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20/01/2020 3:57 pm
LOVE AND I
Many times, I stare in the mirror,
Wondering how I got into this mess.
Love can be selfish,
When one isn't with the right lover.
Love starts like the best thing happening to you,
Then ends with the question,
'How did I get into it?'
Love camouflages.
In half a decade,
I have four love books written in my heart,
And I do not look like my real self anymore.
Love transformed me already.
Love is unfair;
Those with good heart
Are the unluckiest,
Tasting its sour part.
The tears I have shed
In the last few years,
Can keep thousands of fishes
Alive in a pond.
I am not the same that I used to be.
Love hates me,
And I hate love.
We rather stay enemies forever.
©Vikjtaar
Victor Apata
#ANSAPoetOfTheWeekContest
06/09/2023 3:42 pm
The first time Udoka noticed that Peku wasn't around when he came to the field, he didn't think much of it. Perhaps reality had hit him; he was simply a poorly compensated ball boy whose reward for dutifully running after the ball when it was out of play and returning it to the players was an insincere thank you that hesitantly fell out of the mouth of the player to whom he returned the ball. Occasionally, a player would dig his hand deep enough into his pocket and draw out its content, usually a cigarette sticks, a lighter, a condom and some squeezed naira notes. A mint flavoured candle or bubble gum might just as well be among these items and such were his lucky days. The player would beckon on him to come, and he would rush to the player and cup his hands even though the candy or bubble gum could fit into one palm, and then pushing his knees forward, he said thanks you a million times before proceeding to devour his snack.
No one knew his name, he was about eight or nine but was small for his age hence the players nicknamed him Peku. He looked five, but had the wit of a teenager and the resolve of an adult. He came to the field every evening and as they played football, he picked the ball when it went out of play. No one really noticed his presence or appreciated what he did till he wasn't around for three consecutive trainings. Only then did Udoka and his teammates realise how much of a chore it was to pick up balls that had gone out of play. Often, it caused friction between the boys as no one was willing to retrieve the ball.
Femi was the first to speak out about it.
"Where Peku dey sef?"
Had he asked the question a week earlier, the boys would have dismissed it as idle talk. But now, even if they did not bother so much about the wellbeing of Peku, they realised that he made their play a lot less exhausting.
"I wonder too," Udoka replied.
He was going to suggest that they paid Peku a visit but he thought better of it. To start with, they didn't even know his name not to mention his address, and on the off chance that they located him, what would they say? Hello Peku, how would you like to resume picking balls?
Udoka was especially fond of Peku. His mother had often said that he had a spirit that appealed to children, particularly the less privileged children. His experience with Peku proved that she was right. Often, Peku would come to him while he tied his shoe laces in preparation for a match or training exercise.
"Good evening, Uncle ''
He'd always pronounce the word as onKU, stressing the second syllable. Frequently, Udoka spared him some change and he was always very grateful. He was the only kid Udoka knew who said God bless you when he received a gift.
On one of such days, he offered him money but Peku declined.
Udoka was taken aback. At first, he thought it was because it was double the usual amount he gave him and Peku wanted to be modest so he tried to persuade him to receive it. Peku was defiant.
"Uncle, abeg buy me socks instead."
Socks! What did he need socks for? It was March and the weather was hot. Of all things, Peku would request for a pair of socks that day.
Peku explained that he had watched the State football team train a couple of times and was interested in joining the team. The coach however said he would be needing boots and socks if he was to join them and train. He had an old pair of boots but no socks.
Udoka laughed hard before proceeding to tell him that the coach must have lied to him, that things didn't work that way.
In the usual manner of a child, Peku refused to have his hope dashed. He insisted that the coach would keep his end of the bargain were he to possess a pair of socks and boots. Unwilling to completely extinguish the hope and enthusiasm of Peku, he allowed Peku to win the argument and promised to get him the socks.
The next two months, Peku was constantly disappointed as every time he saw Udoka, Udoka had another tale of why he had not brought the socks. He forgot sometimes, other times he wasn't coming from home so he didn't bring it along, and yet other times he searched for the socks but couldn't find it but would search more so that he could find it.
As they returned home that evening, he thought to ask an old man who sold cigarettes and alcoholic drinks about Peku.
"You see one small boy wey dey help us pick ball?''
The old man shook his head sadly before saying that Peku (whose name was actually Benjamin) had been knocked down by a motorcycle. On his way home after the last training, he had stepped on a nail. Unable to afford proper medical care, his mom placed a spoon over a flame and had placed the hot spoon over his bruised feet as a way of sterilising the wound. Even this very inconvenient means of treatment did not ensure the total healing of the wound. His gait was unsteady yet he defied his mother's instructions and had ran out of the house and was headed for the field that Wednesday evening.
"One Uncle go bring socks for me come today and I go join those people to play for stadium," he had announced to some of his friends.
I'm his euphoria, he tried to run as fast as his aching sole would permit. A combination of his unsteady gait and torn flip flops caused him to trip and before he could get up, a speeding motorcycle had run him over.
The boys all expressed their displeasure at the unfortunate turn of events. Udoka remained silent. No one knew he was that uncle that Peku had been so eager to see. Had he just taken the boy's ambition more seriously earlier and gotten the socks, then maybe...
He stopped himself from going further. He walked home in silence, sparingly ate the dinner his mother served him, had his bath and when he opened his wardrobe and saw several pairs of socks which he kept for his trainings and matches, he imagined thin little Peku covered with blood, lifeless, his light skin a contrast to the red blood in which he must have been covered, his beautiful dentition missing a teeth or two, his limbs cracked and his last moments filled with pure agony and yet, he died without getting the socks. Overwhelmed by emotions of guilt, remorse and regret, Udoka fell on his knees and wept bitterly.