The first time I was in the biggest and most famous bar in London neighborhood was about four years ago. I was twelve, childish, exuberant and careless. Layo and I were in our second year at the London Secondary School. It was when the annual ghetto festival was introduced. The news spread round the school like a wild fire. “There will be loud music, dancing competitions, free drinks and meat.” The students at school kept saying. Children are not allowed access to Razzi beer parlor but Layo and I were determined to sneak in and we did. We witnessed the entire event and stayed till dawn. From the erotic dance sessions to the free drinks that kept roaming the entire place, the place was filled up with people, old men with their young mistresses, young men accompanied by their girlfriends and bachelors too. Layo and I were the only children there. We were on a hide and seek mission throughout the event. The stench of alcohol was all over the place. We stood all night and the vanity sat
Fetty has just saved her mother's bar from demolition. Do you think this will close the recent gap between them?
It is a new day. Each day in London reminds us of the usual hustle and bustle. We call it ‘The everyday struggle.’ Everyone is always in a hurry in a space so small. Our neighborhood is said to be overpopulated which is a fact. There were households who lived in a one room apartment and the lucky ones had a two room apartment. It is possible to find seven or more people in a room. During the raining seasons, London becomes inhabitable, filthy and prone to illnesses. When it rains harder or when storms come, some roofs get pulled off, houses are flooded and living becomes a difficult activity. The lowest class of people are found in London. From the shoe repairers, laborers, drivers, local traders and so on. It is also a fact that the money earned in London is spent in London. The Greenland brothel and bars take a huge portion of the neigborhoods earnings. The people work like social animals and feed on crumbs. It was evident poverty dwelt with them. I will say London people are the
My mother and I ran as fast as our legs could carry us. We got to the London Clinic exhausted and anxious. We hurried to the reception and we were directed to the Doctor’s office by the receptionist. She looked at us and I knew she has seen more confused people than us besides it is a hospital. People are always running helter skelter here around here. We knocked on the hard office door and we heard a female voice asking us to come in. On the usual seat Dr. Charles sits was a young woman in her late twenties. She was fair, beautiful and had a veil tied round her head. She smiled and there was a sense of sweetness and tenderness radiating around her. From her looks, it was evident she is a Muslim. “Hello I am Dr. Amrah.” She said while signaling us to sit. “I am new here. I just replaced Dr. Charles.” She added. It then dawned on us that Dr. Charles has been transferred and we never knew. We nodded and she continued. “How can I help you?” she said while adjusting her v
We reached the clinic entrance then Layo squatted so Tami could hop down. “Thank you” said Tami. “Free ride huh?” I added. We all laughed and hurried to get a seat at the reception. Layo left. At the reception, there were few people seated there. This is obviously because we came very early. The clinic is always opene but the doctor comes in at around 9am. People who are always in a hurry come early so they could leave sooner. We were already seated with some other patients who were awaiting the doctor’s arrival. It was few minutes past 8pm. In London clinic, there is a receptionist who directs people, facilitates bill payment and schedules appointments with the doctor. There are two nurses who assist in running the clinic. One comes during the day and the other comes at night. One time, there was a cholera outbreak in the neighborhood. The entire clinic space was filled up. There was only Doctor Charles and the two nurses. They worked round the clock throughout the entire per
"I am no stranger here. " replied my father. "What? " screamed my mother in anger. Meanwhile, I was marveling at his audacity. Before KiKi could spill the beans, I interrupted. "We should all go inside. It is late already. " I said. "Yes of course. " said my mother quickly. "You guys need to sleep and besides there is school tomorrow. " she added. "But tommorow is Saturday. " retorted KiKi. "Why don't I tell you guys a story. " said my father. "Yeah. "Screamed my siblings in excitement. "Are You kidding me? " I muttered silently. I knew my mother couldn't stand the scene so I intervened. "Mother go Inside and get some rest. You look tired. " I said. "Of course replied my father. My mother hissed and went inside. Tami was already in our father's bossom. "I will tell you the tale of a man in a strange land. " began my father. "Seems we will be hearing tales of Libya today. " I said. He chuckled and continued. In his tale, he told us how a group of men left home for a futile journey. H
“Your daughter is my neighbor.” I began after sipping the cold water I was given then immediately dropped it on the little chair beside me “We share the same compound with your daughter. “ I added. The woman was on edge and her eyes kept rolling all over me. She wanted to hear more. “You know she has a daughter?” I asked. “She was two months pregnant when she left home. Her father and I never got to know the baby’s gender.” replied the woman. “Uhmm I see. She has a beautiful girl... Ajabo.” I said. “I have a granddaughter?” said the woman happily. “I will love to meet them but …” she stopped talking and peeped at the large room close to the living room. I instantly understood what she was doing. She was ensuring her husband wasn’t aware of the entire event going on in the living room. Mama Ajabo once told me of how strict her father is, how her mother was terrified of him and how he vowed to never allow her set foot in their home after she threatened to elope. I knew I had to leave
“Your daughter is my neighbor.” I began after sipping the cold water I was given then immediately dropped it on the little chair beside me “We share the same compound with your daughter. “ I added. The woman was on edge and her eyes kept rolling all over me. She wanted to hear more. “You know she has a daughter?” I asked. “She was two months pregnant when she left home. Her father and I never got to know the baby’s gender.” replied the woman. “Uhmm I see. She has a beautiful girl... Ajabo.” I said. “I have a granddaughter?” said the woman happily. “I will love to meet them but …” she stopped talking and peeped at the large room close to the living room. I instantly understood what she was doing. She was ensuring her husband wasn’t aware of the entire event going on in the living room. Mama Ajabo once told me of how strict her father is, how her mother was terrified of him and how he vowed to never allow her set foot in their home after she threatened to elope. I knew I had to leave
My father was buried amidst tears, wails and prayers. He was laid to rest in the London cemetery at the outskirt of the neighborhood. At his funeral service, the reverend consoled us with words from the scriptures, my mother was the first to bid him farewell with a hand full of sand as his coffin was lowered into the grave. She cried, stating how she has forgiving him and cursed his murderers. My siblings just discovered that the new neighbor and their favorite tale teller is their father. They cried uncontrollably and Tami our little brother, he cried because everyone around him cried. We were accompanied home from the cemetery in our black apparels and for a long time, no one said anything. While my father was being lowered to his grave, it dawned on me that I was never going to see him again. This journey wasn’t like his trip to Libya. He was going to a land of no return. Ever since my father was murdered, I kept blaming myself for being unreasonable, for being too rude to him an
I held my father’s diary and the weight of the content was making me sink in a literal way. “Lock the door let us go.” said my mother finally after several minutes of silence. I locked the door and my mother and I went to our room. “What should we do Fetty?” said my mother in a confused tone. I felt elated the moment my mother asked me what to do next. I never knew a moment will come when she will have to seek for my counsel. I sat by the edge of the bed then said “Before father died, he tried to warn me.” I began. “He said we were in danger and he moved in to our compound for a reason but I dint listen….I wish I did.” I lamented while rubbing my forehead with my left palm. My mother moved closer to me, held my hands and said “We will be fine Fetty.” “I know why you ignored his warning. The circumstance wasn’t favorable.” She added. “I will open the diary but you must promise me mother.” I said with fixed gaze. She nodded in affirmation.”Whatever outcome the content of this diary pr