Chapter 4: Chapter 4

The last of human freedoms is the ability to choose one’s attitude in a given set of circumstances.

-Viktor Frankl

When life showed you pepper, don’t hang yourself for it make pepper soup. That is the narrative that matched the situation father found himself; as his business continue to fall through his responsibility widens. Last week I received a message that read, “Surulere Aisha Ayomikun, you have been given admission to study Accountancy at Lagos State University.” It was a good news and we celebrated it in our own little way. But the inevitable question that was staring everyone in the face was where to get my tuition fee. Father was seriously broke and mother only managed a small drink store that barely covered for our rent and feeding. I remembered our misfortune began after mother gave birth to Ibrahim and father lost his job. But things had gone from bad to worse, mother no longer hope father could turn our situation around, and she became extremely difficult. She quarreled with him every day, stopped cooking and washing his cloth a long time ago. And recently she stopped informing him of her whereabouts. Sometimes she was dropped at home by some fancy car she claimed belonged to her customer who plied the same route and decided to give her a lift. Father couldn’t alter a word, if he did the gate of hell will be swung open for him to dive in.

I tried to tell mother that father was not happy. She looked at me devoid of emotion. “What should I do about it?” She asked. “Does his happiness put food on our table or paid your brothers school fees? You have been admitted and will leave home very soon. Will you pay your school fees with his happiness or eat it when you get there?” She asked and I shook my head sadly. “Good! If his happiness can’t solve our problem, don’t talk to me about his happiness. But you can do something for me, instead of wasting your time looking for where your father’s happiness got lost” she said stressing the word “happiness” like it’s forbidden. “Tell him to be a man, go out, get a job to take care of his family and stop wasting his time in that shop” she concluded. I didn’t know what to say. She was right. Ibrahim and Yusuf will graduate from high school in the space of a year. If father didn’t find an alternative job before they write their final exam, mother would have to bear our schooling cost and it would aggravate our condition.

Father status as the head of the family was already under massive threat. The other day he saw Yusuf with some boys from the neighbourhood who were infamous for all sorts of vices: drug abuse, theft, to breaking bottle and killing or injuring someone in a fight. I was in the sitting room watching a program on TV when father stalked in. I looked at his sullen face and I started to do a mental check of what I might have done wrong. “Where is Yusuf” he asked. I told him he said he was going to his friend’s place. “Go there and call him for me now”. I hurried outside and went to Chinedu’s house, his mum told me I should look for him at the clearing that served as the community football field. When I got there I found Yusuf sitting with some guys, Chinedu was also there. “Father called for you” I said. He looked at me like I deserved to be spanked and I was irritated. “Why is he calling me” he asked. “When did I become your mouthpiece” I fired back. “You better get up and follow me now if you are thinking of sleeping in that house tonight” I told him and he stood up sluggishly to follow me.

When we entered the sitting room father was sitting on the plastic chair crossing his legs, but instead of facing his reading table he was facing the exit door. “Where are you coming from?” He asked uncrossing his legs. “I went to collect textbook for my assignment from Chinedu” Yusuf replied. I walked past father and sat on the closest cushion chair to him. “Where is the textbook?” Father queried. “He said he was using it and will bring it when he’s done” Yusuf said frankly. I didn’t know my mouth was opened until I tasted breeze on my tongue, if I wasn’t the person that went to look for him I would believe he was telling the truth. “Where is Ibrahim?” Father asked. “He went to Madrasat” he replied. “Why don’t you go to Madrasat with him?” “I just told you I have much assignment to do” Yusuf replied rudely. Father was visibly angry and he kept closing and unclosing his legs like a taxi wiper. “Lie down on the floor” he said in a very calm manner that I initially thought he was letting him off the hook, or asking him to beg for forgiveness. He reached behind his chair and brought out two pankere, the type that can’t break if you used it to flog 50 people. Yusuf stretched his right hand forward and said he wanted the strokes on his palm. Father insisted that he should lie on the floor. I couldn’t believe my eyes when Yusuf retreated some steps and walked out on him. “Make sure you find somewhere else to sleep tonight” Father called out to him.

Mother returned later in the evening, found Yusuf lurking in the verandah and brought him inside the house. Father looked at him with contempt. “Did I not tell you not to enter this house? Since you have learnt to be rude to your father, learn to sleep outside too. Bastard boy!” “Don’t call my son a bastard” mother said angrily. Father brought out his pankere and was about to pounce on Yusuf but she stood in his way, telling him he would have to get past her to beat him. One thing Father would never do was beat mother. It was against his religion teachings, mother knew and she used it to her advantage. That night Father refused to eat dinner and went to sleep fuming with anger.

The tension at home lessened over the course of the weeks, largely because father reduced himself to a spectator. The situation could be likened to Nigerian transition from military to civilian rule in 1999; everyone was enjoying the freedom that came with the change in power. Mother returned from shop very late without being questioned. Yusuf attended Madrasat when he wanted and spend most of his days playing football or hanging out with his friends. Ibrahim continued to be dutiful with his school work and Madrasat, especially now that he had been made Amir and appointed Assistant Head Boy in school. He was supposed to be the Headboy though, but the management put his age into consideration, and gave the position to a more matured boy that was closest to him in performance. As for me, I visited my friends and stayed as much as I want, picked and made calls at home without getting queried. I was bored with the freedom; it was like a vacuum had been created that I needed to fill. I guessed I had gotten used to father breathing down my neck not to do this and that.

My school announced resumption date for the academic year. Unfortunately, my boyfriend from secondary school was not given admission into higher institution, which means I got at least a year ahead of him if he got lucky with his second trial. So……I thought it was time to do some home cleaning and move on. I dialed his number and quickly cut it before he picked up. Few seconds later my phone rang and I picked it. “Hello beautiful” his booming voice pierce my eardrum. “Hey!” I replied. “I saw your missed call wassup?” “I wanted to talk to you about us” I told him. “Oookay! Could you give me some minute to tidy up what I was doing?” he asked. “No I want to talk to you now” I insisted. “Alright! I’m listening” he said. “You know I’m going to be a fresher on campus this year. I’ve been thinking that it is not good for me to have a relationship with anybody for now.” I heard the sudden cut of breath in his throat but I continued. “I want to focus all my energy on study, I don’t want to disappoint my parent with poor result you know.” “Are you breaking up with me?” he asked trying to hide the trembling in his voice. “Don’t put it that way I just needed a break to figure out some things” I said casually. “Aisha! You promised not to break my heart” he said accusingly. “And I am not breaking your heart, I just needed a break” I reassured him even though I knew it was false hope. “Please don’t do this to me” he begged. I realized there was no easy way to do what I needed to do. I lied to him that father was on his way and disconnected his call. He kept on calling for the rest of the day, forcing me to put his number on blacklist and ignore the strange numbers that called afterwards.

Two days to resumption date, I went to market with mother to get some of the things I would need in school. She kept on complaining about the price of everything in the market and ranting about father not helping her in any way. I cautioned her not to talk about our family predicament outside our home but it only added fuel to the fire. “Mother you don’t have to spend your money on me if you don’t want to” I told her. She was taken aback by my conclusion and when she didn’t reply, I knew I won the round. I seriously think there was no point beating up a helpless man; she needed to give father a breathing space.

The night before I left home father gave me a lengthy speech. I was watching a program on the TV when he entered and ordered me to lower the volume. He sat on the cushion chair directly opposite to me. “Aisha! Aisha! Aisha! How many times did I call you?” he asked. “Three times” I replied. “A Yoruba adage says what an elder could see while sitting down, if a child climbs an Iroko tree he/she would not see it.” I stared blankly at him not quite comprehending what he meant. He adjusted his weight on the chair, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his laps looking straight at me. “Freedom could be a blessing or a curse, it depends on you. I want you to know that your future is the end product of what you do today there is no such things as miracle. It is your decision right or wrong that determines your destiny. I might not have the money to take care of you like I wanted to but I want a good life for you. Exercise patience when you are going through tough times. Almighty Allah said in Quran Chapter 94 verse 5 “faina-mo ‘ali’usiri yusiroh” surely with difficulty is ease, and emphasized in verse 6 ina mo‘ali’usiri yusroh, with difficulty is surely ease. May Almighty Allah guide and protect you” he prayed. He handed me some money and I appreciated his effort and promised not to disappoint him.

I set out the next day by midday with my bags and baggage. Our house was just 23Km to my school gate and 46 minutes drive by bus. Father had wanted me to attend school from home but I declined and insisted on staying on campus. Mother accompanied me to help with the loads. When we finally arrived at the gatehouse it was magnificent. There were two entrances one served as the entry the other as exit; students and vehicles moved in and out. The two posts holding the gate were part of the security houses built on either side, and at the top of the frame Lagos State University was written boldly with the image of Eyo masquerade. I read the motto of the school on the emblem “for truth and service” and snickered. Everyone seemed to like the word truth in theory but no one practiced or appreciated it. If father wasn’t honest or truthful he would have his job and my family wouldn’t be in chaos, mother would still be waiting for him to get back from work and he would come home bearing gift to appreciate her love and devotion.

When we finally got to the hostel that will be my abode it was like a picture damaged by water. It was painted but I couldn’t tell the original colour of the house. Some part was deep cream while other parts were offwhite. The only colour that stood out was the faded chocolate colour that was used to paint the pillars. The environment was neat though. We met two young ladies at the verandah. One was dark skin, bright eye, short, wore a small hijab that reached her shoulder, the corner of her mouth twitched when she talks smiling simultaneously with speaking. The other was a tall slim girl, fair complexion, rounded face with inquisitive eyes. We greeted them and the short girl replied enthusiastically like we had always known each other. I told her we were headed to room 8; she helped us with some loads and told us to follow her. “Sholape our roomie don arrive! Na Alhaja wey fine pass you” she announced knocking the door. “You wish! Come in” someone replied from inside the room and we entered. Sholape was like a half-breed: fair complexion, long face, pointed nose, tall with average body size. Her waist bent inwardly accentuating her upper and lower body like a good handwritten figure eight. “Good afternoon Ma!” she greeted mother. “Good afternoon my daughter” mother replied smiling. “Please have a seat” Sholape dragged a plastic chair from the dresser and presented it to mother. She thanked her and sat on the chair. I wanted to sit but she said “hmn! hmn! Not so fast, I want to prove her claim first”. She looked at me appraisingly. “You are a good competition” she said smiling with confidence brimming in her eyes. “My name is Sholape, welcome to our room” she looked at me expectantly but I didn’t know what she wanted. “I am asking for your name” she said. “Oh sorry! I am Aisha can I sit now?” I said tiredly and took a seat. The short girl that took us to the room made a hurty face at me. “I met you first but she got to know your name before me, that’s not fair”. I told her that I’m sorry and asked for her name. “My name is Rahamat” she said “I’m so happy to have you here”. Mother was watching the scene with a smile fixed on her face. “Mummy what would you like to eat?” Rahamat asked mother and she told her not to bother because she would leave soon. Some minutes later Sholape told Rahamat to accompany her to the school and they both left leaving me with mother.

“I like your friends, you will spend good time together” mother said with a smile. I shrugged. “I hope so, and I’m not here for beauty pageant, I hope they realize that very soon.” Mother’s face suddenly turned serious as if I triggered something in her brain. “My dear you are at a very important stage in your life” she said. “You are not here for school alone but to meet new people. Make friends that will change your life, our life forever. Don’t repeat my mistake. I hope you understand me?” I exhaled deeply, “yes Ma.” She stood up to leave and I accompanied her to the school gate. I returned to my room few minutes later, unpacked my things and lay on the bed. I thought about father’s advice how it was different from mother’s perspective. Perhaps she was right, I needed to be realistic with life. I don’t see spirituality getting me anywhere; heaven helps those who help themselves.