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EPISODE 1

Trying hard to quell the urge to remain in bed, I raised my head lazily. My bleary eyes stared at the window curtains as I gently rested my head back on the soft, pink pillow. I have been anxiously waiting for the dawn, hoping it would come as quickly as possible.

And because I had spent the greater part of the night preparing for the upcoming examinations, I barely had
sufficient sleep. This was further compounded by the rigorous thoughts which filled my mind. The thoughts left me with deep imaginations which I could not wrap my head around.

That morning, I couldn't pull myself out of the bed. My eyes ached, for they were heavy with sleep. Outside, the roosters continued to herald the dawn of a new day with their Ku-ku-roo-kuu! Ku-ku-roo-kuu!! Call outs.

Soon, daylight illuminated the room as the rays of the early morning sun swept aside the dark clouds outside, bursting forth through the curtains. The darkness had given way for the light.

I could hear a thousand voices outside, talking and laughing as they went about their daily business. Car horns blared in the air as motorists registered their impatience. The day sounded more busy than usual.. I muttered a long hiss, closed my eyes again and grabbed the pillow so tight to my chest.

My father had taught me that it was only a lazy man; those who did not have anything to do could still be found on top of the bed at this time of the day.

I didn't know why he'd say such a word. To me it was ridiculous. It was during this time of the day that I usually found sleep to be more enjoyable, literally during the rainy season.

"Hardly, you see, real men still lie on the bed at this time of the day when everyone is out there hunting for something to give to the stomach." My father told me.

That day was one of the saddest days of my life because he found me still sleeping at the time I was supposed to be awake preparing for school.

"Your mates are already on their way to school, and here you are sleeping like a pregnant woman. I don't want to train or keep a lazy man under my roof. Over my dead body!" He charged towards me.

"Besides, it is better to train a criminal than to train a lazy child who is not going to be useful to humanity; a lazy child has no use in the future. Real men are hardworking; they don't oversleep." My father's angry voice thundered emphatically into my ears as he hit me with the palm of his hand.

I felt the pain bite my cheek so hard and my eyes were intoxicating, my legs wobbled on the ground. I could feel the motion ringing and moving slowly inside my brain. My father was a very hard man, an angry lion.

My father was the kind of man who could hardly spare the rod. He could beat you close to death. My father didn't hate me either. He did all these things for me not to grow up as a lazy child. He cherished me like a treasure, but he was brutal.

Sometimes, he used other people in the village as a reference, so I wouldn't be like them. "Bet me, one day you will remember my words, then you will understand how lucky you are to have a father like me in the world. Hard work pays." He concluded.

To me, that phrase was hated with a passion. The thought of whether to believe him or doubt his words wasn't forthcoming. The reason is that I didn't see myself as a lazy boy, even though I usually overslept sometimes.

I was a hard-working student in school. During the exam period, most of the students would crowd around my desk begging for expo. Some of them would bribe me with cash, ice cream, biscuits, meat pies, and a lot of other things we usually get from the school canteen.

I was not perfect, but I always did my best to pass my exams and come out in flying colours. I was still struggling, longing for sleep to come as I pulled the blanket and covered my body from head to toe.

While I was still rumbling my body against the bed, I heard the crack-crack sounds of the metal door being gently slammed open ajar. My heart slumped into my stomach. A chill rushed down my spine. Quickly, I forced myself out of the bed. Then, I pretended to be arranging the bedspread.

It was too early for me, so I didn't want my cheeks to be served with a thunderous slap. Inside my mind, I was thinking, I know what my father could do to me. If I didn't use my number six, the ball may bounced back at me.

I knew he would not take it easy on me this time around. He had promised me that he would always correct me with beating anytime I overslept. However, I didn't know what was really pushing me to go back to sleep; the devil was really at work. How will I even position my mouth to explain this to my father?

"Ikenga, what are you still doing here at this time of the day?" I didn't know who was asking me that question, certainly my number one suspect was my father.

I looked up, and the person I saw was a different person; it was my mum, standing in front of me. My heart nearly melted due to the thrill of fear that enveloped into my stomach. Literally, I had mistaken my mother's voice for that of my father. Joy ejected inside my heart. I thank God it wasn't my dad.

"Good morning, mummy. What about Daddy?" I asked staring at her.

"Your father has gone to work. I am leaving for the farm. Don't forget, when you are done writing your papers for today, come to the farmland and meet me there." My mum announced and hastened to leave. To me, that was one of the bad news that I wouldn't like to hear with my two ears.

Suddenly, my mood changed as those words came from my mother's lips. I hated going to the farm. I hated it when one said, "Let's go to the farm. I don't even intend to own a farm; I was not ready to work on a farm. I dreamt of working in an office and not in the farmland.

I recalled how I had been given unnecessary excuses. School has been my source of excuses. I often has a way of escaping from going to the farm, cooking up dead lies to my mother that we had one or two activities going on in the school environment.

She always believed my bull and cock stories and gave me the freedom to carry on, the freedom to do whatever my heart pleased. But this particular morning I was stuck, thinking of what to tell my mum that would make her dance to my tune. What would I even tell this woman? I thought.

TO BE CONTINUED...
© Testimony