My Dad
Back in the days, teachers were underpaid. On the streets, we could see the labels of certain houses. Not for teachers.
The mockery was everywhere. Teachers' clothes were either outdated or too old. Some teachers' clothes had become so worn and mended that it was obvious to the public that they could barely afford new ones.
In our family of four, my dad, a full-time teacher, could not afford three meals a day.
Mama would keep asking my dad for assistance in one way or another. Soon, rent became so expensive that my dad could no longer cope.
As religious people, we prayed and believed that all would be well.
One day, after church service, our mouths were wide open as we saw our belongings lying outside our rented apartment.
It was a moment of shock. 馃槻 Dad was emotional, while Mum remained supportive.
All our pleas to the landlord, who was also called the house owner, were futile.
At that moment of despair, someone directed us to a nearby apartment that was cheaper and more affordable. It was not far from Arjegunle. The new house was situated on Hassan Street.
After a discussion with Mr Hassan, popularly called Baba Hassan or Dr Hassan, we were so happy to move into our new abode.
Unbeknownst to us, we had moved into a mess greater than our capacity to handle.
My dad negotiated with Baba Hassan, the landlord. My dad paid for the apartment immediately because we had no choice.
Beggars have no choice.
Initially, we enjoyed the apartment, but soon, the first rain told us what the apartment was really hiding.
Every rainy day was terrible. The sitting room became another avenue for fetching water.
We complained to the landlord. He would call a carpenter, sometimes a carpenter who specialised in roofing. The carpenter would say that the roof was not slanted enough. He even added that he could see pockets filled with water whenever he went to the top.
Hmm! That was one problem.
Heat was another.
The roof was also too low. Anyone who raised their hands could almost touch it.
Baba was only after the money. During one landlord-tenant meeting, he seemed to value Emeka, who usually brought him a bottle of beer, more than the rest of us.
Emeka usually praised the landlord, even when he did something wrong.
Over time, we grew suspicious of Emeka. My mum would warn me and my siblings not to go near his apartment.
However, she also complained to the landlady, the landlord's new wife, about the closeness between Emeka and her only son.
Mama Ruth, the landlord's wife, neglected the matter badly. She would even leave her child with Emeka sometimes overnight.
There was a day my mum saw Emeka carrying the boy out in the middle of the night.
She felt bitter, and so did I.
I was a silent witness to all that happened.
Mr Hassan had his own rules. The gate was locked by 9 p.m. every evening. This was for security reasons, which we all agreed to.
One day, my dad saw someone jump over the fence. He immediately screamed, "Ole! Ole! Ole!" which means, "Thief! Thief! Thief!"
In Yoruba custom, someone who jumps over a fence at an odd hour is often suspected of being a thief.
Immediately, Emeka zoomed off to his room, sensing that the other tenants might see him.
I peeped through the window that night, trying to understand why people lie.
Mr Johnson, who lived opposite us, came out and asked why my dad had screamed, "Ole! Ole!"
My dad immediately answered that it was Emeka. Instead of calling for help at the gate, he had chosen to jump over the fence.
Not long after, two other tenants came out while my dad explained what had happened.
Then, from Emeka's apartment, a loud bang could be heard.
Emeka, still in his sleepwear, came out.
"Who talk say I jump fence? Who talk am say I jump fence?"
His words shocked all the other tenants.
My dad, for lack of evidence, did not say a word for a while.
After Emeka's shenanigans, he asked:
"How did you know that you were the one who jumped the fence?"
You didn't, out of curiosity like the other tenants, ask why I screamed, "Ole! Ole! Ole!" Instead, you went straight to defending yourself.
Your response to the accusation just brought to mind the Yoruba proverb:
"Elefo, o ni o le fo mi ki n se Efo Aatan."
The saying is about a vegetable seller who is called by a buyer. Before the buyer even asks anything, the seller has already started defending the vegetables, saying they were not grown on a dunghill.
Who wouldn't become suspicious?
After a little back and forth, Emeka finally went back into his house.
Everyone, including Mr Martins, who is now in the UK, was taken aback by what was happening during that period. Soon, he relocated from the house.
The heat became unbearable.
One day, the heat made me fall asleep, and I almost did not wake up.
I only found myself in the hospital. 馃彞
Not long after staying in that apartment, I also ended up with a fractured hand.
We later left when one problem led to another, and then another.
Hmm!
At the end of it all, we decided to relocate from that tormenting house with all its problems.
But about a week after we relocated, we received the news that Baba's son had passed away.
It was really painful. 馃槚馃槚馃槚
He was such an active and handsome boy, yet he had passed away.
The news also said that Emeka was nowhere to be found. All forms of diabolical materials were reportedly found in his room.
Mum was not happy at all.
Her spirit had warned her repeatedly against becoming too familiar with Emeka.
In fact, do you remember when I fainted?
Emeka was so scared that he said that Baba, the landlord whom he always praised, was not actually a doctor but a cleaner who assisted doctors in the hospital.
Looking back now, there were so many strange things happening in that house.
We left, but the memories of that place have remained with me.
Sometimes, when I think about those days, I wonder how my parents endured it all.
My dad was a teacher who struggled to feed his family, yet he kept going.
My mum stood beside him through the hardship.
And I, as a child, watched everything unfold silently.
Some houses are just buildings.
Others become chapters in your life.
That house on Hassan Street was a lot.
The Image was sourced from chat gtp.