Today mark another beginning of my pathetic life. I was just on my own when the unexpected started. It was like a gust of wind but having been used to it, it didn’t have much effect on me. By being used to it, I mean I was no longer new to the stigmatic condition of loneliness and boredom in my life. My life, my story has every reason for me to reject most of the things that people see as an enjoyment or perhaps the pillars of enjoyment, which to me happens to be WOMEN, DRUGS, PARTYING, AND THE LIKES.
I remember few years back and recently too, when someone or some people asked me concerning my life story, I mean I was constantly asked the question “tell me about yourself” being smart as I am (sorry I really are smart in that aspect) I dodged the questions without much ado on most occasions. Maybe I was scared or perhaps I was not ready to accept who I really are, but what does it matter? I am the worst and dullest in public. My mind and brain only think of one thing each and every moment I breathe in and out the oxygen and carbon dioxide that has kept me alive.
Not many people will understand what I am trying to convey but for the few, who really understands, please explain to your neighbors the matter and issue about people like me. This is so, because they are countless of young adults male and female whose life has never known definition, dimension, volume and area in terms of what path their trotting on exactly.
Lets I forget, I started with what happened today. Yes! Today brought back to me the memory I tried to forget even though it has become impossible. Night mares and daydreaming about this memory and the fantasy of how I wish I could turn back the hands of time, no doubt thrown me off balance.
Today was a birthday celebration of a neighbor. You know what happens when touts have a birthday celebration, the mode and pattern in which it is celebrated is always in a blasé.
Ok! To the reason why I choose to write on this issue today, I sat about 4 o’clock to my door, I guess mathematics student will understand what 4o’clock means, and the birthday celebration started like a joke. Girls flooding in their skimpy and micro-mini-skirts and some wore clothes that show all that their mama had given them. I just kept staring like a young innocent kid watching cartoons. All that wasn’t my business, after all everyone has his or her own life to live. It was almost an hour that the birthday had started and believe you me; everyone had become drunk and to my biggest surprise one of the mothers of generations (lady) came towards where I sat and thrown herself upon my body and I became startled. why?
Isco? (the name of the celebrant) I shouted. When he finally came, he apologized and escorted her back to his room and the party continues. Few minutes later, Isco came out again but this time with a small bottle which he titled HIGH.
Young man am sorry I don’t drink or get high as you called it. As if that wasn’t enough, he still went back and brought something wrapped in a paper and lit the head with a liter and handed it over to me. My eyes became red (don’t ask me how I saw my own eyes).
I don’t smoke as well bro. I shouted. Amazed, he sat beside me on the bench and asked me a question that am going to answer here now.
Hey bro! You don’t smoke, you don’t drink, you don’t womanize, please are you a human being?
I wasn’t angry as the question only made me laugh uncontrollably. Does it mean a normal human being must belong to one of this group? Many thoughts ran riot in my clouded mind and I began to recall the predicament of my Papa.
THE LIFE OF MY PAPA, THE REASON BEHIND MY LIFE STYLE
My papa belongs to the three groups Isco mentioned earlier. He drinks, smoke, and as well womanize. Each time he returns back from his beer parlour, we were his victims as he flogs, and beat the hell out of our lives. I was small and I could still remember vividly how my mum would sleep with tears all over her pillow early in the morning. Because I was just five years old, I sleep behind my mum and that was paradise for me. I could never go near the monster of a man I called my papa.
Very early in the morning, the only way he brushed his tooth were with cigarette and alcohol, the cigarette for his brush and the alcohol for his water. No one could get nearer to him early in the morning. I was no doubt the victim of the suffering my mum was going through. Every little thing, she transfers her anger and pain on the helpless five year old boy (me). My dad on the other hand was nothing to write home about as she beats both me and mum at a time. As young as I was, I could feel the pain of homelessness.
About his womanizing, he was not an inch ashamed of any of it. He brings in women in the house even in my mama’s presence. She bears every of it like a prisoner on a death roll.
The fear that I may end up like him made me leave home as early as five year old. It was not long after that he contracted HIV and later infected my mum. He died few years later of kidney failure and my mum too a year later. What could be more sorrowful than this? By this I don’t drink, smoke nor womanize and I am happy about it.
THE STORY OF MICHEAL, MY VERY GOOD FRIEND