CRASS WORLD

CRASS WORLD
D.M. Aderibigbe
 
         He sat on a pavement at the eastern end of the historical Rowe Park, in the Adekunle area of Lagos, built by the British colonial government before they closed down their shops in Nigeria in 1960. Tears watered his bushy eyelash. He sorrowfully watched as joy pervaded the air of the zippy environment. To his left was the Children’s Arena, where delirious kids rode on plastic cars, steeds, electronic motorcycles and other miscellaneous toys; the chuffed parents cheered their beloved products on.  This recast his mind to his woe-be-gone years as a nipper.  He was as good as flung by God from Heaven to Earth. His dad absconded with a paramour when he was barely 6 months old, so he then heard from his mum, but she died when he was 12. Before his mum relocated to heaven, she constantly struggled to stamp her feet on the face of penury that was their lot.  Since her death, his life had been a solitary journey through the storms, deserts, cataracts and all the faults life had to offer. He didn’t have any family or relations. His mother never showed him to any before she died, and none ever showed their faces in the tiny flea-pit in which he and his mother had laid their heads for 12 years; not even his mother’s parents or brothers.  He hustled through primary and secondary school, paying the P.T.A Fees with the sweat he scooped from hawking sachet water and mentholated palms. Being an auspicious lad, expressly in the field of humanities, he won a scholarship to study History in the University of Benin, where he met his current ordeal, masked in pulchritude. Her name was Sade; she became his first true relationship since his mum transited.  She had covered his naked emotion with 2 years’ of genuine love before she was declared missing, three days back. He had searched for her everywhere, went to the police, media houses and religious centres, almost to no end except for a white garment prophet who told him she could never be found again, that her innocent blood had been used to pay the price for her late father’s numerous obnoxious deeds.  He didn’t believe the prophet and had decided to come to the park; perchance she could be beneath the discoloured sward of the park, hiding her wonderful face.

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        Someone called his name, the voice was an acquaintance. He turned around continuously like a spinning ceiling fan, to fathom who was calling him. It was his missing girlfriend. Her pitiable face put up a sad smile, she waved to him, and vapourized instantly, before he could pronounce a word. He fell to his knees on the shrunken grass of the aged park and shouted “Sade! Sade! Sade!”  stretching his hands out and grabbing the air. Parents went to their children, held them tightly. They suspected he was some abductor, putting up a façade, they also held the possibility of him being a madman. None of them saw genuineness in his sorrow.  A bunch of security men, spiced with policemen in blue and black, came to the raucous scene and picked him up. He didn’t stop shouting and hammering “Sade! Sade! Sade!” as they led him away.  The park returned to its normal rhythm after his departure, none of those who witnessed the disheartening event deemed it fit to have the minutest compassion for him. They continued frolicking with their families.

©2012 This work is the property of the author.

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  1. D.M. Aderibigbe is a 23 year old writer from Nigeria. I thought this a distinctive piece of writing.

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