CHAPTER THREE
The morning was just not one of those good Saturday mornings. I woke up with a terrible headache, it seemed as though there was a pounding competition going on in my head; a pounding competition would be better, because in no time the competition would be over and the prize would be awarded, but this seemed like it would never end. I staggered to the bathroom like a drunkard, although I never drank, or rather, no one knew I drink, washed my faced and brushed my teeth. That was when I noticed Bisola was not in the bed when I woke up.
“Bisola! Bisola!” I screamed but there was no reply. Where could she have gone? This was unlike her. On the other hand, have South Africans kidnapped my wife? I ran all over the room searching for her but to no avail getting scared, I called the police but as I was about to tell them, Bisola walked in all dressed up.
“Where did you go to?” I asked still breathing heavily.
“I couldn’t have gotten missing. I went to drop our luggage at the airport, or did you see the luggage here”
“Oh, I just noticed” I said a little relieved as I looked around the room.
“Dress up so we can leave immediately” she said as I hurriedly wore my clothes and she brushed my hair.
It took about two hours to get to the airport and I wondered when Bisola could have woken up to have being able to drop those luggage and return that soon, she could have easily sent a worker. We got to the airport and flew in our private jet down to Nigeria.
Nigeria looked a little less beautiful than it was when we left just three days back, perhaps, because we left her borders to a nation a little more beautiful. We alighted the plane and immediately entered a car that was already waiting for us, along with a large group of people waiting to welcome us, dressed in different attires from different ethnic groups of Nigeria, all looking tired as they expected we would arrive a day before and waited all through the night. We waved at them all as they danced, ‘can’t they find some way else to welcome or congratulate someone aside dancing and singing?’ I asked myself as the car moved slowly through the crowd and we waved continuously until they were out of sight.
As we approached my house, I looked at the awesome structure, I noticed Bisola’s sigh and that smile of admiration filled her face, no one who passed by the house ten times daily for ten years ever ceased to be amazed at its awesomeness. Built throughout the noughties and a little beyond; started 2000 and finished 2012. A modernly-ancient neoclassical design, built on several hectares of which I don’t even know the precise number, design by twelve world class professional architects. Worth a little more than $100,000,000; one of the most expensive houses in the world, I still can’t count how many times people from different parts of the world have come just to look at it. The hi-tech gate automatically opened to us as we drove into the magnificent compound. This day technology increase unemployment rate; normally I would have employed a gateman, reducing the unemployed by one more man but technology has denied that staffs the opportunity.
“Daddy, Mummy” Michael and Jessinta screamed as they ran towards the car. Two lovely children. Michael looked so much like me, a handsome young boy barely five years old yet very intelligent, in everything, he took after me, whereas Jessinta, barely five years older than Michael looked a little like her mother and possibly her grandfather, though I never saw him, but I was certain he looked good, she had big cute eyeballs and she was very tender. As they approached us, they separated; Jessinta ran straight to my side of the door and Michael ran to his Mum’s. The car moved a little bit forward and finally halted at the parking space. As soon as I opened the door, Jessinta jumped on me; I grabbed her and placed her on my shoulder.
“My baby, you missed me right?” I said as I gently pat her back.
“Yes daddy, very well. We thought you would come home yesterday”
“So did us my dear, but some things came up but we are home now”.
The house helps were all out to welcome us along with some of the dancers who followed us from the airport. Bisola shared some gifts for them as they all thanked her and left; I did not give them a penny even though I knew they expected it. The house cleaners carried out the luggage and other items we had brought from the car and took them all into the house as we followed behind.
“Hope they treated you well when we were away?” I asked fully aware that they would not dare treat them otherwise.
“Yes daddy, but Michael refused to do as you said before you left; he no longer read nor eat when he suppose too, he just plays video games through out, he doesn’t even sleep when we ought to” she said in a sad sharp tone.
“What!” I screamed as I dropped her from my shoulder and went towards Michael who was beside his mother trying to prevent him. “Are you trying to be a bad child? Disobedience, ehm? ”
“Am sorry daddy, so sorry” he shouted as he tried to move to his mothers back for safety. I had just returned; scolding him at that moment didn’t seem right.
“I will postpone your punishment, but first, take that game straight to my room this moment before I ….” I have not finished speaking when he ran into the house. Michael was getting afraid of me, I knew for certain this was not respect but fear; if he did respected me, even in my absence, he wouldn’t acted the way he did. Although, perhaps because I scold him so much and have never scolded Jessinta but I would not blame me, I learnt that from Baba Agba, who never touches Florence but flogs me at every slightest error. We went into the house as I smiled and talked to Jessinta about the trip and what her mother had bought for her. it was not necessary though because her mother will still give them to her, but it created the father daughter bond.
“Dad, I missed your singing and playing of the trumpet for two days. Tonight you will compensate me’ Jessinta said as I walked to my room.
“I also missed doing that to you, so don’t worry tonight I will tell you” I replied.
Bisola and I went inside the room, took a cold shower and slept for a few hours.
It was time for dinner the table was set. It was pounded yam and egusi soup, my favorite; the cooks have mastered the act of cooking these kinds of dishes when they are needed.
“Call the kids” I said to Nkechi the chief house maid. An old woman in her late sixties, I couldn’t have young maids no matter how much I wanted to have them they are active, agile and smart but they also come with a lot of temptations and my body is no wood, besides I am a man of great honor, scandals related to that shouldn’t be attached to my name. She walked sluggishly to the rooms, my stomach was already eager and I angrily growled curses. She came out holding the kids, Michael on the left and Jessinta on the right; she treated them like they were her grandchildren, she said she never had one likewise the kids never saw either of their grandparents so they called her grandma.
“Grandma, hope you added bush meat to the soup?” I heard Michael asked as they walked down the stairs.
“Of course I did, its bush hare, you will love it?” she replied. As they reached the table and I wondered if domestic hares existed. Jessinta took her seat beside me, as usual and Michael, close to his mother, Nkechi sat opposite me. The table was long table; it would do for a mini banquet.
“Mike, pray for the food” I said as I looked towards him. Mike is the short for Michael, and I usually call him that only when we were in good terms. He raised his head in shock and smiled; I knew for certain he would have done all those childish superstition in his room while we slept; plucking out his eye lashes and putting them on his head so as to make me forget to scold him, I did that too when I was his age. He was happy it had worked and he sat well, with his head bowed.
“In Jesus name” without waiting to be replied, he continued, I knew he wanted to impress me “Father in heaven, we thank you for our father and mother who have just returned from abroad with yet another prize, we ….” He continued and as it approached 5mins I shouted a loud Amen. I would never tell him to pray again when am hungry.
“When you pray for meals make it shor
t and simple, God will understand,” I told him as we swallowed the pounded yam; the pounded yam was soft and very elastic; you could hear that pak sound when you cut out a morsel. I hardly swallowed a morsel that is not well attached with pieces of bush meat, as a big man, that is the kind of life I should live.
“Tomorrow is Sunday, we will have to go and do thanksgiving at the church,” Bisola finally said after being quiet almost throughout the meal.
“Oh, oh that’s true, what do you have in mind that we give as thanksgiving offering?” I asked.
“Maybe a space bus or something similar that they can use for evangelism”
“That’s right….” I said, I haven’t finished speaking when Jessinta interrupted.
“But daddy wont we take yams too, Pastor Fred told me he likes yams very well” she said smiling.
“The yams and others small stuffs are certain my baby, we are talking about the main thanksgiving offering” I replied.
“Which of them are we carrying?” I asked Bisola.
“Let’s take the white one, it looks more presentable” she replied, immediately I started coughing, Bisola ran towards me with a cup of water. “olowo ori mi, bless you, drink water please” she said as she tries to put the cup in my mouth but I objected.
“What! Do you want to kill me?” I screamed, “That car is worth a few million dollars; I paid for the design, construction and importation of just that one car and you want me to just give it out?”
“No, my love, it’s just a suggestion”
“Bad suggestion, suggest something lesser… or rather, I will suggest myself… Ali! Ali!” I screamed as Ali came running.
“Yes oga” he replied as he ran towards us; Ali is one of my illiterate drivers, I picked him up when he was just fourteen, an orphan who lived under the bridge and I made a life for him, sent him to driving school and made him my personal driver.
“That blue sienna space bus, drive it to church tomorrow when we are going, is that clear?”
“Yes oga” he replied; his usual response as he had not fully learned English language. He stood there watching.
“Am done with you, you can go now” I said as I used my hands to try to demonstrate for him to understand.
“So that case is closed now, write a list of the other things we will give and send Nkechi to the market,” I said to Bisola who was tidying up the dining table already. She paused “but honey ….”
“Don’t but me, that’s my decision and its final,” I said trying to make her talk no longer. I knew she love it when am authoritative, I overheard her saying it to Mrs. Nelson, and so I wanted to prove a point. I saw her smiled as her cheekbone protruded a bit; it made me remember when I met her just a decade ago it feels just like yesterday. When I hungrily stood up to buy a sachet water with the last penny on me just two weeks after Lydia jilted me, I mistakenly bumped into her, I expected her to act like every other girl would have acted; slap me, call me a wretch, classless monkey, etc. Therefore, I already started pleading “Madame sorry”; but to my surprise, she smiled; that was when I noticed her lovely protruded cheekbone, took my hand up and told me, it is all right. For days it kept reoccurring in my brain; the smile, the pretty face and those two words ‘it’s alright’, I could not sleep well and I swore I would marry her, which I did.
“Okay Love” she said in her usual low tune as she sat down back. It was the normal tradition in the house, no matter how long ago you have finished eating before the last person does, you will have to wait so that we all pray together; Bisola introduced that anyway. Not long after, we all finished eating and Nkechi did the final prayers, as usual thanking God for the meal and praying to him to give me more money so that I will be able to be able to feed them more and more. I always pray that prayer too, that I will have enough money to feed the whole world comfortably without feeling it, but I would not if I do have.
Like the happy family we are, after the meal, we all sat in the large sitting room, laughing and cheering as we watched movies. As soon as it was 7:30 pm, Jessinta tapped me.
“Music time dad,” she said. I held her hand and we both walked to the garden.
“Why do you love to sing to me stories in the garden?”
“I get inspirations from nature. Most of the songs I sing to you are imagined, I imagined them, the ones I heard some other places, I garnish them”
“Okay dad” she said and we both sat on the mat and I trumpeted a loud beautiful music and she loved it.