A good number of folks are gifted but this writer I somewhat met accidentally is not just gifted but has a mighty Brian with some blessed fingers. He is a prolific writer who I would recommend any day as a Must-Read. From the stables of touched by a pen series, I present to you this lovely day for your reading pleasure a piece titled THINGS FALL APART. Read, Relax, enjoy and imbibe some good lessons from this fiction. Welcome on board.
Bisi was lying on the bed. Plain as the day she was born, the only thing she was wearing was her hair. Beside her, Zino was sleeping, the sheets thrown loosely over his lower body. As always, he had kept her up for the better part of the night working his magic on her. She was exhausted but she had enjoyed every moment of it.
She was smiling contentedly like a Cheshire cat and chatting with a number of her BBM contacts. Two of her housemates were telling her how the beach party went. It wasn’t as good as they had hoped, how was her outing? She told them she was enjoying it extremely.
Then she switched to her Facebook account and posted, “So exhausted. But the Lord is my strength. Click ‘like’ and type ‘Amen’ if you want the Lord to be your strength too.”
One of her friends, with whom she was to go to the beach party the night before, commented on her status update, “Amen o! How was the night with your boyfriend?” Thankfully, Bisi saw it just in time. She hurriedly deleted the comment and blocked the girl. She didn’t like her too much anyway. And she already had more than 200 friend requests waiting.
Only this past Sunday, she had been suspended from the choir. So she didn’t want the drama. Someone could munch that screen and take it to her pastor to report again, just like that aproko doctor. Some people just never minded their business! She hissed in disgust.
She had not told her mum about her suspension- neither was she planning to. Obviously pastor Taiwo hadn’t either. Her mum hadn’t accosted her. Bisi was trying to keep a low profile and didn’t want any more rocking of her boat than had already been done. She sincerely didn’t see anything wrong with the two lives she led- a saint on Facebook and in church, and a girl with the basest cravings in real life. The only task, to her, was not to confuse the two roles. To keep both persons living inside her apart.
As is the habit with girls like her, she had not the slightest interest in updating herself with news or with important and relevant information. The usefulness of the social media, to her, was encapsulated with how enviable she could make her life look on it, how discreet she could view other people’s lives and compare theirs to hers, and how quick gossip spread through it,. Her smart phone, in essence, served as an extension of her natural gossipmongering self, a medium for vain self-promotion and a tool for discreetly spying on others. So when she heard the news of the police killings, it was from Funto, another friend of hers with a higher predilection to rumour-spreading than her. She was informed that seven young men had been shot to death the evening before in a cult clash and that they were all children of senators and high-ranking people.
The link that was posted was broken so she went to Google to search. It was all over the news. Naturally, she might not have bothered. But this news was important for two reasons. One, she had met and mixed with children of the high and mighty as well as the high and mighty themselves, providing her degenerate services. Two, this was hot news and she wanted to be the first to tweet about it, broadcast it as well as to post it on Facebook. Already, her friend had gotten there before her. She didn’t want to waste any more time.
When a link she had clicked on had completely loaded, she quickly skimmed through, not concerned about details but on the scintillating aspects she could spread. Maybe if she could get specific names…? It turned out, from the report she was reading, that it was five people shot dead- not seven people. And it was not a cult clash as her friend had said. Where did Funto get all her rumours from? Bisi smiled to herself. Couldn’t she read?
She turned over in the bed and was scratching an itch on her back when her eyes fell on a name. The wind was knocked right off her. Hurriedly, she scrolled back up to the page as she recalled a picture she had seen. She zoomed in to the photograph of the dead people. Given the distance of the photographer to the bodies when the picture was taken, she could not accurately identify anyone or ascertain if truly the name she saw was the same person she knew. But she saw a face that effectively put paid to her doubts. That was unforgettable face. You could never forget someone who looked so much like a lion, especially if they had stood right in front of you for nearly twenty minutes just last week Friday.
Down in the comment section of the new site, the usual media war that has become so rampant in Nigeria, had started. The Yoruba commenters had pounced on the Igbos, calling them armed-robbers. The Igbos had pounced right back, saying that it was more Yorubas that had been killed. The Hausas fired at both ethnic groups saying that was what the country got for voting in a non-Hausa person into power.
It was true! Her former class mate had been shot in cold-
Unable to complete the thought, she dropped her phone, letting out a frightful scream.
Zino jumped up in alarm, rudely woken from his sleep, a panicked look on his face. He looked at Bisi. She was whimpering. What had happened? Was everything alright? “Bisi, what is the matter?” His head was throbbing from the suddenness with which he had woken up. He also suspected he was having a hang-over from the heavy drinking of last night. “Bisi, what is it? Are you okay? What happened?”
Bisi, calming down a fraction, in between snivels, told him her secondary school classmate had been shot and killed last night by the police along with some of his friends. The claim was that they were robbers.
Zino stared at her with his mouth hanging open in utter stupefaction. He was barely holding back the anger within from exploding. Was there a demon in this girl’s head? Was she an evil-spirit?
“Is that why you screamed like a foolish fool?” he shouted angrily when he could finally collect his thoughts. Two screams- one late last night and the other this morning- in the space of a few hours, were definitely not good for his reputation in the compound. Why did girls love screaming so much? Were they cursed?
“You don’t understand! He was my classmate in secondary school!” Bisi cried, trying to explain.
“What’s my business if he was your classmate?! Or even if he is your departmental mate? Is that why you were screaming like a stupid idiot?! Don’t you know the neighbours would hear you?”
“I’m sorry,” Bisi said, hurt by his remarks, still sniffing. “I just- it was so- I didn’t-”
Zino stood up from the bed and walked naked to the toilet, hands holding his head. His stomach was had begun to run, and he felt like throwing up. As he went, he said, “As far as I’m concerned, they should kill all the idiots who go about robbing innocent people of their hard-earned cash. Shoot all of them to death. Why can’t they work for their own money? Idiots!” he banged the door shut.
Bisi looked at the bathroom door for some seconds. She was still hyper-ventilating. She needed to talk to someone who understood. Immediately, a thought jumped into her mind. Osas had been Chioma’s best friend in school. Did she know already? He had come to meet her at the re-union and they had talked for about twenty minutes.
She immediately dialled Chioma’s number. The number rang and rang but Chioma did not pick up. She couldn’t still be sleeping till this late, could she? Or had she seen the news already. She dialled Chioma’s number again. Again, Chioma did not pick up. But like a dog with a bone, refusing to let go, Bisi dialled yet again. She had effectively stopped thinking and the only thing in her head was ‘call Chioma’. So when Chioma didn’t pick a third time, Bisi reflexively redialled her number.
This time Chioma picked.
“Chioma! Chioma! Have you seen the news?!” Bisi said immediately Chioma picked the call. She was nearly shouting and was sounding hysterical.
“No, I haven’t-” Chioma began to say.
“Osas is dead! They killed him yesterday-” Bisi cut her short.
Now she heard Chioma gasp. “Which Osas?!”
“Osas! Our Osas- your Osas!” Bisi explained agitatedly.
Over the phone, Chioma screamed in shock, “Jesus! You’re lying!”
“It’s on the news. It’s on the headlines. I saw it this-”
But the line suddenly went dead.
Bisi Immediately, dialled back.
“Are you mad?! I’m trying to browse!” Chioma yelled into the phone and the line abruptly went dead again.
Bisi had started crying softly. Suddenly, she felt very cold. She stood up from the bed and went to the sitting room to pick up her clothes. She came back into the room, got into one of Zino’s big sweaters and then put on her panties. She walked out of the room and into the kitchen, no particular destination in mind. A hot drink was what she needed right now. As she prepared the beverage, she heard the phone ring in the room.
She rushed out of the kitchen to see who was calling. She picked the Blackberry, briefly saw ‘Chioma’ on the screen as she accepted the call, and put the phone to her ear. Without waiting for Chioma to speak, she asked, “Yes did you find it?”
For a second, Chioma did not answer. Then she heard her say hesitantly, “Bisi?”
Bisi replied, “Yes Chioma, have you seen it?”
At the same instant, Bisi saw her own phone on the bed. It was in a transparent rubber case. The phone she was holding wasn’t in any case. That was the only difference between Zino’s phone and the one he had bought for her. She had mistakenly picked Zino’s instead of hers.
She bent and picked up her own phone, still confused. “Wait a minute, this is not my phone… Chioma what’s your number doing on my boyfriend’s phone?”
There was no reply.
“Chioma!”
Bisi did not wait for any explanation. Perhaps, the terrible news she had received this morning had impaired her good judgement but she did not pause to think clearly of any innocent cause for Zino having Chioma’s number on his phone. She did not pause to be doubly sure that it was the same Chioma she knew that had called Zino. The fact that the Chioma who had called had mentioned her name, the fact that she had not answered when she called her name, was damning evidence enough for the insecurities of Bisi to conclude that Zino was cheating on her.
She was the plaintiff, the jury and the judge all rolled into one.
“Zino! Zino! You lying, cheating bastard!” she went to the bathroom door and tried opening it. It was locked. She started banging on it, screaming at the top of her voice. “Zino come out here! Zino! Come! Out! Here!” She was beating the door with each syllable. “Who is Chioma to you?! What is Chioma’s number doing on your phone?! So you’re not getting enough from me, ehn! And you’re cheating with my friends!” Her voice was loud enough to bring the roof down. And she was still banging on the door.
In the bathroom, with his head still banging, Zino groaned. His reputation had effectively been torn to shreds as far as this street was concerned. He had no doubt that Bisi’s voice could be heard from several communities away. Maybe even in the next state. What had made him bring this witchcraft element into his house last night, he asked himself over and over again, as he grabbed his hurting head with both hands.
The doorbell started ringing shrilly, impatiently. Whoever was at the door was not a single bit patient. They kept on pressing the bell again and again. If Zino was not sure before, he was sure now- the constellations were against him. This was nothing short of a galactic gang-up.
As Bisi kept on shouting and the doorbell kept on ringing, the thought of Chioma crossed his mind. He had never had it rough like this with her. Was all these payments for the way he had been treating her lately- especially with what happened yesterday night?
As the doorbell didn’t sound like it was going to stop ringing anytime soon, Zino decided to come out of the bathroom. Immediately he got out, Bisi was ready. She jumped at him, still shouting. Zino pushed her away and went to get his boxers. Bisi came right at him as his back was bent and began to beat it.
“Tell me, you liar! Tell me what Chioma’s number is doing-” she didn’t complete the statement. Zino had stood up and landed a slap on her face.
For a moment she stared at him in disbelief, hand over her mouth. Zino wore his boxers and threw a white under-shirt on. Bisi, like someone that was remote-controlled, began screaming, even louder than before.
“You slapped me! You slapped me! God will punish you. God will punish your generations!” she cursed. But she was careful not to go near him. One slap was enough for one morning, thank you very much. But that didn’t stop her from reigning every imaginable sort of curse on him.
Zino’s head was still banging. Bisi was still shouting. The doorbell was still ringing.
Who could it be? A neighbour? They had every reason to ring his doorbell. The noise coming from his house, starting from last night, was worrying, to say the least. He was still thinking of an explanation to give when he opened the door and saw a total stranger standing at the door.
She looked in her mid-forties and stood as if she owned the house. There was a look of clear rage on her face as she looked at him. Zino looked at her askance. “Good morning… Can I help you? Are you looking for someone?”
She didn’t answer him.
“Are you looking for someone?” he asked again.
But she wasn’t looking at him again. She was looking into the house. Now, on her face was a mixture of both rage and disgust.
Zino was getting annoyed. Who comes to another person’s house and stands there staring like a stupid cow without saying a word. He glanced back into the house to see what the woman was looking at. That was when he noticed that Bisi had fallen silent. She was standing some distance behind him, rooted to the spot, as though she had seen Medusa.
“Mommy…” she said in shock.
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