He ran home as fast as he could,
panting like a hunting dog feeling accomplished after pinning down its game. He
dashed straight to his door and reached for the knob as he frantically dug into
the back pocket of his faded denim Jeans with the other hand for his key.
After what seemed like ages to
properly insert the key into its hole, he opened the door with ease, entered
and slammed the door into its frame behind him as though he won't go out again.
He would have still been turning the key in its hole like a demonstration globe
in its axis if it was his former lock set. He's had nasty times with that lock
but the most embarrassing of all times was the day a borrower followed him home
for some money he owed the latter but for some inexplicable reasons, he could
not open the door until after three or more hours. And I am not even about to
delve into what transpired in-between the time he was battling to get the door
opened. Times have been tough and rugged. He must be thankful for the seemingly
little things such as changing the lock just last week.
All the while he was ripping the
door apart, his neighbors were just looking on as though there was nothing
distressing about the young man's activities. It was his umpteenth time so they
were used to it. Sometimes he barged
into the house with the whole community in tow and other times it was the
Police. They were used to his showmanship and his adept ways of solving his
fallouts with members of the community. He is terror personified and no one
dares to meddle in his affairs.
He sat on his single bed and fell
on his back. His breath uneven, sweat breaking into tiny bubbles, eyes wide
open as he stared into the Ceiling. No
polished or patterned ceiling to draw him in or play tricks on his mind. Apart
from his double bulb holder that has held his ever faithful blue bulb and the
remains of the fan hook where his spoilt fan used to hang, there wasn’t much to
see anyway. His mind was blank indeed.
It was just another passing moment in his neighborhood
except this passing moment occurs one too many times. He loathed his community
and longs to see when things will change. Longing for days when water will flow
through their taps again. To see days his beloved community will stop
experiencing erratic power supply to prolong the life span of their electrical
appliances and gadgets. His community must have a recreational park like any
gated community. They should even have a Football Park. The days where every
nook and cranny will be rid of the decaying blue kiosks that will do anything
for money even if that includes selling alcohol to minors. And Lord knows they
have been responsible for far too many deaths in the community than statistics
can avail.
He despised his community. It was
a congregation of people who think alike. Everybody seemed to be thinking as
though they have been programmed. He doesn’t even know which one of the two
words best suits them; Clowns or Clones. They all do things the same. No role models. For
a community that has the presence of the Police even more than a barracks can
contain at a given time, members of the Community are locked away in Cells and
Prisons every day and sometimes without offences. Your looks are enough cause for
concern and the perpetual fear of waking up to traumatic experiences such as
people vanishing without a trace and in extreme cases people dying without a
known cause. A community where the Police never finds the culprit in murder
cases.
He doesn’t want to think that
they have been forgotten by the Government because that would be tantamount to
sentencing legions of generations into perpetual physical and emotional pain.
He even recalled hearing the President in the recent state of the Nation
Address the other day on his old President TV reassuring them of good times
ahead.
It must come to pass! This is non-negotiable. The
government must pull them from their predicament and there shall be no more
sixteen and Seventeen year old proud mothers who do not know a thing about
babies neither will there be ladies bleaching their skins any longer. They
need good schools like any other community because the fight for survival has
become global. They must also celebrate birthdays and take vacations just like
his friends from the other side of town.
No! He is not a coward as his friends
from the other side of town like to think. They only front because they don’t
know what it takes to be at the battle front by default; just by virtue of your
bloodline. He is not always running around and through the community because he
has athletic prospects. It’s because he has seen enough trouble to last him a
lifetime and tired of having one more. Unlike them, no one will come for him
should he be whisked away so none of their taunts will get to him neither will
his new accolade of a Running Man deter him from sticking to his guns.
And until these things have been
provided somehow to drastically change things considerably and to level the
playing field for him and his friends from the far end of town, he will be
running with all the speed he can gather home, to his room – the only place he
can find peace and he doesn’t care if his perceived cowardice or actions are
justified. Infact, he must run until he finally runs out of town.
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