It's a hopeless situation, Ezeikwo thought as he lay on his multipurpose bed. It was so comfortable that he couldn't sleep. This was the second night he hadn't slept well and he feared for his blood pressure.
Three or four nights ago, he had lain on the floor with his wife's wrapper, and it felt comfortable. Anyway, that was how they had slept. He on the floor with one of her wrappers, she on the bed which was also the door to their one room apartment while their only child on their only mat.
That was how it had been every night but few days ago, events took a turn. His wife had left with all her wrappers and their child while he was away. The hardship had been dark on her that it blinded all the love she had felt for him in the past.
So this night, as he lay awake on the more comfortable bed than his usual floor, he still couldn't sleep. How did things get so bad? Was he cursed or what? He was a failed man who couldn't keep his family together. He couldn't go back to his village, that would be most shameful any Igbo man could do. People wouldn't laugh at only him but would laugh at his family and even generation.
They had sent him to secondary school, then to Teachers Training College (TTC), he later got a degree in Geology. He did well and later got a teaching job with one of the state's secondary schools. They were paid a little above average but it was something. He had an apartment at the teacher's quarter.
After two years of work, he married a beautiful girl who was once his student. They had a child almost a year after which brought more joy and love to in the young family. They had lived a little bit fine before this new government came into office. This government that has no regard for teachers who are the building block of the nation.
He had not been paid a dime for a very long time. He had almost lost count now. This month ending should make it a year and six months of not being paid. When this started, they had gradually began to sell their valuables till they barely had anything left in the house.
Now. As he thought about it and looked round the dark room. He could remember the position of their TV sets and video player, the arrangement of their cushion chairs. All these had long been gone few months after their salary was stopped.
Slowly. He had fallen asleep the previous night, but his dreams were cut short by an angry knock on the day. "Who's that?" Ezeikwo shouted out of his sleep. "Open the door, jare", it was the voice of Aunty Gladys. The lady who sells provisions and food stuffs down the road. Ezeikwo quickly awakened from his sleep the moment he heard her voice. "I have come to collect my money", she said with an open palm and the other on her waist. She shook with a lot of energy as she talked, making Ezeikwo fear she was going to beat him up, if he didn't provide the money that instant. "I have told you to have a little patience with me", he implored. She held him as she quarrelled at her voice's peak, " I have no more patience left".
Soon. People came around and were now forming little groups, asking around what the problem was. Papa Udoh, who was quite an elderly man came close and asked Gladys what the fuss really was about, as if he couldn't guess and get it right. She replied carelessly, "he's owing me 150 naira since last week, and has refused to pay". Papa Udoh hissed and went away. One would have expected him as a caring person or elder to put hand into his pockets and settle the whole dispute.
Aunty Gladys soon left his house but she did so with the left over pots his wife had seen too bulky to carry before she absconded. He felt lightened, at least not this morning.
Sometimes. I took food to Ezeikwo, especially those Sunday rice and he was really my friend. He knew so much about the world. And that was the only thing he could give to his little friend.
Nobody noticed Ezeikwo was missing or they cared less even if was. On the day he went missing, I was playing on the sands in front of our house, when I noticed a car was parked in front of his house. The car drove off soon and that was the last I saw him for he never came back to that house.
After about two days, I complained to my parents about his disappearance, but they didn't take that seriously. Who knows? He could have returned to his village, was their normal response. Whenever I pass by, I knocked at his door or peered in through his window, hoping I might just catch him in.
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