His Thoughts

To: HR@ukohassociates.com
From: JustinFreedom@yahoo.com
Subject: Job Application

Sir,
This is in response to your advert of 12th June, 2013 in the Daily Sun magazine for an Administrative assistant in your Ijebu branch.

Your need for a person with hands-on experience and a quick mind suits me perfectly. I am confident that our partnership will be symbiotic.

Please find attached my credentials.

Yours’ faithfully,
Freedom Justin.

Baby shrieked as he pressed the ‘send’ button. He ignores her and proceeds to ‘Twitter’, patiently looking for the handles of the more than ten firms he’s just sent his CV to.

He finds one: @thepelicangroup123. He turns to baby and says ‘ever thought about being a bird?’ she replies with another shriek. ‘I’ll take that as a no’ and he returns to Twitter.

Outside the dark stuffy room, lit only by his computer, Tilewa walks her husband to his car. As they chatter away, Justin peeps through the window. He looks on as they kiss and hug goodbye.

Azizi’s crisply ironed shirt creased up a bit. So much for a hug! Tilewa walks back to their flat as Sani opens the gate for Azizi.

‘What wouldn’t I do to have my shirt crease up every morning once again?’ Justin asks Baby.

She replied with a look that said: ‘don’t ask me, what do I know?’and a toy bell that jingled tcha! tcha! tcha! tcha!…

With the goodbye party over, and Baby jingling and shrieking, Justin returns to Twitter.

He writes: Pelican Group @thepelicangroup123
Good day, care for a quick-witted, can-cope-under-pressure guy as a secretary? Well, I am all you need. Here is my CV.

And he adds a link to it. He sends a similar ‘advert’ to @associatesukoh and two others. ‘Four down’, ‘six to go’ he sighs.

He continues to search as the door creaks open and Iye enters the room. She glances at the computer. ‘They’ll never hire you if you sound so needy’.

He ignores the comment and continues with Twitter.

His thoughts
When will what I do not have a dent to it? I am working hard to get a job, right? My interviews will bear fruit, wouldn’t they?

I wouldn’t mind being a pelican this moment, so I can fly and fly and fly…away from all these irks (I wonder if Iye would come with me though).

Iye lifts Baby and wipes her nose, telling her how much she loves her no matter what, how God has blessed her future and has kept a job for her even if daddy has refused to ‘claim’ his.

Baby shrieks some more as if she understood what’s been said, suddenly filled with childish glee and joy, clasping her hands over her head and giggling at her mum, as if trying to jump off her mother’s arms.

Justin finishes with Twitter and heads for the bathroom.
‘Did you remain some water for me?’

Iye coos at Baby, ignoring Justin. He repeats himself, this time more forcefully.
‘What should I tell him, um Baby? Should I say the flesh my body carries is twice as his? Should I tell him I had to scrub well, sake of the smoke that my skin smells of?’

‘Or should I say I couldn’t because I simply didn’t want to?’ ‘Or should I tell him I am fed up, we are fed up?’
He wraps a towel round his waist and walks to the bathroom, gingerly taking steps as if hot coals were burning his feet.

His thoughts

I love my wife. Our lives got emptier when we lost our moms and my job within months. Need I say the pain was indescribable?

Then we lost our house. If not for Azizi’s ‘lending’ us his Boys’ Quarters, I don’t know what would’ve become of us.

Though Iye’s been very helpful, frying akara and yam to sell to school kids and early risers, it pains me when she speaks this way.

I AM TRYING, FOR GOD’S SAKE!

She’s been threatening to leave me. Whatever happened to our ’till death do us part vow?’

‘And don’t bother asking for mai-ruwa money, as I do not have it’ Iye shouts after him.
He surveys the bathroom. He finds Iye’s black laced underwear staring at him from the scooping bowl in the bucket.

That had been, amongst other things, his anniversary present to her…a year ago. Of course, it is special (maybe that’s why she still had it) but to know she still wears it made his knees wobble.

He walks out of the bathroom, a cockroach following suit. He hangs the lingerie on the cloths line, dons an over-size shirt he picked from there and knocks on Azizi’s door.

He knocks a second time, was about to knock a third when he noticed the in-busy-out arrow placed on ‘out’.

He started to walk back to their room, surprised he hadn’t noticed Tilewa’s departure, wondering how he was going to get water to bath, praying he doesn’t get late to his interview when Sani, the gate-man called out to him.

Sani’s unsteady gait made him look like a swing that swayed sideways, instead of back and forth. Justin let out a chuckle. It wouldn’t hurt to ask Sani for water.

‘Oga, ina kwana sir?’
‘Yes Sani, good morning. What is it?’
‘Oga, I get message por you prom big Oga. Him say make I tell you say im wan make your house gidan hire sir’
‘You mean Azizi asked you to tell me he wants to rent the BQ?’
‘Yes oga, haka ne oga’.
‘Ok, thanks’

His Thoughts
…We are doomed!
…Why didn’t Azizi tell me himself?
…Where are we going to take shelter now?
…How will I tell Iye she might move into an uncompleted building…again?
…What about Baby?

He walked to the mango tree in between their quarters and Azizi’s, cloths line in hand. He had never noticed how sturdy its branches are, how the harmattan dried the leaves so badly…

Thirty minutes later
‘Madam please wait outside, this is an emergency ward!
‘But is he going to be ok?’ He is still breathing, right? Doctor, please tell me he will make it, Please doctor!
‘Nurse, please take this woman out of here now!

The nurse gently guides Iye away from the ward, all the time interjecting Iye’s pleas for her husband’s life to be saved with ‘we will do our best ma’.

Iye rocks herself back and forth as she sits on a chair in the waiting room. Her bodice clung to her skin, soaked in an amalgam of Justin’s saliva and her sweat. The pounding in her head made her feel dizzy, increasing the more as her phone began to ring.

‘Iye, how is he doing?’
‘I don’t know o, they are working on him. How is Baby?’
‘She’s ok. I just fed her. Azizi is on his way home, is it ok if we come over?’
‘It’s ok. I am here’

Her Thoughts
Justin, I am very sorry. Please don’t leave us, please Justin!

Why did I scream at him? Why did I threaten to leave? Why wasn’t I more supportive?

Why did he have to do this to himself? Couldn’t he have thought about Baby or even me?

I promise I will continue to fry; I will fry more and more. Or even look for something better. Or I will stop being proud and ask my sister for help.

We will pull through, Justin. We will get that job, we will find another house!

You didn’t have to…try to do away with yourself just because of that for chrissakes!

Please Justin, please…don’t leave us!

Later

‘I am sorry Mrs. Freedom; we did all we could…

Not waiting for the statement to be completed, Iye started to embrace the doctor, as if seeking for comfort, and then in a flash…slapped him across the cheeks.

Azizi struggled to take Iye off Doc, all the while apologizing profusely.

Baby began to cry, a confused Tilewa took her out of the waiting room to keep her quiet.

There were tears and tears and more tears…

Justin’s Email
To: JustinFreedom@yahoo.com
From: HR@peachesenterprises.com
Subject: Congratulations!
From all of us at Peaches Enterprises, we are pleased to inform that your interview was successful; your appointment letter awaits you at our front desk. The deadline for collection is today. Looking forward to working with you.