Bitter Kola And Bitter Lessons
I just remembered an incident that happened when I was in primary 5 and thought of sharing it here. Well, I generally wasn’t a troublesome child growing up but age 9 was the age of mischief and I got my ass whipped countlessly that year.
There was this malam who had a kiosk where he sold provisions at Chuku street in Rumuomasi, a few poles away from my house. He was aged, lanky but spry. His small shop doubled as his bedroom thus making the rickety structure on the roadside a complete living house.
This malam’s street was our regular route to church so whenever we went to service and we got to his shop, my cousin and I used to shout, “aboki pack shit chop” at him. I can’t remember who exactly started this daredevil joke between the two of us but I know none of my other siblings and cousins was that stupid to take such a dangerous risk.
The old man would chase us to the end of the street whenever we goaded him beyond endurance, and we were always able to achieve that in a few calls. If we called once and he didn’t respond, we would challenge him to come out if he wasn’t afraid, and when he did, we ran like frightened cheetahs.
It was all fun and games until the day my dad asked me to buy him bitter kola on that same street. Fully aware of my reputation there, I quickly thought of a cop-out. I told him that no one sold bitter kola in the whole of Rumuomasi let alone Chuku street but oga called my bluff by insisting that the malam on the street sells it and that I should go there immediately. At this point, I knew any more arguments would result in him beating me so I left the house but not to the malam.
Of course, I know my father loved me but I couldn’t comprehend why he wanted to plot my death at that early age. Well, I went to Elekahia instead in a futile search for bitter kola but my efforts to find the bitter nuts proved abortive. I came back after so many hours and was beaten for coming empty-handed and refusing to buy it where I was instructed to. Good riddance I thought. It was better to die in the hands of my own father than in those of a strange man.
The next day was “Wednesday service” so we all went to church together. In order to effectuate our plan of cussing the malam without any interruption, my cousin and I straggled behind the rest until they had gone a fair distance farther from us and then we positioned to abuse the old man. “Aboki, pack shit chop! Aboki pack shit chop!” Two calls from both of us but there was no answer. I went ahead to peep through the door of the shop but everywhere was dark. I continued shouting, “if you no dey fear, come out na! Stupid aboki man.”
After a while, my cousin, who was standing opposite the shop, asked me to leave the place so we could get to church early but I refused. I kept on shouting and she kept on calling. Soon, she stopped calling and began to tap me on my back. I asked her to stop but she continued even harder. I got mad and turned to hit her but discovered something unsettling. My cousin didn’t just stop shouting, she actually ran away. And she hadn’t been the one tapping me, it was malam. I couldn’t believe my eyes. We’ve been buddies for life and this girl abandoned me at the point of death?
“Kai! Walahi! I don catch am por you today. Na me you dey call shit, ba?”
“No, sir. Na my papa dey chop shit”
“Na your papa dey chop shit?”
“Yes, sir. Abeg, sir. Sorry, sir.”
“Walahi, you and you papa go chop am por shit today.”
Malam dragged me by my shirt and flung me violently into his shop. Next thing, koboko came out of nowhere and my whole body was severely lashed. I screamed and screamed and screamed but no one came to my rescue. I begged and begged and begged but this man wouldn’t stop flogging me.
After he was done with me, I limped home wailing with both hands on my head. Fortunately, my dad was at home. With great shock, he inquired what happened immediately after he saw me. I told him that it was the malam who beat me because I asked him to chop shit. Hearing this, he got incensed and stormed into his room.
Although I was still feeling pain all over my body, it was a bit of a relief knowing that the unfortunate man was going to have a taste of his own medicine. While I was waiting to take my dad to the wicked malam, another stroke of whip landed on my back. Brothers and sisters, I shrieked and ran out of the house till I got to stadium junction.
