SOMETIME IN AUGUST: 2 (Short Story)

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Baba kunle struggle to stand still with the last drop of blood remaining in his vein. His eyes were blood-red as he stood patiently waiting for the end of the last match on his five million bet slip.

If everything work out fine, he is going to be a made man. A rich man. Rich enough to sack the insults and stigma that have stalk since the past nine months. He will pay his debts, revolutionize his life and become the undisputed king of his home.

Memories of the past filter into his mind. Here he is anticipating the result of a football match but he was never an adherent follower of soccer nor was he a gambler nor anything that anyone that happened to know him within the last six months would have used to describe him.

He was a gentle man. He still is but that trait has been eroded by poverty. Being poor is not anything that requires gentility. Life had played him a tune he was accustomed to dancing to and he will pardon if he dance “shoki” to a Nikky Minaj song. The tune aches his body and soul. Even the dance steps depress him.

He agree, desperate moment calls for desperate measures.

Living has been tough. More than tough. So he has to toughen up. The last nine months can only be describe as an honeymoon in hell for him and he is no fan of honeymoon especially the ones that require nine months of mandatory fasting.

Things used to be better. He was not a gambler. He was a civil servant in the employment of the state government with a salary enough to cater for his needs and that of his family. Trouble started when the government refused to pay November’s salary. He had waited for bank alerts, praying daily since the last eight months that UBA should alert him but his prayers had all gone to voicemails. At this stage, he is beginning to doubt the efficacy of his prayers.

Instead of bank alerts, all he had received were annoying messages from mtn, urging him to subscribe to dumb service he didn’t need. How he wish each mtn messages were five thousand bank credits, he would have been a billionaire.

He can’t even fathom why his prayers continue to fall on God’s feet with no response. The last time, he had prayed and fasted, fasted because there was nothing to eat and because of the seriousness of his request. He was praying that Kunle – his son should fail his Jamb examination. He had bought the form for him months back but the reality on ground does not seem he will be able to feed him a day talkless of sponsoring him to school. He had prayed fervently but God had grant the boy success, a painful success that still ache his heart till date. The thought that he, a loving father could wish his son failure still depress him everytime he remember.

He decided to close his eyes again, this time to pray to God for something positive. Hoping that he will grant his request this time. “I promise to pay all my debts and tithes if all things go well” – he prayed. He prayed to God, but devil answered his prayers. The match ended exactly the same score he wanted.

Baba Kunle’s joy knew no bound. He was beyond happy. He quickly pick his phone to call his wife, Iya Kunle. After two fail attempts to reach her cell phone, he gave up and decided to visit the betting shop to collect his bounty. “what can Iya Kunle be doing by this time of the evening without her cherished cell phone” – he ponder as he walk.

Meanwhile Iya Kunle’s cell phone was in the parlor, while she was in the room half clad with a panting Baba Sabrina gasping for breath atop her. Her daughter – Deola was upstairs, about to do something far despicable than the sin her mother was committing in Baba Sabrina’s bedroom…

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