Tunde hastened his pace down the dusty road, his forehead greased with sweat. The furrowed lines on his face deepened as his eyes closed in a squint because of the blinding sunlight. On both sides of the road, there were huge umbrellas with wooden tables under them. Some displayed fruits, some coolers with signs reading: “Food is ready”. Others had clothes hanging from the umbrellas, with shoes displayed on the tables. People seemed to be in a hurry as they bumped into one another in an attempt to either buy or escape a moving vehicle.
Tunde lifted his hand to his face and wiped it hurriedly with a dirty sleeve, his shorter left leg betraying his gait, and slowing him down even as he tried to hurry. His life was far from as interesting as this street. It was dark and filled with misfortunes.
“Come and buy sweet fruits o!” One of the vendors called out.
Tunde paid no attention. He kicked up some used sachets lying on the street and wondered when the Lagos State government would finally do something about the unkempt state of the rural areas.
Then he remembered the phone call from his master that afternoon, the car he had fixed that morning, had broken down again and had caused an accident that claimed a man's life. Who had cursed him with such an unfortunate life? Was this how he was going to end?
“Tunde! Tunde! I told you the children have not eaten, you're running away, shameless man!” It was his wife's voice. Had she been following him all this while?
Tunde turned and muttered something under his breath about the gods and dying of diabetes. Why was this woman always following him around to remind him of his misfortunes?
“Tunde I said your children have not eaten, where are you going?” She yelled again.
“Leave me alone woman!” He yelled back.
For a second, Tunde wondered what had happened to him. He was such a fool to have dreamt that after secondary school he would be able to attend university and become the “greatest surgeon in the world”. Greatest surgeon indeed. He laughed a dry, painful laugh. Look at him now, he dropped out of secondary school and impregnated his childhood friend. To think that he was the smartest child in class!
“oshodi! Mushin! Somolu!” The bus conductor yelled. Tunde jumped in as soon as the bus slowed down. He sat with his two hands between his legs, his thoughts spiraling around his childhood and all his lost hopes.
“Oga your money!” The rough-looking conductor demanded after the bus had started moving. Tunde looked up, the man's face was ragged like it had been bludgeoned, with a scar that cut across the top of his left eye to his nose. God! How could they have allowed such a_
“Oga, why you dey waste my time? I say your money!” The conductor yelled again in pidgin.
Tunde swallowed and hurriedly dipped his hands into his pocket to pull out the dirty five hundred naira note he had tossed in there before leaving the house. His pupils dilated as his hand darted out of the pocket and went to the other. He pulled himself up a little bit from the seat and plunged his hands into his back pockets, nothing. He looked up, the man was glaring at him.
Tunde felt his bladder get full quickly, as he struggled to get the words out, “Oga, I - I - I cannot fi-nd i-t”.
“Wetin’ you talk? What did you say? I said give me your money! You enter bus, no money?”
“Sorry sir, please don't be a-ngry”.
The conductor laughed a dry, cynical laugh. Then he turned to the bus driver. “Pilot, this guy no want give me money, He doesn't want to give me money, stop the bus!”
The driver made a sharp dive to the side of the road and slowed down, the scarface conductor jumped down immediately. “Oga come down! I say come down!” He yelled.
Beads of sweat trickled down Tunde's forehead and his throat suddenly felt dry. Before he could move a step, scarface grabbed his collar and dragged him out of the vehicle. Then roughly began to search his pockets. Tunde tried to wriggle free.
“If I handle you eh!” Scarface threatened. Tunde coiled like a little child. “Nonsense man!” Scarface yelled as the bus drove away leaving a vividly ruffled Tunde with no shirt, no shoes, no phone. A little group of people gathered on the other side of the road watching him. He dusted himself, blinking severally and all the while keeping his face down to avoid the gazes of the people who walked past. How was he going to get to the workshop now?
He looked back towards where he came, he couldn't go home to his wife. He looked forward, how was he going to get to mushin from Ijede? If he started trekking, it would take him at least three hours or more to get there on foot. Without thinking further, he turned and began to walk towards Mushin.
“Am I a fool for dreaming?” Tunde asked himself a million times as he walked. During his final year in secondary school, his childhood best friend Ayomide had fallen ill a few days before their final examination. Ayo’s father was rich, a general in the army, while Tunde’s father had been a poor truck driver who could barely feed the many mouths at home.
So when Ayomide's father approached him and pleaded that he sit for the exams on behalf of his son, with the promise that he would send both of them abroad to study after the results were out, Tunde had thought it was his ticket to achieving his dreams. He had sat for the exams. But he got caught on the final day of the exams, by an external invigilator who had come to his school unannounced.
Surprisingly, when the results came out, Tunde's result was withheld while Ayomide's result was released. How? He heard his father had paid hugely to exonerate his son from the offense.
I just wanted to be a surgeon, to be someone, Tunde thought, I didn't kill anyone.
“Hey!” Someone called.
Tunde jerked and turned, it was a madman. Tunde’s forehead suddenly furrowed as he stared at what the madman held in his hand, it was an old tomato can filled with yellowish-brown water and greenish substances. Then he caught the smell, it was the smell of rotten feces and stale urine.
Tunde took a step backward. “What do you want?” He asked. The madman smiled, revealing uneven black teeth.
“Let's play”, he said still smiling.
Tunde suddenly felt his trousers get wet as he realized what was about to happen. He took another step backward, and the madman followed. Suddenly, he turned and took flight, and the madman pursued.
It was a hot afternoon, and people hurried to get off their way as they ran. Wondering why two mad men would be running around in broad daylight. One time, Tunde felt some liquid sprinkle on his back but he didn't stop running till he was out of sight.
The sun had set when he walked into the workshop, it was a small area of land filled with cars, metal equipment, and car spare parts. A corrugated roofed shed stood at one end. From afar, he could see his master sitting on a low stool in the shed talking to someone. Two of his colleagues worked on a car in front of the shed. Tunde's eyes bulged out, it was the same car he fixed that morning. His heartbeat began to race.
His master stood up as he approached and came out of the shed, looking at him with bewilderment. The other man followed, it must be the man who owned the car, Tunde thought. He was surely going to jail.
“Where have you been Tunde? Where on earth is your shirt and your shoes? Why do you look like this?” His master asked.
“Tunde Abifoluwa Abioye.”
It was a deep, calm, familiar voice. Tunde looked up at the face of the man who spoke beside his master. “Ayomide Aderonke.” He responded, then slowly, he stooped down and Ayomide rushed to hold him, “I'm so sorry my friend,” he said. “Please forgive me”.
Tunde just went on whimpering like a child. “Please forgive me Tunde, I had tried to reach you but my father wouldn't allow me. Please forgive me.
Three weeks later, Tunde was taking evening classes in preparation for the West African Examination Council (WAEC). He was going to pursue his age-long dream, he was going to go to the university and become the greatest surgeon in the world.
Mmeyene Joseph