Son of man!
The death of his parents birthed a chronic form of suffering in his life. What was he even emotional about? He couldn't tell if the loneliness was responsible for this feeling or the fact that he had no access to his dad's properties, as his father was a very secretive fellow. The one and only belonging his father granted him access to, was the rented gold shop in Wuse market which was empty at the moment. He hadn't any meal in 2 days and he wasn't sure if he was hungry. For all he cared, his stomach was filled with pain and that had kept him going for God knows till when.
He was keen on returning to the city. At least, the Alpha microfinance bank manager knew his dad very well and also knew he was his dad's first child. "I didn't really know how these banks operated but, I have overheard people talk about provisions for a next of kin having access to monies lying in the bank account of a deceased" he said. So he could use such monies to pursue any lucrative investment that'll yield something tangible for himself and his only sibling. As the idea struck, he managed a crawl to the bathroom, cleaned his teeth and put on his BANANA designer polo and his OFF-WHITE designer joggers. "Who cared if I smelt like a maggot infested fish? Anyone who sees me and cannot put 1+2 together or come with a reasonable conclusion about my appearance should go ahead and judge me for not taking my bath for 2 straight days. As far as I'm concerned, I'm traveling to Abuja right away, and that's not all. That's not all. I will not take my bath too. Who wan die make e die. Besides, I'm going to wear a cologne, So? "
With that, old friend and son of man burst into a deep laughter. If you find humor in a critical situation, you win; son of man thought.
Old friend used to be a lively and fun to be with fellow. Son of man allowed his mind flash back to those primary school days, when the class monitor had submitted some names of noisemakers to the most dreaded discipline master in Erudite Kiddies College Jiwa, Mr Ojo.
"If you hear your name, come out and kneel down here. Ehen.... I want to also pass this information before I begin to destroy your nice, over pampered buttocks today. I'm not just going to give you random strokes of my blessed cane today. I have devised a plan, and I hope to implement it starting from now. If your name appears on this list of miscreants constituting nuisance to the class and school at large, I want you to have an idea of the number of strokes you deserve. That being said, if your name is Ifeanyi Chibueze, all you have to do is count the letters carefully and choose your destiny, which in this case is 15 strokes. Is that clear?" He roared.
Yessssssss! the class retorted in unison.
Unfortunately, son of man was the first culprit and he was destined for 27 strokes of cane. Cheiiii..... There wasn't a time son of man was deeply unproud of his name like that day. Why on earth had he been given a long middle name by his father? Was a middle name even useful to his existence? Haba! His fellow miscreants were apportioned 10 strokes at most, but his was different. He was lost in this blame game and didn't see old friend waving at him from the back of the classroom. Why is this one waving at me now? He thought. But old friend seemed to have a solution to this predicament. He was taking off a few strands of hair from his eye lashes and placing them on his forehead, both chin and his goatee. Son of man had no time to even think. Anything that could save him from this dilemma was a welcome development. So he followed the instruction with apt care and attention. Afterwards, old friend had given him a thumb up sign and assured him he wasn't going to be punished.
Mehn! 5 minutes later, son of man was reeling in pain and screaming at the top of his voice to the heavy strokes dished on his buttocks from Mr. Ojo's pankere cane. The supposed sacrifice to appease the gods of Mr. Ojo's cane had failed woefully and the wails were that of disappointment and the intention of strangling his old friend to death if ever he survived this torment..
