Chapter 4: Home

IBADAN, NIGERIA.

JUNE 2014

"Check mate old man!" I laughed while jubilating over my small victory. Then froze when my brain caught up with me. Oh My God!!! I just called my father, old man to his face.

Oh wow, America gave you balls. Welcome back to Nigeria where I will most likely receive a slap or admonition my age regardless.

My father, Mr. Williams Ore; A strict, hardworking man who hardly smiles. He was laughing loudly now surprisingly. "Ah, my baby is back o. It took you fifteen years to beat me in a game of chess. So I’m going to let your disrespect slide for only today, now go and help your mum out." he said, with his signature hard expression back in place.

Dem no dey warn Monkey twice.

"Thank you, sir" I said and ran off to the kitchen, breathing heavily. This my mouth will put me in trouble one day.

The smell of my favorite food greeted me; dodo (fried plantain) and peppered meat.

"Iya temi, Iya temi! olowo sibi” (Yoruba praise for someone who can cook) I hailed her. "Mami, I missed you o" I added, smiling widely.

She first rolled her eyes at me then acted like my praise had no effect on her, "So now you missed me right? But when you were over there you hardly called." A frown marred her beautiful features.

"Haaa mami I called you, but you know that I can't call to listen to you explain what happened in church, who just returned and how costly things are in the market na. `E ma binu (Don’t be angry)." I pacified. Anything for a larger share of this food.

"Okay o, see how skinny you are. You look like a refugee" she hummed. Her back turned towards me as she faced the stove, frying and flipping the dodo with the dexterity and expertise only attained by doing this continuously for years.

"Haba, Mummy this is a model’s shape fah" I motioned towards my body while turning slowly like I was auditioning for a fashion show. The real drama queen! I hailed her in my head. Sometimes, I think God used the same clay to make all of Nigerian mothers. They had a flare for drama and exaggeration.

"Omomi Oni shey model (My child won't be a model) o, it’s doctor she would be." I shook my head, instead of giving her the sarcastic response building in my head. "I'm a doctor already na" and rolled my eyes quickly so she wouldn't see.

I got home two nights ago. I had finished medical school and was finally back home. I was waiting for my NYSC call up letter. It turns out, I still have to serve and I wanted to do that in the North because I was tired of the West where I have lived most of my life. I would particularly like to have my place of primary assignment(PPA) at AKTH (Aminu Kano Teaching Hospital) Kano. I heard from Farida, my secondary school friend at Queens college that it was the best hospital in the North but my parents wanted me to stay here after being away from home for so long.

"Sisi o Sisi" my baby brother Deji said in a sing song voice, his bass voice showing.

Deji was my complete opposite; A bit chubby. He just finished secondary school, never serious and always mixed up in the wrong crowd. He was closer to my elder sister, Shayo who died three years back. He became worse since then. Mum worries so much about him.

"Deji, how far na?" I said while stuffing my mouth with food, he stole one of the peppered pomo (cow skin) and the look I gave him was one that could kill.

He showed me already chewed food in his mouth just to further irritate me then added, "See you like broom, and you love food more than your life" he laughed in that his annoying voice.

I hissed loudly with a clear irritated voice. “If I use my thin hand to slap your fat brain, it will reset." I shot back, not lifting my head from my plate.

"Oshe! I missed your savagery" he said and we both burst into laughter, that fuzzy feeling spread in my chest. I really missed home.

Four weeks later, I was out of the NYSC orientation camp and my PPA was UTH Ibadan. My dad worked it out there. So much for going up north. The keke napep (rickshaw) was my ride to the clinic. All was well until the driver picked up another lady on our way and I was sandwiched between two thick women. At this point, I made a mental note to always pay for two spaces. At least I proved my nosy brother wrong after he dared me to stop my 'oyinbo-ish' ways as he termed it.

Yet at this time, I still thought the day couldn't get any worse. When I got to the doctors’ lounge, my father's childhood friend; Dr Andrews Gbadepo had his secretary waiting for me. Doctor Andrews was my Nigerian Ben Carson, he made sure I got that scholarship abroad.

"Hello ma. Dr. Andrews will like to see you." she informed me.

"Alright" I replied, wondering what it was all about. I followed her lead.

“Good morning sir” I greeted, entering the plush office. Different plaques lined the walls of the room and a large quote that read "Treat the patient not the disease!" The man was behind a large desk, his potbelly evident through his lab coat and old spectacles sat on the ridge of his wide nose.

"Ah e kaaro o, (morning) sit down." He closed the patient case file before him and directed his intense gaze towards me. I wondered if he knew how intimidating he looked.

"I would like you to represent me at a shareholders’ meeting in Lagos today" he said, rearranging some items on his table before reclining on his chair to look at me.

"What concerns me with stock?" I mentally questioned, genuinely confused but still did not voice it out. Instead I said "Sir, I’m supposed to help Dr. Apo today with a surgery" trying to subtly decline.

"Oh! Don’t worry I will talk to him to have you replaced." He waved me off with his hand, dismissing me along with my objections.

Oooh God! What kind of bad belle is this na. First the thick women, now this? How do I miss surgery just to sit in a room full of old people?

"Alright sir" as I tried hard not to show how displeased I was facially. We always suck up to our elders even if it displeased us.

LAGOS, NIGERIA.

"Molue! molue! ogbeni (mister) gerrout jorh, sharp sharp (act fast), Come for your boli and stew..." The hustle and bustle of Lagos city greeted me loudly. This city can be defined as chaos; the rush was insane and loud.

I walked into the conference room only to find out that the meeting was over. Traffic was terrible.No meeting, no surgery, no free food. Well-done village people! I still blame all my mishaps on village people like most Nigerians.

"Excuse me, are you representing Andrews Gbadepo?" a sultry voice asked. I turned around to see who had spoken. The scent hit me first, the perfume was wow. It smelt like something from the Giovanni line; It was Italian and bold. Then the face hit me next; face beat to perfection so subtly, it made the makeup look natural yet chic on her fair plum skin. She had on a boss chic nude colored dress, four inches’ killer heels, a gold wristwatch, with four piercings in each ear. It amazed me the speed with which I used to size her up. In my defense she was sizing me up too. A look of disdain and borerdom greeted me.

Familiar insecurity washed over me as I remembered Matt's last words: "You aren't that beautiful, I managed you, tolerated your holier than thou attitude and you still expect me not to have what I want one way or the other?"

"Excuse me, I’m talking to you." she snapped rather rudely.

I was fast becoming irritated, "Sorry, yes I am representing Andrews Gbadepo” I replied and lifted my chin to meet her gaze. She turned to lead me wherever she had in mind in a perfect model-like strut. I followed her into a beautiful, well designed office and it was painted black. Few abstract art pieces lined the wall. Its decor consisted of a monochrome arrangement; black and white yet it looked good.

Wait, who paints their office black? My question was answered when the owner of the office raised his head; familiar honey brown eyes which I hadn’t forgotten even though I saw it just once. He looked the same as he did that day with his cold empty gaze. His eyes looked browner still and strangely like home.