Tuesday, July 31, 2012

The Diaries of Kundili The Gateman



Chapter 1:

Simply amazing!
Kai!
The way small madam and her bobo dey fire gun for her papa and mama bed ehn, chai! The sounds dem dey make alone sef dey give me kongi for my duty post talk less of when I dey watch the live blue film from my artificial cinema – the brick arranged delicately on my ragged bench directly overlooking the room. No wonder say at my age I dey wake up with, er...wetin dem dey call am again? Yes! 'Wet dreams'! Na so! My potential pikin go dey pour waste comot for my thing. The only time wey I come want make e work – when I nack my girlfriend apako to give am belle, so she no go run away with that yaga yaga Yoruba yahoo boy, Mutiu, – e no work o!
Every morning I wake up with the same palaver: which side of bed Oga go wake up? Walahi! My life go simple if I just know which side. Na the side e wake up dey determine the car which I suppose wash and which one I no suppose wash; the height of the flower I suppose cut;  what time I suppose on the generator; even when I suppose wake for morning. I remember the day wey he fight with big madam wey she lock am outside the house. Ha-ha, yeye man, I no fit laugh. That night sha, na inside Jeep he sleep and by the time me wake up for 6am say make I go on generator, instead of make generator on, na Oga dirty slap light my face. All the vex wey he vex from night till morning na im e pour for my face. When I ask am wetin I do, he talk say I wake up for six, say shey I no know say e too early? Say na so my waka for early morning dey disturb am like alarm wey e no fit kill. The day after that day, I wake up for six-thirty, e talk say me I wake up too late, say I no make am ready for meeting he get for eight o’clock. He come tell Caro, the house girl, say make she no give me food till evening. Chai! I don suffer! Abeg wetin be the difference between six and six-thirty. Tsk-tsk. Anyway sha, na God wan kuku punish am, na why He give am bad pikin be that.
I dey always hear say only pikin dey spoil, I no believe am till I see the wonders my little madam dey perform. At eighteen, her bed don spoil finish sote na her parents bed she dey use do stadium. From one small boy to another; from Carrot Jeans to Boot-cut boy, she just dey change them like cloth for body. The clothes she dey where nko? Clothes wey fit make babalawo curse himself; wey fit make Reverend Father forget holy creed; wey fit make mad man well; wey fit make Senator forget im salary and allowance; wey fit make Dame speak correct oyinbo; wey even fit make my Oga almost forget say na him be her papa. Clothes wey fit make me, Kundili, piss for body. Kasa! I still fit remember that day very well, why I no go remember the day wey change my life forever, na my room I dey jeje dey listen to that small boy wey name im album after woman toto. Just wait; no make your blood hot, I go reach there very soon.
But I don try for my small madam o! Na me dey help am with all the party she dey do for house. Na me be DJ, cleaner, bouncer, even the comedian sef na me. Abi dem think say I no know when dem go dey laugh me and my oyinbo. Waka! Anyway, na the money she dey pay me I dey use buy extra Claro and Ogogoro for Mama Sikira Joint. So two cut two, me no need vex. Some of her friends dey make me vex sometimes, especially that her last bobo, the one wey put me for kasala wey big pass my head, Benson. Dem no know how important I be to Tonto. Na me dey help her enter house for midnight when she come back from party for town. Na me dey clean her vomit and her Moto before im mama and papa wake up for morning. If no be for me, Oga and big madam for done kill her finish. But if I know wetin she be wan use me do for that day, I for hold my piss say no sharp sharp. See my life now, na inside one cold room wey dey smell of piss I dey, dey count my broken eggs.
That day, wey I piss for body; wey small madam turn me to nonentity, ‘scallywag’ like Oga dey call am, I dey my room dey enjoy the only time for day I fit enjoy – afternoon, when I hear ‘koko koko’ for my door. I say ‘who is it’, she say ‘Tonto’. I stand up sharp sharp say ‘come in’ with shock for my face. With all the parole wey we dey do, she never come my room before. But as she enter all that comot for my mind; ma body turn leaf for harmattan season – stiff, crunchy and shaky like er…co-o-ornflakes. My body cold for outside, my blood dey hot for inside. I no even know when sweat begin comot for my body as my heart no gree rest like antelope wey Lion dey chase for back. She where those her red ‘kokoka’ shoe with the bottom of her skirt close to her waist like politicians dey to money – dangerously close.The only thing I fit talk for her top be say I fit see two pointy things dey shoot out for am. I no need see any other thing before my mouth begin misfire as I say ‘W-w-what do you want’. She no even answer me, she just dey near me with her witchcraft eyes wey fit turn Einstein to mumu, until I start to dey feel my piss dey run for my sokoto. By the time she finish raping my shaky-shaky lips, the only thing wey remain for my brain na – nothing. Nothing! Na me tell you! Na like say she give me jazz, because I no remember anything after that. For something wey I suppose put for mind till I go die – me, the girl of my dreams, one bed – all I remember na torn clothes, my John Thomas rising and we falling.
Falling we did, but the next day’s sun rising I no see for Senator and Mrs Dike’s house or anywhere wey fit resemble house o!
H’m, guess where I dey now.
Yes! Correct!
Prison.
© @IdiAce
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