Chapter 1. The House That Never Rested.
John Okonji's family had already announced itself long before morning, that their voices were heard bouncing off zinc roofs; insults married with insults chasing one another like a circus of stubborn flies. The people residing at Uwani along Zik's Avenue woke up before the morning bright sky because sleep never truly settled without the back of the hand lobby caused by the Okonji's family. There is always a brawl party of grief and discontent to caress the ears of those who cared to listen in the neighborhood.
Even the c***s that crowd
behind mama Ndubuisi beer parlour did so like it was exhausted to continue with the weight life thrust on its chest. The noise was sharp enough to compound the nightmare in the neighborhood leaving question of grief and mischief that haunts the neighborhood like it was a community where the sun always had to wear protective helmet and bullet proof vest before it rose to watch over the Okonji as if it was ready to dodge a likely stray bullet anticipated from the menacing house of the Okonji as it stands guard for a community in distress.
“John! So you have come again like this” Helen Okonji his wife shouted. Her voice was heavy enough to wake the long forgotten dead. She stood by the door entrance with her wrapper strongly tied to her chest. John wobbled in with one slippers on the wrong toe hook like a stubborn goat negotiating with gravity by mathematics with hand gesticulation as if they were a compass for balance.
His body smelt of gutter sharp perfume with a taint of pungent urine, harsh enough to cut the nose of anyone who came near. His shirt had changed from white to patches of brown, black and patches of grease as if he was on a routine shift at the waste dump site and turns at the mechanic workshop. The stench of kai kai strong gin hoozing out of his slurry speech while soaked in sweat were begging for mercy even when they had wings to let loose from their estranged companion.
John said, “woman, lower your voice,” he slurred and lifted a finger that refused to stay straight. “Is that how a respectful wife talks? Do you think neighbors are not listening to you?” Helen laughed loudly, a dangerous but with a mix of sobriety. She said, “Neighbors? They finished hearing since, they are now waiting for the next episode.” However, Mama Biliki, their neighbor who takes delight in the neighborhood mischief, adjusted her headscarf and leaned closer to her window. Mama, Chidiebere in pretence, was sweeping the same spot closer to the Okonji's window over and over again to eavesdrop to the new gist of the day.
John Okonji attempted dignity but it was stolen. “Why is it an everyday insult, insult, can't you for once appreciate my little effort?” He said, swaying slightly. Do you think I don't know what you are doing in my absence? Helen's eyes were quaint for a few seconds.. Please hold it there.. Five children of John and Helen Okonji were already in bed except for Charles Okonji, their first Child who laid-back awake on the bed counting cracks on the ceiling like rosary beads as if it would change the course of events for his family status in one night.
Helen snapped, “you are pointing accusing fingers at me again John?” John, take a look at your life first for one minute. “When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror?” Helen snapped with her teeth biting her fingers, John replied with his hands and fingers going up under duress.. “You are my mirror with my children, I see myself in you and the children everyday,” “God forbid any of my children lead a life close to what you have turned yourself into,” replied Helen once more. “Have you taken time to consider the implications of this Ogogoro on your liver and kidneys?” barked Helen, “My liver, kidneys and intestines are mine and not yours so worry less please mind your business,” John replied to her.
With the rage of reflection and disappointment flashing through the head of Helen, and the short temper in John as a result of the Ogogoro influence, he launched at Helen with his raised hand to hit his wife, which was a thunderous sound, Helen Immediately returned the slap with a lightening bolt speed version of her slap. Lifted John Okonji up and a real mischievous fight mode scene ensued between the couple. The shock wave of the noise in the public yard was like the arm of forbidden sight which is no longer a stranger to the neighborhood. The children stayed awake contemplating what exactly to do to stop the fight. The neighbors, having understood that this was a case beyond human intervention, chose to stay out of it while they enjoy the menacing altercations and battle of words between the couple. The cry of Chioma, the last born, added to the commotion in the air. Ruth, the second to the last child, tried to hold her sister close to console her while she carried teary eyes. Kingsley the third born just stayed back in the room and pretended to absorb himself from the harrowing trauma. A sight too cold for a child of his age to witness.
Charles Okonji and Johnson Okonji immediately rushed to the scene to see if they could unlock their fighting parents, but the giddiness appeared to be unwelcoming and overwhelming. Charles pleaded, they refused.. Johnson thought of what he could do to intervene in this unholy and embarrassing sight.
He went straight to the Television. The next strange sound that blared in the air was “GBOOAAA!” immediately the couple unlocked each other. The shock of the sound tore through the night that kept the neighbors wondering what could have happened with that strange sound. But nobody was bold enough to separate the menacing couple especially in the ungodly hour when the day was still pregnant.
It was the television set the only thing John Okonji could boast off in his house which he has been contemplating to sell off to play sports betting to see if he would win a fortune overnight. As if they had both escaped a bullet, they looked at the direction of the TV with their mouths gaping wide open.
Helen shouted, “Johnson, Son of John, what have you done?” Johnson replied, choose between the TV and making yourself a disgrace to the family and the rest of the neighborhood.
Immediately John Okonji added, “My Television set, my ticket to millions of naira now gone! Chai!”
Helen replied, “I don't think you understand what had just happened, you are missing the irony entirely,” He moved a step forward and missed it, bumping on a plastic of water gently sitting on its own and John fell heavily on the cold cement floor with nobody to pick him up.. The object in that house had learned self-reliance.
From a dark corner, “The Burning Wick” was loud, hard yet soft and burnt brightly
