The rants of an antsy girl

08/02/2020

Saturday

It never ends. I am not sure it will. It will not.
My buttocks are numbed from having sat on the hard floor for hours with my knees folded up to my chin, my hands crossed in front and I am doing a little rocking that I think is stilling me a bit.
My phone keeps ringing. It is Efosa, but I won't answer it.
The house and it's inhabitants are just like me, their hearts– numbed and void of any strong emotions, because all the emotions cannot be distinguished from each other.
My ears turn to each other and ask themselves if what they heard was actually true, if it really happened.
I am sure it really did happen not because there's no other resolution, but because yesterday, Efosa checked all my Dad's cars. They had the bombs, all so sleek that if they were not bombs, I would have called them a masterpiece of exquisite crafting.
It still is that, but it's aim is to tear my Dad apart and blow him into bits. The texter had implanted them under the car, six of them, not timed.
Efosa wanted to remove it because it was not timed but quite fortunately, the texter called. He said that the bombs had another feature he failed to mention, intentionally albeit. The bombs have a feature that will make them blow off if touched, something related to gas as he said.
Only he can defuse it.
Efosa said he was not a poor, unfortunate person. He was an intelligent person who would pass of as an innocent person. A good person. A rich person most probably.
'What if he has a good reason?' I had refuted.
Now, I know he doesn't. He is downright bad.
It's on the news, people called, people are crying, I got a text.
I drag at my short hair. For the first time, I noticed how much it has grown in this few days.
And I just noticed that tears are salty.
My parents are sitting on the in the dining room, so weakened from the issues. My Dad has bags under his eyes and he keeps sighing and clicking his shoes on the floor. He hasn't changed since he returned.
My mother bursts into rasping tears every now and then and Anjola is standing in the kitchen, setting up the new white cooker that has just arrived. A while ago, my mother told her she was a rare specie of human being, I felt proud on her behalf, for the first time in twenty-five years, she gets praised and appreciated.
They keep exchanging glances though– my mother and Anjola. There seems to be a passing understanding between them.
My Dad stands up abruptly and goes outside. He keeps doing that. There are all our security employees standing outside, on the lookout for what I don't know exactly.
From what I can tell, the enemy is closer than we know, he knows everything we are doing. That is the solid basis of my fear.
Efosa is still calling. I won't answer because he's too unintelligent to understand that this issue doesn't concern God. He keeps asking me to pray.
For what?!
That God would raise up the dead? Maybe I could, but can he raise up the dead when they are splattered all over the road?
It is solely my fault, my guilt. God is too high to consider this. I'll leave him to nod his godly head to the Angels' ‘holy holy holy’ melody.
When I saw the Damian guy, I knew it in my guts that something was wrong, Suby was up to something.
We just found out that they interrogated the men in Idemudia's house, because he has a special room for interrogation. Who cares if he has a special room? They should have gone straight to the station.
I know I shouldn't play the blame game or be rude instead.
But two old men like my Dad and Idemudia had to be stupid enough to not go to the station.
Suby had let on somethings, he had said that something was going on, something he wouldn't say because of his family's well being. He had concluded by saying that he didn't know much but he knew they was fire on the mountain and he wasn't sure anybody could get over it. That Damian wasn't a friend and the fire wasn't a mistake. That he was indeed around on the day the glass got broke but he didn't do anything to the cameras.
They wanted to take him to the station finally, to coarse out of him the remaining information. The fire that was on the mountain.
They sent him ahead in Idemudia's van, with the hungry police officer and two others.
And the car blew up mid-journey.
Surprise! Now I know that the texter wasn't bluffing. No he wasn't. At least now I'm certain.
I imagine huge chunks of them, flying on to the windshield of people's cars.
It might have been better if only the car blew, but there seems to have been a communion of fuel tanks between the cars.
Suby is dead.
I cannot believe it. When I heard, I asked, 'How so?'
They said louder, 'He's dead! Dead. He is as dead as Dele Giwa. Except without the letter.'
The hungry police officer is dead. I imagine his hungry children at home, waiting for their father, waiting for the twenty or so naira that he may have gotten. He wouldn't have because of the investigation and interrogation but he would have been alive. Hungry, but alive. I imagine his wife tearing her hair from her head. I am not sure she would be crying for him though, perhaps she would be crying for his salary.
It angers me as I think of Idemudia, the filthy words he uttered when they returned home.
'I shall go to church after many weeks. I shall go an testify, because it is the Lord's doing and it is marvellous in my eyes.' He said.
'Are you okay? Our most important lead to this things happening to me is dead. Your officers are dead!'
'I almost died, Ofortokun! Let me tell you this, I may have taken some oaths to this country, but it is my life over my job anytime, any day.' He said coldly. Anytime he frowned, his cheeks sagged and he looked so much like a bulldog.
'You are pathetic!' My Dad spat.
'You are more! You are! You do not decide if I will thank God for sparing my life. And just so you know, you are ungrateful!'
'Atleast, I am human enough to mourn the loss of MY staff, enemy or not. You... You are just an old selfish fool!'
Idemudia, rage screaming from his blood shot eyes, turned to my mother.
'You shouldn't have done it Urowoli. You shouldn't have done it.'
Done what? I still think.
He turned back to my father then and said.
'You will not end well, phillip.' He said Phillip, he said Urowoli instead of the muse. Strange.
Then he started out, just as he waddled to the lounge door, he turned back to my Dad and said, 'You better thank God for sparing your life. I definitely will, and he will smile down on me and I will buy triple your fleet of cars, who knows, I might patronize you even.' Then he smiled and left.
'You just ruined a valuable relationship!' my mother screamed.
Now, all the seething and screaming have stopped but there is fear.
If this texter is a rich person, someone who can afford such bombs, Idemudia passes of as rich.
And he knew not to ride his OWN car.
Idemudia knows something. Idemudia might have a hand in this– Most probably.
What was it that my mother shouldn't have done? Why does Anjola keep Sharing knowing glances with my mother? Why is Efosa still calling?!

...

The sound of shattering cars, I love, the scent of blood and rent flesh, IRRESISTIBLE!

' That is creepy.' Efosa says as soon as I stop talking. 'Did he really emphasize on the irresistible like you just did?'
'Yes! It is in capital letters and with an exclamation.'
'If it wasn't serious, I would laugh. I am coming over.'
'I don't know Efosa, security is tight. I am not sure my Dad would allow a visitor. You never know who is who, especially since the assistant commissioner of police, I think a friend, just left in anger. There friendship is very much over, I'm sure.'
'I hope not. If that friendship ends, the police will do less than little for your family. How far the post mortem?'
'Its not ready, we should be looking at a week more.'
I sink into the softness of my bed.
'Whoever this guy is, I know he has an obsession with bombs, old fashioned verbs, cowardice and texts. I mean, he has a lot of four nairas  to waste per text. A pathetic, rich and intelligent coward.' He says in a dignified voice.
'I feel like he's everywhere! In my house. I feel like when I'm sleeping, he'll jump and strangle me.'
'You need to stop thinking like that because, as a man thinketh... That reminds me, did you record that call?'
'What call?'
'The mystery texter calling you?'
I slap my forehead. How could I have forgotten?
'I forgot!'
'Oh my God. You know what? We need to see. Have you tried to stop your Dad from going on his trip?'
'I tried.' I did try. But now more than ever, my wonderful Dad is set to travel. When people think forward, my Dad thinks backward.
'You need to stop him, and you cannot tell him about the bombs because this guy is more that I thought.
'I will tell him but he's still grieving Suby.'
'Are you sure? From what you've just told me, he seems to be grieving the information Suby had.'
So much truth in that.
'I'll call you back. Let me try talking him out of traveling and talking him in on letting you visit.'
I should have know though, my Dad is as stubborn if not more, as a goat. He did allow Efosa to my surprise, but said he would have to be searched before entering.
'I will not cover because some people died! I should be glad! An evil man who wanted to ruin my family just died.' He said firmly.
'And the officers?' My mother asked.
He hesitated a while. 'They served their country faithfully. They are honored.'
'I'm starting to see Idemudia might have be right. I shouldn't have done it. You aren't worth it!' she said and stomped off.
'Wait! Urowoli, wait!' He followed her. He stopped at the stairs and looked at me.
'You stupid antsy girl!'
It doesn't bother me. It started to, but Efosa came and we went into the small sitting room to re-read the texts.
Now, since my parents are sleeping finally, I have snuck out with Efosa, I don't know how, I cannot explain,to another African Rugby game.
Anjola will cover for me. Anjola is too mentally unstable not to.