The first thing Emeka noticed on waking up was that he had a headache, in fact it was the headache that woke him up. The next thing he noticed was that he was very tired, despite the fact that he just woke up after eight straight hours of sleep.
The third thing he registered, though it was a norm, was that there was no power. He remained on the flattened piece of foam which served as a bed and, adjusting himself until he faced the ceiling, looked at his rusted and dusty static fan, he could not remember the last time he saw it move, hanging from a ceiling which had not been painted for over twenty years. The stains of leaked rain water through the roof made the ceiling look brown instead of the traditional white.
Emeka watched as a gecko crawled slowly towards a spider which was busy spinning its web for the day’s meal, it didn’t notice the danger around him. He watched with indifference as the gecko caught its prey. That was the least of his problem, it was not even on the list of his problems.
His problem what the boredom and restlessness he knew he was bound to feel through the day which, to him, was just about to begin at 11:45 am.
He slowly got up from the bed, without the slightest enthusiasm about what the day might hold for him.
This was his eighth month back home after his service year, and he was yet to dream about landing a job. Just any job would do.
He listened briefly before opening the squeaky door. He wanted to be sure his father was not anywhere around. His father had a strange ability to make you feel guilty without saying a word, and lately, he felt he was a disappointment to his parents. His father stared at him each day, while his mother didn’t announce mealtimes to him any more, she just kept his own food at a corner of the kitchen. He wished they would tell him how disappointed they were so he would fight back, or defend himself. But how do you fight a silent battle?
Moving silently in the compound, Emeka took his bath, ate his food, and left the house by 1:00pm with no direction in mind.
Wandering through the village, and avoiding the gazes of the people, he wondered what he would have done if his father didn’t have a house of his own. His sisters were still in the secondary school and he knew he was supposed to be helping out in the little monies they asked for at school, since it was a community school and the fees were relatively small, but he was not useful in any way. His parents had stopped him from farming when he got admission, and now he felt it would be a disappointing sight for the villagers to see him back in the farm as the last resort.
“There must be a way out” he thought to himself, walking towards the mechanic workshop by the interstate express road, where he spent time watching others work and sometimes stare at speeding vehicles until he forgot his predicament.
* * *
Pius Ugwu watched as his son Emeka walked slowly and quietly out of the compound. He felt sorry for the young man. He knew he believed he and his mother were disappointed in him. That was far from the truth. They pitied him, and wished there was something they could do to help. All the men he knew who had white collar jobs and stayed in the cities gave excuses on why they could not help. One of them even said that the price of fuel was part of the reasons he couldn’t help Emeka. Pius knew he did not understand much about the nation’s dependent on fuel, apart from the obvious consequence of the transportation fare increase, but he knew his friend lied when he said the fuel price hike made it impossible for him to help. He had resorted to praying.
He watched his son get more and depressed each passing day, and hoped he doesn’t kill himself one day. He made a decision immediately. It was time to talk to his son. They would work through this together.
* * *
Later in the evening, Emeka walked home whistling. This was about the best day he had had in a very long time, and it seemed it was going to be so for a while. His whistling stopped as he saw his father seated right outside the house. He had hoped he would be as lucky as he had been in the morning, not seeing anyone before leaving he house.
‘Papa good evening’ he greeted. Keeping his gaze on his exit point, the door to his room.
‘Good evening Emeka. Welcome. Where are you coming from?’
Although Emeka had wished his parents would openly confront him about his joblessness, he was not ready for it. This was the first time his father had ever asked him where he was coming from. Before he could build his defence mechanism, his father continued.
‘I don’t think I have seen you whistling in a long time, so I am assuming that there is a good news. Let’s hear it.’
Not sure whether his father was indirectly mocking him, Emeka didn’t say a word. He just stared at his father, wondering what will happen for his father to let him walk to his room.
‘Emeka sit down. There is something I should have told you a long time ago.’
Here it comes, Emeka thought, reluctantly sitting. He wished the ground would open and save him from the washing down and the ultimatum to leave his father’s house.
‘Emeka I watched you leave the house this morning, and I stayed out of your sight because I noticed you avoid any contact with me. I know why you do, you are ashamed of the hard time you have in getting a job, and you think I am disappointed in you. It hurts me that you think I could ever see you as anything less than the great man God will make out of you.’
Emeka looked up sharply to be sure he heard correctly. Was his father praising him? The gathering tears in his father’s eyes convinced him. It was the first time in a long time, too long a time that Emeka had looked at his father’s face. Looking at it now, he saw how much he has aged. The realization made him feel guilty that he was still working hard to take care of the family. He looked away again and stared at the ground.
‘I didn’t go to the university, but I know the world is tough.’ His father continued. ‘You may be to blame but I think you have learnt your lesson. I want you to be a man of this house when I am no more. I have asked some people to help you with your job hunt, but they gave me excuses and I stopped asking. I just want you to know that I don’t blame you, and I am not ashamed of you. I wished that by this time you will be more independent, but what I wish for you is for your own good. Don’t convince yourself that you owe me anything. Training you through school was my duty, and I will do it again and again.’
Emeka did not say a word. He had nothing to say. He was still shocked. He needed to go to his room to process what he just heard.
After a brief stretch of silence, his father heaved a deep sigh, ‘I just thought you should know. You can go.’
Hearing his father’s sigh, Emeka knew he could not just leave. He remained seated as if he was glued to the seat. He still wasn’t sure he had heard his father correctly. He wasn’t ashamed of him? He felt a huge burden go off his shoulders. He knew he was supposed to say something, anything to make his father know that his talk was encouraging. He thought of what to say, and decided to tell him how he spent his day.
‘Papa I spent the day at Mazi Ezugwu’s compound. I helped the workers working on his uncompleted building and I got two thousand naira. I am going back there tomorrow for as long as possible. Even though you don’t expect much from me, I expect from myself. I will not let you down.’ Hearing himself say it, he knew he meant it. He wasn’t going to let his father down. He wasn’t going to let his family down.
He waited for his father’s reaction, praying it would not be a negative one.
‘Anything you do, in as much as it is honest, and you are growing, I am solidly behind you’ his father replied.
‘Thank you Papa, Thank you Sir.’ Emeka went into his room.
Pius watched his son hurry into his room before he stood up and wet into his own room, thanking God his wife was not yet back from the market. In his room, he slowly sat on his bed, then he allowed himself cry. He cried for his son’s lost dreams, he cried for smashed hopes and disappointing outcomes. He cried because he never thought his son will settle for carrying blocks as a job, he cried because he knew his son was desperate. Minutes passed as he cried and consoled himself that the future was unpredictable. His son can still rise again.
Heating his wife’s footsteps, he quickly dried his eyes. He needed to be strong for his family. He needed to be strong for his son.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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