NO ROOM

NO ROOM

I grew up with my marginally older cousin Tolu as my closest ally.  He was bigger and stronger; always avaliable to rescue me whenever I was faced with trouble from peers.  

When my elder sister left for secondary school in 1989,  we became the joint heads of our pack ensuring the safe movement of as much as 8 children to and from school. Life was generally fair to us during the late 1980s. There are memories of visits to the beach,  UTC, birthday parties and my dad or uncles regularly dropped us off or picked us from our school on Johnson street. Those were the days when we were put in a cab unaccompanied with little fear of getting abducted;  it only took about 2 naira to get us all from one end of Bode-Thomas street to the other. 

My father subsequently got deployed from his bank's Ebuta-meta branch to Agbara close to Badagry and my mum contemplated quitting a frustrating nursing career for fashion designing after all a good number of her colleagues had already quit to run businesses or relocate abroad. Life was no longer good for we had to trek for nearly 30 minutes to school almost every day. It was really a struggle not to arrive late especially when my youngest sister commenced kindergarten. 

Our return journeys home were usually uneventful until one fateful day.  My younger brother had run ahead of Tolu and myself,  led away by Jide who was a close friend. We beckoned on them to slow down and rejoin the pack but our words got stuck in the wind. We usually crossed roads together as a group but on this day;  Jide sped across Bode-Thomas without looking right or left and my heart practically skipped two beats when I watched on as my only brother followed. 

What we witnessed next was screeching tires and the small frame of a young boy rolling past a car. The sound of wailing sent shivers down my spine and numbed my senses. 

The pack was now scattered and the two leaders kept walking on seemingly ignorant of what had just happened.  My cousin and I were scared to death because we did not know what the true situation was and we quickly resolved to tell my mother that we did not know where my brother was.  It was at this point that witnesses called us to ask if we were together with the projectile young boy.  Looking back now,  what we did at that moment was like the apostle Peter denying Christ three times.  We were prepared to deny and abandon our brother but the shame forced us to turn around and it became apparent that the boy was in fact intact save for a tiny bruise on the heel of his left foot and a few tear drops streaming down his face. 

We reclaimed our brother as many eyes remained fixed on us;  it was really embarrassing.  The occupants of the car that narrowly missed my brother were out and comforting him and they volunteered to drive us home and perhaps explain the event to our parents.  "Drive us home kè?" We begged them not to make matters worse for us and allow us to continue on our journey without them.  When our crew regrouped, it was agreed that no one was to speak a word of what happened to the hearing of my mother even though it appeared my brother was walking gingerly and still somewhat dazed. 

We made it home and the no audio game began even though we were frightened.  Lunch was almost served when we heard a knock on the door. My mother opened and welcomed two strangers;  the two men who we had pleaded with to go their way.  They had apparently trailed us and they narrated their own version of events as well as asking about the victim. It was clear that the heads of the pack were "dead".

My mother thanked them for their concern and showed them out.  Oh the two heads received their due wages. We were in charge and ought to have done all within our means to ensure we stayed together.  It may appear as child abuse or neglect but that was what it was then and our parents did their very best.  Perhaps our wages could have been lighter if we did not attempt to abandon my mother's son and stay silent.

What did I learn?  There is no room for abandoning or transferring inherited or acquired responsibility; there is no room for not trying again and again to ensure orderliness.  There is surely no room to hide behind falsehood and fear of the unknown. 

Don't stand idle and allow things degenerate when you have creative abilities to volunteer.

23042015