the third
time, than he came up again smiling.
Again, his friend, the mouse gaped in awe. Now, it was
obvious to the mouse that the cat had indeed become a kind of supernatural
being with its new status. Envy raged in his heart and he regretted that he
killed the other crab. If he had known, he would have spared her life and
perhaps by now, he too would have had nine lives like his friend. If only he
was patient…
“You can do it again,” said the crab to the cat. The
latter had thrown himself eight times already.
“And if I come up this time you shall let me have the
last egg?” the cat narrowed excitedly.
“Yes,” replied the crab waxing its pincers, “And that
will make you live forever!”
The cat laughed out loud and his voice echoed far into
the distant hill. He was so excited that he was going to be the only animal in
the world that would live forever. Not even man was so graciously blessed. He
reasoned.
“I shall live forever!” he screamed and beat his hand
on his chest excitedly.
His friend, the mouse was not happy with this
development. Jealousy raged in his stomach endlessly and he wondered what to do
to free himself from the pain of that burning strife. It was sufficient enough
that the cat already had nine lives but that he could live forever tormented
the mouse greatly. If that happened, the cat would be worshiped like a deity by
other animals. No! The mouse shook his head in fury.
Just then, the cat threw himself down the ninth time
and dropped down the valley but the mouse did not cringe any more neither did
he fear that his friend might die. He was now nursing the bitterness of not
being as lucky as the cat.
No sooner had the cat thrown himself down the valley
the ninth time, than he came up smiling and hoping to find his friend, the
mouse, awestruck. His mind was so preoccupied with the thoughts of swallowing
the last egg which would make him live forever.
It was when he reached the summit of the mountain that
he paused and felt his heart knock against his ribs. There on the mountain-top
lay his friend, the mouse, nibbling at the crab that had just given him nine
lives. The mouse was now cracking the shell of the crab now with his teeth.
Never before had the cat been so infuriated.
The anger was so intense that his eyes glowed and
suddenly, whiskers appeared on both sides of his cheeks. His most trusted
friend had not only betrayed him but had just made it impossible for him
to live forever.
In a rage, he pounced on the mouse and showed it no
mercy. Perhaps he could find the crab’s egg in his stomach. The cat thought
painfully. Angrily, it ripped his friend’s stomach to pieces and began mournfully
to search for the crab’s tenth egg.
Till this day, even though he still had nine lives, the
cat had not only developed strong aversion for the mouse, it had also refused
to give up the search for the tenth egg. And to this day, anywhere he sights
the mouse he pounces on him with so much hatred in his heart; ripping it to
pieces to search for the tenth egg.
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