My Father's Best Friend - Part 2
Dear Friends,
Today’s newsletter is the second part to a story I wrote about two years ago. I hope you enjoy it and you share so that others can join the family. The support I get and the feedbacks propels me to write more. If you never read the first part, here is a link
The Funeral
I did not cry as papa was laid to rest. Actually, I was the only child who did not shed a tear. Even Harry who was as tough as a stone cried when he thought no one was watching. He had no idea I saw him. I would have teased him if it was a different scenario, but it was not. We had lost Papa. I knew Harry wanted to be strong for mama’s sake and I admired that. However, no matter how hard I tried I could not make a teardrop. This was surprising, as I was Papa’s favorite.
The Change
I never forgot the events that followed after father was laid to rest. Mom found out that money went out immediately as it came in, and father never saved much. The foundation and the charity organization had to be closed. The kids dad was training had to be sent home, and Sam who was meant to go to Germany was unable to travel.
This did not bother me much. What did was the way people changed. When papa was alive, people always came to our place to “say hi.” There were always about 20 visitors each day who came to see us because they ‘missed us’ and would stay over for lunch. When they were about to leave, mom would always package food and “small gifts” for them. The gift was usually a plate, a bowl, a cup or a fan with a thousand naira. People always called, and mom was always organizing one meeting or the other for papa and his friends.
However, all these changed, especially after the foundations were closed. We began to struggle, and whomever mama called for help claimed “money was finished and the economy was bad.”
To make matters worse, the shooter was found, but he claimed he acted alone. The Police said he had no motivation to shoot Papa, and the case lingered. Chief Otammiri was an angel, and he helped to cover most of the expenses we needed. Mama also sold one of Papa’s businesses to him, since he was “almost family.” Things got harder, and our lifestyle had to be adjusted.
The Investigation
One day, as we ate our rice without meat, which never happened when father was alive, Harry asked “Mama, how did Chief Otammiri know Papa was shot?”
Mama quickly stood up and tied her wrapper around her chest. When Papa was alive, Mama hardly wore wrappers. She was always dressed in shorts, and tank tops.
“Isi gini Harry?” (What did you say Harry)
“Chief called us the day Papa died and asked if the shooter was found. I assumed you told him.”
“He what? How did he know? Obodo bia nuru nu ooo (everyone come and hear)” mama screamed
Mama began to pace back and forth, then she asked for her phone. She dialed the DPO’s number, and told him she was coming over in minutes. About 2 hours later, mama got back from the station, looking worse than when she left. She told us she had informed the DPO about the information Harry gave, and an investigation would be launched. Mama cried and held us all, and told us all would be better.
That was a lie. Nothing got alright. Things rather went downhill.
The next week, Chief arrived at our house with some thugs, threatening to kill mama for launching an investigation against him. His son Amanze was with him. Amanze shouted that he would rape mama if she ever came after his dad again.
A week later, Chief called a gathering of ndi ichie - the elders of the village for mama, and said she did not deserve to be acknowledged as nwunye (wife) Chief Okoro. Chief was part of ndi ichie, as was papa, since they both hailed from the same village. Chief said mama was an ingrate and a witch and probably killed papa. Ndi Ichie agreed without an investigation and cast mama out of the community. They took the rest of Papa’s business, and handed it to Chief Otammiri because “he knew what was best, and was the one that caught the witch.”
A month later, the police closed the investigation on Chief Otammiri. Mama found out later that they had been bought off. Mama became a shadow of herself, and we struggled to make ends meet. Harry dropped out of school, and tried to learn a trade. Life became unbearable.
Karma
One year later, while I was out hawking groundnuts, I passed by a barbing salon and saw the news. Chief Otammiri and his son were dead. They had been stabbed multiple times in their home by an unknown assailant. Investigations were on, and Lolo Otammiri was offering A million naira to anyone that had tangible information about her husband’s death.
I wondered how possible it was to kill Chief in his home. Otammiri had 2 guards, and he was particular about safety.
I ran home as fast as my legs could carry me. I was panting when I arrived, and I rushed to tell mama the news.
“Chief Otammiri is dead mama!” I screamed.
“Yes nne, I am aware. It is on the news,” Mama said and went about her business.
That night, mama cooked a special meal for us all. She made fried rice and chicken, with salad and drinks. Mama said it was a good day, and we were celebrating. But she never mentioned what the celebration was about.
Later that night, as I got up to pee, I saw mama holding a plastic bag. She walked to the storage room, and dropped it, then she went back to bed. I had no reason to be, but I was curious. I wanted to know what the bag contained. I tiptoed quietly so that mama would not hear me. She was always particular about us getting our 8 hours of sleep. The plastic bag was tied into another one, and another one. I was too impatient so I ripped it all open. It contained a knife, Chief Otammiri’s pictures, the pictures of his house and what looked like a map.
I wondered what it all meant. Seconds later, I heard a noise behind me and looked back.
Mama stared back smiling "we should celebrate more,” she said.
***
Dear friend, I honestly hope you enjoyed this story and I am looking forward to writing my next newsletter for you. Thank you for reading, and please consider sharing this newsletter so that others can join the family!
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