CHAPTER ONE-The beginning

Many people say age is just a number.In what context they refer this saying,I am not too sure of but what I know is that for a Eighteen-twenty year old,age is not just a mere number.It is indeed their transition."The peak of maturity",I call it

Perhaps,in a country like Nigeria,it won't be counted as unorthodox,at least in this recent years,to see a nineteen year old boy scream at his parents that he is no more a child that does dishes, or a twenty year old girl reiterate to her mother's ear that she is no more a child and therefore,should stop stalking her."I am no more a child.I can go out and come back home anytime I feel like it.so stop stalking me"she would say.Definitely,as a country that places great emphasis on values and religion,behaviour like this in Nigeria should be called eccentric.Actually,it was initially called such but when something happens repeatedly,if we don't accept them as our culture,it,at least,becomes a part of us.

This type of acceptance is one-sided though, for the nineteen and twenty year old that utter these sentences will rue the day they made such declaration.This is because of the action to be taken by the parent,which in most cases, is unpredictable.If the twenty year old takes it simple,a whole night discussion on how to live a proper life as a young adult will finish the chapter but if she takes it rough,probably five stalkers will make everything seem better or better still, get locked indoors and at times,strokes of cain finishes it all.As for the nineteen year old,if scolding proves abortive,then chastisement becomes an option and if that fails too,the next action depends on the parent but one thing is certain,the next action is always a deadly one.

Of parental responsibility,I know not much of but what I strongly believe in is that at this age,strict parenting is not the best option.The truth is that this age is a delicate one and thus must be treated meticulously.If care is not being taken at times,these supposedly cautioning measures,if executed to the fullest may trigger these children to do things they otherwise wouldn't have done or even become victims of social lubrication.

Now,in the league of these young adults is a boy lying so comfortable on his soft-textured bed albeit with a much different story.He has this shining-black body colour.He is of average height and his lips are exceptionally pink.Although he looks sixteen , he actually did his Eighteenth birthday about two months before.

It is nearly eleven o'clock in the morning but with much gusto does this young adult in pyjamas lie on the bed, holding firm the bolster to his head.well,this did not go without a reason-he partied throughout;that was the night before.Normally,he wouldn't be allowed to go partying in the night(a fact himself was very certain of) but the way he went about it was really cunning.

The previous night,after dinner,just like any good boy,he had bidden his parents farewell as he made his way to his room.That definitely was a trick.After noticing there was no sign of interlocution between his parents,be it a chit-chat or that done sonorously,he tiptoed out of his room to theirs and yes,his lady luck hasn't left him as he met them fast asleep.He rushed to his room, gussied up and stole out of the house.He returned about four o'clock in the morning, stealthily locked the door and crept to his room.

What force it is that sets his legs straight is not too certain,but after about thirty minutes,Charles stretches out his body and makes a mighty standing on the tiled floor.it was a splash or rather a splish-splash as he steps on his own chunder."oh my gosh",he screamed as though the puke was for someone else.He was so drunk that as he makes his way into the room,the only thing his brain,mind and body could process was regurgitation and blessed heaven,he did just that.He wouldn't have changed to his pyjamas that night if not to maintain normalcy.

And this room in which he dwelt is, to some extent,a perfect one only that it is somehow enormous and I doubt if that is a problem.it has the four normal familiar walls and just to the top right,that in conformity with his standing position now,hangs in array,frames of some photos he took from age zero to his teenage life.Truth be told, he looked gorgeous in those photos.

And the colour of the room was white,blending full-time with the ash tiles.if there is anything that strikes ones attention in that room,that will be its proper ventilation.perhaps,this advantage is owed to the architect for designing this room such that three windows find themselves stacked into it.Kudos to him for that

Now,there he stands in his lethargic state,appalled at the tiles he spewed up.He was utterly confused on his next line of action-was he to pack this shit?Charles is actually a clean person.He does his things neatly.He,thrice a day,brushes and baths and if I am not mistaken,sweeps his room not less than seven times.At every single dirt he sees,he hisses, as though a pile of dirt has been intentionally dumped into his room.If I had taken another occasion to describe his room,it would have been visually portrayed as an earthly paradise but this morning,his barf mars it.

As far as he love cleanliness,he wouldn't want to go near a thing as disgusting as this.Even if he wants to,his fecklessness will surely come in the way.However,just in the best time,he thought of the hell he will be in if his mother was to meet him and his room in this sordid condition especially because all these owe to him being drunk.Definitely,she wasn't going to beat or scold him.She believes scolding and chastisement are rather archaic or wicked ways of correcting a child.Her weapon however,one I still consider orthodox to Nigerian women,is "talk".Once they notice their child's demeanour is becoming eccentric,it is very typical of Nigerian women to call such child to sit,stretch their hand on his shoulder and as an intro,eulogize him before going deep into the issue at hand.Mrs Maxwell is just also of this type.

He recalls an incident that happened three years ago,that was when he was in Senior Secondary School three.He had left home on that beautiful morning,heeding to school and truly,he did arrive at the school but then that was a camouflage for as he caught the sight of his guys,they all played truant.They went to sundry places:to the beach;to the moor;to an hotel and lastly to some shop to play "PES".To cut the story short,dear Charles Maxwell made it home late that day.His father had travelled and his mother was worried for him all day.Perhaps,this was confirmed when Mrs Maxwell shouted "who is there?"when Charles had hardly knocked the door.When he entered,she inquired of where he had been and he, just like any "sharp guy",so they call themselves,cooked up some inchoate story.She had no clue of what Charles had done yet she felt something was not right.More so,Charles had been acting weird in those days.Whether what he claimed was true or not was not her concern,at least for the moment.She only wants to discuss with her child who is about to come of age.

She sits close to him,stretching her hands on his lap.Akanbi,his native and panegyric name,she calls him just before she goes to the crux of the matter."Do you know you mean the world to me?" She asked, and in response,Charles nods.

***The conversation they afterwards had was in Yoruba,the dominant language in south-western part of Nigeria.Definitely,for the purpose of continuity,I shall relate all they said in English.However,the meaning conveyed in the conversation may be to some extent, altered or even sound nebulous.The only set of people that can outright relate to the translation are those who are indigenes of the above-mentioned region or those who have learnt the Yoruba language and have somehow realised Yoruba-English translation or the use of code mixing in the language ***

"Do you know you are all I have?.You don't have any other in precession or succession.You are my one-eyed groundnut and beans." She says as she sits upright and casts a pitiful eye on her son.

Charles sensed the agony his mother was in and to calm the situation,he responds:

"Mum,stop stressing yourself.I am still that child that sucked from your two breasts.Nothing has changed.And if you are my worried for my lateness,just like i told you earlier,it is nothing serious.I took some extra classes today and attended some tutorial with my friends after school.I am sorry for not informing you beforehand".

She looked at him,albeit not pitifully but more intense than before.Her reason was because she sensed and saw something different.

"Akanbi,so you intend to identify a dog as a monkey for me?The truth is all over you." She muted for about a minute and her son became extremely nervous noticing that he might have been caught and yes his greatest dread was just about to come to reality.

"Charity they say,begins from home.what song shall be sang to this strange beat when a child carries that not done in his house to the outside world?.Akanbi,when did you become a drunk?"

"Mum,I haven't drunk anything.I have been extremely busy all day that the last thing I'd do is drink."he defended himself looking nervous and cracking in tone.

"That an adult sees sitting on a chair,if a young boy like you climb a twenty -five storey building,you can't see it.Akanbi,you really disappointed me.Don't you see?All your words reek of alcohol.And you look miserable with those spills on your cloth." she paused for sometime casting an appalling look at him and then continues:

"I doubt if you attended school at all today.Obviously,you didn't.Or maybe,you did but played truant afterwards.Yes,that would have been the case.Was that how I brought you up?To run away from studies only to party with friends,is that what we have taught you?"

She hissed as a show of the fury that was burning in her.Charles,on the hand, looked remorseful knowing full well that he has been caught.Mrs Maxwell stands,picks the textbook that is on the the table in front of her and then faces the frontal cover to her son as she sits back on her seat and then continues:

"This piece of paper,as weightless and small as it might be,is a liberation.Having its knowledge,what it entails,puts you on a soapbox far ahead of many.Do you think it is a joke when our elders say "Education makes you a boss." or do you just have fun when you sing the popular song:

Èko dàra è je kálo

Èje kálo sí 'le ìwe

Enikéni tí kò kawé aláàárù ni yóò se

(she drops the book on his lap)

I agree that education might be a little stressful but it actually worth the stress.What stress are we even talking about?it's no stress for you new flowers.Do you have a clue of what I went through just to liberate myself from ignorance?My father was a palm wine taper and my mother,a full-time housewife.so,basically,my father was the sole caterer of a family of eight.My parents were illiterates and at that epoch,education was just making its root here in Nigeria and therefore,my parents fulminated against education.Though not a fact but based on pure surmise,it appeared as though my mother somehow held education in high esteem .Whatever she said or did contrary to what I conjectured was just to support her crown.

Moreover,my father was a male-chauvinist.Hardly could my mother look him in the face when they are involved in a kind of interlocution.This ideology of his also extends to us his children.We were six;four girls,two boys.We girls he treated as nothing but shit.We did most of the household chores while his heirs,so he calls our brothers,sit back and have fun.

With the situation of things,none of us,not even his heirs could be expected to dream of education.However,it appeared that there was a bastard,stiff-necked she was,who wouldn't succumb to this nonsense ideology and perception of things.That bastard, was me.My zeal for education started when I met a corp member named Oluwadarasimi.I had this jovial personality and thanks to this nature of mine,I met sister Darasimi.She loved me and by all means,call it,wheedling,pressure or coercion,did she put me on the path of education.She organised private tutorial for me of which she collected no dime.She taught me the nook and cranny of education before her one year service elapsed.

I cried when she left our village and much agony followed thereafter for there was none to educate me.Then i decided to inform my father on my decision to get educated.When I told my father of this,I expected him to condemn or even chastise me but what he said really surprised me.It wasn't like what he said was the best thing any parent could have said and in fact,it was supposed to be the worst one but for somebody like him,I expected something not too exciting.So,for me,that was the the best thing he could have said."You are free to get educated but bear in mind that I wouldn't be responsible for the payment of your fees" was his response.So,I worked and toiled just for me to get educated.With what I am today,I know for sure that I haven't wasted my sweats and toiling.

So,dear Charles,what excuse do you have?Are we not capable of sending you to school?Or are we nonchalant as to whether you get educated or not?.......Charles,can't you see you have it all?

Akanbi,know the the type of friends you move with.Bad company corrupts good moral.Bear in mind,a good name is far better than gold and silver.so,whatever you do,make sure your good name is not marred.

And lastly,Akanbi,I don't drink.Your father doesn't drink so please,stop this stupid practice."

Charles looked sober and listened and paid rapt attention to what his mother was saying.

"When you are ready,your food is in the cooler in kitchen.portion to your satisfaction" she says as she prepares to leave.

As she counts steps forward,she makes a stay and faces back to her son's direction and then spits this out:

"I checked your phone yesterday.Your chats particularly... and what I saw and read were not too pleasant to me.Guess that will be a talk for another day.Prolly tomorrow."

Charles smiled as he reminisced this scene.How wonderful his mother was!So,he picked the broom and dustpan and got rid of the shit off to his restroom.He mopped the tiled surface clean,smiled once again and fell to his bed.That's another round of sleep.

Perhaps,it is the perfect time for discussing Charles and his family.Charles is the only child born to Mr and Mrs Maxwell.Mr Maxwell is a forty-year old doctor who very often,you'd see putting on a dazzling smile.On each of the two sides of his face are three slightly parallel lines running from the soft and fleshy part of his ear to the middle part of his cheek and another three vertical ones coming down the face from the cheek.

For him,his "Gombo",the dominant tribal mark in Oyo which finds itself in his face by virtue of his descent,is his beauty,pride and in fact,his identity.So,during his childhood,when people call him sobriquets like "fight lion" "cat faced'' etc,he smiles and flaunts his six-yard agbada.

He is out of normalcy,tall that at first point of contact,the most noticeable thing about him is his height.And the second,that will be his hardworking nature or should I call it versatility.Yes,he is a doctor,a medical one for that matter and anyone would expect that just like most doctors,he would find himself busy with things in the medical line that he would hardly have time for any other thing outside medicine.Well,Richard Akintunde Maxwell is an exception or maybe one of exceptions.He is a tailor,though a fashion designer he would prefer being called.He works as a graphics designer,takes a part-time job as tutor in some tutorials and when it comes to politics,he is a staunch participator.If he had taken a course in guidance and counselling,he would have been a perfect consultant; for the way he counsels his son,even a professional counsellor cannot do more.Then I wonder if he actually is a good counsellor on life,how come he got married so early especially in a country that strongly fulminate against such.That's a quip though but actually, life is ironical.

And his mother,Mrs Aduke Oluwatoyin Maxwell,is a woman I will outright call an extrovert.She attends party a lot.Hardly will a week pass and she will not go to at least,a party and as a reason,she will claim that's her own way of hobnobbing with celebrities-for in every party,there are always individuals of high status.She is equally a fashionista.No matter the cloth,so far it is trending,Mrs Oluwatoyin is a sure client.However,as much as she attends party and loves fashion,she equally has enough time for her family,even more.Perhaps,this is the only similarity between her and her husband because when it comes to fashion,it's a no for Mr Maxwell.Mr Maxwell likes white,she likes pink.He loves traditional delicacies and she,the European ones.

And the house in which they presently dwelt is a duplex.If it was left to Mr Maxwell,their abode is likely to be a cottage or at most,a bungalow.The downstairs houses the sitting room having in it, beautiful wooden chairs and tables,a plasma tv,home theatres and to the left corner, a standing fan.In the same downstairs is Mr Maxwell's and the guests' rooms located;Mr Maxwell's room to the left and the guests',to the right and in between the two rooms is a bathroom most likely as a use for the two rooms,even though there are separate bathrooms for each room.

The upstairs houses the dinning room,which actually is a problem for Mr Maxwell.Every so often,he complains on how difficult it is for him to climb the stairs only for him to feed his stomach.Well,this would have entirely been his fault if the idea of buying a duplex was his in the first place,however it is not her wife's fault entirely too,for at his own demand,he could have gotten any room upstairs.

In the left corner, to the extreme end of the dinning is an opening that leads to the kitchen which apart from the cooking activity that goes on in it,is their store.To the right is the bathroom and toilet standing side by side.In another corner,a few steps away from the dinning,is Charles' and his mother's rooms located.Charles' on the right and his mother's on the left.A few steps from the bathroom and toilet,we have another room which actually looks as though it has been specifically made for somebody but funnily enough,no one occupies the room.The room has been specially decorated for Charles unborn brother.It was their desire,I mean Charles' parents,to have another child,a boy specifically.While they daydream,they decorated the room how they possibly could in the hope that the child will come someday even though at the point of documenting this story,Mrs Maxwell has not conceived in her womb.

The same Charles sleeping tightly on his bed now graduated from secondary school about three years before.His desire was, just like his father's,to become a medical doctor.However hard he tries,he has not been able to make it to any of the top universities in the country.For three years now,he has been trying but all to no avail.Despite all the turning down,he has not ceased in his quest most especially because his parents are there to encourage him in his strife for they kept reiterating that he is not too old for entering the university.In fact,they kept telling him some of his mates are still in secondary school and therefore should not panic too much.

And all these three years have been one of futility for Charles as he has nothing worthwhile he does.He basically wakes up ,eats and goes back to sleep on daily basis.His father has, several times,invited him to his fashion designing shop to at least help him monitor things while he is away from this part-time work to his main field.All his father's attempt to get him over always prove abortive for to him tailoring is such an old-fashioned and little- profit oriented occupation.So,day in,day out,he is always staying indoor but that changed about five months before now.

Towards the end of the year before,Charles decided to start attending tutorials with the hope that,attending those tutorials will open his eyes to things he couldn't have done on his own as regards education.Well,his eyes were actually opened,however,not to education but rather to the ills of life and to do them.