Chapter 4 Overture: 4

" Blade..." The call turned discordant. I almost swore that I would kill anyone that called me that name again. In front of the class, stood a woman, in clerk-like dressing. She had her head bent over a paper, like she wanted to know if she saw it well.

" Who is Blade..."

" Ma!" I stood from my chair.

" Follow me to my office." She walked out before I could reach her. As I walked towards, it was like I was walking in sinking sand. It happens when you are so self conscious. I discovered that everyone's eyes were on me. My shoe kept making disturbing noise, the opening of the shoe kept clapping against the ground. Lawd! I didn't ask for a show! I looked down on my shoes, I could feel the ground with bare right foot. There was a hole in the sole of the left. All what those (damned) people did was laugh; I pressed my feet against the sole, half-slid and half-walked out of the class.

I saw the woman pass the left in to one corridor. I lost her. I started running towards the corridor, I couldn't find her. I found a man walking past. I couldn't help but notice his unusually protruding belly, maybe he shot it out.

" Morning sir, please, I'm looking for a woman. She wore a square glasses. She was holding a paper. She said I should come to her office." First, his eyes ran from head to my legs.

" Are you a student here?"

" Yes sir" he gave a closer look at my shoes again. He kept trying to see my shoes, 360 from side view.

" Nice shoes." He commented. I hated him for such comment. I would rather have someone laugh and say it to my face than lie. I looked at his polished wet-look brogues, and I felt like stealing them; Then I saw the woman walk by.

" I was looking for you ma."

" Come inside." I entered into her office. It smelt like antiseptic. Ohh, someone was cleaning her office.

" Are you done?" she asked someone

" Yes ma." the cleaner said. I observed the sign on the door post. It said ' BURSAR' and their was another letter after, it looked like 'I', I tried bending my head to see a better view to complete the letter, just then I was pushed to the side. It was the cleaner. She hissed till she was out of sight.

" Come in, it's dry." I looked around; there was a rolling ceiling fan, if you stared too long, you'd get dazed in it's hypnotic spiral. Next, a big long shelf with so many coloured files. On the wall was the picture of the president, and next, was the governor's. Posters and signs placed at different spot as if pasted based on unfair favoritism. I saw a poster that said ' IDIOMS' the one that caught my eyes, ' DILLY OF A PICKLE'; vaguely I had thought the woman would say something behind me, like what it meant. I started feeling I was over-staying my welcome, when I turned to the woman, she had been on her seat waiting for me. If I had I used another 2 minutes maybe she would have snapped.

" I'm sorry ma." She pushed her glasses up her nose bridged and panned her head up to me. She weaved her fingers in to each other and used it to hold her chin. I almost sat when she said,

" What are you trying to do?! Are you a visitor?"

" No ma." I withdrew to my position like re-cocking the gun.

" Boy, you told me yesterday that your father would pay your fees." He has left the house. I squeezed my hands behind my back.

" I'm sorry ma, that's what he told me. I will remind him." She sighed disappointedly and said,

" I am tired of hearing that sentence or anything related. My boss made me tremble while holding my sack letter, for this same reason. If you can't pay, there izz no shame in kissing us goodbye." Her diction made it look like she read those idioms for reference. I didn't know what I was thinking but I reached into my pocket and brought out the 50 naira my Dad gave me the other time. I showed it to the woman,

" Can I pay small by small ?"

" What's this?!! Use that to go home." I felt chill in my clothes. Yet...

" I will bring something better by tomorrow." What am I doing ? Maybe she saw the sincerity in what I was saying but I was doing great! She agreed, but I left that 50 naira on her table. Whilst I was walking away from her office, I saw the letter that completed the sign on the post; it was completed on the door. The sign said ' BURSARY', there was a better sign on the door post inside.

Then I began to think of a business that could get me money by dusk. Pick a pocket; If I got caught, I didn't know what could befall me as I wasn't athletic. Wear a tattered cloth, wear a eye shade, get a bowl and make my hand crooked and beg for alms; even though I lacked material possessions, which to others meant I am poor, it was demeaning to go on the street and beg. No, bad idea. Betwixt this, I recalled that my mum kept money in a tin under her bed. If I stole it, she might not suspect me. But, she hardly even knew I existed. I was so going for it. I just had walk on my toes, avoid bumps ( hangers, undies etc) and make sure not to touch her bed which stood on three legs; it broke on that night my dad left. I didn't realize I was so deep in thought that Lola had been waving in front of me.

" What were you thinking?"

" Nothing." I said and smiled grimly. That vanilla essence only spoke to me and no else. I felt some sort of pride.

I heard my grandma cough with labour as the fume from the burning firewood, blazed the pot. And my heart kept pounding whenever I heard her cough hard. I wished it wouldn't take her life. More, my grandma had to always beg my mum everyday for money to feed. Still, the money she always gave her was never enough to give us meals that could fill our bellies. Sometimes we ate food for a person. And garri, because it was classed as carbohydrate in school, it sounded a 1000 times more sumptuous and delicious than it tasted, looked or even sounded. Whilst my mum had fleshy beautiful skin, my brother and I had countable ribs, visible veins and thin muscles. My grandma had the same, same old shape; bent, saggy skins and wrinkles.

Men. My mum loved them in all shapes and heights. Especially the ones with pregnant bellies and money. And she was ready to give her all to them. One called her on her buttoned phone, which was held together with rubber bands. She left the house. That was a perfect time for me to sneak into her room. I never knew that fate going to have my mum leave the house for my good. Maybe God was behind me. My brother had been outside since he came back from school, grandma was cooking; no snitch. I left the lantern and stealthy entered room. I had to leave the lantern not to get attention. I recognized my mum's room in the dark because we had our clothes stock-piled in a large bag. Whatever I was doing, I made sure I didn't hit the iron chair. I did get past it but I tripped on one of her high heels. A few steps forward, I made it to my mum's bed. I swept under the bed with my hand and I felt the tin. It made a little grate against the floor. Half of my body was under the bed; I forgot I was under the bed, I raised my head to check if someone was there but hit the bed hard.

" Hargf !" I blurted. I checked through the open space under the bed; the door was slightly open, and the light of lantern flickered in the darkness in the main room. So far, there was no one. I dipped my hand into the tin and felt rolls of money. But the problem was which felt like tangible money. I prayed a small prayer and took like six of it. I heard the door creak and breeze blew in slightly -No one still. I straightened and turned towards the door, I tipped my toes and walked two steps, listened for any strange movement. I squeezed my head through the door; the lantern still remained in the same spot, and the room was empty. I heard grandma cough; I came out and just when I was closing it up, my mum came in... damn !

Some seconds before she must have placed her hand on the main door knob, I had closed her room's door. That, was escaping something close to death. She looked at me, like I did something; I made sure I didn't sweat it out. I was on the ground with that old book, scribbling. She left, leaving a long streak of her cologne. The smell was beautiful, and unbelievably, I wanted her to wait behind and let it mix with the air. Maybe that was why she was staring at me; to make me perceive her new smell. Ohh, it was new. It seemed that was what that man brought her. I thought of writing what I had done in my journal. It was stupid. Everyone must have suspected that book. It was two days old but probably they had noticed at that time.

Grandma brought the pot of beans inside. That was when I realized why she took so long cooking. She used her foot to toss a shredded carton to the middle of the room to place the pot; such kind of hygiene was just sort of latent common sense - Just then, my brother with stupid energy, barged in, and collided my grandma. I saw the pot fall on the ground and spill the beans like shattered dreams. My mum came out hearing the noise, and saw it. My mum bellowed at her mum, insulting her intelligence and the old woman couldn't hear clearly whatever her daughter was saying. Like I said earlier, she couldn't hear well. We almost had to shout in her ears before the message hits. Sometimes, body language. But she knew what was happening, she saw her daughter open her mouth so wide, with her fist clenched and her face squeezed tightly. She kept trying to explain herself but my mum kept shutting her up. My brother didn't say anything.

" Stop!!" I felt that chill that made one's body dance a little

" Stop talking to her like that. She didn't do whatever you said." I continued. She accomplished two steps to me.

" Ya were saying..." She was spitting on my face. My words disappointed me. She ordered Solomon to pack up the mess then she left the house again. Through out the drama, I saw with my bifocals that my grandma's head was down the whole time. My mum's elder brother died a long time ago. I guessed that grief made my grandma so sober that she completely succumbed to treating her daughter like her master. And my mum, was probably on a revenge course, on her mum for those times she disciplined her for the wrong things; which she saw as maltreatment, maybe. I walked over to my grandma's side, and side-hugged her. She turned to me, probably she thought it was her daughter trying to apologize but it was me. I wrapped my other hand around her. I saw Solomon run out of the room, probably he couldn't handle the guilt. He carried the mess anyway. But the bean stain was another color to the mosaic on our rug. My stomach rumbled but something mattered more. If there was anyone I thought I could place a strong feeling for, was my grandma. I saw tears fail to drop from her eyes. She rested her head on my cheek. And I, tried to hold my own tears. My grandma detached herself and went to rest on the couch. In a minute, I heard her make nasal noises. I watched for a moment, like I imagined a guardian angel would have done. I walked over to my spot, the same spot close to where I almost kissed the wall, the corner of the room. I saw that roll of money on the ground. I tried to rewind back to the scene; to know if my mum didn't see it. Miraculously, I remembered my legs were on something when I faced my mum. I thought it was the part of the rug where it's wools had disintegrated. I immediately placed it in my bag. I laid on my side, with my head on my bag. Not long, I heard Solomon come in and crawled up to his space to sleep. I turned to see him, he unusually curled himself. Maybe he was still feeling guilty. Soon, he unconsciously stretched his body on the rug, like he was going to be dissected. My mum walked in and locked the door. I smelt cigarette smoke follow her as she entered. She blew the light off from the lantern. I didn't know why. She then entered her room. The light from the moon gleamed on my face. I turned over on my back to look at it in all it's glory and it's halo. And when I wanted it, music was playing across the street from somewhere. My eyes closed as it hit somewhere in me. I wasn't asleep yet but I just closed my eyes to have a vivid imagination. I missed my dad. I tried imagining what he could have done to what had happened. Maybe he would have slapped my mum to my amazement but satisfaction. Or maybe he would have just sat and watched as the drama unfolded with cigarette in his hands and replace it when it shrunk. For that probably 5 minutes, he would have stubbed three cigarettes. Or instead he would have had three bottles of stout. I missed his presence. I couldn't blame him for leaving. My Dad had never or was never reported that he made out with a chick. We've only heard, many times, that he was in the gutter, sleeping. I used to be the one to get him. He just couldn't take it anymore that night when he found that man with my mum on his out-of-wedlock bed. I missed his presence. For a while my eyes were still on the moon, till I got dazzled... And I slept off.