AmyWrites
The February sun was burning bright as I trekked hurriedly
through the tarred road of Maryland after a surly and shabby-looking bus
conductor forced me to alight some few blocks to my destination. I would
usually just ignore the tantrums of conductors but today was an exception
because I left home in a sour mood and I readily vented it on the annoying
conductor who wanted to rob me with hiked t-fare.
“were bole ti o ba ti ni San wo mi pe! Abori mabowa"
the bus conductor retorted.
"olofo ni Iwo gan, I cannot be late for my exam because
of you" I replied shouting at the top of my lungs.
As I left the noise of the car park behind, I noticed the
sidewalks of Anthony Road were deserted as the Almajiris had also taken shelter
from the scorching sun; the atmosphere was unusually quiet.
I walked past a few more buildings before a two-story
building painted grey with stripes of light blue came into view.
"The jamb center that annoying conductor wants to
overcharge me for is not that far," I muttered aloud.
On the sidewalk, an elderly woman was seated under a big MTN
umbrella and the grimace on her face made me remember my grandma. I stared
forward at the building ahead but it didn't register as my mind trailed back to
events that transpired in the past weeks at home.
I had begun acting towards my earlier declaration — to discontinue Rasheed's
legacy by invariably proceeding to the university, I had sailed through WAEC without
failing any subject.
That morning I was lying on the mat with a laser focus to
kill the bedbug moving around my mat on the bare cemented floor of the room. It
is a single room in an aged and crumbling bungalow. The room leads to an inner
room where Uncle Adam stays. He emerged from his room tying a brown towel
around his waist with a bucket of urine whose foul smell enveloped the room. He
carried it across my lying body out the net-wired door.
I stared at his bent leg with disgust as he moved to the door
in heavy steps and rage boiled within me.
"oh God, I loathe men. I'll make sure I leave this hellhole
behind for the university." I muttered to myself.
While I was preparing to go sell for my grandma that morning
at the market, I brushed the topic with my Grandma. I had already counted a
specific number of ponmo into a black big plastic baff positioned an umbrella
beside a big tray placed beneath the baff for convenient carriage and neatly
tucked a bundle of black nylon at the side.
" Mama mo fę lo şe JAMB ti ma a fi wo ile iwe giga amo mi o ni owo kankan."
I started conversationally
"olohun a so e o" she replied
In Yoruba, it is a dismissal with an undertone of "do
whatever you want but count me out because I don't have any money."
Her indifference cuts deep causing tears to well up in my
eyes but I shrugged it off and headed to the market with the baff of ponmo
firmly placed on my head. I was so engrossed in thoughts that I was oblivious
to a car honking behind me and a bread seller waving for me to leave the
road."
The loud horn jolted me back into the presence and I stepped
out of the car's path.
"Sekinah! Sekinah!" My Grandma yelled from a
distance
She approached with the umbrella I apparently forgot with a
scowl on her face.
" o şe
wa ponu bayi." She said. I translated it to mean dim-witted. She handed me
the umbrella and stormed off.
I knew she wouldn't give me a dime to buy the recommended
literature books for Jamb. I smiled as a plan popped up in my mind. I just
might have found the solution to buying those books.
My Grandma rotates market days with her co-ponmo sellers, so
she only gets to sell once in a week whenever it's her turn. Since I'm in
charge of counting the ponmo to go sell at the market, I would add extra to
what I claimed to be taking to the market so that the extra cash after the sale
will be mine. At the end of three months, I had saved enough to buy all my
textbooks and register for jamb.
The noise of other JAMBites swarming the jamb center made me
realize I'd gotten to the building. I wiped the strings of sweat sliding down
my acne-ridden face and it hardened again with the stubbornness of a mule.
I entered through the gate and sat amongst other applicants.
I scanned the compound lazily and my gaze fell on a young girl chuckling at a
remark of an elderly woman. I guessed it was her mother because she said "Mummy
do you think daddy will get the water nearby?" An elderly man approached a
few minutes later with three bottles of chilled water.
I smiled at the duo with yearning and something else— envy and bitterness. They
seem to be in a world that is so opposite to mine and the love at play here is
something I would never have.
" I can never have that. Who wants to be namby-pamby
anyway." I said wriggling my fingers feeling alone
" Sekinah Rasheed!" The jamb official that has
been calling in candidates called.
I hurried in forgetting the fleeting moments of yearnings. I
entered with a straightened back and one thought kept ringing loud in my ears:
I have to leave that hell-hole called house!
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