“There is this profession that only very few of its members can spell the name correctly…..” While many tried to guess the answer to the riddle the bus comedian just asked, Modupe’s eyes were buried in her red scarf as she just couldn’t control the unending tears.
It was three days ago in her hostel after she returned from the students market with her paper bag containing few fresh tomatoes, pepper, and onions. She started cooking immediately since it’s almost a month she tasted stew.
Barely twenty minutes later, her “evil-spirited roommate” – Seun as she often referred to her, started complaining about why she had to cook right in front of the room, as though it was a new act.
At first, Modupe ignored Seun completely until she raised her voice loud enough for the entire hostel to know she’s been brokenly broke and has been feeding on cassava flakes without floating peanuts.
Though nobody responded to Seun, everyone whispered:”make them quarrel there na; after all two of them na Yorubas and na the same cele them they attend“… But Modupe could just not take this insult.
This is the height of it she screamed; I’ve taken enough from you evil spirit… Is it not enough that you turned my friends against me, backstabbed me and even stole from me?
What started out as a word tussle wasn’t appearing funny any longer. The funniest part of the whole ordeal was that no one tried to stop them while they rained abuses on themselves, and it seems the hostel potters themselves had inserted log of woods into their ears.
It appeared both girls got tired of using their mouth, for a minute they both went mute like a remote was used on them. Just then Seun blotted out the word “Daughter of a prostitute”
“ Aggghhhrrrrr…I Modupe can take all insults, but not this ooo…laye” before these words left her mouth, she had already poured her hot stew on Seun who managed to protect her eyes while screaming in shock but wasn’t fast enough to protect her head as the pot landed on her head.
Modupe was still raining abuses until she saw blood gushing out of the head of the supposed evil-spirited roommate. Her eyes were open, and so was her mouth. She was speechless as she watched Seun shouting helplessly. The entire hostel that seemed to be entertained by the two girls came alive as everyone started screaming “you don kill person oo”
With mouth agape, and her mind running through a thousand and one things at a time; what if I get expelled? How will my poor widowed mother take this? what if Seun dies?…At that thought, she rushed forward like a force propelled her, she lifted up Seun from the floor to the amazement of the show watchers
Just then the Hostel potter stepped in. Without asking many questions for the main time, he aided Modupe and took Seun in his car to the hospital.
For three days now, Modupe had to go borrow money to foot Seun’s hospital bills, see to her feeding and her entire welfare. It was a hard time for her as she contemplated suicide. A school case awaits her, Debts are mounting each day, Exams fast approaching, Seun has to shave off her hair for the cut on her head to be stitched, for this she promised never to forgive Modupe. All this made her miserable
No wonder when the bus comedian said the answer to the riddle asked was vulcanizer. She didn’t even hear, even when the entire bus roared with laughter.
She kept wondering how her anger got so bad to the extent of bathing her roommate with hot stew and even breaking her head with pot. Her mind was clouded with “If only”…
Instead of waiting till the damage is done, instead of trying so hard to fix, why not consider the outcome of the act?
Yes anger is part of our emotions, but we shouldn’t let it control us