Nnemeka wrote a gain in his diary, "I will soon realized the meanness of a city like Abuja." Besides chasing him from his king size mattress, the Cockroaches have agreed on one hot evening that he will be starved. Nnemeka had just returned from work that day and his mind was meditating constantly on the plait of Jollof rice and chicken which he had stocked on the table. He turned on the lash of his door and dusted his his feet on the footmat of his door to stop the little pieces of fine Abuja dust who have sworn to follow Nnemeka to his apartment at Maitama. At least he could afford to rent one now. After trekking round the city of Abuja, entering office by office and mounting on elevators which at some mistaken times, took him to some other floors which he never intended to go. Being a new babe in the use of elevators, he had struggled with going to unintended floors until he had started to get it right and met with the God of fate and his misery changed. Even the the hill of his shoes, by slanting position which it had compulsorily made him to stand in an unbalanced manner, bare great evidentiary fact that he has trekked round Abuja. The usual song "we are not employing here" seemed to have lost its relevance as though they were tunes sang in the mouths of great musicians of the 60's. Oh, how present comfort seems to wipe away the tears of sorrows as if they never occurred! Nnemeka thought with tranquility overshadowing his will. The days came by rolling like folded bundles of seas pushed about by ocean waves.
Nnemeka remembered with accuracy like the day light sun how one day he entered into the office of the Auditor-General of the Federation of Nigeria at the Central Business District Abuja and after filling all the beureucactic logs of hard cover note book painted with green white, green, he stood before the secretary who looked at his eyes with contemptuous eyesball. Nnemeka's wash and wear shirt which has long been discarded into the standing wastebin arrayed on the streets of Maitama could hardly bear the chemical pressure of daily soup leather and omo. The shirt had started to express its displeasure facially through its fading colour. Still, he had to manage the resources which the society even after bagging a degree in accountantcy could afford to be generous enough to give him. This social injustice has revealed itself on Nnemeka's outfit itself. The bank of social stratification and justice had ran dry. And all cheques signed couldn't be cashed and have been returned as being stalled. The secretary still looking at him after Nnemeka had graced the steel chair, ordered him into the office of the Auditor-General after he had broken down every fabric of her resilience and insistence that he state the purpose of his visit. When he stepped into his office, cool air of air conditioners and air freshner impatiently flew into his nostrils. Nnemeka sat down in the office of his host praying silently within the realms of his heart. He began by telling the Auditor-General the entire tale of his story how Abuja had dried his finances. Nnemeka did that inorder to draw favour from the man in his position as the Auditor-General of the Federation. But he listened intently, causing the line of people waiting to see him nurture in patience for a little time. When he rounded up his story, the Auditor-General said there is absolutely nothing he could do. The federal Government had not began fetching new work force into the federal parastatals. And his job will flame on the burner of dismissal if he takes any action without the permission of the powers that be. When Nnemeka's gaze met his host again, they were parting. He made for the Elevator and thanked the secretary who even after determining the purpose of his visit, still felt satisfied to paste on him one more look of contempt.
The Elevator sprang up before going down in the customary manner which he had become accustomed to. As Nnemeka stepped on the first large sandy earth washed and sieved by the early August rains, the secretary's voice rushed into his ears. "Oga is calling you." "Me?" Nnemeka asked with the hunger of reassurance. They climbed unto the elevator as the secretary piling the atmosphere with silence faced her front not saying a word. When the elevator stopped, she told Nnemeka, "You may go inside. Oga is waiting for you." Inside, he dropped his Curriculum Vitae on the desk of the Auditor-General and after feasting on the bunge of words typed in Times New Romans, he assured him, "with this you will get a job soon." The following months came with inventiveness and proper shelf of stories on how the Auditor-General will call him. Nnemeka thought in his heart how he will seat in one of the offices for a test or an interview. He created questions and answered them. "May i know you? Where do you see yourselves five years from now? And to the final question how much do we pay you? Each time he set his thoughts on these pre-interview questions, a veil of comfort sat on his face. Soon these desires and happiness washed away like a mist is dealt the heavy blow of early morning sunrise.
Months grew and soon two years had passed yet the raging silence from the Auditor-General's office continued unrestrained. However, Nnemeka met a friend of his, a class mate at the young but prestigious Benue State University and there, after following some links of people, he was employed at NNPC. His course mate who served as a bridge for this employment ; during the days of their learning was a person who in his list of things, studies was the last. He played with his books and the days of test and exams were shared with football matches, for he was a chelsea fan. But today, he is employed. Nigeria died in the 70's and 80's when merit was valued over connection. Nnemeka was still happy that the system has for once looked upon him with a hand of kindness. With benefits alone, Nnemeka rented the nice apartment that was within the powers of the gilded in Abuja to touch. The sufferings he experienced though fresh like green algae clinging to a semi-wet wall, had been beaten and defeated by the new life of luxury and comfort that had besieged him. Nnemeka was still standing at the door when the thought loosed its grip on him. The door gave way to pressuring zig-zag edges of the key and there it opened. He dusted his feet and threw his shuttle bag unto the waiting bed. The bag bounced twice and humbled itself on the bed. He never gave a little kindness to the HP nozzled in the bag. Again, his Jollof rice, the food in which many Nigerians will throw a punch to have it stayed served on the table. Nnemeka walked with a hungry agility and lifted up the lid of his China plate wherein he had secured the Jollof rice on a waiting line. Nnemeka's colleague, a female, Margaret often sparing was charitable enough to wash hin with praise for the first time. That a good man who improves in his cooking Jollof rice like he did will soon secure a job as the head of chefs in Transcorp Hilton Hotel. Nnemeka adopted her praise with a mixture of two things — a bitter and sweet admiration. After that interlude of thought had passed, he opened the China and two giant cockroaches raced in two different directions like the parting of the Red Sea in the Holy Scriptures. Anger held Nnemeka's feet glued to the floor of his Maitama apartment. One of the cockroaches took cover under the banner of his wreathe of flower vase. The other, a little more wiser preferred the cravics of the kitchen door. Nnemeka looked in different directions drawing inspiration to what he would do to these little beasts. A thought enveloped him as he remembered how mama Titi his neighbour used to kill cockroaches, she would smack them with a strange force until the white or milky colour of the poor cockroaches scattered on her palm as the insect became more flattened like a Ballon whose tenure of airfulness ends in a sad tale. She would rob her two hands together and straight to the sink. She would wash them off. "This is how you handle cockroaches she would often declare."
But for Nnemeka on that weak day, he lacked the ounce of energy to carry out such a grumsome attack. Before Nnemeka went to the broom laying densely upwards, he folded his suit into a twig. He thought against it and went to the broom, took it and charged at the one behind his vase. Liquid scattered in a wreathed flare around the cockroach. A strange smell of liquid, irritating as it was at the moment rushed to his neck and hurriedly made the long journey down through the walls of his osophagus. He closed his eyes. As he took the broom charging on the other wiser cockroach clinging firmly to the hairy cravics of the wood of the kitchen door, the insect flew and found a vent of escape through the punctured route of the new mosquitoe net which the Carpenter could not finish fixing because the heavens vomited heavy rains the previous day in Abuja. He looked plaintively at the face of the sad Jollof rice and he saw that one of the cockroaches had cemented a little part of its wing to announce attendance that they were really on the food. He thought again on the effort he had invested in cooking his Jollof rice whose niceties earned him a medallion of praise. Nnemka cast a heavy glare on his bread that he had hardly touched and saw that the cockroaches left bandages of their feathers and nibbles for a record of their appearance too there. He thought of what he should do as the hunger narrowing on the walls of his intestines continued digging a massive hole. Of all things living or non living, Nnemka could thank God for the beast of the field but for the cockroaches he often withhold his appreciation. He thought of going across the adjacent street to catch a taxi to Shoprite. Nnemeka saw how badly he needed a car that would have made his movement easy. That day after returning with a sealed food from Shoprite he decided that he would purchase a car. As the darkness gathers thickness, he wrote in his diary the words highlighted this time in green. I hate you with a good phobia, but I must find a away of killing you. He underlined the angry words. When the inpatient morning arrived, he beautified his toilet window with a gigantic atomic weapon— Mobil insects and Cockroach killer.
Thursday, 23 June 2016
NNEMEKA'S DIARY, HE NOW HAS A NEW JOB.
Nnemeka wrote a gain in his diary, "I will soon realized the meanness of a city like Abuja." Besides chasing him from his king size mattress, the Cockroaches have agreed on one hot evening that he will be starved. Nnemeka had just returned from work that day and his mind was meditating constantly on the plate of Jollof rice and chicken which he had stocked on the table. He turned on the lash of his door and dusted his his feet on the footmat of his door to stop the little pieces of fine Abuja dust who have sworn to follow Nnemeka to his apartment at Maitama. At least he could afford to rent one now. After trekking round the city of Abuja, entering office by office and mounting on elevators which at some mistaken times, took him to some other floors which he never intended to go. Being a new babe in the use of elevators, he had struggled with going to unintended floors until he had started to get it right and met with the God of fate and his misery changed. Even the the hill of his shoes, by slanting position which it had compulsorily made him to stand in an unbalanced manner, bare great evidentiary fact that he has trekked round Abuja. The usual song "we are not employing here" seemed to have lost its relevance as though they were tunes sang in the mouths of great musicians of the 60's. Oh, how present comfort seems to wipe away the tears of sorrows as if they never occurred! Nnemeka thought with tranquility overshadowing his will. The days came by rolling like folded bundles of seas pushed about by ocean waves.
Nnemeka remembered with accuracy like the day light sun how one day he entered into the office of the Auditor-General of the Federation of Nigeria at the Central Business District Abuja and after filling all the beureucactic logs of hard cover note book painted with green white, green, he stood before the secretary who looked at his eyes with contemptuous eyesball. Nnemeka's wash and wear shirt which has long been discarded into the standing wastebin arrayed on the streets of Maitama could hardly bear the chemical pressure of daily soup leather and omo. The shirt had started to express its displeasure facially through its fading colour. Still, he had to manage the resources which the society even after bagging a degree in accountantcy could afford to be generous enough to give him. This social injustice has revealed itself on Nnemeka's outfit itself. The bank of social stratification and justice had ran dry. And all cheques signed couldn't be cashed and have been returned as being stalled. The secretary still looking at him after Nnemeka had graced the steel chair, ordered him into the office of the Auditor-General after he had broken down every fabric of her resilience and insistence that he state the purpose of his visit. When he stepped into his office, cool air of air conditioners and air freshner impatiently flew into his nostrils. Nnemeka sat down in the office of his host praying silently within the realms of his heart. He began by telling the Auditor-General the entire tale of his story how Abuja had dried his finances. Nnemeka did that inorder to draw favour from the man in his position as the Auditor-General of the Federation. But he listened intently, causing the line of people waiting to see him nurture in patience for a little time. When he rounded up his story, the Auditor-General said there is absolutely nothing he could do. The federal Government had not began fetching new work force into the federal parastatals. And his job will flame on the burner of dismissal if he takes any action without the permission of the powers that be. When Nnemeka's gaze met his host again, they were parting. He made for the Elevator and thanked the secretary who even after determining the purpose of his visit, still felt satisfied to paste on him one more look of contempt.
The Elevator sprang up before going down in the customary manner which he had become accustomed to. As Nnemeka stepped on the first large sandy earth washed and sieved by the early August rains, the secretary's voice rushed into his ears. "Oga is calling you." "Me?" Nnemeka asked with the hunger of reassurance. They climbed unto the elevator as the secretary piling the atmosphere with silence faced her front not saying a word. When the elevator stopped, she told Nnemeka, "You may go inside. Oga is waiting for you." Inside, he dropped his Curriculum Vitae on the desk of the Auditor-General and after feasting on the bunge of words typed in Times New Romans, he assured him, "with this you will get a job soon." The following months came with inventiveness and proper shelf of stories on how the Auditor-General will call him. Nnemeka thought in his heart how he will seat in one of the offices for a test or an interview. He created questions and answered them. "May i know you? Where do you see yourselves five years from now? And to the final question how much do we pay you? Each time he set his thoughts on these pre-interview questions, a veil of comfort sat on his face. Soon these desires and happiness washed away like a mist is dealt the heavy blow of early morning sunrise.
Months grew and soon two years had passed yet the raging silence from the Auditor-General's office continued unrestrained. However, Nnemeka met a friend of his, a class mate at the young but prestigious Benue State University and there, after following some links of people, he was employed at NNPC. His course mate who served as a bridge for this employment ; during the days of their learning was a person who in his list of things, studies was the last. He played with his books and the days of test and exams were shared with football matches, for he was a chelsea fan. But today, he is employed. Nigeria died in the 70's and 80's when merit was valued over connection. Nnemeka was still happy that the system has for once looked upon him with a hand of kindness. With benefits alone, Nnemeka rented the nice apartment that was within the powers of the gilded in Abuja to touch. The sufferings he experienced though fresh like green algae clinging to a semi-wet wall, had been beaten and defeated by the new life of luxury and comfort that had besieged him. Nnemeka was still standing at the door when the thought loosed its grip on him. The door gave way to pressuring zig-zag edges of the key and there it opened. He dusted his feet and threw his shuttle bag unto the waiting bed. The bag bounced twice and humbled itself on the bed. He never gave a little kindness to the HP nozzled in the bag. Again, his Jollof rice, the food in which many Nigerians will throw a punch to have it stayed served on the table. Nnemeka walked with a hungry agility and lifted up the lid of his China plate wherein he had secured the Jollof rice on a waiting line. Nnemeka's colleague, a female, Margaret often sparing was charitable enough to wash hin with praise for the first time. That a good man who improves in his cooking Jollof rice like he did will soon secure a job as the head of chefs in Transcorp Hilton Hotel. Nnemeka adopted her praise with a mixture of two things — a bitter and sweet admiration. After that interlude of thought had passed, he opened the China and two giant cockroaches raced in two different directions like the parting of the Red Sea in the Holy Scriptures. Anger held Nnemeka's feet glued to the floor of his Maitama apartment. One of the cockroaches took cover under the banner of his wreathe of flower vase. The other, a little more wiser preferred the cravics of the kitchen door. Nnemeka looked in different directions drawing inspiration to what he would do to these little beasts. A thought enveloped him as he remembered how mama Titi his neighbour used to kill cockroaches, she would smack them with a strange force until the white or milky colour of the poor cockroaches scattered on her palm as the insect became more flattened like a Ballon whose tenure of airfulness ends in a sad tale. She would rob her two hands together and straight to the sink. She would wash them off. "This is how you handle cockroaches she would often declare."
But for Nnemeka on that weak day, he lacked the ounce of energy to carry out such a grumsome attack. Before Nnemeka went to the broom laying densely upwards, he folded his suit into a twig. He thought against it and went to the broom, took it and charged at the one behind his vase. Liquid scattered in a wreathed flare around the cockroach. A strange smell of liquid, irritating as it was at the moment rushed to his neck and hurriedly made the long journey down through the walls of his osophagus. He closed his eyes. As he took the broom charging on the other wiser cockroach clinging firmly to the hairy cravics of the wood of the kitchen door, the insect flew and found a vent of escape through the punctured route of the new mosquitoe net which the Carpenter could not finish fixing because the heavens vomited heavy rains the previous day in Abuja. He looked plaintively at the face of the sad Jollof rice and he saw that one of the cockroaches had cemented a little part of its wing to announce attendance that they were really on the food. He thought again on the effort he had invested in cooking his Jollof rice whose niceties earned him a medallion of praise. Nnemka cast a heavy glare on his bread that he had hardly touched and saw that the cockroaches left bandages of their feathers and nibbles for a record of their appearance too there. He thought of what he should do as the hunger narrowing on the walls of his intestines continued digging a massive hole. Of all things living or non living, Nnemka could thank God for the beast of the field but for the cockroaches he often withhold his appreciation. He thought of going across the adjacent street to catch a taxi to Shoprite. Nnemeka saw how badly he needed a car that would have made his movement easy. That day after returning with a sealed food from Shoprite he decided that he would purchase a car. As the darkness gathers thickness, he wrote in his diary the words highlighted this time in green. I hate you with a good phobia, but I must find a away of killing you. He underlined the angry words. When the inpatient morning arrived, he beautified his toilet window with a gigantic atomic weapon— Mobil insects and Cockroach killer.
Nnemeka remembered with accuracy like the day light sun how one day he entered into the office of the Auditor-General of the Federation of Nigeria at the Central Business District Abuja and after filling all the beureucactic logs of hard cover note book painted with green white, green, he stood before the secretary who looked at his eyes with contemptuous eyesball. Nnemeka's wash and wear shirt which has long been discarded into the standing wastebin arrayed on the streets of Maitama could hardly bear the chemical pressure of daily soup leather and omo. The shirt had started to express its displeasure facially through its fading colour. Still, he had to manage the resources which the society even after bagging a degree in accountantcy could afford to be generous enough to give him. This social injustice has revealed itself on Nnemeka's outfit itself. The bank of social stratification and justice had ran dry. And all cheques signed couldn't be cashed and have been returned as being stalled. The secretary still looking at him after Nnemeka had graced the steel chair, ordered him into the office of the Auditor-General after he had broken down every fabric of her resilience and insistence that he state the purpose of his visit. When he stepped into his office, cool air of air conditioners and air freshner impatiently flew into his nostrils. Nnemeka sat down in the office of his host praying silently within the realms of his heart. He began by telling the Auditor-General the entire tale of his story how Abuja had dried his finances. Nnemeka did that inorder to draw favour from the man in his position as the Auditor-General of the Federation. But he listened intently, causing the line of people waiting to see him nurture in patience for a little time. When he rounded up his story, the Auditor-General said there is absolutely nothing he could do. The federal Government had not began fetching new work force into the federal parastatals. And his job will flame on the burner of dismissal if he takes any action without the permission of the powers that be. When Nnemeka's gaze met his host again, they were parting. He made for the Elevator and thanked the secretary who even after determining the purpose of his visit, still felt satisfied to paste on him one more look of contempt.
The Elevator sprang up before going down in the customary manner which he had become accustomed to. As Nnemeka stepped on the first large sandy earth washed and sieved by the early August rains, the secretary's voice rushed into his ears. "Oga is calling you." "Me?" Nnemeka asked with the hunger of reassurance. They climbed unto the elevator as the secretary piling the atmosphere with silence faced her front not saying a word. When the elevator stopped, she told Nnemeka, "You may go inside. Oga is waiting for you." Inside, he dropped his Curriculum Vitae on the desk of the Auditor-General and after feasting on the bunge of words typed in Times New Romans, he assured him, "with this you will get a job soon." The following months came with inventiveness and proper shelf of stories on how the Auditor-General will call him. Nnemeka thought in his heart how he will seat in one of the offices for a test or an interview. He created questions and answered them. "May i know you? Where do you see yourselves five years from now? And to the final question how much do we pay you? Each time he set his thoughts on these pre-interview questions, a veil of comfort sat on his face. Soon these desires and happiness washed away like a mist is dealt the heavy blow of early morning sunrise.
Months grew and soon two years had passed yet the raging silence from the Auditor-General's office continued unrestrained. However, Nnemeka met a friend of his, a class mate at the young but prestigious Benue State University and there, after following some links of people, he was employed at NNPC. His course mate who served as a bridge for this employment ; during the days of their learning was a person who in his list of things, studies was the last. He played with his books and the days of test and exams were shared with football matches, for he was a chelsea fan. But today, he is employed. Nigeria died in the 70's and 80's when merit was valued over connection. Nnemeka was still happy that the system has for once looked upon him with a hand of kindness. With benefits alone, Nnemeka rented the nice apartment that was within the powers of the gilded in Abuja to touch. The sufferings he experienced though fresh like green algae clinging to a semi-wet wall, had been beaten and defeated by the new life of luxury and comfort that had besieged him. Nnemeka was still standing at the door when the thought loosed its grip on him. The door gave way to pressuring zig-zag edges of the key and there it opened. He dusted his feet and threw his shuttle bag unto the waiting bed. The bag bounced twice and humbled itself on the bed. He never gave a little kindness to the HP nozzled in the bag. Again, his Jollof rice, the food in which many Nigerians will throw a punch to have it stayed served on the table. Nnemeka walked with a hungry agility and lifted up the lid of his China plate wherein he had secured the Jollof rice on a waiting line. Nnemeka's colleague, a female, Margaret often sparing was charitable enough to wash hin with praise for the first time. That a good man who improves in his cooking Jollof rice like he did will soon secure a job as the head of chefs in Transcorp Hilton Hotel. Nnemeka adopted her praise with a mixture of two things — a bitter and sweet admiration. After that interlude of thought had passed, he opened the China and two giant cockroaches raced in two different directions like the parting of the Red Sea in the Holy Scriptures. Anger held Nnemeka's feet glued to the floor of his Maitama apartment. One of the cockroaches took cover under the banner of his wreathe of flower vase. The other, a little more wiser preferred the cravics of the kitchen door. Nnemeka looked in different directions drawing inspiration to what he would do to these little beasts. A thought enveloped him as he remembered how mama Titi his neighbour used to kill cockroaches, she would smack them with a strange force until the white or milky colour of the poor cockroaches scattered on her palm as the insect became more flattened like a Ballon whose tenure of airfulness ends in a sad tale. She would rob her two hands together and straight to the sink. She would wash them off. "This is how you handle cockroaches she would often declare."
But for Nnemeka on that weak day, he lacked the ounce of energy to carry out such a grumsome attack. Before Nnemeka went to the broom laying densely upwards, he folded his suit into a twig. He thought against it and went to the broom, took it and charged at the one behind his vase. Liquid scattered in a wreathed flare around the cockroach. A strange smell of liquid, irritating as it was at the moment rushed to his neck and hurriedly made the long journey down through the walls of his osophagus. He closed his eyes. As he took the broom charging on the other wiser cockroach clinging firmly to the hairy cravics of the wood of the kitchen door, the insect flew and found a vent of escape through the punctured route of the new mosquitoe net which the Carpenter could not finish fixing because the heavens vomited heavy rains the previous day in Abuja. He looked plaintively at the face of the sad Jollof rice and he saw that one of the cockroaches had cemented a little part of its wing to announce attendance that they were really on the food. He thought again on the effort he had invested in cooking his Jollof rice whose niceties earned him a medallion of praise. Nnemka cast a heavy glare on his bread that he had hardly touched and saw that the cockroaches left bandages of their feathers and nibbles for a record of their appearance too there. He thought of what he should do as the hunger narrowing on the walls of his intestines continued digging a massive hole. Of all things living or non living, Nnemka could thank God for the beast of the field but for the cockroaches he often withhold his appreciation. He thought of going across the adjacent street to catch a taxi to Shoprite. Nnemeka saw how badly he needed a car that would have made his movement easy. That day after returning with a sealed food from Shoprite he decided that he would purchase a car. As the darkness gathers thickness, he wrote in his diary the words highlighted this time in green. I hate you with a good phobia, but I must find a away of killing you. He underlined the angry words. When the inpatient morning arrived, he beautified his toilet window with a gigantic atomic weapon— Mobil insects and Cockroach killer.
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