Wednesday 13 January 2016

OUR COLLECTIVE STORIES

Image result for sanyo television pix


"As usual our fathers had gone to their respective businesses and we were at home, for it was a public holiday. The boys took to playing football while the girls were playing their 'o-ri-yo-ma danger'.
It was past mid day when news filtered in that the Part 2 of 'LIVING IN BONDAGE' was being watched somewhere in the neighbourhood. Living in Bondage? Andy had accused Paulo of improper explanation regarding ritual money. He had gone ahead anyway to kill Merit, his wife for the rituals. Merit's ghost had appeared once to Andy with threat of restlessness and torment. And the long-awaited Part 2 was being watched somewhere!!!
Quickly, we abandoned our games and headed the direction of the house where the coveted Part 2 was being seen.

The first set of boys had entered when the door was shut leaving the rest of us outside. But we needed to see this movie. We deployed all our strategies to gain entrance; starting from whispering some of their names to knocking sluggishly on the door.

As we were about resigning to our fate, the door clicked open and it was one of our own who came out- Chinonso. Before he could open his mouth to utter words of caution, we had all dashed into their parlour scouting for bare floor to sit on. As I looked around to acknowledge the presence of the successful entrants, my eyes caught the eyes of him, whom I would otherwise have not bothered about watching the 'Living in Bondage' that day. We had just been warned about incessant watching of movies in people's houses and here I was knocking, whispering, dashing in and scouting for floor right in front of the glaring eyes of my father. I took my eyes off, distraught, uneasy and soaked with sweat. Of course, he wouldn’t ask me to get up and go home for he is a gentleman. So I was allowed to see off the duration of the 'Living in Bondage but gosh! I watched in bondage.

When the movie ended, I knew that was the beginning of my reprimand. Calmly, I made my way to the door and left. When I got to the house, I went to a quiet corner and sat, waiting to be called. He came in, called out for his food. Mum served him. Night came, we prayed and off to bed. Can God be this merciful? I pondered. No Chukwudi come here. Hmmmmm, maybe he saw the sweat dripping from my face, the remorseful silence and the timidity of my look when our eyes locked together. Maybe he reasoned that it was enough punishment for his poor lad seeking to satisfy his childhood curiosity"

[culled from my unpublished book: GROWING UP IN OUR DAYS(stories, challenges and lessons)]

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