The Legacy of Love

Chapter 1: The Dark

Till now I cannot explain what prompted me to take this road. I do not know if it is a result of my confusion at this moment. As I couldn't help but hiss and grumble.

 I reflected on how rude that driver was, how he threatened to beat me and no one will do anything. Wait!! What was he thinking? Or what was I thinking that I did not grab his beards that stooped out like that of the goat who is unaware of his readiness to feel the stomach of the hot pot? If there was one thing I regret now, it is acting like Paul the apostle and letting peace reign. I would have fought with that bus driver and at least happiness would have garmented me. 

I just had not wanted to enter that bus. I remember vividly how he pleaded, "Biko, enter let's go". Wethreal, I sounded so clearly and audibly and also made it clear that what I had with me was just 150 Naira. Because I know fully well how scrupulous theses drivers could be. Most of them would want to pay their children's school fees on you. 

In one encounter as mama Emeka narrated - Mama Emeka is my annoying neighbor that God brought close to me. She is one of those that bores my day and makes life miserable for me in that cubicle called a house. 

She would always bathe her ugly child, hahaha!! Very ugly indeed. Especially Emeka whose head is like that of Tegwulo the Warri champion. 

Tegwulo as he is popularly called will fight with everyone in the neighborhood. God forbid!!! That boy is so annoying. I wonder how he was able to pass through his mother's vulva. A complete menace is what that boy is. But funnily, he used to be my boy and good friend. So, why do I hate him now? Well, I don't know.

Emeka!! "Emeka!!" Tegwulo would practically not respond to his mum's calling even when he is close to his mum. His mum pampers him a lot believing that his son would take her to places she has not been before. Despite warnings from friends over how irresponsibly this boy's character and behaviour are, she never listened to any. Well, Tegwulo is not my problem but the mum is. 

Mama Emeka, a woman as fat as the rainy season will never allow me to rest as if I am her husband. She is so fat that she is popularly called three-in-one Peak. One thing good about the children in my street, is nicknaming. They would give you a very befitting name that will qualify your either your past or present. We have names like, starch man. 

The starch man got this name because of his constant starching of his shirt which makes it raise like a fresh bread with a lot of yeast. Starch man is a good man and not my problem. We have Nwanyi otele ukwu (a woman with a big butt). Nwanyi otele ukwu is an old woman who when young possesses a great backside. But she is now an old woman and she tends to bend whenever she walks revealing her backside as one who is ever and always ready for an a ride of ecstasy. Her butt positions like an African samba. On one funny occasion, she exchanged words with a child who called her that name. She in return asked the child if hers was bigger than that of the child's mother.

 We also have names like NAFDAC, Fast-fast, and Keziah. Keziah is known for her promiscuousness. She can sleep with five men on the go. She's known as the street harlot. She got that name when one of her counterparts Ejike paid her for some minutes ride. Ejike is a father of three whose manhood will never remain caged. That faithful day, the children were out for school, parents to work and the only sound that can be heard in the street was that of the fowls and perhaps the afternoon ghost. Ejike came back more than early today when the wife Nneka was getting set for the market. She inquired why he came back so early. "I am feeling sick so I locked up the shop to have some rest". Replied Ejike. "It is well, ndo (sorry), have some rest, I am going to the market and would come back this evening". Nneka replied leaving for the market. We came back that day from wherever we all went only to meet a crowd trying to calm who looks like Ejike and Nneka alongside Kezaiah. I don't know what happened but whatever happened here must enter the news. At least that is my job as a reporter. Oops!! I didn't tell you that? Forgive my manners. Well, I walk with 

The crying Pen newspaper. A newspaper company that is known for its honesty all over the country. It is quite a risky job as the truth triggers hatred and bitterness. Well, today, another headline. I got closer to know what the issue was. I walked over to Nneka and sighting me as if she has been waiting for me. "Thank God, Newspaper come". Newspaper? Yes, that is what I am being called. Or do you think I don't have my own nick name? Newspaper that is the name they call me. Surprised I have my nickname? 

I came closer to her and she continued. "Please, newspaper tell the world, (she said this really in a confused state. I could see disappointment mixed with anger in her eyes) tell them Kezaiah wants to snatch my husband"

 I almost laughed when I heard "Snatch". Now fast and confused she continued. "My husband came back home early today and when I asked him why, he answered that he is sick, in my caring state I asked - I advised him to take medicine but on my way to the market, I discovered I forgot my key. Chai!!(A way of being sympathetic) thank God I forgot those bunch, I did not know that God wants to show something to me. I got home, heard voices, I fully recalled it was Enike's voice I heard, he was saying, "Pull it down, bend down". And the next voice I heard was, do it "Fast-fast biko" (please). This voice was a female and I have to push the door open and behold my husband" –she started subbing. Well, I thank God I've heard enough so I got ready to employ my pen. Since then, Kezaiah was called "Fast-fast". 

Mama Emeka would not mind bathing her child close to my window. She made me sick of a public house. But what would I do? 

That blessed day, she came back from the market as usual grumbling and complaining to no one in particular. That idiot, foolish tout!! "

"What nonsense!! How dare him!! If only he tried not to give me the money I would have skinned him life" These shouts proceeded out of a troubled woman and no one even wanted to inquire of her rage. Her prayers were answered when one of the neighbors asked her what the problem was she carefully and vividly narrated the incident. "See ooo, I entered a bus at Amajeke to drop me here in Orji." She continued, "If I had not told this man what I had was two hundred naira it would have been a different thing." " I told this man that all I have is two hundred and he signaled me to enter." On reaching here, he said that his money is four hundred and fifty naira and when I refused he pulled my hair and called me all sorts of names. The only thing that saved him was that I made a lot of sales today so I was in my happiest mood." She concluded heading towards the kitchen. 

 My own experience was similar to hers, but the only difference was that the driver gave me a hot slap, and like Stephen the Martyr I responded with "the lord bless you". If I had known I would have given him a hot slap before blessing him. I grabbed the air still walking along that lonely road and throwing imaginary fists at him. At least my face beamed with joy again as I beat him up in my mind. I imagined him crying and begging. I felt the joy till I felt someone touch me from behind. 

 The touch put an end to my imagined victory, the only source of revenge and fulfillment. This was altered by such a gentle touch. A gentle touch that prevented my joy. It was as if someone just separated us amidst my victory. All I know was that someone must pay for it. Either the toucher or the hand that touched. 

 I angrily turned wanting to give her a Bianca type of slap but her appearance stopped me. Yes, "her". I pause for a while trying to figure out what this menace of a lady wants from me. In the space of seconds, diverse thoughts had thread through this little heart of mine. Is she a mad woman? No, is she a thief? "I don't know". Is she a harlot? "she does not look like one". Then who is she? As if she was eavesdropping to the confused dialogue in my mind and trying to put an end to the dilemma. She immediately rescued me. "please I need your help". This words dropped out of her mouth with ease as if we have met before. 

 Well, I consoled myself. "whatever it might be, she can not hurt me." Trying to sound very friendly, I asked, "what is the problem and what are you doing in this lonely road?" it was as if my question was thrown to a ghost out there or perhaps a wind because this gender did not even behave like someone who has been asked a question. This infatuated me but I had to behave good and fine. 

Rescued again from these thoughts that raced in my mind, "please you must help me there is a young lying on the street there and I don't know if she is dead or not." She said this pulling me along and I followed like a goat who has not option but to hug his death. I wonder who the little girl might be, what is she doing lying on the ground? Is she dead? Was she kidnapped? Was she raped? I can't place my mind on what the issue might be. All I know is that there is a young girl out there that must be saved now and I am ready to do that no matter what it takes from me. 

We walked through a rough road that I know habours evil. The writings on the walls, the smell all made me nausea. This particular area is known as home for morally displaced people who have chosen evil vices as a way of life. I thought of going back but this lady with me her eyes reflects confusion and one who is ready to do anything to help this young lady so I maintained my good nature and concluded this girl must be saved. 

We walked across locked shops and it was as if this street has long ago be dejected. We got to a particular junction and crossed the road moving to the right part of the street. We walked quite a distance before I had distinct chattering and noise. This area was inhabited by mostly young ladies who mortgage their bodies in exchange for currencies. I almost wept seeing this girls who are mostly teenagers standing on the road and beckoning on passersby to patronize them. This site sent cold quiver round my body and I wondered what must have led these girls into such a lifestyle. They look so unkempt and untidy which complements their surroundings.

I never knew I had stated sobbing till the young lady leading me turned around, looked at me and gave out a lazy smile. "Most people do not know places like this exist" she said, "here is a home to homeless girls who are ready to give out their body either by force or willingly or for money" she continued. "What...I had wanted to ask her a question when my eyes caught the biggest shock of my life. Quickly, I closed my eyes, stiffed myself and groan in bitterness.