EPISODE 41 – A BREATH OF FRESH AIR

Now before you begin to think I am here to campaign for Goodluck Jonathan, let me issue a clear disclaimer that I am not! I have observed that two of the key catchphrases in GEJ’s campaign as made popular by his supporters and strategists are the ‘Do you want fresh air in Nigeria?’ and ‘Goodluck Jonathan . . . a breath of fresh air!’ slogans. Well, I would not begin to disagree or agree with that now but I sincerely hope GEJ is really the man a lot of people are making him out to be.

I watched the Presidential debate two Fridays ago and I kinda wondered why he wasn’t there. That would have been a good opportunity for him to sell his candidacy to people like me who are still very skeptical about his capacity to truly bring about the change we all need in Nigeria. I am definitely going to vote during the elections which are now so close and I hope you are. I wish I could arrange polls on who would be the final choice among the frontrunners (as NN24 put it), speaking of the likes of Muhammadu Buhari, Nuhu Ribadu, Ibrahim Shekarau and of course, President Goodluck Ebele Jonathan (GEJ). Now, I wonder why NN24 would have labeled them frontrunners. What happens to the likes of Pat Utomi, Dele Momodu, Chris Okotie and other presidential candidates? Do they even stand a chance? Beats me! That said, let’s return to our story and find out what ‘a breath of fresh air’ has to do with all these?

My mum’s possible reaction was unpredictable as at the time I broke the news to her. I had tried in vain to imagine what she would do or say on hearing the news and constantly hoped that God was indeed in control as she had said. Was he? Looking back, I could say he actually was. I managed to look at her and the shock on her face was clearly evident. I was pretty sure she would have blushed had she been of Caucasian descent. My heart began to race rapidly as though I had literally developed high blood pressure. Suddenly my breath caught in my throat and I considered the thought of possible suffocation, hardly dismissing the possibility; a situation I really would not have minded at that moment. Finally, she spoke.
“You did what?” my mum asked, as though she had not heard me the first time.

I cringed with revulsion. Breaking the news had virtually being an uphill task that had taken every ounce of strength in me and now, she wanted me to repeat myself. I simply stared at my toes again, bracing up for the worst. I thought about the possibility of her hitting me or biting me, which would have been most welcome if that would be the only price I needed to pay for my sins. I could practically feel her eyes piercing through me and I could imagine the shocking and pained look she would be wearing at that moment. I cursed myself for allowing myself cause such a wonderful woman so much pain.
“How did this happen, Geebee?” she asked, her voice considerably lower this time. I had a flash of relief on realization that she was trying hard not to react in the expected manner.

I went on to tell the entire story in the most saintly way I could in a most desperate way to paint myself as a little innocent boy who just got unlucky and hit the jackpot on his first attempt. It was a most sorrowful mood further accentuated by my sobs and trust me, they were genuine sobs at that moment. I truly regretted the situation and would have given anything to reverse things. My mum was particularly shocked when I got to the part of the story that revealed that my girlfriend was already four months pregnant. In between the story, she burst into tears too and I wondered what must have been going on in her mind. I knew I had broken her heart and hoped she would indeed forgive me.
“God has a reason for everything,” she said at last as she sighed sorrowfully.
“How old is she?” she asked.
“Four months,” I replied, wondering if my mum had not heard the part of the story about the age of the foetus and how on earth she knew that it was a ‘she’.
“I mean the girl . . . your girlfriend” she clarified. I noticed the uneasiness with which she said ‘girlfriend’. The woman was a minister in church and indeed, she would never have condoned such a practice of her son engaging in the sin of fornication.
“Twenty,” I said. BG had turned twenty the previous September.

My mum had remained silent for another while, a situation that made me much more uncomfortable. Gradually, I realized things were not going as badly as I had thought. I could actually breathe some fresh air at last. Eventually, she told me we had no choice but to accept the pregnancy. She added that she would find time to come visit my girlfriend’s family and inform them that we would accept the pregnancy.


As I watched my mum walk to her room, I remained on the spot for what seemed like an eternity. God had indeed taken control. I had come into the house prepared for the worst and I had gotten a reaction that was far beyond my imagination – a positive one. I sighed and tried to picture how the next few days would unfold and what surprises they could spring forth. BG was yet to let anyone in her family know about her situation and I did not want to begin to dampen my spirit with thoughts of the difficulties we might face in the process. I was glad I had finally broken the news to my mum and for the first time in weeks, I could actually breathe. It was not just any kind of breath. It was indeed a breath of fresh air and I decided to enjoy it while it lasted.

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES.

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EPISODE 40 – SPILLING THE BEANS

In a flash, two months have already gone by in this New Year and it still feels like 2011 began just yesterday. I find myself wondering if we still have the same twenty four hours in a day that we had in the past; or perhaps, an hour has somehow become less than sixty minutes and a minute has become less than sixty seconds. I can hardly understand why time seemed to be much longer when I was much younger than now. Or, do little kids see time’s passage differently? It definitely appears so and I don’t think I need to begin to explain that now. Children are pretty lucky as they do not have to worry about life the way adults have to; so time just goes slowly and smoothly for them while we, adults practically carry the weight of the world on our shoulders everyday and our thoughts, worries and ceaseless plans make time run faster in our eyes. I woke up yesterday and realized it was 1st of March! Hmmm, another year speeding by like a race car in the Formula 1 series. The annoying part of the whole experience remains the fact that with each passing day, we grow older. I thought I noticed a strand of grey in my hair yesterday and almost screamed. Grey hair at twenty five! No way in hell that ain’t happening, I assured myself as I peered closer into the mirror. Alas, it wasn’t grey hair. It was a little hair brush strand that had somehow come off and lodged itself in my upcoming afro, posing as a grey. I sighed gratefully. Of course we’d all grow old but I wish it wouldn’t be too quickly. lol. THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES continues.

I had made up my mind that I would go ahead and inform my mum of what had happened. This decision was much influenced by factors well beyond my understanding and control. I felt like I was in a typical Nigerian movie. I remember a movie I had seen sometime back when I still watched local movies. This one starred Keppy Ekpenyong Bassey and in the movie, he got himself involved in some occultic mess and desperately tried to escape the repercussions by ending his life. At a point, he put himself in the way of an oncoming trailer and the thing refused to kill him. I can’t remember the movie title now but I’d bet some of the Nollywood fans reading this would probably have seen that movie and so can give us the title. That was exactly how I felt. First, all attempts of aborting the pregnancy had proved abortive (no pun intended) as we came to realize when we had received the shock of our lives after believing all problems were finally over. Then, I had decided to bow out when the ovation was loudest (you might call that taking the coward’s way out. lol) and tried to take my own life but that again had failed. The only logical next point of call was to turn myself in.

Two days after the suicide attempt, I traveled to see my mum. Throughout the five-hour journey, I constantly hoped the bus I had boarded would somehow skid off the expressway and tumble into the river or one of the ditches on the side of the road but of course, none of such happened. The powers in control were certainly determined to ‘open my yansh’ as some would say. On arrival, my mum was delighted as usual to see me but that motherly intuition came to play almost immediately. She practically read me like a book and knew all was not well. Anyway, my countenance could not have looked bright with the weight I was carrying on my shoulders. How was I going to break this news?
“Geebee, are you well? You look so pale and emaciated,” mum said lovingly, as she felt my neck with the back of her hand and held onto my shoulders like a woman would do to her seven-year old son. At that moment, I wished I was indeed a seven-year old son who was remorseful for losing his pencil at school and not a young man who was about to crash his mother’s world with a most shocking news.
“I’m fine, ma” I managed to say, as I moved to sit on one of the chairs in the living room. I had not come with any bag or anything else besides the clothes I had on and the sandals on my feet. In fact, the plan was to break the news and run off immediately. I was still convinced my mum would never take the news lightly and I wanted to be ready for the worst. I even had my transport fare back well kept in my pocket just in case she decided to throw me out at that very moment.

“Have you eaten anything?” she asked and immediately called out to her maid to come and get me food. I sat there silent, hardly paying any attention to her. Food was the last thing on my mind at that moment. I realized for the first time that I had not tasted anything all day and it was almost evening.
“Is it your father again?” my mum asked concernedly.
I shook my head. I understood her concern. She was aware I had not been on good terms with my dad especially since my decision to get my own place outside his house and she was probably worried that the man was still giving me a hard time.
“Mum, please sit down. There is something I have to tell you.” I said in the calmest voice I had ever heard myself speak.
Her countenance instantly changed. I beheld the fear clearly evident on her face.
“Is everyone okay?” she asked in a troubled tone. “What happened? Did someone get hurt or . . .”


I wished I could answer her according to her fears. I wished I could tell her that indeed some random family member had suddenly died or been arrested and that was why I had come. I wished I could tell her anything besides what I was going to tell her. I could bet my life at that moment that of all the thoughts that were running through her mind, none would have ever included the possibility that her son had gotten a girl pregnant and not just that; the foetus was already over four months old! I sighed again and wished I would suddenly wake up from the nightmare I was having. As at that moment, I still always hoped like I had ever since the dawn of the nasty episode that I was actually in an exceptionally long dream that I would awake from someday.

My mum sat down, her gaze hardly leaving my face. It was a steady gaze that made me feel very uncomfortable. It was almost as though she would see through me and know everything in an instant. For a second, my mum looked like a five year old child waiting expectantly to be told a story. However, in this case, it wasn’t excitement that was written on her face. It was fear! I averted her gaze and looked down. To my greatest surprise, I broke into a sob. The last time I had cried in my mother’s presence, I was about eight or nine years old. In fact, when I had lost a dear cousin at sixteen and she had broken the news to me, I had locked myself up in my room to cry. My mum was visibly shocked and rushed to my side immediately. She held me in her arms while I wept like a baby. I could imagine how confused she felt at that moment.
“Geebee, what is the matter? Talk to me” mum said, resting my head in her lap.
“Mummy, I don’t know how I am going to tell you this.” I managed amid sobs.
“Just tell me what it is, okay. God is in control” she added.
I felt a little relieved at her last statement and I really hoped God was in control. However, I still had a feeling in my heart that she could say that because she did not yet know the gravity of what I was about to tell her.
“Mummy, I have offended you. Would you be able to forgive me?” I asked, my head still hidden on her lap as I dampened her clothing with my tears.
She attempted to lift my head so she could look into my eyes and I sat up and wiped my eyes.
“Geebee,” she began, looking into my eyes. “Do you have another mother?”
I shook my head. “No mum.”
“Good. There is nothing you have done that I cannot forgive so tell me what it is.”

I sighed and hesitated for a little while. I looked up to see the maid came into the living room, apparently to inform us that the meal was served. My mum politely waved her off and told her that I would come to the table shortly. I waited for the maid to exit the room, buying myself some time for composure.
“Mum, I have gotten a girl pregnant” I said, looking down at my toes.
I could not look into her eyes at that moment but I was totally sure I had just given her the shock of her life. I thought again on how I would break the rest of the news. As far as I was concerned, all I had said was just a tip of the iceberg. How would I let her know that the pregnancy was not just a fresh one but a four month old pregnancy? I hoped again that God was indeed in control like she had told me.

SEE YOU IN THE NEXT EPISODE OF THE GEEBEE CHRONICLES.

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