By Oluseyi Dasilva
“Thank God I had money in my accounts and my visa was in my bag. I headed straight for the airport and boarded the next available flight back to Nigeria. As soon as I settled down from the airport, I called my mother to ask after her welfare and she greeted me with a failed voice.” “Maami, what happened to your voice? And she explained that she dreamt that I was taken to a white country where I was initiated into a family cult where I would be killed in a ritual after three years. She started begging me not to travel, with anyone, saying she had been praying for me during which she lost her voice. Till now, I never told her that I had actually traveled to India without her knowledge and that I faced a near situation to what she was warning me about. I imagined the kind of mother she is. At a point, I thought she might be a witch because she said things happening around me which she was not supposed to know. It is much later that I realized that she was exhibiting her power of telepathy in communication because of the love she has for me.
Since I have a good work, I have more than enough to spend. My hazard allowance alone is enough to pay my house rent and care for some other needs. I had a BMW car, because of its speed. I cannot drive a car that cannot speed well. Many times I come home late from calls and think of my personal security. I know that should any criminal attempt to cross my path, I will outsmart them and speed off. I have been a good driver during my NYSC when I bought my first car. I usually take my cars to AutoCare, Ikeja for maintenance and it’s a monthly routine.
One day I went to AutoCare and while I was relaxing where I sat, I needed some snacks from a nearby Happy Bite eatery, so the Technician working on my car took money and sent one of his boys. Few moments later, a man walked in and gave me the pack. The look on his face was familiar and I asked him, if we have met before? He replied ‘So you don’t know me again?’ After long while thinking of where I knew him from, I remembered and whispered, “Gbolagade” and he answered, ‘yes, na me be dis’. He doesn’t that attractive, handsome and neat young man any more. He looks much older than his actual age. I remembered all that happened in the past and pitied him. While still with me, his boss came in an gave him nauseating slaps, shouting, ‘Do you want to start begging her for money again? What shall I do to you this shameful idiot? Anytime a customer comes in for repairs, you will be begging them for money as if they won’t pay for their services again. Is that what you came to do here? Get out’ I was greatly ashamed to even think I ever was in love with this nonentity. I was full of thanks to my mum for cutting me short before I lost my pride to him. I was ashamed to ever tell anyone that the dirty looking Gbolagade kissed me as a teen we were even eager and planning to explore his manhood, adolescent curiosity engulfed me. My mum saw it coming and she saved me from that shame able scenario entering into record of my past. I would have lost my direction, followed his handsome look and get drowned in the ocean of his visionlessness. I left the place saddened, as I recall how girls swarm round him like locust but see how he subject himself to a life of journey without a destination.
Continued on Monday