CHAPTER ONE
Finally what I feared most has happened to me. Ever since I won Priscilla’s heart for love, I have been afraid of heart jilt. That was why I had stayed single in the past years and preferred to be single for the rest of my life. I tried to stick to my guns, but my dad and my troublesome teasing friends wouldn’t allow me stick to my vow. My dad would always scream at me whenever the words “I don’t want to marry because of heart jilt” flew out of my gob. He hates to hear me say those words, and could at once eat me up like a cat would do to a mouse whenever he hears me speak in that manner.
‘Didn’t I marry your mum and begot you?’ He would always scream as though he demanded answer for that question. He will never get an answer from me because he already knows the answer.
‘Why won’t you marry and bear me grandchildren?’ He would not stop until he mentioned that word grandchildren. He always emphasize grandchildren with think veins rising on his well barbered hair which a good barber had made it a duty to help shine for him on regularly basis, making it seem as though it was completely bald.
‘Give me grandchildren’ he would say. He was bent on emphasizing grandchildren whenever he refuted my words as though I had ever told him that I would bear many children if in the end, I eventually tie the knot with any woman. Those words of his were not rendered slowly in a Soto-voce, but fast and thunderously. Whenever he screamed in that manner, with his strangled and earth-shaking voice, I saw myself melting away like ice or like gold that was gradually losing its luster, and the thing in between my legs, would start dripping down some liquid substances that was no resemblance to urine. Oh, yes! I would just piddled on myself that substance that takes a striking resemblance to a day-break pap! A closely look at what dripped down my man-pike would make one say it was indeed pap because they were like identical twins. Sometimes when he screams above his voice with a straight faced, fear traveled via my nerves and that thing in between my legs would scamper and want to run inside my body like the snails or tortoises in the Northern Peru and Ecuador, would run into their shell for refuge when the atmosphere becomes unfavourable and unfriendly to them.
There was one day I dodged his punch that almost landed on my face I began to look for my wedding tackle, because it became very small that one would think it has disappeared. That punch whizzed past my side, almost brushing my left ear it then hit against the wall and shook the glass framed photograph or portrait carefully hung on the wall of our living room and It came crashing down and had it glass shattered into small particles. That glass framed photograph had my dad’s picture flanked by some of his friends in their youthful days. They wore baggy trousers funnily called ‘’Jonpay or I fear ground’’ which didn’t get to their ankles but a bit below their knees. Dad was in red pantaloons trousers, green sleeve, blue shoe, and on yellow face cap that couldn’t cover his bushing hair. Then he was carrying bushy hair popularly called ‘’old skool’’ when he was yet an army. He veiled his eyes that were as red as crimson like that of perpetual smoker of marijuana, with glass that was no difference from a 4D glass. What a colour riot! Unlike these days that no one would like to dress in such way. The digital world had rolled away those primitive dressing of colour riot, invoking to the world ‘’to match’’.
Once upon a time people dressed that way but now-a-days girls go by ‘’to match’’ red skirt to red shoe or red bag, while guys go by black cap to black shoe or white dress to white shoe. That’s the way it is now with the digital world. It was dad that made me know the true colours of what he had worn in that photograph if not I wouldn’t have known because everything in the photograph appeared as black and white. That was the handiwork of the ancient camera and not the fault of the paparazzo
photographer
. The ancient camera was good at changing colour into two constant colours which are black and white. In the olden days the only colours one could view on paper or television were black and white. Even the television set we once had in our living room before it was being replaced by a colour Television was black and white goggle box. Dad got that colour television on his first Peace keeping abroad. He adored and cherished it that he had a special white handkerchief that was as white as snow which he did use for cleaning the dust that glued to it on regular basis. He cleans it every day as though it manufactures or generates dust and he applied besom on the handkerchief while cleaning it. He would never allow any other hand to help tidy the dust off it because he said: if too many cook could spoil the broth it was very possible that too many hands could also make the colour television faulty. I was not given the all clear to touch it. Nobody dares come close to it because he barred everyone from doing so. He appended to a well slim constructed paper an inscription “OUT OF BOUND” and pasted it on the front of the Ash colour plastic part of the television. The letters were so bold that a blind man could read it while running his hand through them. During family time, mum stayed very close to it, she would be there staring at the blind television. There was something strange about her stare. She stared at the blind television which had not been switched on yet as though she was viewing things on the dark screen. Why she stayed close to it was because she said she wanted to catch a full glimpse of the happenings on television. We both usually wait for dad to finish up with whatever he was doing so he could have the television switched on. There was one night the television played off he accused me of tempering with it on his behalf, saying that mum, would not flout his orders except me. He said I tempered with it and did harm to it. He lied against me. I was innocent, but his eyes were covered with wild flame of anger to see my innocence. He rose up from his chair that night with fury anger then I dashed out of the living room before he had me punched. Leaving his presence whenever he was peeved was the best medicine for cooling his temper so I quickly left his presence to avoid any further provocation. I was innocent but he never saw my innocence rather he accused me of being guilty of the allegation he levied against me. I have never gone close to the television for once except the day it was brought in when almost everybody at close quarters including me came, running hands on it because we haven’t seen such television before. That day was like a festive day as rice was cooked and distributed to all that came to congratulate him on his newly purchased colour TV. The TV was celebrated like it was someone’s birthday and everyone ate joyfully and touched it freely. After that “day of grace” so did my dad call it, I or any other person was not privileged to come close to it let alone touch it. I kept a long distance from it as if we were enemies. That night I went out through the back door and sat on the veranda at the balcony of our house feeling deprived. The black night stared at me in the eyes. Although there was light, the voltage was very low like the voltage some do call “candle” so the dusky night took advantage of the low voltage. Soon my back began to ache and I leaned it against the wall wreathed with graffiti which were the handiwork of those tiny patter of feet that had made almost all the walls of the buildings in our vicinity their writing board, leaving them with awkward words and ill-mannered drawings like ‘‘man + woman = child’’ or ‘pen + is = penis and whatever you. They left those graffiti on our wall before we inhabited the building and they wouldn’t have ventured that wall if we were there otherwise, dad would have them punished severely for doing harm to the walls and for writing bawdy or salacious words that were above their age. I was just there when I heard him calling my name but his call fell on deaf ears. He had pulled the back door slowly and quietly to avoid the offensive noise being made by it. The noise from that door was so creaky that he had its hinges oiled every now and then. The noise was a bit bearable in the day but not at night. So, one pulled it slowly, quietly, with care at night to avoid that noise pollution from the hinges of the door. He came asking me to go inside that I was innocent that I didn’t touch the television on his absence, saying it was the television’s wire that was plugged to the three pin plug that shook from the wall socket thereby losing contact which led to the television’s trip o ff. I wonder why he didn’t check the wire that was plugged to the socket before accusing me wrongly. He was too fond of the TV and was ready to make hell fire with anyone who tries to temper with it. I was happy that I was justified at last. He was the only one that had colour television in that quarter, so he cherished and protected it carefully, saying it was his ego in that vicinity. It was at the arrival of the colour television into our home, that made me discovered that the dresses some of the Dramatis Personae wore in those movies we did watch which appeared as black and white on our black and white goggle box were not just black and white like they usually displayed on the screen but different colours of dresses. All at once the colour television, made dad abandon our ancient black and white television which was once invaluable to him. He no longer clean or switch it on. It lost its value in our home completely at the arrival of the colour television. That was the character of many persons. They would not abandon an old thing until they got new one and they abandon old thing at the arrival of a new thing even when it is still serving its purpose. Like love tutor Angel Smith, said during one of her teachings on a Valentine’s day which she titled: ‘’Girls of now a days’’ she said some people carelessly treat their old and once treasured property at the arrival of a new one and she said that was common with some girls. They usually abandon their boyfriend at the arrival of one new other guy who seemed to have shown them love beyond what the guy they are dating had shown them. And she admonished that one should be satisfied with the little love shown to one by one’s lover, because some who panted for excess love never had an alloy of love from their lover one day. “Every guy that shown a girl love just to capture her attention would someday deviate from that love when he is done collecting that which he wanted from that girl.” She paused and began to wipe the heat that came to squat on her face and all at once she resumed with no retardation.
“And if you are a girl you had better learn to secure your fertile land from those guys who sought after it to cultivate it because if you don’t they would leave you infertile after harvesting their crops in your land. Some girls left their boyfriend for another because they are smoker, drunkard, casanova. They would say he beats me or he doesn’t treat me like a queen. Do they treat the boy like a king? If you treat your man like a king he will treat you like a queen. Treat your guy nicely and I bet you he would flee from every unholy thing you don’t like about him. Remember if he is not a king you can’t possibly become a queen. Many girls today had left their boyfriend for another guy for the aforementioned reasons. They couldn’t bear. They sought for what I call already made guy forgetting that it was one girl that changed that boy they sought after they also forget that that boy could be worse than the one they had left. They locked the door of their heart against their ex-boyfriend and denied him entrance, saying they have lost the first love for him. If you can’t find the first love for the person you once loved search for the second love for that person! Grow it and you would be surprised how it grew and wax stronger than the first love that was missing. If you can’t change your boyfriend who will? How then can you as girl say you can change the world when you can’t even change your boyfriend? Don’t you know in the process of trying to change the world your boyfriend you couldn’t change would be among the world you want to change? Remember that the guy you parted ways with over his incessant attitude would someday tie the knot with another girl. It is either he was changed by the girl or changed before the arrival of the girl or the girl was enduring his attitude pending when he would change. How he got changed doesn’t matter, but what matters was he had changed. Some changed in their marital home, while others changed outside their marital home. Be yea boy or girl you can change your lover from anything that had become a habit to him or her. Every wrong attitude that had become a habit today started on one particular day and someday any form of habit can be changed. Some girls would say I can’t tolerate my lover or any boy yet they want boys to tolerate their nuisance. Any girl who can’t tolerate her boyfriend will keep jumping from one boy to the other. A guy you were able to change from his wrong way would never leave you for another girl except he is an ungrateful element. So do well to live with your lover with the way he or she is and try as much as you can to change him or her. Do not look out for another elsewhere because there is no perfect being anywhere. What’s wrong if Mrs Right finds Mr Wrong? Nothing is wrong all she needs do is to work on that Mr Wrong and make him right instead of searching for Mr Right which may take her the whole of her life time to find.” Love tutor Angel Smith, aka Queen of love concluded. Every guilty girl’s words got stuck by that sermon. I was touched by the sermon and so were the male folks present on that lovers’ day and all we could do was to applaud the speaker for her great admonition. What she spoke about was pretty common with almost every Tom, Dick and Harry, when it comes to treating an old thing at the arrival of a new thing. And dad wasn’t an exception he was guilty of that too.
