PRODIGAL SON

PRODIGAL SON

He looked down at his legs, at his belly, extended his hands sideways and looked at them by turns. It was covered by cement mixture and dust.

“Uchenna”, he hummed with reverence, with wonder. How did I get here?

“Nobody wey no fit to make am oooh” sang Ibrahim from a distance. Uchenna turned to look at Ibrahim. There was something fascinating about the man. He noticed how the man kept working, supplying blocks, mixing water and cement with joy. He admired the way Ibrahim carried out his work diligently as if his very life depends on the work. Surely! His life depends on the work. The daily pay of one thousand naira that he had to take home to his wife and six children.

How did eight of them live in a single room. Are the rats? The thought of it caused him biliousness. He counted the numbers with his fingers like how nursery children did when learning figures. One, two, three, four, five, six…, that man is a strong man fa. He smiled to himself.

“Make una work oo, work, work” it was the supervisor at the building site, he occasionally came to check on the labourers to make sure they were doing their job, and doing it effectively.

“Oga say we need to finish this work before next week” Uchenna sighted him and immediately sprouted from his sitting position and rejoined his co-labourers in supplying blocks. When would we finish this work. I need a break abeg.

“Sir” Uchenna ran to the supervisor. A fine man in his early fifties. Yes Uchenna alleged the supervisor to be a fine man. He admired the man white beards, the way it was trimmed properly. He admired the man charisma, he knew how to bring out the best in the labourers. Uchenna admired everything about this man, everything.

“Sir please my head is aching me…” the Supervisor smiled, he too had come to like Uchenna, he was different from the other labourers, the way he spoke his English was different. He was well bred. His innocent but rugged appearance and so many other innate qualities that Uchenna possessed which only the Supervisor could see.

“You want to take a break?” the Supervisor asked, placing his hands on Uchenna’s right shoulder. Uchenna slightly bent his head low, he couldn’t muster courage to stare at this man, this man whom he admired with all uncertainty. Uchenna nodded his head quickly.

“Go ahead then, but don’t waste time. I give you only fifteen minutes” Uchenna immediately ran off with a sort of trepidation. He needed to get far away from the building site. He needed a quiet place, where he could recollect his life actions. He needed to take a walk around. He had been doing so since he started work at the building site two weeks ago. But today was a little bit different his head ached badly.

The weather wasn’t favourably for any recollection of sort. The air hung dense with moist heat. It weighed on his head. Despair was all over, he could sense it. That throbbing in his head was persistent, it refused to fade away. He shook his head violently in an attempt to drive the aching off but it seemed worse. It felt like a hammer banging – banging away against the inside of his cranium.

To be continued.....

The above story is a part of the Prodigal Son story, which is among the short stories collection of Random People, written by Okechukwu Best

About the Author: Okechukwu Best is a philantropist, a poet, an activist, a writer. He hails from Anambra State, a student of Political Science in Federal University Lafia.  Best is a strong crusader for Human Rights and Biafra Emancipation. Random People is his first novel, yet to be published.