A Journey Home…1

It was raining heavily, the flood gates of heaven was opened and water poured continuously. For the past half hour, Femi sat watching the rain, his thoughts running wild, thinking everything about nothing in particular but having this facial expression showing how far his mind had travelled.

He wondered if things would have been different if he had kept mum about everything. Now he is forced to live a new life, start afresh, new friends, it was like someone erased his past and dumped it in the trash can.

6000km away from where he knew as home, where he lived all his life, in London, England. Now he is forced to call this new place home. Everything felt so different and unwelcoming, no thanks to his mother who thought it best to relocate back to his motherland Lagos, Nigeria.

Femi brought out his notepad and began to write something. He was never the type to keep a diary but he felt it was necessary for him to keep track of things, feeling very little in this big world.

“Femi! Femi!! Femi!!!” The sound of his name woke him up from his trance, he was already daydreaming and didn’t want to be disturbed. “Oluwafemi Joshua Martins!!!” The voice called out one more time and it was only one person in the world who called him by his full name, his mom, very few even knew it. He kicked and punched the air and squeezed his face like a poor puppy chased out of the house, holding himself from shouting back. “Yes mom, I’ll be down in a second” he answered at the top of his voice. His thick british accent betrayed his maternal lineage. Most would be hard pressed to believe he was Nigerian the way he talked although his dark complexion and a rounded nose would argue otherwise. He had fine features and was well built for his age, if not a little bit stout.

Femi stood up from the bed and walked towards the mirror in his room, staring, and his reflection stared back. His hair was dark, thick and full, he really loved to keep his fros. He rushed downstairs after throwing on a polo shirt and a short. Getting to the parlour, he didn’t see his mom and wondered where she was. The tv was turned on with an Oprah show televising, his mom sure loved this woman and he hadn’t seem to come to a reasonable reason why. The sweet aroma emanating from the kitchen gave him a clue and he tiptoed towards it. The door was left ajar against the kitchen ethics of his mother, perhaps she wanted him to just walk in. He crept in silently and watched his mom doing the dishes, slowly and quietly he crept towards her to avoid giving away his presence.

Femi wrapped his arms around his moms waist and gave her a big hug from behind. She was startled and shot it a “do not do that again” look. He laughed and kissed her on her cheek. Mrs kemi Joyce Martins was an amazingly beautiful woman at 38. She had a cute rounded face with a small nose and beautiful pursed lips only outshone by her eyes, brown and glittery. At 5.6, she was of average height coupled with wide hips and a glowing dark skin, it would be hard to fathom her real age under this circumstances because she looked so young.

“So what’s with the love this morning Mr Femi” she asked in a slightly watered down british accent. “I thought we weren’t on talking terms since I ruined your life by making you come back home to Nigeria” she asked. Femi gave her a playful frown and replied “you haven’t ruined it just yet but on the verge of it”, “but you can make it right, let’s go back please!”. “You know you are the best, sweetest mother ever and you always give me what I want” he added looking teary eyed. “Josh you know sweet words and a sad face can’t change this”, “for once I won’t oblige you, this is how its got to be son”. “How are you holding up anyway, any further relapse?” She asked him without looking his way trying to avoid his gaze. “I’m all right ma, perhaps the change of environment has one good thing to offer”.

On hearing that, Mrs kemi beamed and kissed him on his cheeks, “its just a phase son, you’ll thank me soon enough” “Now we eat, help me set the table will you?” Setting the table was perhaps the only chore Femi was capable of, no thanks to his over pampering mother. He got the good things in life, perhaps the best, whatever he wanted was his. As an only child, his mom wanted to replace whatever she couldn’t give in attention and siblings with whatever he asked for. A few minutes past by and the table was all set. Femi served his food and made way to the sitting room only to be cut off by his mother, “no,no,no, you sit with me at the table” she told him while giving him a stern look. He wanted to protest but the look on her face told him otherwise. “But why?” he questioned, “its not like dad’ is here anymore and we are one big happy family” he said rolling his eyes. The silence that followed was deafening and he knew he has said too much. He quietly waltzed to the dining table, his head low and sat by the right side of his mother. She said nothing and proceeded to serve her food and passed him freshly squeezed orange juice she just made.

“How old are you again son?” Kemi asked not looking at him and he laughed and replied, “I thought you where my mother, I’m 16!” She scoffed and gave him a stern look, “you need to start growing up, witty just like your father and charming as well”. Femi laughed loudly and sarcastically, “but I am grown up, see this muscles am building” he said while flexing them in his mom’s face. “My mom is having a crush on me just like they all do”. She smiled gently and pinched his legs underneath the table, “of course my charming prince, I have no choice, I fell for the man before you and you have his looks and resemblance in character”

“And not his infidelity” Femi added avoiding the gaze of his mother while feigning a cough. Everywhere fell silent and she told him gently but sternly, “I won’t have you talking about your father like that”. That was enough to make him get the message.

They ate quietly while cool music bellowed in the background. Kemi stood up and walked towards her room, she came back with something in her hands, a plastic bag and set it beside herself. Femi glanced at it with the corner of his eyes not attempting to look at it straight on. He was fumbling with his food now to the chagrin of his mother. She ignored him and put her hand into the bag and brought out something and placed it on the table. Femi shrieked “oh my, you got me a phone finally”. He picked the pack up and danced like a father with a new born child to the amusement of his mother. He went towards her and planted kisses all over her face while pouring words of adoration with each kiss.

She laughed happily, his happiness was all she craved. “Now sit down and let’s have a talk” she said to him. “I got you this so I could keep in touch, you would be without me most of the time now as I would be away at work and you in school”. The word school felt like a stabbing pain in his ears but he did his best to hide his disappointment from her. “We have already talked about this before and I want you to get it clearly” she told him. “This is your home now, tomorrow we leave in the morning for school, we leave for Unilag”

“I’ll be preparing” he said to her and he walked up to his room. He setup the phone and put in the date, it was August 8th 2011.

Posted from WordPress for blackberry by Ufuoma Ozore