Preordained #ProjectNigeria

6- Memories

Maduka's POV:

Bothered, I drive to my place at Alausa, take a cold shower, and fall into bed almost immediately, my body still wet. There, I lie awake for an hour, thinking, can this be possible?

Nwanyieze.

I picture her face, and try to connect it to the face I had known and loved. Slowly, I drift off into a fitful sleep, and I dream of my past.

There I was, seven years old and dressed in rags, skinny and starving. I held a small, broken plastic bowl in my hand, and I was standing amongst the traffic at Freedom Square, Owerri, begging for alms. Behind me, with a hand on my shoulder, stood my blind friend, Pa Andrew, who was sick and could barely walk. No one in our colony of beggars wanted to be with Pa Andrews for the day, and because I liked him, I had agreed to help him out. Pa Andrew hadn't eaten for days, and, pitying him, I was determined to make enough money to feed him.

The hot sun beat us, and I watched people in their air conditioned cars, bent on ignoring Pa Andrew and I. My seven year old mind wondered why some people were suffering while others weren't. Why couldn't everyone be happy? Where was God, the Merciful One Papa had told me about?

The dream fast forwards and I see myself again, sitting underneath on the corridor of a closed shop at Aladimma, crying non-stop; the kind of sobs that leave you breathless, tears that make you partially blind, and phlegm that runs down from your nose as you don't even bother to wipe it all off.

Pa Andrews lies dead beside me, cold and stiffly curled up into a ball. I had woken up that rainy morning and he hadn't moved when I had tapped him. The previous night, he'd told me he feared he wouldn't live for long, and I had said, "Tufiakwa!"

Well, Papa always said good people went to a better place once they died, and I hoped Pa Andrew would see Papa and Mama and tell them their son wasn't fine and wished to join them soon. I covered him with the dirty, torn wrapper we both shared, and I bent to hug his stiff body.

"I liked you very much, Pa Andrew. You were my friend. And I hope you're in a better place now," I said in Igbo.

I wandered that day, trying to find the colony of beggars Pa Andrew and I had moved around with, but, being new to this city, I got lost. People avoided me, turned their faces away or looked up at the sky whenever I neared them. Others were downright rude, shooing me away with disgusted frowns on their faces. Why wouldn't they, when my skin was riddled with sores and ringworm? Some were nice enough to spare me some change, which I handed over to a beggar with twin babies who couldn't seem to stop crying.

I came back to Aladimma, and saw a huge garbage truck parked beside a row of six very large dumpsters. The truck had huge arms, lifting a dumpster at a time and overturning it's contents into its back. The last dumpster was close to me, and I decided to hunt for some food. Maybe I could find a biscuit wrap or two, and some old clothes. In the few days I had been with the colony, they had showed me how to dig through garbage for treasure.

While digging, I heard a small sound, which I ignored. Hunger clawed at my insides, and I sucked on my lower lip, hoping to reduce the pangs. The cry came again.

The truck was at the fifth dumpster. I had to be quick. This time, the cry was weaker, but longer. I abandoned the search for food and began to try to locate the sound.

"Hey! Get out from there!" yelled one of the working men, looking into the dumpster to find me. The truck was finally there, waiting to tip over this last dumpster.

I ignored him, dug more frantically. The man swiped a hand at me, but I dodged it. Just as he grabbed the hem of my shirt, I pulled out a big nylon bag.

"Leave me alone!" I yelled back, turning to bite his hand. He withdrew, and using the opportunity, I tore open the bag.

Inside it, wrapped tightly in a smelly, dirty blue blanket, was a baby girl. She was still alive, and she looked up at me with her swollen, watery eyes and stuck out her tongue, making a sucking sound. I knew she was starving as well. Who would do this to someone so beautiful, so innocent, so precious?
I burst into uncontrollable tears.

"Chineke!" exclaimed the man.

I had found my treasure.

__________

Waking up in the morning, I see that Jide has given me seven missed calls. It's ten a.m. I call him back.

"Am I with your destiny?" I ask when he answers.

"Gataway you. I thought you'd died."

Jide hardly ever offends me, and we are guys, so we don't take insults personally. It's not in our nature. A girl can hear this and suddenly flare up, and before you know it a heated exchange of words will ensue.

"How far na?" he asks me. In Pidgin, it's a way of asking, how are you? "Is that babe okay?"

"Yes. I drove her home."

"Did you get her number? She fine oo."

"Last night never do you, abi?" You're not satisfied with last night?

Jide laughs. "I'll be coming over for some breakfast. I really need your world-famous French toast and omelette. Saheed here can't cook nada. Dude is hopeless."

"So you mean you'll travel all the way from the island just to deplete my food supplies?"

"Anything for you, baby."

"Bloody faggot!"

Sometimes, Jide jokes like this just to annoy me and other times, he reminds me of the lecturer in UNILAG who had once asked me to strip for him so he could give me an A in a course I had failed. I had threatened to report him to the police, and to avoid trouble, the bloody bastard had passed me.

"I'm coming, baby love."

"Jide, I don't want to see you in my yard."

"Wait for me."

While I wait for my best friend, I try my best to tidy my surroundings. Basically I'm a neat person all the time, and so this is an easy task. After twenty minutes of sweeping and mopping my two-bedroom apartment, I sit on the sofa in the sitting room. PHCN, Power Holding Company of Nigeria, has decided to withhold the power supply today, as their name implies. There couldn't be any better named company. While staring blankly at my temporarily useless television, my mind wanders back to the girl from last night.

Nwanyieze.

No, it was too much of a coincidence. Things like this didn't just happen; only in movies and books. I picture her face and remember how helpless she had looked the previous night, shivering while trying to stand straight and look me in the eye although her height barely passed my shoulders.

Yes, she wasn't one to be intimidated easily. Her words make me laugh as I remember them: And you're such a prince charming, unceremoniously lifting me off my feet like that.

I guess her age to be about twenty or twenty one. Again, my mind drifts back to that day at Aladimma, where I had found the baby girl. I shake the memory off, loudly telling myself, "The day you went home with the Obiagu family, you left her behind forever."

Yes, I talk to myself a lot of times, even in public. Sometimes people look at me quizzically, but I don't mind. I find soliloquy entertaining.

An hour later, Jide knocks on my door.

"Sorry, but I didn't come alone," he says when I open the door.

"You brought your girls with you?" I ask, annoyed.

"No, just a very remorseful somebody," Jide replies, stepping aside.

Saheed comes into view, an I'm-stupid-and-I-know-it smile on his face.

"Good morning. Where is Queen?"

A/N-- Just show love to everyone, regardless of their status in life. Stop making babies if you can't take care of them, for crying out loud!
Lol like Saheed got no chill tho.
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