The Grudge

1

Bode

         The sun felt too hot at that time and was annoyingly marking its territory on his dark skin. Trying to grab a reason why it will be so hot in mid-February, then he remembered the unpredictability of the weather in Lagos city, known for its bustling noise from both human and vehicles, animals are not excluded. Bode tried to rub off the trickling sweat from his brows, pulling at his soaked T-shirt which clung to his body like a second skin, as he bowed a greeting to Iya Bisola, the well known Bread and Beans seller in the whole of Odutola Street. The chubby woman waved vigorously, not minding the fact that her braless chest was giving her away. Everyone knew of Mushin, but not everyone knew how devastatingly battered its appearance was, only if one was found in its neighborhood. The houses would welcome you with little or no hope of survival and its environments will definitely let you know that sanitation was long overdue in that area. But majority of its habitant struggled for survival the easy or hard way. Even though, every easy way was definitely nothing close to the word itself.

          Trying to avoid the young teenagers, he paddled along the road giving way for the okada riders who sped up to the point of splashing mud on his khaki trouser, much to his dismay. “Your Papa!” He snapped, extending his left hand towards their direction and spreading five fingers to illustrate his point, hoping they got the message. He sighed at the ugly sight on his trouser, mumbling to no one in particular as he continued on his journey.

          “Brother Bode, Sorry ooo.” Seventeen year old Bisola shouted from her mother’s canteen and all he did was paddled, hoping she won’t press further. But as his stomach reacted to the aroma of freshly cooked Ewa agoin wafting through his nostrils, he couldn’t help but wonder why no one, in all the twenty years of his life, had ever been able to outshine Iya Bisola in her Bread and Beans business. No one knew how she could pull people to her pot, not even housewives who came often to buy school lunch for their kids every morning. “Bosco, Good afternoon ooo!” He shouted to the new tenant brushing his teeth at the small area beside the rusted gate, filled with black smelly liquid. An improvise for an undug gutter. The young man seemed to be in his own world, nodding his head to the loud music playing from a neighbor’s window. “Bosco, I dey greet ooo!” He said again, as he pulled his bicycle to lean against the wall. The young man, this time, turned around with foamy paste around his mouth, spat out the remnants and gave Bode a wide grin. “Hey, Bode. Good afternoon.”  As Bode walked into the long passageway demarcating several doors, facing each other – the kind that was so rampant in under-developed parts of Lagos which everyone called face me, I face you. Or in some cases, face me, I slap  you, according to the mood of residents. Bode’s compound was prided as the only largest building in the neighborhood, with its inhabitants like that of a general market. Only difference was that people actually lived there. At least a general compound with one storey building and fifteen rooms facing each other, a large kitchen where women who crowd themselves, will make you think that it was a slave trade, either talking about several irrelevant things or hauling insults at each other – or even trying to dissolve an argument.

           Papa Polo – the compound's care taker – rushed out towards Bosco, nearly pushing Bode to the floor. “How many times, Bosco? No dey brush teeth for my window!” Bode shook his head, leaving both men to their issues which started the day Bosco moved into the area with a small sized generator, which nobody else had in that compound. Everyone knew Bosco was still twenty-four and was still under his master but no one knew how he was able to afford a small bachelor’s generator. No one, except Bode, who had known Bosco long before he moved into the same area with him.

         The fainted quarrels was muted as soon as he shut the door behind him, once inside the one room apartment he shared with his parents and three other younger brothers and a little sister. Born into a family of eight was no joke, especially when one had to stop school after secondary education just so the rest could attend too. It was not like his mother’s Crayfish and groundnut business was helping curb expenses where his father’s carpentry work couldn’t, but because they all had to boast of a certain level of education someday, Bode's elder brother, Opaleye, had to move out to live with his friends over at Ayobo few months ago, until there was another accommodation issue that prompted him moving over to Ogun State to live with a distant relative, who had promised to train Leye in becoming well crafted in becoming a perfect technician in electrical appliances.