DAWN : A new beginning

I am gradually realizing that my street seems to develop this strange stench over the years and this stink increases with time. The filth reflecting in the worn out clothes of the children aimlessly roaming the streets can choke one to death. From the famous Razzi beer parlor down the street to the GreenLand brothel adjacent my mother's bar, these places birth the disgusting stench of my environment and gradually it is becoming inhabitable. As I struggle to jump across piles of dirt littered all over, I could feel different hands and shoulders all over me.

Everyone is always in a hurry in a space so small. I quickly stretched my hand out to greet a fellow who stretched his hand out on a moving bike. We smiled at each other.

I got home at exactly 6:30pm and the last thing on my schedule is resting. I took out my shoes that were already soiled with water, dirt and oil. I raised the curtain of our one room apartment and I was greeted by an empty room. Again, my younger siblings failed to lock the door. They left the door unlocked three days back and yet again today. I was filled with rage and was determined to spank thier little butts when they return from thier ritual of daily evening plays. There were little thieves all over the neighborhood and even when one is fully conscious, he has to keep watch because the fine watch on your left wrist might be sold before you turn right and realised it is gone. You must keep your side bag in front of you else you will be left with a dangling rope and the bag disintegrated from the rope that holds it. You must be wise and of course patient to survive in our street.

As I gather the firewood in the kitchen towards cooking dinner, I kept memorizing how tommorow will be. It was evident I was gradually developing anxiety disorder for one issue after the other keeps racing through my mind. I will wake up tommorow by 5am, prepare breakfast for my younger siblings, dress them for school then clean the house and wash the dishes. My morning chores will end before 10am then I'll sleep for two hours before joining my mother at her bar. I will stay at the bar till 5 or sometimes 6pm while my mother rests at home and prepares lunch. Dr. Charles said my mother needs enough rest. Infact all diabetic patients do and so I take over her bar from 12 to 6pm then I return to fix dinner but if there is a leftover from lunch, it serves as dinner then I help my siblings with thier homework and put them to sleep before my mother closes for the day at 10pm.

Ever since my mothers condition worsened, I have missed out on lots of night events in the neighborhood lately. I even missed out the famous annual ghetto fiesta at Razi. Normally I would dash out at 10pm when she returns but since her last heart attack, I have traded night fun to keep watch over her. My mother had a heart attack last month. My younger siblings were sleeping like logs and my mother laid half dead panting like a cheetah amidst gun shots. I returned home from a party to pick a jacket after i got cold only to meet my mother at the mercy of death. This scenario altered my night life and I haven't attended a night party in the last one month. Even the nearest party.

There was no leftover from lunch so I am making dinner tonight. After cooking, I tidied the kitchen with so much frustration. Four households in my compound share the only kitchen. I was always tidying the kitchen and this act doesn't please me. We live in a flat with four rooms. In the first room is a bachelor who changes his girlfriends as often as he changes his bedsheets. Unknown to him, we call him "Uncle with many girls". He is a mechanic who is fond of getting in trouble with his customer's. He changes cars yet can't afford a bicycle. In the next room is Mummy Ajabo. She's a timid woman in her early thirties. She has only one child. A daughter Ajabo who is 4 years old. I always wonder how a nice woman as such ended up with a drunkard of a husband who consistently beats the hell out of her. I feel she's being weak and stupid while my mother says she's a real woman. We occupy the third room. My mom, my three younger siblings and I. We own a big bed which squeezes itself in the right corner of the room. A centre table with a television is placed by the left while bags containing our clothes are sucked under the wooden lift that supports our bed. Our foodstuffs perfectly fit in our cupboard alongside other utensils. My mother and my youngest brother sleep on the bed while my younger sisters aged 7 and 10 sleep on the mat with I. The last room in our compound is occupied by Mama Funke. An old widow with 3 unmarried daughters who barely sleep at home. They wear and parade with the most fashionable outfits yet they feed like the criminals in the prison as my mother will say. In my compound, we all share one toilet and bathroom just as we share one kitchen.

My siblings returned home at quarter past 7pm just when I had taken my bath. I have been noticing how they were beginning to stink lately. I could sense the stench in the neighborhood around them. I ordered them to take thier baths which they did after Osifa the oldest of them pulled buckets of water from the well nearby. I served them dinner. Boiled Yam and red oil which they ate together. They were sweating so they took off thier clothes. The girls had thier underwears on while Tami our four year old brother hurried to the bed with his bare buttocks. "Sister can I climb on the bed with Tami before mother returns"? beckoned Kiki my seven year old younger sister. "No " I replied without looking at her. Meanwhile, Tami was making faces at them and mocking them for sleeping on the floor while he enjoyed the comfort of the bed. They were pained. I could sense it. But who cares? Its just a bed. They should be pained about other grave misfortunes of ours not over a bed and Tami was silly to belittle them but he's just a child. "Stay put on that bed and sleep. " I yelled at him and he was calm immediately . My siblings were soon fast asleep and while Osifa stretched herself towards me, I could see her nipples protruding forth. It was evident she's approaching teenage hood.

I aimlessly roamed from one end of the bed to the other. Sleep evaded. I couldn't sleep especially not after the revelation I heard on my way back from my mother's bar today. I was determined to stay awake till 10pm when she returns. I was determined to confront her on why she never told me our father had return. At least I knew why he left but I wanted to know why he was seen in the neighborhood after four years. He left while Tami was a baby and today while returning from her bar, I could hear the women in green land brothel whispering "That's his first child. Am not sure whether she has seen him yet. " While I entered the compound, Mama Ajabo looked at me and her eyes were saying "Your father has returned " but she said "Where is your mother instead" and she knew my mother takes the night shift at her bar.

I gazed up to our old wooden clock. It was half past 10pm already and my mother was yet to return. When my mother arrives late, she always struggle with customers especially drunk ones who wouldn't want to come home. When thier resistance becomes unbearable, she locks her bar after taking all her stuffs in and deserts the drunk customers addressing thier unseen friends. Shortly later, my mother arrived home. I could hear her fetching water from our drum into the bathing bucket. Each cup of water she fetched was immediately followed by another. She was tired.

My mother came in with a wrapper across her chest and hurried to the bed like a child into the arms of his mother. She laid on her back and while facing the ceiling she said "Fetty why aren't you asleep. "? "I was waiting for you Ma. " I quickly replied. She knew I wanted to talk. When I wanted to collect money from her for my final secondary school examination, I waited for her that night to return from her bar. When I wanted to request for new underwears, I waited for her all night. Tonight, she knows I was waiting for a reason. "We will talk in the morning Fetty" she declared while covering Tami up with her wrapper. She slowly turned away and began to sleep. "Father has return" I said. She got up and sat down.

She looked at me and her gaze betrayed her. She knew our father had returned. She didn't tell me. I kept wondering whether she wouldn't have told me if I hadn't asked. "When your father left for Libya, " She began. "I begged him to stay. Not for me but for you and your siblings but he insisted. Of what use was he after all? " she was demanding an answer and I lowered my head. She continued "Your father barely contributes to this household. He is obsessed with his quest to Libya that he hasn't had any job for the last 6 years and 4 years ago he left. We didn't hear a word from him since then. " look at me Fetty "she said. Her voice was trembling. "While that Man was away, who paid the rent? " You mother" I replied. "Who paid for all your schooling? "It's all you Ma" I answered. "From the groceries to other bills. I handled them all. You think I don't know or hear what people in the neighborhood say?. People say am no better than the womem from Greenland brothel. Some say I rob my drunk customers. But who cares Fetty. As long as the god damned bills are paid. " she was now yelling and I was sure the neighbors were eavesdropping especially Mama Funke. "And now your father is back from Libya. Deported and more filthier than he left. He came back with nothing Fetty. Four years gone. He doesn't even know what Tami looks like. Am so ashamed of him. " she was sobbing already and I couldn't lift my head. "Get some sleep now" she said and slept. I went to bed in tears.

The next morning, I was done with my morning chores just as I envisioned. Normally, I will sleep for two hours or less then take over my mothers bar till late evening. I hated the bar. It stinks. The bar gave us a shelter, fed and clothed us yet I hated it. It stinks and there were same people all the time. My mothers bar is located in the tight corner between a barbing saloon and a book store in my neighborhood. We live at London street. I think it is the filthiest place on earth and yet it is named after such a developed city. Such an irony. We sell varieties of alcohol ranging from guiness, Star, Hero, unrefined Nigerian spirit known as ogogoro and of course whisky. Our customers consist of middle aged men, sometimes women who were invited by men and a few elderly men. Sometimes, You can find young men and thier girlfriends too. In the bar, we own plastic chairs and tables which we use to serve our customers. The bar is usually crowded at night and some men spend almost the entire day in the bar. I wonder whether they don't work or have homes. My mother has been managing the bar for a decade now. She began managing the bar when I was 6years old and she was pregnant with Osifa then. Our father was a guard at the magistrate court in town back then. If my mother hadn't had the bar, we would have starved to death. My father was later retrenched and his ego wouldn't let him take on menial jobs like brick laying or truck pushing among others. He was practically lazy and had been working his way to Libya since then.

I locked our door and hid the key under the foot mat. I stormed to the streets after having a bath. On my way to Layo's house I came across a crowd. In thier midst were two elderly women fighting. No one would dare separate them rather they'll be cheered. Fights in London area are usually entertaining. I was leaving the fight scene when a strange figure pulled my hair. It was Badmus. "Is that not Mama Funke your neighbor? Won't you intervene? " he said. "Badmus I don't have time for this. " I said while trying to leave. "The other woman called Mama Funke an irresponsible mother. She rained curses at her and said she couldn't tame her children. She called Mama Funke's children prostitutes." He added. " People wouldn't just mind thier business on this streets. " I retorted and left.

Layo was about leaving when I got to his house. "You are going to the store"? I asked. "Oh yes " he replied while throwing his side bag towards me. I caught the bag, he locked the door and we left. Layo and I grew up together. He is a friend I'll love to keep forever. We ran the streets together, chased moving vehicles, played in the rain and made castles out of mud. He forms an integral part of my childhood. We've been school mates too. Layo is the only child of his parents. His father died while he was four. His mother sells vegetables by the Main market junction. Unlike other teenagers and youths in my neighborhood who loiter without intent and engage in devious acts, Layo is different. He's a pure hustler. He repairs phones in his tiny store at the outskirt of london. He was able to rent the store after so many months of saving and years of apprenticeship at the phone mall in town.

We arrived Layo's store few minutes to 11am. He quickly opened the tiny metal container which is his store, brought out his two wooden tables and began sorting his tools. I stood watching keenly. I visit Layo regularly so I was quite acquainted with some of his tools. He grabbed the short broom by the corner and cleaned the place in few minutes. he immediately dusted the long bench and invited me to sit with a gaze. I sat and he opened his tool box and began loosening a small Nokia phone. "It fell into water since few days back and they brought it to me this morning. I pray the damage is not grave. " he said while cleaning the phone engine with a towel. "My father is back Layo" I managed to say. "I heard so. Have you seen him"? He replied. "Who told you? " I asked. "Its a small place Fetty. Everyone knows someone that knows someone. " "Have You guys met? " he inquired. "No. " I quickly replied. "You are scared Fetty. " he said. I am scared and he knew it. I am scared my father's return will expose the skeletons in my cupboard. The moment I fear the most was fast approaching and I knew it. I must protect my secret at all cost. The secret only our trio knew of. The secret I, Layo and my father share.

"Oga give me the money please. Stop wasting my time. I have other customers to attend to. " I said while struggling to get a customer to pay his bill. It was obvious he was drunk but that wasn't my concern. He drank four bottles of Guiness and wasn't willing to pay. "Fine girl I will pay you. Come and sit close to me now. " he replied slowly. "Keep me my money Jor. " I barked. "Sorry oo small madam I will pay you. You are rude. Try and be nice like your mother. " he said while handing me a thousand naira note. "Oga your money is not complete. " I said.

"How much did I give you first? " he began. I groaned in frustration and began explaining things to him. I knew the explanation was irrelevant because he was drunk but I still made my point clear. I collected the balance from him and moved to the next customer. This forms one of the major reasons why I hate our bar. You struggle to get customers to pay thier bill then struggle to get them to leave when you want to close. I handle the afternoon shift while my mother goes home to prepare lunch and rest. It was 23 minutes past 2pm and I knew I had about 4 hours of torture at the bar. I always look forward to when my shift ends.

Shortly later, a small boy came running to our bar and said "Aunty one man is calling you over there. " he then pointed to Greenland brothel. "Tell him am not coming and don't you ever come back here. " I charged. He ran back to where he came from. "Small madam your shakara too much oo. They called you and you refuse to go. Do you know how many of the women in Greenland would have rushed to answer that call? " said an elderly man. I ignored him and sat on my Mother's Chair. "He expects me to abandon the bar and answer him. Who the hell does he think he is? They think we are all the same here. " I was still muttering to myself when I was tapped on the shoulder. I quickly looked up and saw the person that tapped me. There he was, my long lost Father. We said nothing but stared around for a minute.

I took out a plastic chair and offered him a seat. The customers were watching and I knew sooner or later, the news will be all round the neighborhood. People in my area say "You know a news is true if it comes from any bar in London." My heart was racing and I was almost trembling. "Don't worry I will be gone before your mother arrives. " said my Father. I became a bit relaxed. He then continued "I was here few days back. I know your mom wouldn't tell you. " I looked at him and confirmed my mothers claim of how filthy he had become. He looked more tinner, his hair was thicker and longer and his skin darker. He looked pale and unkept. I remembered how he kept telling me he will return home with lots of money, how our lives will change and how comfortable we will be. Judging from his physical appearance, it was evident my father became poorer.

"My Child. You've grown up. I can't wait to see Osifa, Kiki and Tami. " he said. "Will you recognize them? " I asked while staring right into his eyes. Clothed in shame, he lowered his head and said nothing. "Do you even know what Tami looks like? " I continued. He still said nothing. "I am very sorry my child. I don't deserve your sympathy or care. I deserve no second chance. Your mother said she will send me to jail if I go near any of you. " My mother wasn't bluffing when she threatened to send him to jail. She's a strict woman and he knows it. My mother prides herself in the fact that she does what she says she will. Its more like am oath. If she states it, then it cant be reversed. Like when she said she will have nothing to do with my Father the moment he leaves for Libya or step his feet outsude the borders of Nigeria. "So what are you suggesting "? I managed to say. "I need a favor from you my child. " My mood immediately changed. I gave him a stern look and he knew I wouldn't be buying the idea. He continued "I currently stay in Room 127 at Greenland. I was thinking if you can bring your siblings to me Fetty even if its for a minute. Let me see my children one more time especially my son Tami. " He was shedding tears and I wasn't moved. You want me to take these kids to GreenLand brothel? Father are you for real? " I was screaming now while be beckoned on me to keep my tune low. The customers were watching. "Small Madam come and give me and my guys whisky abeg" said a customer who just walked in. I got up and left.

After I finished attending to the customer, I went back to the spot my Father and I were having a conversation but he wasn't there. I saw a note on the plastic table. I knew he left if there so I took it. Before going home, I went into the bookstore close to our bar. I was well acquainted with the librarian so he let me borrow books at will. While I was preparing for my Senior Secondary school Examination, Layo and I studied in the Library. The library was dysfunctional to an extent. The books were few. You could study the whole books in the library in less than a year. I feel people in my neigborhood don't utilise the library so they call it a book store but the books there aren't sold. When there's so much to do in an area filled with the under privileged, who will read anyway. I find the library comforting. Sometimes, I sulk for almost an hour before reading. There were times I slept there too. Ever since my Senior Secondary school Examination ended, it was literature that took me there. I entered, waved to the Librarian, grabbed Wathiango's "A grain of wheat" and left without signing in or out. The protocols weren't well adhered too moreover I am a regular visitor.

When I got home, I was surprised to meet my siblings at home. They were drawing lines with sticks in the compound. They should have been on the streets playing. They return home past 7pm and right now, it was barely 6:30pm. They ran towards me chanting welcome while Osifa collected the sack I brought and took it in. I realised she wasn't wearing a shirt on. "Where is your shirt? " I asked her. "Ehmm I took it off. It was restricting me from playing. " she replied. "Do you think you are a child"? I began. "The next time I see you without a shirt on, it will be the last time you will play outside. Do you understand?" I screamed while her bare nipples faced me. "Yes" she reluctantly replied and ran to get her shirt. "Sister We are hungry. We haven't eaten since we returned from school oo. " said Tami. My mother makes lunch before taking over the night shift from me. Today she didn't and we all didn't know why. "Okay Let me fix something for you guys . " I said. I took out a 50 naira note and gave Kiki to get Sugar from Musa's provision store which was nearby. "Sister I want to eat noodles. When will we eat noodles? " beckoned Tami while pulling my dress. "Tomorrow " I replied. Osifa knew I was lying. The fact that my little ones go to school without lunch boxes or tips bother me. The fact that they own few clothes and a pair of shoes aside thier school scandals pains me. This is a fate I can't change. In thier state, they were better than lots of children in London area. All thanks to the Local Government Chairman Primary education was free at the London Primary school. Kiki returned with the sugar and I made Garri for them. I watch them consume the cassava flour mixed with sugar and water like hungry lions. They ate quickly after which I asked Osifa to Wash thier school uniforms while Kiki cleans the dishes and I cook dinner.

It took me about 20 minutes to decide on what to cook. Actually, there was nothing to cook. The grains of rice remaining was little. Only little garri was left. The palm oil container was empty. There was salt and no seasoning. All that was left was a tubber of yam and beans and there was no money to cook soup. My mother handles the finance of her business. Each day before closing the bar, she counts all that was earned, records it and takes out the little profit she makes on weekly bases. She shops every week. It was Tuesday and she was yet to shop. I knew there was a gap in our financial state currently. Maintaining the bar requires money too. We pay for its rent, we pay the light bill and for the transportation of the drinks from the brewery in town to London Area. The peanut we earn from the business is reflected in our standard of living. More so, the bar is very small and customers owe a lot. Some people drink daily for a month then pay at the end of the month. I guess that's why people claim my mother robs her customers. We just take what's ours. We pay for house rent and light bill. We also feed and pay for medical expenses. All from the tiny bar known as LONDON BAR. Very soon Osifa will be enrolled in a secondary school. The bar will provide the expenses. I guess our bar isn't a bad place after all and no matter how small in size it is, Mama Fettys's LONDON BAR always rings a bell.

After eating the Boiled Yam I cooked for dinner. My siblings gulped cups of water. I told them to get dressed. We were going to Room 127 in Greenland brothel to see our Father. It was eleven minutes past 8pm. What I saw in the note my father left changed my mind.