Thug by Victor Oladejo
Spirits are citizens of this earth too, they leave among us, watch us, and see through us. They love this realm, the physical realm. They long to breathe, laugh, play, love, indulge in mischief, and be a part of all vanities within our reach as humans, but they can’t, because it is against the law. Only the living exist here. So when a spirit decides to appear in our realm, he possesses a body. It was on a Saturday when a spirit passed my brother, Bamidele. * It was raining when my father returned from his party meeting. His body was soaked, and his print shirt, like a sleeping slug, glued itself to his body and you could see the hairs on his chest pushing against it. My sister, Wumi came out of her room almost immediately with a towel as though she knew he would arrive that minute. “ Ekaabo sir”, I greeted and collected the small polythene nylon he was holding. “ Bawo ni Jimi?”, he asked and sat on a cushioned chair, wiping his body slowly with the towel, starting from his head. “ Fine sir, “ I replied. “ How was school, when did you return?” “ Two hours ago sir” I replied and pulled at the collar of my shirt, the cold air was nudging at my neck and giving me crazy chills. My sister left the parlour and returned with a tray of food. She set it slowly on the center table and left. “ Has Bamidele returned? “, my father asked and dropped the towel on the arm of the cushioned chair. “ No sir, “ I replied and hugged myself. “ We left the secretariat together, what could that boy be doing out there by this time ehen? Jimi do you have card ehen? Jo bami pe Bamidele”, he said and pulled the center table with his left hand and his right holding the tray firmly till it was close enough for him to eat comfortably. There was a knock on the door, I rose to check who it was. My father signaled at the window. I walked to it and pushed the blinds to see who it was. I smiled, it was Bamidele. Big bro! I rushed to the door and opened it. I opened my arms and hugged him. His body was rigid, drained of excitement and I could smell alcohol on his breath. Strange. I released him from my grip and he laughed. “ You are back, see my kid bro o, how school?” he asked. His breath smelt of rotten eggs now. He pulled at my cheek, then entered the house, shaking like a pawpaw tree in the wind as he went. I wiped my cheek and closed the door after him. Now the rain had stopped and the gutter at the front of the house was making slurping sounds as milk tins from the canteen at the other end of the street rolled through it. “ Where have you been ehen, don’t kill me o, I did not kill my parents. Check the time now and you know the election is here already.” He said and dropped a morsel in his soup. My brother stood still as though he were taking the words in, then he smiled and staggered down the hallway. My body shuddered. what had come to lose in my brothers’ head? I waited for my father to run after him and give him a sound beating. But he did not, instead, he shook his head and picked up the morsel drowning in his soup. I left for three months, now it felt like I had left for eternity. This wasn’t the father I knew. This wasn’t the man that locked me in the store, a dimly lit room with fat rats the size of a fist playing hide and seek among the sacks for one hour because I came home with a broken lip from a fight at school. I watched my father eat his food in silence till my mother came in with a bright hurricane lantern for the night prayers. Her prayer was short but filled with arrows that must kill her enemies in the neighborhood and the unseen forces trying to destroy the name of our family. After my mother and sister had left for their rooms, my father switched off the light and called me to his room. My father was seated on a chair close to the only window when I came, the room was sliced in half by the yellow rays of his touch, leaving the area close to his chair and the ancient bed close by in a wash of yellow while the rest of the room was swallowed in darkness. “ Come and sit here “, He said and patted the edge of his bed. After I had made myself comfortable on the bed, he cleared his throat. “ You might be wondering why I called you to my room at this hour after your long journey from Lagos, but you see, our elders say that the matter that has to be discussed at night, you don’t leave it till the morning” He cleared his throat again and dropped his torch on the ground, then slowly he brought his hands together in a heavy clap ending the buzz of a mosquito. “ I was in my room discussing with your mother when Bamidele came in. I asked if his oga released him from work because it was three in the afternoon. He said he was sent away from the shop by his Oga! Mr. Ola sent your brother from his shop! And on top of it, he accused him of selling twelve ozen of tiles behind his back. “ My body shuddered and my knees became weak. Oga Olu was a family friend and his son, Remi, was my best friend before I gained Admission to the University of Lagos. He paid my acceptance fee
