45 Aba Johnson

Bimpe rolled over and picked out her wrist watch from the small wooden pot beside her bed. She squinted at the time, it was almost one o‘clock in the afternoon. She sat up and looked through the window, someone had already opened the curtains flooding the room with the afternoon sun and heat which she had slept through. The air conditioning was used sparingly, never overnight and she hated sleeping with the fan on no matter how hot it was so now she felt a bit warm. She had just finished her WAEC exams and was at home waiting for admission into the university of her choice. With no more impending work to complete or exams to study for, her life was sleep, eat, hang out with friends, party, watch TV and laze around the house she hardly spent time in whist she was away at boarding school. She loved this house, the patio and the kitchen, the large dusty yard and all the strange animals in the swamp beyond the fence. Her neighbours, the neighbourhood and especially the long walks she took in the late afternoons with one or more of her siblings all made Bimpe treasure this place she called home.

The house was always alive with people visiting, staying over, coming, going and eating but now it was quiet, she crawled to the edge of the bed and looked downstairs through the window to the swamp in the back. Beyond the swamp was the Ikeja skyline dominated by the Sheraton hotel. Its brown façade pock marked with room windows always gave her a sense of home, a bit like her very own mountain in the distance that looked over her.

‘Good morin shelatin,’ she joked. Her gaze tuned to the bare yard, it had been a dry few days so the yard was dusty, the dogs were lazing in the concrete patch that was used as water storage when the house was being built and was never fully dismantled, what remained was a smooth platform with broken walls, almost like Roman ruins but not quite. They lay on their side with only their tails moving up and down in that slow, deliberate way it does when they have just eaten. Sofia must have just fed them. Their meal consisted of geisha (a brand of tinned mackerel in tomato sauce) and heavy Agege bread. She thought she’d be content too if she just had that meal. Speaking of meals, she was hungry, she was always hungry. She stepped over her unmade bed, over all the clothes, books and radio on the floor and headed for the door.

Before she opened the door, she listened for any signs of life, there wasn’t any, she pulled the handle and dragged the door open, it always dragged along the terrazzo floor leaving a quarter circle mark in its path. She stepped out of the room which lead directly to the corridor, it was so wide, it was used as a room of its own with a sofa along one wall, side tables for dinks and a small TV on the opposite wall. At the end of the corridor was the large tiled patio where the family often gathered when there was no NEPA (electricity). The patio was empty. The first room down the right was the kitchen, another area you would always find people. She walked towards the kitchen and looked in, it was empty. Below the large windows overlooking the swamp was the kitchen sink which was full of dirty dishes. Everyone must have woken up, eaten something and dumped their dirty dishes in the sink for the last person to tidy up. That’s what happens when you live in a house full of teenagers and young adults. She looked towards the cooker and there were a few pots on the hob, certain that they would be empty, she didn’t bother lifting their lids, she pushed one of them with her fingers and it rocked back and forth spilling the soapy water it had been filled with to help the washer have an easier time of it. She looked over her shoulder as she backed away from the pots, the sink and all the dishes, if anyone found her in the kitchen this very second, she would be tasked with washing its entire contents, including crockery left in the various rooms and she would have to top it all off with mopping the floor. No way she was doing all of that especially as there was no food left anywhere for her.

She snuck back to her room and sat on the bed, hungry. Someone burst in behind her,

‘Ah ha!’ it was her younger brother, Jide, who had noticed her enter and then leave the kitchen in the same state when she should have been tidying up.

‘What!’ she snarled at him, knowing what he was going to say.

‘You’re the last one up, you have to clean the kitchen, you have to!’

She turned to look at him, she was often able to run rings round him but he never quit so she had to play this one well,

‘Is that why nobody left any food for me?’

‘It doesn’t matter, you still have to…’ she cut him off

‘Nobody thought to check on me? Suppose I was sick?’

‘But you aren’t and…’ she wouldn’t let him speak, she couldn’t otherwise she would lose her lead.

‘Oh really, I could have been dying of malaria in here, did anybody check? No! You people just left me to die, with no food, eh. If it was that I had even eaten something, I wouldn’t be arguing, but you want me to clean when I haven’t even eaten in this house in, what, three or so days?’

‘Eh, but…’

‘Eh but nothing! This is nonsense,’

‘Bimpe those are the rules we all agreed to na, why are you changing your mouth?’

‘Changing my what?’ it was a rhetorical question, ‘my friend gerrout of my room this instant, gerrout!’ she had actually worked herself up because she was so hungry but it seemed to have worked, Jide backed out, grumbling under his breath, she was sure he would soon return with reinforcement so she jumped up, grabbed her towel from behind the door and headed for the bathroom. She had to make a run for it while the coast was clear.

She had got as far as Joshua’s house before she looked back. She and her siblings played in the street as younger kids, frolicking in the construction sand and stones that were piled in front of almost every home. As older children, they chased each other up and down the quiet end of the street because there was no one to stop them and it was theirs for the chasing; an extension of their front room almost. With this in mind, she quickened her pace, if they noticed she had gone, they would come after her before she got to the junction where the street became more public and they had to behave themselves. If they caught her, she would be dragged straight to the kitchen to fulfil her duties.

Almost safe at the junction, she looked back again, she was clear, for now. God help her when she got home that evening. Was that someone coming out from the front gate, she could see a silhouette but didn’t hang around to establish who it was. Not having any money on her, she would have to thumb a lift to Kola’s house. The road at the junction was busy so she always managed to identify someone going her way, which wasn’t very far. If she had money, she would hail a taxi by shouting;

‘Drop!’

This meant private hire. She always found it interesting that to get to Kola’s house, she either had to get a lift or get a drop. She didn’t notice anyone she knew in the cars that whizzed past so she held out her hand, walking backwards as she faced the oncoming traffic. There were rules to doing this, in a city like Lagos rife with gbomo gbomos (kidnappers), she wouldn’t get into any car that looked suspicious, whatever suspicious meant, it was a gut feeling. She made sure not to thumb down any car with any of her parent’s friends in which would lead to a long talking to later. She never flagged down any female drivers, they were unlikely to stop anyway so it was young adolescent males with a point to prove to a pretty face, it almost always worked.

She was in luck today, the first car she flagged down pulled over, she stood away from the window as she addressed the driver,

‘Aba Johnson.’ She said.

‘Am going to Aromire but I can drop you at the top of the road.’

Normally, if she wasn’t in any hurry, she would have declined and waited for the next car that would take her to her friend’s front door but one last glance down the quiet part of the street prompted her to accept the offer, there was someone definitely approaching with a sense of purpose.

‘Ok, no wahala, thank you.’

She climbed in the passenger side and took her seat beside the driver, there was no one else in the car. She always made sure to keep the door knob up in case she had to bail out fast. She wasn’t going far and this guy looked harmless.

‘Are you running away from somebody?’ the driver asked,

She smiled as she responded, ‘yes in fact, my siblings want me to wash an entire weeks’ worth of plates, no way am I doing that.’ It was of course and exaggeration. He smiled at that. Like her, he looked like he was on sabbatical from school, or maybe his campus was closed for another strike.

‘Am Lanre by the way.’ He crossed his left hand over his right hand which held onto the wheel, she shook it. He had soft hands.

‘Bimpe.’ She said.

‘You will meet those plates when you get home sha, you know?’

‘I am hungry jare, I am going to chill out with my friend, she’ll feed me and I don’t have to wash anything at her house.’

‘Yeye.’ they both laugh.

‘Do you go to Lag?’ he asked her,

She thought of lying about attending the University of Lagos but she wasn’t sure if that was his Uni, she felt comfortable with him so decided to tell him the truth.

‘No, I applied to UI, and hoping to start there next semester.

‘Whao! All the way to Ibadan?’ he rubbed his hand over his head, there was a black swatch watch with squiggly white lines on his wrist. He was concentrating on the road so she was able to look at him properly without fending off reciprocal stares. He had to be in his late teens despite his 5 o clock shadow. Bimpe particularly liked his t shirt, it was plain black with a lime green dollar sign painted in front of it, right across the middle, so it was all you could see when you looked at it. What a cool shirt, and she could tell it was brand new. Most kids got stuff like this from friends and family who made trips abroad, such merchandise was worth grovelling to the travellers for. Which reminded her, her uncle was due back at the weekend, she prayed he would get her even one of the items she requested, he did offer.

‘My secondary school was further away so Ibadan is just round the corner for me now.’

‘Where was that?’

They had got to the end of Allen leading to Aromire so he slowed down looking for a spot to park and let her off, she didn’t have time to answer.

‘I hope you don’t mind?’ he gestured towards the sidewalk,

‘No, no, I am fine, thanks.’

‘I would take you all the way but I have somewhere I have to be.’ She already had one leg out of the car but did a double take,

‘All the way?’ she smirked at him.

‘You this girl…’ he laughed, ‘I would have dropped you at your friend’s house! trouble maker.’

‘How?’

‘Don’t worry, when you wash plate tire this night, you will know.’ She climbed out of the car laughing, he was laughing too. Having dropped her off on the wrong side of the road, she had to cross to the other side, which she did in front of his car, she stuck out her tongue at him as she did so and he shook his head at her in faux disdain. As he drove off, he honked at her and she turned around to wave at him. She was sure their paths would cross again, all she knew about him was his name, Lanre, no surname, no school to reference, nothing. Nothing but his dark blue Peugeot 404 car which had Lagos number plates, that’s all she had. How had she not met him before now? Maybe he’s from the island (Lagos Island), he’s certainly not from around here. Then again, how would she know, she’s been in school the past few years.

Her stomach grumbled so she hastened to Kola’s. She can worry about beautiful strangers when she’s not quite so hungry, she hoped Kola was at home, without a telephone at her own house, she couldn’t call to find out. How would she get back home otherwise? Kola was also her ride home.

‘Please be home, please be home,’ she willed her friends presence.