SHORT STORY-THE PERFECT ESCAPE

Well, it is basically trying to climb ropes on little food 

or looking like a fool in the presence of your fellows

or standing in the sun for long  hours till you pass out.

The  three weeks spent on camp was not spent in vain. The endurance trek, the drills, match past in the sun , punishments and all are something, I would always be grateful for, that is why I am personally against the notion of scraping NYSC. I would never have participated in such rigorous tasks that I have only seen on shows like Fear factor, Ultimate search (Nigeria’s version of Survivor) and survivor itself. Until I was forced to do them by the environment I found myself. I was deployed to a state in the North central zone  of the Nigeria and our platoon commandant was a female, so she did not spare the females in the platoon at all. She was one of the strongest soldiers on the camp and other male soldiers respected her, and she really drilled us, we the girls especially. In fact she was our major problem on camp, because she was more of an extremist and feminist all combined into one. All the drills were done by the girls , those who complained about not being able to do anything, were made to do them after others have been dismissed. After the first time of staying back when others have been dismissed, I decided to do everything at the first time because, it only gets worse when you are made to stay back. I developed stamina, strength and a little bit of fearlessness. This was soon to be a valuable asset , when on a warm afternoon about two weeks after camp, I entered a “one chance” vehicle when I went for a Job Recruitment test in Lagos.

If you look closely you would see me.

It was immediately obvious when I boarded the commercial bus that things were not right, it was a bus and I realized that we were only about 8 passengers in the bus and most of them were fearful looking, the conductor had also sat down and we were passing bus-stops and all , then finally I got it, they were criminals and just about four of us were victims, I immediately started devising a plan. One of the other ladies too, must have noticed and she said she wanted to alight the bus. Nobody answered, it felt like she was talking to herself, she became hysterical and started screaming, she was then given a dirty slap across a face to calm her down. It was kind of an age long therapy that robbers knew too well and this time it worked like magic. The lady became mute as a doorknob like she didn't even feel pain from the slap. They were trying to get us from the busy inner streets to  the lonely highways , where they can rob us carefully then drop us, I was sitting near the door  which was still open beside the conductor, suddenly we approached a sharp bend where we had to slow down, this was the opportunity I needed, I grabbed my bag and flew out , landed on the floor and rolled off the road, even the conductor must have been amazed by my athletic ability . I got up dusted myself and ran, they didn’t even stop, they kept on moving even faster. I was grateful to God, my platoon commandant and myself. I am definitely stronger now. I had some bruises but who cares, I am alive, and safe, that is all that matters.

         RELATED STORIES: WHY I HAVE NO FUTURE AMBITION      |       HOW I MET MY MOTHER

The National Youth Service Corp (NYSC) is a one year compulsory para-military for all right out of school graduates in Nigeria. It involves 3 weeks on intense training in a camp and then another 9 months of deployment  mostly to parastatals  . “One chance” is a loose term used for camouflage commercial vehicles hijacked by criminals with the sole intention of robbing it’s passengers.

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THE STORY OF VALENTINE

Valentine’s day is here again . A day specially made for lovers , so to speak. Recently people in Pakistan protested against the celebration of valentine’s day. Yes ! they did, it is kind of weird. The story behind valentine’s day is a one of courage, strength , perseverance until the point of death. It is a story that inspires us all to live for something so that when we are gone, we would be remembered for something. Not protesting obviously .There was a priest by the name of Valentine. He lived in Rome about 250 AD. That was a long, long time ago!

At that time, Rome was ruled by an emperor by the name of Claudius. Some people called him Claudius the Cruel. St. Valentine didn't like Emperor Claudius, and he wasn’t the only one! A lot of people felt the same way. Claudius wanted a big army. He thought men should volunteer to join. Many men just did not want

to fight in wars. They did not want to leave their wives and girlfriends. So, not many men signed up to fight. 

This made Claudius mad. So do you know what he did? He had a crazy idea that if men were not married, they would not mind joining his army. So Claudius decided not to allow any more marriages. Young people thought his new law was really cruel. Valentine thought it was ridiculous! One of his favorite jobs as a priest

was to marry people. Well after Emperor Claudius passed his law, he kept on performing marriage ceremonies– but secretly. He would whisper the words of the ceremony, while listening for soldiers on the steps outside.
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One night, he did hear footsteps. The couple he was marrying escaped, but he was caught He was thrown in jail and told that his punishment was death. St. Valentine tried to stay cheerful. And do you know what happened? Many young people came to the jail to visit him. They threw flowers and notes up to his window.

They wanted him to know that they, too, believed in love. One of these young people was the daughter of the prison guard. Her father allowed her to visit him in his cell. They often sat and talked for

hours. 

She believed he did the right thing by ignoring the Emperor and performing marriage ceremonies. On the day he was to die, he left her a note thanking her for her friendship and loyalty. He signed it, “Love from your Valentine.”

That note started the custom of exchanging love notes on Valentine’s Day. It was written on the day he died, February 14, 269 A.D. Now, every year on this day, people remember. But most importantly, they think about love and friendship. And when they think of Emperor Claudius, they remember how he tried to stand in the way of love, and they laugh -- because they know that love can’t be beaten!

And that is why years later we still have valentine, we still fall in love and get married.  Happy Valentine’s day.

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SHORT STORY-WHY I HAVE NO FUTURE AMBITION ( An African Child)

African Village

 Growing up at Aba Nla, a village close to Ibadan, I had two “career paths” on my mind. I wanted to become either a Police officer or a coffin maker. A Police officer, because it was the easiest job to make free money; a Coffin-maker because there will always be a ready market as people will naturally die. After the community  leader, a retired Civil war veteran, the richest man in the community was the DPO Kenneth. By the time I finished JSS 3, my confusion as to which of the professions to take was resolved. Even back in the early 90’s when Road bribery wasn’t done with much chutzpah by our friends in black, getting yourself through the Police College was a very cool idea. The idea of being a Policeman in Nigeria is even more lucrative these days that there’s no limit to how much you can make on the roads. Luckily for you as a Policeman, your customers won’t have required papers before they put their cars on the road. For your customers who have all their papers, they won’t know their rights. The only danger here is possible  armed robbers attack. Luckily for you, when armed robbers are on the prowl, your customers  whom you should protect,  will offer you their own clothes to change into. Even if you refuse, you will be advised to oblige since  your gun-power cannot match the machines  being used by the robbers .This was my mindset until the day some robbers escaped from a bank robbery at Ijebu-Ode. Aba Nla was  to be their exit route but DPO Kenneth, my role model at that time and his boys were radioed from Eleyele Force Headquaters in Ibadan to lay ambush for the robbers. Kenneth and his boys bowed to superior fire-power. Kenneth was shot and he didn’t survive. Then I asked myself, “ what shall it profit a Policeman who “obtained” motorists, made so much money only to be killed in action. I switched to Plan B.  Coffin makers/sellers are business men who are on a class of their own; I wanted to be a distinguished one. The Nigerian businessman who understands the logic of the coffin sellers is Aliko Dangote. Sell to your customers what they can’t do without – Rice, salt, sugar – and you are good. It’s the same thing for the coffin-seller; people live, make money and strive hard only for one thing – to die. A coffin-seller will only be out of business when people stop dying. I have even seen a 60 year old man model  for coffin makers. After I dropped out of Prospect High School, I joined a coffin-maker as an apprentice. Kasali Coffin-makers was the biggest in the whole of Aba Nla. He even had customers as far as Ibadan, Ijebu-Ode, Lagos and Abeokuta. I learnt the trick to Kasali’s success the first week  I joined. There were two apprentices working with him already , John and Ade.     Kasali came to our house on a Thursday evening with the two boys and he informed my grandma that I had an errand to run for him. The nature of my apprenticeship was such that your oga was more or less your owner – so your parents  obliged any request. .I simply put on my Kito sandals and followed them. We all rode away in Kasali’s 504 Station Wagon, the second best car in the community after Baale’s Mercedes 200. DPO Kenneth’s 505 evolution was taken away by his family after his death

   

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                             .

The smoke coming out of the exhaust as we drove off was not much of a worry since it was quite dark already; we inhaled some, the rest was for passers-by. I still couldn’t understand the kind of assignment oga had for us at such unholy hour                        .

He was apparently driving out of the community but took a turn as I asked a question.“Oga, where exactly are we going this night?”. John and Ade exchanged glances and they appeared to be satisfied that I was worried. The previous 3 days at work had been terrible for me because both of them used every opportunity to show me that they were my seniors at work. This didn’t go down well with me because they were my age mates and they were only ahead of me at Oga Kasali’s place because they dropped out of school earlier than me                     .

“We are here already, don’t be scared” Kasali responded                      .

That was when I noticed that we were driving towards the cemetery gate.

“Oga Kasa, but we came here in the morning for a burial.” I said                      .

Oga Kasali actually made the coffin used for the burial and I couldn’t understand why we came back                        .

The gateman of the cemetery approached the car and flashed his torchlight at us while oga Kasa flashed back with the car’s headlight. On another occasion I would have asked for the rationale behind putting a fence around a Cemetery and having a gatemen there. Was it to prevent the dead bodies from escaping? Or was it to prevent outsiders from interacting with them?

“Kasa gbangba, Good evening o” The gateman hailed Oga Kasali                           .

“Baba ode, well done sir. We are here o.” responded Kasali             .

“I don dey wait for the past thirty minutes. Make we start work immediately abeg” stated the gateman               .

The gateman who I knew very well because he stayed three houses away from my grandma., then noticed me in the car and asked   why I was there.  He actually joined us this week” replied Kasali                 .

We all moved towards the point where the burial of that day took place. John and Ade suddenly brought out diggers from behind a tree and they started digging.

That was when I realized what was happening. So Kasali sold coffins to people only for them to be retrieved and later sold to other people.

I was so scared and I couldn’t understand why they were so confident as they went on with the digging. What if someone later discovered what we were doing? .John and Ade had been digging for a while and it appeared they were already looking at the coffin. I was still in shock at what was going on as Oga Kasali and the gateman stepped forward to assist the boys.

Everyone knew I was in shock, so they didn’t bother asking me to do anything.

By this time, the coffin was exhumed  and they were about to open it.

“Kasali, when I go collect my balance na? I need money o” The gateman told Kasali               .

“No worry baba. By tomorrow, we go sell this one to another person and money go come in. I go settle you properly.” Replied Kasali               

How it happened, I still cannot explain till tomorrow. A voice, baritone one for that matter, suddenly came from the ground                     .

“Ka-sa-li! “To si gba owo ise re!” meaning “ But you were paid for this coffin.” Said the ghost, who was holding Kasali’s hand.

We all took off and escaped through different routes apart from Kasali who was being held by the ghost. Now I can officially call myself an NFA,(No future Ambition) as my two  career paths have proved too dangerous to cope with. Please  don’t tell my story in a serious Gathering.

RELATED STORIES- THE PERFECT ESCAPE          |             HOW I MET MY MOTHER

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