Maybe staying at home alone would have been a better idea. I can’t be in a place where the people can’t stand each other. Where a person can’t respond with ‘bless you’ when another person sneezes. Where the hatred is oozing.
I don’t know when my parents’ marriage fell apart. One minute everything was fine, perfect even. The next they could barely look each other in the face. And they want their first child to get married. With what i’m seeing i’ll rather die.
My mother is the biggest hypocrite. She has convinced all my aunts that my dad is the scum of the earth. She has refused to give my father food or peace meanwhile she insists that we go to church every Sunday as a “family.” I wont recognize family if it did cartwheels while juggling oranges.
I begged, protested, feigned anger but all my words fell on deaf ears. “You think you and your useless father can miss church today abi. My Chi wont allow it. This is the first Sunday of the year. You know that all the dignitaries in Abuja will be coming to our church with their sons. We need to find you a husband and fast too. Oya change into better clothes. Osiso”
She insists on wearing slippers to church but then when we get to church grounds, she changes to her heels. It confuses me to be honest. I mean she’s too old for this. I’m not sure who she’s trying to impress. I mean God doesn’t care about the outward appearance and she’s a little mosquito compared to the people that worship at this church, everyone is too busy trying to outdo the other. She pales in comparison. “Oya Kamsiyochukwu, take my slippers back into the car.” “You want me to walk three minutes back to the car park? Why didn’t you just leave it there in the beginning? what kind of rubbish is this?” “Are you arguing with me? So I should send your younger siblings? Are you handicapped? My friend don’t argue with me and do what I said you should do. Now!!!”
“They are here!!!! Boko!!!! Boko Haram!!!” What do I do? I’m separated from my parents and siblings because of this blasted slippers. I need to get into the car and hide but I cant find it amidst the bullet spraying and human stampede. I hope my family is okay. I need to find my car. Jesus be a shield. Wait!! I see a car with a driver. Looks like he’s trying to make a run for it. I don’t care, i’m getting in. “Drive!!!! Go!!!” He looks at me stupidly. “I would make introductions when we leave here but for now just…..” The windscreen is red. Who’s blood is it? Mine? Wait it cant be. I feel fine. Damn it’s the driver. I’m face to face with my driver’s killer. I can see the beads of sweat on his forehead. I should be scared but I’m not. I wonder why. I’m ….curious. Curious about the scars on his body. Some are from red oil and the rest are from the blade of a cutlass. I’m curious about who he was before he became this. If he had any family, if he misses them, if his mother sent him on and errand and then he ended up being captured by the leader of this sect. As he cocks his gun for me to meet my maker, I think about my family. I wonder if they are fine. Maybe staying at home would have been a better idea.