CHAPTER ONE

he volcanic eruption taking place in his trouser disappeared almost as quickly as it came. It was as though the heavens had sent a heavy rain to put out the fire burning in his trouser, but it was no rain. His mother’s voice brought everything to a standstill. He had been after this girl for more than six months but she had kept turning him down. It was his persistence that brought him to this stage, the stage where he was about to reap what his patience had brought him. Of all the time in the world mama had to come looking for him, why did it have to be now? Couldn’t she have waited for at least another ten minutes or if ten minutes was too much to ask why not five minutes? She rued his luck, he knew what it had cost him to get to this moment. The girl who had been saying ' stop, stop, not now' on the outside but on the inside shouting ' don’t stop, continue, fast' suddenly returned from whatever trance it was that had taken her. Her pride would be a thing of the past if mama saw him on top of her. As they both hurriedly arranged themselves, each one minding his own business with Michael parking his weapon in his trouser well, it was a case of whether to pretend to be asleep or not. He answered sheepishly as he opened the door, even he knew he sounded stupid. It was always difficult pretending to be innocent in such scenarios.

 “ Ma, hmmmm, ma, what is it? ” pretending sleep was hovering over his eyes while using his hand to clear his face. But mama was no kid, no one would make a fool out of her like this, beside, his opened zip and the volcanic eruption that had stained his trouser had sold him out but for some reason mama decided not to talk, she pretended she didn’t see it. Mama knew within her this would be topic of discussion for another good day. 

Things were not fine, he assumed as much but why, why, why would mama come into the house shouting his name like this? At this point, it was not why mama shouted his name that mattered but why mama was yet to say something, another day and mama would have spilled it already, even more than he wanted to know. That was what earned her the name BBC, her ability to ' report' things as they were happening. Of late, her children had upgraded it to CNN. They realised she wasn’t doing it for gossip sake but to always serve as warning sign and caution for her children. Michael knew he had to ask. 

“What is wrong mama?” 

“You must come with me immediately,” mama was dragging him.

“Where?” Michael asked while turning round to look at his room as though he had left a pot of oil on fire, of course what he left was hotter than fire. Just when he was about to reap what his perseverance and patience had borne, mama deemed it fit to casually walk in with a straw that broke the camel's back. Why would mama choose this time? Why would mama run in shouting his name like that?  Even he now knew there had to be a serious reason, something that had gotten mama distraught, surely, it wasn’t to just ruin his moment, though if she had known something was going down like this, she would have still ruined it. 

“To the police station, Mike, get me to the police station now.” Mama managed to stay. She would not drop it all at the same time, she would take her time to make sure she still had his attention, typical mama.

“Police station?” Michael sounded surprised. “What is happening at the police station?”

“Not what, Mike, rather who, who is at the police station?” She still held on to the rest of the information. “Hurry, get the keys, take me to the station now.”

“Mama my bike has been down for months and you know it. We can’t use my bike.”

“Not your key, your dad’s key, get the key to his car.”

The look she gave spoke volumes. “You don't really mean that, do you?” He had managed to say but yes, mama meant it. You couldn’t blame Michael for being sceptical about that idea. 

 You see, papa, Michael’s dad is a complex human being. A retired police officer  and an epitome of discipline, he and discipline were meant for each other, the kind of father who would beat his children so they would silently wish death would 'touch' him and then release him so he would come back a changed man or perhaps, possess some supernatural powers so they would teach him a lesson he would never forget in his life. But thoughts like these were just wishes and nothing but wishes_ if wishes were horses, then I would do this, I would do that, but no, wishes aren’t horses. He would blame his kids for something even it were his fault. For example, he raised his children to always mind their business, always stay at home to study, don't follow the bad boys. And that was how his children grew up, well maybe with the exception of one, slightly stubborn.    

 Now as grown up kids, they would always stay at home during holidays, eat, watch movies, play games, sleep, and do some chores. Papa would now wish they would go out, so he will do what? only he knew, but they were not used to it, that was not how he had raised them; or maybe if a visitor comes to the house, they would pretend to be asleep so they won't meet the visitor, why? They didn't even know, maybe they were shy or timid but papa would put the blame at their feets. 

Worse still, he wouldn't let anyone touch his car, sometimes they thought he loved his car more than them. If his salary came in, he spent most of it on his car, though in fairness to him, he gave them the best education he could afford, but his car was a no go area, the  closest  they could get to the car with his approval was maybe if they were to wash it. 

 There was a day that papa came back home and angrily reminded them that his friend's son knows how to drive and sometimes runs errands with his father's car. To him, his own children were all unserious for not knowing how to drive. Except Michael who can barely move a car. But for goodness sake, with whose car were his children supposed to learn? The youngest son thought learning with papa's car was going to be the last thing he would wish for. 

So when mama brought the idea of using his dad's car Michael was right to be skeptical.

 However, papa had traveled, so the car was just parked and Michael had learnt how to drive, not from papa's car of course. He got the keys and they were soon on their way, to where? A police station, but which of the police stations in this cold city? Mama didn't know the exact police station, she had to call her informant, whoever it was for more information and she told Michael, “  Gada police station.”    

  The drive to Gada station would take at least twenty minutes, sometimes even up to forty minutes or more depending on the traffic. The road construction and rehabilitation came with‬ its own challenges. That was the case here. Driving mama had its own challenges, especially if mama sat beside the driver. Michael had seen it happen so many times and had actually felt some sympathy for papa, today he was driving and mama seated beside him. 

Mama had never learnt how to drive but would talk and correct as though she were a professional driver, as though she had learnt how to drive. Michael could bet mama had never used her hand to touch the steering wheel. Well, except maybe she was trying to clean some dirt her eyes had seen on papa's steering wheel, or in a commercial car, or maybe held the steering wheel and assumed she was driving as kids would do, but that was something somebody's eye was yet to see. As Michael sped, she started , ‘do this,’ ‘dodge that pothole,’ ‘avoid that car,’ ‘don't get too close to that car,' ‘why are you holding the steering like this?'

No wonder one day while on their way to town, papa had said he would drop her so she would join a commercial vehicle. She didn't say a word again. She forced herself to sleep, or at least convinced herself she was asleep, maybe she just decided not to say a word again and that was what she did until they arrived town; women!