You landed him a dirty slap and jumped out of bed. The floor
to which you fell was cold, but not nearly as your heart to Idowu. He was
toast. Then you realized the slapping took place in a dream. It was 3:30 in the
morning. The room was cold and silent but for the squeaky fan, Ebere’s snores,
and your angry heart. You arose from the ground wishing you did not wake up
just yet. You wished you broke Idowu’s head after the slap. Light from the
electric bulb dangling from the ceiling would disrupt Ebere’s sleep so you
reached for your phone. Its light would have to do, you thought. You were
wrong, as you stepped on a slippery substance and went straight down, bruising
your elbow on your way. For a second, you felt stupid, and then a thought
hinted that your fall was a bad omen. You rose carefully and reached for the
light switch. Ebere would have to pardon you. As the lights came on, your eyes
caught sight of the book a classmate forgot in your room when he visited, two
days before. It was boldly titled “Forgive and Forget”. You shoved it under
your pillow. Ebere did not move. You looked enquiringly on the ground for the
stuff that caused your fall. It was a banana peel you did not dispose last
night. The banana you munched angrily moments before you slept.
You took gentle steps to a nearby chair and sat on it. You
recounted yesterday’s incidence and the fire within you burned. You imagined
how you would confront Idowu and when he would talk back; the slap would be
made a reality on his face. That was
where you stopped. For some unknown reason, you thought the slap would shut him
up and set him straight forever. You never imagined he could be stronger.
Realizing you had a long journey ahead; you arose and walked
to the bathroom of your school room. You paused at the door, remembering it was
3:30am. Even if you spent an hour in the bath, you would still be too early.
So, you walked back to your seat, still red-eyed angry. Ebere turned but that
was all. For a moment, you wished he woke up and tried to stop you for the last
time from embarking on the journey. You knew for certain that you would not
stop yourself. Idowu had crossed the line. Your ego had to be redeemed. You
arose and went back to bed. 5:00am at last. You arose and at a glance noticed
that Ebere was not on his bed. There was the sound of flushing toilet and
seconds later, Ebere’s frame appeared at the bathroom’s door. You avoided eye
contact. Ebere said nothing and went back to bed.
At 6:33 am, you were at the motor park. You were lightly
packed with nothing but a change of clothing in a small bag, just in case you
had to spend the night in Lagos. You planned to teach Idowu his lesson and
return to Benin the same day, even if you would have to travel by night. It was
a six hour journey. The bus you boarded
was a Toyota that had seen better days. You were made to sit beside an older
man in the front seat. As the vehicle
dragged along, you watched the driver shift the gear. It was all rusty metal
and tattered leather. Your eyes flamed
in anger. How could Idowu say such? Distance had given him effrontery. You
would prove otherwise, you thought. You would not allow familiarity turn to
insult. You switched off your mobile
phone and rehearsed the slap.
You opened your eyes and felt light headed. You could not
see the moving trees of interstate roads. The rusty gear was not in sight. You
thought to look around but your neck was stiff and held down tightly. You could
see white ceiling boards. The air reeked of disinfectant. You felt no pain; you
felt no part of your body. You drifted
away.
You awoke to voices. A light tremor ran through your body
and you let out a moan. A woman in white immediately appeared over you,
smiling. She asked how you felt; she spoke kind words and said you would be
fine. There was another person in the room, adjusting a drip feed that stood
beside you. In words that were barely
audible, you enquired about your location, you expressed your ignorance. She
explained that you survived an auto crash on Benin-Ore road and was in the
hospital. She said a mobile phone was
found on you and they had called home. Home? That was where you where headed,
what happened? The last you could remember was a rusty gear and… yes, screaming
people. Your mind was in anarchy.
Thought struggled with thought, imaginations raged. It felt like a long dream.
You floated off again.
You were not sure how long you had been strapped to the bed.
Your folly stung deep. When a doctor asked if you had any family members or
friends who lived in Benin, you said you had none. She was puzzled, since the Identity
card found in your wallet indicated that you were a student of the University
of Benin. She asked again, stating clearly that you were at the University Of
Benin Teaching Hospital. You maintained
your response. You could not bear what Ebere
would say or scarier, not say if he saw you strapped to a hospital bed,
swaddled in bandages. He pleaded for you to calm down that night; he said you
should pardon Idowu’s words as those from an ignorant younger brother. He grew
quiet when you said his tribe was known to lack respect and so he was not
worthy to give advice on the matter. He said no more till you left for Lagos.
You presumed he was angry, but as usually, you were angrier. Years later, Ebere would joke that you almost
got yourself killed in the bid to slap someone. He would use it to warn you
about anger until it would become a cliché.
Idowu’s crime now seemed so light. You wondered why you were
so angry. You still could not move your neck, but in place of the white
ceiling, you saw your folly in 3D images. Shame and guilt worked shifts to
clear the anarchy in your mind. You wondered what you were thinking when you
left school in Benin to slap your brother in Lagos over a telephone argument.
In self defence, you blamed Idowu for everything. If he had spoken
respectfully, the unfortunate incidence would not have occurred. You did the
right thing. It was a corrective
measure, and it was a move to drive the point of your seniority home, deep in
Idowu’s skull. It was the right thing to do. Or was it? Anger and pride tried
to wrestle guilt and shame.
When you heard your mother say “Oluwa O” with a hint of
tears and fear in her voice, from the general direction of the ward’s entrance,
guilt and shame prevailed. In a few seconds, Idowu and your mother where
hovering over you. A nurse stood close by.
You offered a weak smile and greeted them both. You immediately wanted
to cry. The nurse began to assure your mother that you would be fine. She said
a few more things and took her leave.
“How is your body” Your mother asked. Idowu said nothing. He
wore a genuine smile of encouragement and maintained eye contact. He ferreted around your entire body and
examined the bandages like he was a doctor. Why on earth did you want to slap
such a caring fellow? It was somehow obvious that they wanted to hear the
story. What happened? Where were you going? And other details surrounding the
accident, but you maintained silence. You hoped they will postpone such
questions till you had come up with a believable fabrication. Your mother began to curse government
officials for not repairing Benin-Ore road. She continued with a history of how
the road had been deteriorating, year after year and how contractors and public
officers had made away with the billions on Naira allocated yearly to the
road’s construction. She said she was assured that the creator would judge. You
recognized instantly that the hospital staff had briefed her on the location of
the accident. How much more had they told her? Idowu found two plastic chairs
at a corner in the ward and they sat close to your bed, your mother to your
right and Idowu to your left. You sensed that your silence bothered them. Your mother kept asking how you felt, and
then she began the tale from how they received the call about your accident and
you knew she would go on detail after detail till she reached the present
moment. You felt relieved by the diversion and even managed to laugh and make
few comments as she spoke. Idowu spoke
too, correcting any error in your mother’s tale. Soon, you were all laughing
and talking. It was in the midst of a short pause in the conversation that
Idowu asked “Why were you coming to Lagos?”
