The events (census which entailed God-given holidays) his past week has made me understand how it really feels to be jobless. You come outside on the streets in some areas & see well able-bodied, half-naked men who didn't mind the terrain of the road/estate field, sweating it out big time!
Suddenly, my creative ability came into being and I put this story together...though some parts of it are true. Enjoy!
Oh, see my life!
I should have listened to Lalupon.
Now I am doomed. ……..
I connected the laptop to power supply in order to charge its battery while I read. As I opened the laptop to log on, I felt a great sensation down in my bowels. It was as if the volcano wanted to erupt again. I fought hard, telling myself that it was just an imagination my mind created so as not to read. My assertion was cut short by the movement of magma again.
‘Alas, I told you’, said my lazy mind.
‘Shut up’, I retorted. The volcano sure was going to be a big one. I realized I had to do something quick. Trying to open a map in my head, I began locating the closest toilets to where I was. Mechanical Engineering department toilet is one of the worst toilets I’ve come across in my life. It’s even worse than those in the villages which bowls turned face down to cover the black hole. Though the departmental toilet is a modern day one (boasting of water closet) compared to the pit-latrine, students usually swore that they preferred a latrine to the infamous ‘chemistry lab’ which it was christened because of the stench of various chemical compounds which oozed from it. You could perceive the smell from within 20-meter radius.
I decided that nothing ever would make me use that toilet in my life. As if the volcano heard my decision, the magma started moving uneasily. They say when panic emerges, orderliness and reasoning evaporates. My brain needed not tell my legs where to. It had started finding its way. I met the shock of my life when I got to the door and met a huge (and I really mean huge) padlock at the door. I was transfixed for what seemed like ten minutes. Suddenly realizing what was happening, I held my butts to find the opening so I could use my fingers as a cork to cover the lid, preventing the content from spilling. Simultaneously, I was pacing fast towards the next destination.
‘Jawejura!’, my mind commanded.
I immediately set for the woods. Since the institution was on vacation, the likelihood that all restrooms within the vicinity would be locked was very high. It didn’t take me two seconds to calculate that. I moved like a horse-cart carrying heavy load on a rough surface.
Walking down the road, I listened patiently for passers by or people working in the bush like a hunter waiting to hear the sound of his prey. I heard some rustling sound towards my right. A young squirrel ran playfully on a fallen tree. ‘Now is not the time for you’, I said. I had other pressing issues to attend to. In a normal situation when I don’t have another mission in the woods, five minutes would be the maximum time for chasing the squirrel. In ten minutes, it would have become peppered barbeque. A satisfying meal it would be with akamu or garri. But my mind wouldn’t let me think of that right now. It was my master, and I was compelled to do exactly as it had commanded me.
Convinced that there’s no one around, I branched into the next footpath. And then into another after it.
‘This is a safe ground’, said the master, my mind.
No, Lalupon had told me that it was dangerous resting in the cassava farm of Ogogoro Frank, who earned his name from his look. He pretty much looked like Dr. Frankinstine. And 24/7, he was always reeking of Ogogoro, the local ethanol brand.
Ogogoro Frank up till today is the most feared peasant farmer who has his plot right at the border of the school. Once a student was rushed to the dreaded ‘Death Centre’ (an adaptation of its real name – Health Centre), shouting that it was as if hot charcoal was placed on his anus. He spent five days there. He had gone to rest in the feared man’s cassava farm and escaped uncaught. Legend has it that Ogogoro Frank after warning students not to pass faeces on his farm again decided to use deadly charms on the excreta. Some said he used alligator pepper he had chanted incantations on to spray the faeces. The impact would be supersonic, using microwave transmission to get to the recipient. It would be fire down below for the poor student.
I was always cynical about juju and other native medicines. There was always an over-hype in the talk of the efficacy of juju, so I decided it was just the thinking of people.
Many students shared the same idea with me.
‘Juju no dey catch students’ (meaning juju/charm doesn’t have effect on students) was our slogan then. Lalupon, my good friend would tell me to exercise restraint in doing things and not to downplay the efficacy of Juju. I would repeat the slogan to his face. My conviction about it was rock-solid. Little did I know that the fate of my conviction would be as that of Titanic – the greater the size, the greater the fall.
Taking a survey of the environment again, I bent down to do what I came for. I made sure my eyes were fixed on the coming footpath, so that my case won’t be like that of the boy who was being chased by Ogogoro Frank with his trousers at his knees. By the time he noticed him, there was no time to pull his trousers back up. He was only lucky that Dr. Frankestein was too drunk to maintain his balance in the hot pursuit.
I set myself free immediately. The peace & tranquility that came to my being was unprecedented. As I tried to rise up to wear my trousers, I felt something strange in my torso. I told myself that my mind was playing games on me again. Remember, juju no dey catch student. I neatly buckled the trouser and placed the belt well. No one was going to know that this handsome, well dressed young man went to bo kaka a while ago. The deed was done. I was successful in this ordeal.
I then tried raising my feet to move. It was as if my shoes had been glued to the soil. Ah!
I looked at my feet and discovered that there was nothing wrong with them. Trying again, I couldn’t even raise it half an inch.
Mba! This can’t be happening. My mind flashed straight to Ogogoro Frank. But…..but he hasn’t even seen the faeces, not to talk of pouring his magic pepper on it. What was happening?!
Then like a flash, I remembered that students had strangely (don’t ask me how) gotten the antidote to Dr. Frankestein’s charm. It was tested and confirmed working. It was said that if salt was poured on your remains after excreting, no matter the quantity of pepper Ogogoro Frank pours on it, it wouldn’t have any effect. This had given students the boldness to continue using his farm.
Ah! I hope it’s not what I think oh. Abi Ogogoro Frank has devised another means of dealing with students? And I am the first victim of his new invention? But why must it be me? Out of the scores of guys that visit Ogogoro’s office regularly, am I the one that will be caught pants down?!
Chai! I am doomed.
……….To be continued.
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