The Burning Wick

Chapter 2. Liquor And Allegations

It was Saturday morning when NEPA interrupted light transmission around the Uwani area. At first the light bulb pretended to be steady like a man boasting of his manhood early in the morning, with voltage going up and down like it was under torture describing the weight of pain of the neighborhood at dawn. A cocky generated sound tore through the peace that patrolled the area. The Okonji's family was quite calm for a few hours as if the walls were tired of their drama that ensued yesterday night.

Suddenly John Okonji let out a heavy sigh and woke up where he had fallen on a cold floor with his back stiffened as if he had had a bad visit at the orthopedic hospital. With one eye opened before the other as if they were rival couples on a catch up contest. Including the offensive mouth of odour like that of a two days decaying meat.

He was negotiating stamina and right of way as if his legs were a log of wood without roots and had refused to stand. With pains all over his body as he advanced, he shouted, “Jesuuus.!” it's not a prayer, but it was an allegation to accuse the cold cement floor for his misgivings. He tried to stand and move a step forward but he couldn't but could only support his body with his two hands against the wall like an eight month old child trying to test the stamina in his leg to make advances so he doesn't fall to the daring cement that looks like a hill.

He sat back down quickly with a heavy breath. His shirt had turned brown, out of shape and ricks of alcohol a night before clung to him. Helen was already out of bed and was standing at a corner in the kitchen. She had learnt to be silent which is more dangerous than ranting. She strategized a movement slowly towards the passage, not out of kindness but with a plan. Her quiet mood carries a lot of contemplation on her mind.

Her neighbor Mama Nkechi strolled into the public yard kitchen with a side eye to observe the menu on Helen's list for the morning as she put a kettle of water on fire as if she had serious business in the kitchen. Helen brought out a pot of watery pap and stirred it with a spoon, counting cups and spoons in her head. “Five Children?” she muttered, one man's children. There was no sugar and no milk for the pap except for the akara she bought on credit from mama Adaugo across the street early in the morning. Hunger had become a regular uninvited visitor that has no respect for its host.

With the sting of akara looking for a seat or a shade of solace in transit. John Okonji where he was sitting, cleared his throat loudly while Helen refused to notice his presence. He looked and saw Helen beside him carrying a tray of akara and pap in cups. “So you won't greet me?” He asked Helen. Helen continued to serve the children their ration. “Don't you hear me?” “I am talking to you” he insisted, voice cracking, “Good morning,” relayed John Okonji, She faced him slowly with a pair of calm eyes. She replied “what is good about the morning? Morning that you brought from the gutter!” He coughed before he could reply, “See insult! Very early in the morning,” Helen laughed bitterly, “you should greet your liver good morning first if you want greetings.” Helen retorted.

John stood up shifting slightly as the children ate their akara and gobbled the watery pap down their throat as if it was a luxury meal served by the arms of hunger. “You like talking about my liver as if it is yours,” John contested. “Your liver belongs to all of us because when it fails, I would be the first point of call,” Helen replied. “Are you already planning my funeral while I am still alive and strong?” John retorted, “I have nothing to gain to see you die, just stay alive for your children even if not for me.” Helen replied to him.

John waved her off looking to the ground , “I am strong, don't mind small drink,” “Small drink you call it?” Helen shouted and dropped the empty plate of akara on the center table in the sitting room. and continued, “John you slept on the cold floor yesterday,” John snapped back, “Yes I did that in my own house and not in a hotel in the arms of another woman” The air thickened instantly, Helen moved closer. “Say it again John.” John straightened and summoned courage from nowhere as if the influence of alcohol was a perfect cover to launch an ambush attack like a tiger; “Do you think that I don't know what you are doing and how you get money to foot the bills?” He asked repeatedly, With her hands in her mouth, Helen stared at him with frustration, “So this is your new script, each time you're drunk and looking for where to vomit your filthy soul? Is this what you discussed about me and your family after taking turns in free shots of dry gin in mama Ndubuisi beer parlour?” “This is me talking, not alcohol,” John barked, “you pushed me into drinking alcohol.” Their children were in their bedroom listening as they had already been hurried into their bedroom when Helen noticed John had something coming.

Johnson Okonji, the second child muttered in the room, “this man again?” Ruth the first daughter pressed her pillow closer to her younger sisters as if to cuddle her, deafening her ears to the unfolding battle of words. Kingsley the third child sat up confused looking up to the ceiling as if he begged to question why God gave him this man as a father. Charles the eldest son held up an old News Paper with keen intent to see if he could force a mind escape in the old news but not a word from the papers looked like numbers let alone letters to make the least sense. He stated in the newspapers but could barely notice a word let alone connect with the pictures there. The children had learnt childhood through observation, gesticulations, strife, and pains that were never their making.

Helen laughed suddenly, with her arms crossed with keen intent, “Ahhh Johhhn! So I am now the reason why you fall in the gutter and why you go from one beer parlour house to the other drinking with every penny I bring into this house while I take the blame and still cover for your bills and shame abi?” “Assuming I disappear today will the bottles follow you to foot all the bills?” Helen protested.

John, under the influence of dry gin, opened and closed his mouth with a loud and messy thought. If accusations were cars on wings, John should be first on the front seat. “You are not a good woman because there is no atom of respect in you as a wife,” John contested. Helen nodded slowly, “And a good man feeds his family and takes up his responsibilities” Helen replied. This time around there was a heavy silence as if angels were passing.

Meanwhile was in her beer parlour outside the compound arranging her crates of drinks in preparation for the new sales for the day pretending not to hear the altercations that ensued between the couple. While mama Biliki had already broadcasted last night's episode of the Okonji's house of drama to the street gossipers association before brushing her teeth.

Once again Helen called out to the children in the room to come for the left over, “Children come for more pls so that you have enough energy for today's activities,” Only Ruth and Chioma came out while the three boys refused to come out as if they had planned it together. The children took turns on the pap quietly and tried to avoid eye contact with their father.. “is this food?” Chioma grumbled.. Eat your food Helen snapped.. John watched them with something churning in his chest.

“I will go and search for a job today,” John said, but no one responded to him. He repeated louder, “I said I will go and look for a job today to avoid this insult.” Helen looked at him briefly and replied, “Seeing is believing. Let's see you with a loaf of bread as proof that you did it.” John stormed out and banged the door so hard, and shouted inside the compound. “I will show you. Do you think you people are better than me?” Mama Biliki where she stood and flicked her tongue. “The drama of a drunkard continues.”

In the afternoon around 2:30 pm, John did not go far as he promised before dashing out but ended his movement in his usual place in front of the compound. That was mama Ndubuisi beer parlour. He sat down and was holding a glass of drink which he could not afford. He drank on an empty stomach as if his life was in the bottle. Mama Ndubuisi pleaded, “Oga John,” Take it easy! Because your body system doesn't look strong. He replied tapping his chest, “Me?, My body is strong, it is my wife that is killing me.” She raised an eyebrow and replied, “Wives have been killing men since before Bible show, therefore your case is not different,” John Okonji laugh loudest than everyone on sit at the beer parlor

However, John was at the beer parlor till evening time. He drank to stupor from credit to free drinks offered by any generous drunk that came around. He made the way to his house as he was still coordinating his feet as usual. Helen sold small items on borrowed money. In order to make ends meet, the children slept with a full stomach because their mother had returned home earlier to cook dinner from the sales she made in her store for the day.

John Okonji manoeuvred his way into the house and threw himself on the three sitter couch chair, smiling and frowning at himself at the same time. “See me o,” as he said to nobody, “Life is sweet o.”

Indeed “The Burning Wick,” burns sweetly, but could this be the fire to consume the purpose?