Blog 

The true middle class in my country are still basking in some euphoria. I say this, given the ease at which most of them scampered to the markets and shops, right before they were shut down, to stock up on food and other household items. In this scamper, was a tight calculation that " as bad as e bad", one month" and the scourge would be over and life might as well return to normal. In this scamper for food was also a duster, that cleared debris over verses from the bible or what have you for further fortification against this unforeseen force. This duster had come in handy for the middle-class men as soon as the calamity had for some reason befallen a select sect of the society-the the rich and wealthy. The middle class had naturally selected themselves as the next in line in this devouring virus, hence the renewed and frenzy adherence to any known defense methods that had priorly been ignored. If it were hunger, malnutrition, cholera, malaria, and likes that had a predisposition for the very poor, the middle class would have been up and about as nothing happened.

This one is different, it had claimed the rich and famous.

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My lips had started off as a tingle, then a pringle. I had thought of it less for a minute till all hell seemed to have let loose around my mouth. I was on fire. My mouth felt like multiple ants and crackers then I lost it. I had started screaming, thinking it was my end. My aunt Theresa was quick, she knew that I had probably eaten the leaf. She dashed in, came out running with some red oil in a “Lucozade “ bottle and held my throat while pouring down the liquid. I could feel the itch spread to my throat, it was crawling and gnawing at my throat. It seemed at first that the oil was not doing good, it felt like I was gulping a syrup that was raspy in feel. I felt it was worsening my situation, I screamed some more and by some sheer force and divinity, a quiet storm came. A calmness engulfed my throat, then my mouth, then me.

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A friend of mine that lived in Nekede, a stone-throw away town of Owerri was always excited any week the rotational epileptic power supply favored her part of town“ It’s our turn today” she would say in joyful glee, flipping through her calendar to make a note for anticipated next time. Electricity in the town was a luxury. Most people had even forgotten what a steady power supply looked like. Those few hours of rotational power, each time, sent people on a rabid frenzy as they jumbled chores, ironing clothes, charging phones and tablets and even staying awake, taking in a full dose of television time, no one knew when that luxury would come around. Everyone had accepted that way of life.

“At all, at all, na him bad pass ‘ Sylvia had said, “ it is better once a week than nothing”

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I also suspect that my aged father might suffer the same fate, in a vintage position to receive numerous cows from friends and family, a payout from years of association and seeming friendships who had not paid attention in recent years that the poor old man now detests beef. The earlier years that he did, he probably would have enjoyed the torso or the loins but unfortunately, these payouts come only when dead. He would have to wait.

Now, that he prefers fish and snails, I am also guessing he would not get it from same friends and associations while alive- who would all stick to delivery of cows at his funeral, as a befitting and worthwhile payout- a payout expected only at death...a finality of life.

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Modern-day permutations had thrown out new dimensions, bringing in smart and intelligence as the new attraction for young women. Young men who, ordinarily were not physically and strength-wise capable did not in any sense have to wrestle to garner respect. These young men excelled excellently in academics, they were prominent in debate clubs, science and arts expose, literary worlds and clubs, high school entertainment circles…garnering respect and admiration amongst the girls. These permutations also had another ugly side to it, it had reared a situation where a group of boys were left out in this seemingly changing world, they were like fish out of water… with a majority lacking known skills or accomplishments, with a plethora of them who otherwise would be branded social misfits and less attractive for sheer emptiness of a brain, who had hitherto resorted to sticking to the old ways… where winning a girls love was to be taken by force.

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I could make out the lead gorilla in a corner with the center spread of the vanguard news “Gorillas swallows seven million” held in between his sweaty palms. He sure was devastated and shocked by the allegations. He had been the leader of this pack for a few years and experience and coordination would once be required to outsmart these humans.

I could hear him rumbling, devastated that the humans never considered the sheer weight of seven million naira in a gorillas belly, he was livid with anger with their thought process..how did the humans consider this weird possibility?

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This was definitely one of our best players. A striker…..We expected goals. “To whom much is given, much is expected” Rather we wallowed in drought, while our king swam in milk and honey. We had tin plates and cups while the best of China and silverware lined our king’s lair. We drank water when we found one but hear that fountains ran constantly where our king threaded. We had gotten used to darkness from incessant epileptic power, all auxiliary facets that needed power were closed, our need for electricity had been relegated to mere usage for “charging of phones and lamp bulbs', when our king basked in unlimited rays from different sources.

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It would be definitely easier for the camel to pass through the eyes of a needle than young men find good wives in my municipal, Owerri. This was the worst time to be alive for most young men that resided in these parts of the world. A cultural tsunami had befallen the land and none had been prepared to embrace what laid in wait. They all had been born natural lions, who ruled the jungle, even with their eyes closed. They had been kings for too long, attracting the lionesses by sheer possession of a big mane. Now, they were all laying bare bellied, under the scorching sun, looking for game that were near unreachable. Lions in the jungle, now risked eating yam meant for the goats

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Queen Juliana hospital prided itself as a front runner provider of rural healthcare and Levi auto shop held sway among his competitors along the Nkwo-orodo old road. My dad knew his patients like the back of his hands, interacted fully with the community that he catered to. Same could be said of Levi, who knew the problems of the majority of cars brought to him for repairs. I had thought at some point that he had planted some bug in my father’s Mercedes 230, straight engine, flat boot…as they described it then because its carburetor always needed some tuning each day we came down for clinics. If it was not the floating pin, then it was a gasket. When nothing was to be done, Levi instructed Okey to “just clean the carburetor”, ”O di ka carburetor suchiri asuchi”.

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Ogechi, a cousin of mine had been married off early to the chagrin of all. She had been married off to some older man that was about sixty-five as at that time. Ogechi was a bit of a hot head at the tender age of sixteen and with a few loose ball incidents that had marred her growing. It was thought at that time to be of her best interest to be in a man’s house, settled and tamed. Again, the father had died, he would not have allowed such…..never….. but then resources were lean. It was also agreed upon that she would continue her education while been married. She needed her education to be rounded in her social skills….the husband to-be was told. A consolation to the family was an expected social status incline as the man in question was a relative to the King of that village. She was to become the man’s second wife, “fresh blood” that stood to gain all if she gave him a male child. It was touted that she would get all the trappings of the royal family. No one foresaw what hole was dug for her future.

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