As the aging headmaster gingerly mounted the podium, the students rose to their feet and greeted him in unison. Obiora Okpata was one of them. As he looked at the headmaster, he wondered if, like him, the elderly man had eaten anything all day, or his own lack of food was beginning to blur his sight. The man walks like a crushed cockroach struggling to stay alive, Obiora thought to himself as the umpteenth pang of hunger struck his flat belly.
He remembered the fight that took place the previous night between his parents, and it was not pretty. During the hot exchange of words inside their stuffy one-room apartment, his mother, popularly called Mama Obi by the neighbours, cursed the day she met his father, saying her spirit warned her that the man standing before her and grinning at her had no trace or ounce of prosperity in him, but she was too foolishly blown away by his handsome looks to care for that. Obiora’s father had replied by saying that her bad luck was responsible for his unfortunateness, citing how thriving he had been before she came into his life. And the night ended with Papa Obi furiously kicking away the pot of scarcely delicious egusi soup, the proposed dinner that his wife had managed to put together for the family of six, Obiora being the eldest of four underfed boys.
The baritone voice of the headmaster brought Obiora back to the present. The rumour quietly spreading across the community is that the headmaster is preparing for an early retirement due to a recurring chest pain that just will not go away permanently. His successor is yet unknown, but for today, he is still in charge and that confers on him the privilege to introduce the person for whom the entire staff and students of Benedict Foster Memorial Grammar School have gathered. The expected visitor chose that moment to step into the expansive school hall and the students rose again to acknowledge him by clapping excitedly and whispering among themselves. Yes, it was truly him, Engineer Josiah Njoku, recipient of both national and international scholarships and illustrious son of their community. Engineer Njoku, fluent and charismatic, speaking English like Queen Elizabeth and Ibo like the Obi of Onitsha. Engineer Njoku, who has travelled to several European countries on the sponsorship of the Nigerian government. Engineer Njoku, an alumnus of BFM, as the school is popularly called.
The headmaster patiently waited for the uproar to end before carrying out his assignment. After everyone were seated, he smiled and began the story of a small boy who he first met many years ago, crying because he didn’t want to come to school. His father’s promise to buy him his favourite toy did nothing to make him feel better. The headmaster recounted how he pacified the boy who was still clinging to his mother’s wrapper and refused to let go. Eventually, he did and even allowed the headmaster to hold his hand and lead him away to class as his parents looked on in amazement. The headmaster signaled to them to quietly take their leave before the boy changes his mind. The boy turned and waved at his parents before they were out of sight. The headmaster went on to say that despite the difference between their ages, the small boy became his close friend and the small boy is no other than Engineer Josiah Njoku. He then called on him to join him on the podium amidst thunderous claps.
As Obiora looked on at the hugely successful young engineer, he saw a future version of himself, the life he wants to live, and the path he hopes to tread. At that moment, he forgot the nauseating poverty at home and the hunger that was mocking his insides. Obiora longed for what Engineer Njoku has. He was oblivious of the crowd around him as he kept his gaze on the man who now stood alone on the podium after the headmaster returned to his seat. Students and staff also lowered themselves down to their seats. Only Obiora was still standing until his friend, Chike, roughly pulled at him.
After reintroducing himself, Njoku appreciated the entire school for the warm reception given to him and particularly thanked the headmaster who has been there for him since he lost his beloved parents in a car accident. He got his audience reeling with renewed excitement when he announced that the entire school is invited to his forthcoming wedding. When the noise had died down, he went on to address all and sundry, citing the hurdles he faced while climbing the ladder of success and the many people he met on his way up. The engineer was repeatedly emphatic about his parents’ involvement in his success story but he wished they were around to see the results of their hard work and prayers for him.
While Chike and the other boys debated on the price of Njoku’s suit and shoes, Obiora was lost in thought. The engineer’s face kept appearing in his mind, his eloquent words ringing in his ears, while his own belly become bolder in reminding him of its emptiness. He sighed severally as he thought of all he had heard from Njoku. Hopefully, Mama would have sourced for garri for the family to drink, he thought to himself. If he was to be as successful as Njoku, he would need his parents. If he must turn out like that brilliant engineer, he needs help. Mama could still be counted upon at least, but Papa? The answer was obvious. What does one expect from a drunkard?
Obiora could still remember the day his father came home, heavily drunk and looking like he fell into mud a couple of times. How he managed to get home was still a puzzle. He raved about his rising fortune that later became a misfortune, no thanks to Mama Obi. He raved about how he will bounce back and kick her out to marry a new wife. He raved about Obiora taking after his mother as if he was a female child. He raved on and on until there was nothing else to rave about. Oddly, his mother didn’t say a word. Thank God she didn’t, maybe it would have turned out worse. But he didn’t rest until he had landed a deafening slap on Somto, Obiora’s immediate younger brother’s left cheek. The poor boy looked at his mother for help but he gone none. Mama Obi seem to have promised herself that the only voice the neighbours will hear is that of her drunk husband. On that day, Obiora concluded that he had no father.
His guess was a right one when he got home. Mama Obi had gotten garri on credit and soaked it well to swell before the boys settled down to devour it. Somto, Ebube and Chukwuka were all ready for the drinking feast. To their greatest surprise, their eldest brother declined the invitation. Mama Obi was shocked as well. She called her son aside and asked him what the problem was. Obiora answered his mother that his dreams are bigger than his appetite. Mama Obi was lost. And Obiora told her everything that happened in school while his younger brothers drank on. Mama Obi sighed and reassured him of her unceasing support for his education. She was able to persuade him to join his brothers before they finished the garri.
As Obiora lay on the mat that night, he resolved to do all it takes to be educated. He will not solely depend on his mother’s help. Much as he will be grateful to her, there is so little she can do. And his father was undoubtedly not to be counted upon. He knew his future lies in his hands, and his dreams are exclusively his to fulfill.
Read – Dear Diary – A Short Story by Ammar Somji, Tanzania
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