- The Storried Platform
A MOTHER’S PHONE CALL – By Nwachukwu Obinna
It’s been a long night. I sat on my couch staring at the ceiling, remembering the past, those days in school when things were not as perfect as they are now. When to eat one meal a day was even a problem. Those days were the worst days of my life because life wasn’t always like that. It began on the first day I set my foot in college, the day Dad ‘kicked the bucket’ and the day life started becoming hostile.
I wanted to drop out of school, but Mum never agreed. She wanted me to be different from the hoodlums she always sees in the market. Her greatest fear was to see her only child become a thug right before her very eyes. She goes about her menial job both night and day making sure she has something meaningful to send to me in school, making sure her only child become her dream.
As life grew more hostile, I started sourcing for other means to survive in school. Through one of my walks, I happened to stumble upon an old friend back then in high school. Steve, the one who was the mockery of the whole class then as his uniform is always dirty and the sole of his sandals disengaged.
“Wow, Steve… is that you,” I exclaimed with a reflex, as I was shocked to see Steve coming out of a Blue Toyota Camry, wearing a white Blazer and on his wrist, a Rolex watch. “Wow! Joe” he replied with a hug. We both joked and laughed about old times and later exchanged phone numbers.
Just like old times, but this time, with a little difference, Steve and I would drive around school in his car. And as much as I enjoyed it, curiosity then sets in. I began developing an interest in Steve’s way of life, became keen in knowing how he managed to get to this level. Any slightest opportunity I have with Steve, I would persuade him to let ‘the cat out of the bag’, but he would refuse. After much trial anyway, Steve decided to let go, but only on one condition which I agreed to out of desperation.
As we walked through a narrow bushy path around 11 p.m, my phone rang. I picked, it was Mum calling to tell me about the nightmare she just had. One, where she saw me fall into a deep pit on our way back from the farm, and as she was looking for a way to pull me up, two men in white garments appeared in the pit and pushed me up.
Without a second thought, I turned backward, telling Steve that I am no longer interested in his charade.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months but life was still the same. The one thing I knew was that I was still alive which means my hopes were not lost. Patiently I struggled, striving to survive the harsh condition.
Months turned into years. The day we wrote our final degree exam, I saw a crowd. I made my way into their midst trying to sneak a peek of what’s causing the gathering. I was shocked to see the lifeless body of my one time closest friend Steve lying on the floor covered in blood. Without much asking, I was told that he got shot by some cultist group on his way from the exam hall.
Steve, a renowned cultist on campus was shot dead in broad daylight. Who knows what would have been my fate if I had followed him through those bush paths. Who knows what might have happened if Mum hadn’t called.
By Nwachukwu Obinna
It’s been a long night. I sat on my couch staring at the ceiling, remembering the past, those days in school when things were not as perfect as they are now. When to eat one meal a day was even a problem. Those days were the worst days of my life because life wasn’t always like that.