I can barely remember exactly my age when my mum narrated how our room was unsuccessfully burgled one thick dark night. Certainly, it was an aged story: I was at the phallic stage when it happened and had a retelling of it as I grow older. But the moral lesson remains a profound one.
She had a roadside shop which availed her to serve as the kitchen to many drivers, workers, and students who plied the bustling area. She would leave home before the first cock crows; surely before the enviro is greeted with the piercing early routine call-to-prayer announcement – a marker of Southwest everyday life. But not until my twin brother and I had been bathed by her.
Drivers sought credit from her many times; for a free meal while few times paid less than their bills. This uncommonly privileges not only make her have a huge customer base but to be famous among the drivers with the unceremonious title of ‘Iya Awon Boys’ (Mother of all boys).
The street is often so blessed with many characters which include questionable, shady persons. Like many other characters, they engaged in all activities; and got the big heart of my mum as she couldn’t distinguish the wolves from the sheep. Afterthought, I’m pleased with her ignorance that rewards.
The wooden double window with rotting barbwire was all that shielded the room from reach from outside; the bed was close to the window. Her rationale for mounting the bed nearer to the window was to breathe the oxygen before it was corrupted.
A cracking sound was noticed by the window; she took a while for her to know that she had night visitor(s). Her voice succeeded when her body failed. The trembling pitch that the voice produced only saved us, not the next neighbour who was unhinderedly robbed.
She woke up, prepared the foods and dash off to her shop as if nothing trembling as manifested. She could substitute her awaiting customer appetites, and ultimately her expectant profit, for fear that gripped her some hours ago.
She nearly never served a fourth meal request, when she was approached by an unsuspecting man who greeted, briefly apologized for disturbing her sleep, as he plainly said: ‘Your room wasn’t our target, neither did we knew you reside there (in the building).
He left shouting, ‘Iya Awon Boys’ with an energetic and compelling voice suspected to had been amplified and corrosived by frequent intake of hard substance – marijuana might be a prime suspect.
His face wasn’t bright to be seen and/or remembered, but the reason that deterred him was registered for consolidation.
* * *
Do you agree that karma doesn’t always come but to hurt us? Do you think the kind of karma in this narration was a one-off? drop your thoughts in the comments box.
Go back to Stories