Bumps of Life: An African Tale

By Ugochi Chienyenwa Oshai

Ohamadike Onwuchekwa is a successful man and the managing director of an international engineering company. He lives happily with his wife and twin girls in cosmopolitan Lagos. His family is sheltered, sophisticated and upper crust. His wife has complete trust in him and believes that he has no skeletons in his cupboard. However, Ohamadike was not born rich and responsible. He was once a mischievous village boy with a knack for getting into trouble and wiggling his way out of it. His native intelligence and quick thinking had kept him one step away from trouble. Bumps of Life chronicles his path to adulthood woven in twists and hilarious intricacies.

Ohamadikes father wants him and his twin brother to receive formal education and goes ahead to enroll them at the village school. On the first day in school, Ohamadike escapes severe punishment form his teacher by share wit but he devices a way to avoid going to school. His plans backfire when hes teacher and other children pay him an unexpected visit at home and find him playing truancy on top of a tree. He is publicly humiliated and that begins the transformational process for him.

Ohamadikes favourite time is when he is out playing with his friends and peers in the village. He is the smallest among his peers but the object of Odinbus bulling tendencies. However what he lacked in statue, he made up in articulation and quick thinking. He was nick named the wind because he was light on his feet. His mouth was only at rest when he slept.

Ohamadikes uncle, Chief Ifediegwu, is very affluent and lives in the city. He comes home to celebrate the coronation of his eight year old son as an Ozo a prestigious chieftaincy title despite the fact that his younger brother lives in poverty. Ohamadike makes friends with his cousin Obindiora, who later invites him to holiday at his home in the city. It would be Ohamdikes very first time of leaving the village. The life changing experience he is exposed to changes his mindset and he begins to aspire and dream of a more affluent life outside his village.

Unfortunately, his dream seems truncated when his father dies after a protracted illness. Chief Ifediegwus house is burgled and he blames the incidence on Ohamadike and his brother. He throws them into jail but is forced to release them when the Onwuchekwa kindred pressurize him and threaten to ostracize him from the community. Chief Ifediegwu becomes angry and wants nothing to do with Ohamadike and his family anymore.

Things take a downwards plunge when his twin brother is rusticated from school and leaves the village entirely. His mothers health deteriorates and he flunks his final examination. Angela his love interest betrays him. To drown his sorrow, broken heart and disappointments, Ohamadike resorts to a riotous life and decadent behavior.

Odinbu, the village bully and Ohamadikes arch rival seems to progress. Unknown to the villages, he burgles Chief Ifediegwus house and leaves the village entirely. He believes that he has discovered his destiny as a successful criminal early enough and embraces it. In his base in Benin, he embarks on a series of robberies which sees his gang members killed and some incarcerated. Odinbu flees and returns to the village to hide and re-strategize. In a show of his ill gotten wealth, Odinbu throws a house warming party for the house he built for his mother. He gets into a brawl with Ohamadike and things begin to unravel.

Ohamadike discovers who actually burgled his Uncles house and eventually reconciles with his Uncle who also has also gone through personal pains and financial loss. With the help of his friend, Ohamadike retraces his steps and comes to the understanding that he is the architect of his own destiny. With the assistance of Ohamadike, Odinbu is caught and punished for the crimes he committed. Ohamadike eventually wins a scholarship to s

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris UK
• Release date: May 22, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469154220

Ugochi Chienyenwa Oshai

Ugochi Chienyenwa Oshai studied Mass Communication from the University of Nigeria Nsukka. She equally holds an MBA from Federal University of Technology Akure. She currently works in a service delivery environment with international standards as a Human Resources Practitioner. She is a coach, facilitator and an inspirational speaker. She lives in Lagos with her husband and two children. Bumps of life is her first novel.

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Contents

Acknowledgement    

Chapter 1    

Chapter 2    

Chapter 3    

Chapter 4    

Chapter 5    

Chapter 6    

Chapter 7    

Chapter 8    

Chapter 9    

Chapter 10    

Chapter 11    

Chapter 12    

Dedication

This one is for the boys . . . my life is richer because of you.

Acknowledgement    

To Vikky, for your love, friendship, words of wisdom and encouragement, I say thank you. My boys—David and Gabriel for believing in me and pretending that it didn’t matter when I was too busy to respond to your inquiries especially in the evenings when I’m typing away on my lap top. To Daddy, your input and insight were priceless, you gave me the edge. To my beloved brother Kelechi, you are a brother in a million. Obi, you too should fan your talent. Mummy, Ezinne, your time has come.

To my personal people, Titi and Chijioke, it all started as a joke, but see where we are now. Eniola, your apt ratings and vote of confidence came just at the right time. Aunty Ada, I thank you so much for your encouragement . . . e mela. Thank you Jackie, Tyna, Tola, Ikwo, Chinyere, Habiba and Amaka—my circle of sisters. To all my beautiful friends, you know yourselves. If I begin to mention your names, the night will cascade into dawn and I would still not be done (was that a pun?). I say a very big thank you for accepting me just the way I am.

My deepest gratitude goes to my dear Group Pastor of the Champion Group, POI. You have planted indelible words and my low hanging fruits are evident for all to see. To my fellow Mimshachs’, MSoTG and ATMs’—see what the Lord has done!

To The Monarch of the Universe, thank you for giving me the Auxano.

Chapter 1    

It was one of those days, when harmattan was at its wildest and only the frequent whistling of the wind permeated the air. The palm trees sang an ominous song as they swayed side to side from the intensity of the wind. It is believed that if you listened hard enough, you would hear your ancestors speak from the whistling trees. The Onwuchekwa compound was littered with fallen dry leaves, and the stench of rotten paw-paw fruits strewn all over the compound could be perceived a kilometre away. It was a lazy day in Umunono village, and anyone who had an iota of sense crawled back under their wrappers and blanket to seek the warmth that was elusive at that time of the morning.

The darkened clouds were about to lose their celestial battle because the sun was determined that it should break forth from its constraints and be merciful to the people, who needed its light and warmth to carry on. Ohamadike was in the middle of a wrestling match with Odinbu. Odinbu had snatched the ripe utu fruit Ohamadike had plucked and raised it up above his head with a smirk on his face, daring Ohamadike to do his worst. Ohamadike jumped around him furiously in a futile attempt to retrieve his utu from the village bully of his age grade.

‘Odinbu, you are always looking for trouble, give me back my utu or you will see what I will do to you. Ohamadike said in a voice bigger than his size. All the children within their age group were afraid of Odinbu because of his rugged bulky looks and his claims to having been born with ‘one bone’. Most muscular children made bogus claims that their ulna and radius bones were fused into one single forearm bone making them invincible and more powerful than their peers.

‘Emmmmmmm, Ohamadike, let Odinbu have your utu. Save your face, you can always pluck another one.’ Kanyidindu was the reasonable one in the group; he always took the peaceful alternative in the face of trouble. They called him ‘obi nwa nza’ meaning the heart of the sparrow, for this reason.

Ohamadike jerked his head towards Kanyidindu and said, ‘Never! Didn’t you see how Odinbu snatched the utu from me? Is it because he has one bone and is bigger than me? Why didn’t he take your own or Kobichukwu’s for that matter?’ Ohamadike fumed. He wasn’t going to allow his stature be a hindrance, a thing of ridicule among his peers.

‘That thing that will happen tomorrow let it happen today . . . ewooooo nekwa agwo!’ Ohamadike shouted and pointed at Odinbu’s leg. Immediately Odinbu looked down and stamped his feet repeatedly on the ground, intending to dislodge the imaginary deadly snake. That was all Ohamadike needed to snatch back his utu and take off at lightning speed along the pathway leading to the village.

Ohamadike heard the thundering footsteps of Odinbu and other children as they gave chase but he knew that in the matter of the legs, he had earned a well-deserved title: ‘ikuku’ meaning ‘the wind’. Ohamadike was almost home when he realized that the chase was over, and with his heart threatening to explode from his rib cage, he sat on a log from the tree, which his father had felled for obstructing the entrance to their home for a deserved rest. He brought out his prize and looked at it, the fleshy orange fruit that promised to be worth the trouble of a beat down and sank his teeth into it. It was when he dug in for the second bite of the succulent utu fruit that the piecing crow of the loudest cockerel got to his subconscious mind. Ohamadike was startled, fought against the reality creeping, and unconsciously wrapped himself more securely with his mother’s tattered wrapper. He was about to drift back into the euphoric state, when he felt someone shaking him and calling out his name from a distance. He stilled himself against the disruption and squeezed his eyes tight, but the shaking persisted and the voice grew louder. Eventually, Ohamadike gave up his utu and sat up on the lean mattress he shared with Ebubedike and gave him a nasty stare.

‘Wake up . . . wake up. Mama said we should take our bath and get ready for Otakara today,’ Ebubedike said. Ohamadike scowled, ignored him, and yawned loudly while rubbing his hands on his dopey eyes.

He spat on the ground right beside Ebubedike’s leg and grumbled, ‘I’ve heard you. Is that why you woke me up so early?’ Ohamadike often wondered why his chi had given him a brother who was such a wet blanket most times. Ohamadike shared so many qualities with Ebubedike, and though they were twins, they were as different as two sides of a ten kobo coin.

Ohamadike and Ebubedike had just celebrated a significant landmark in their lives. They had clocked six, and that meant a very elaborate birthday celebration with their friends. The party had gone off with a bang because for the first time in their lives Papa Noso had bought two shiny sandals and two shirts for them to wear on their day. They were the envy of their peers, and they wore their sandals to bath and even to bed. The picture of the rice that was eaten that day would forever be engraved in the minds of the boys. There were three big trays of rice with small cubes of meat and fried Titus fish that was devoured after the rice. The icing on the cake was the coca cola, which every child had a full bottle of and the blast of ‘scaly scaly something’. Michael Jackson’s ‘Wana Be Starting Something’ which rent an epileptic rhythm from the old cassette player Papa Nonso had brought for that occasion. The children had given it their best acrobatic and vocal interpretation, and at the end of the day, no child had left with a clean shirt or underpants. It was a grand day, and if Christmas hadn’t been celebrated a few weeks back, the boys and their friends would have thought that it had come a bit early that year.

That morning, Papa Nonso got up at the crack of dawn. He knew he was about to change the destiny of his twins, and he brooked no distractions. It had cost him a lot to throw the party for his sons, but he had seen several of his contemporaries throw even bigger ceremonies for children of one and two years, who could not even talk or walk, let alone enjoy the significance of such ceremony. The looks on his boys’ faces were worth it. He never got any such frivolities from his father, but he was determined that his children should have a better life than his. To Papa Nonso, education was everything. He had learnt to write his name and speak a little broken English to get by in his trade, but that was not good enough in the current dispensation. Such was his mind-set as he took the boys to the village Otakara where they were to start their formal education. Papa Nonso was a struggling trader who bought and sold motor parts in Onitsha main market. He had experienced a life of struggle and limitation because of his lack of education; several opportunities had come his way, but because he could neither read nor write, his counterparts, who were more literate, dealt him an underhand. It was a sorry situation but Papa Nonso had never been one to cry over spilt milk. His regular expression was ‘nothing is permanent under the sky’. Papa Nonso purposed that all his three sons, Nonso, Ohamadike, and Ebubedike, would have the opportunity to go to school and would not be subject to the misfortune associated with the lack of education.

Ohamadike glanced sideways to his father and shook his head in despair. At an early age, his overactive mind had taught him to read moods and read them accurately. His father was in no way going to be dissuaded from this honourable task, not even from an assertive child, who thought he knew what he was cut out to do at a ripe old age of six. ‘The Okra tree can never grow taller than its planter,’ Papa Nonso would always say emphatically. The six-kilometre trek from his home to the village Otakara was daunting for Ohamadike, and the fact that he had to carry his slate on his back like a tortoise made matters worse. He could see his friends dashing around him doing important things like laying traps, catching aku, and picking out edible worms from their hiding place. He could have been at Ekwutos’s hut listening to juicy details of his escapade and dreaming up some for himself. He didn’t understand why his father had to put him through this ordeal when he could have opted to help out Mama in the farm or even gone to fetch firewood for her to cook another delicious pot of jollof rice or roast yam with ‘nmanu ose’ ‘peppery palm oil’. He could have done several other more interesting things . . . the ‘mezdesbenz’ car he was building was still in skeletal forms, and he had to finish it before the race he had scheduled with his friends on the next market day. Looking at his father’s set and rigid face, Ohamadike knew better than to try any tricks at that moment.

By the time they got to Mr. Okeke’s makeshift office, beside the market square, Ohamadike’s legs were as carroty as the orange sandy soil he walked on. His scalp and skin were grey for not using ‘ude aki’, the locally made pomade. His new shirt was stained from rubbing his palm-oil-stained fingers on them. He was scruffy and untidy and couldn’t care less that his twin brother was the epitome of neatness in his shirt and shorts. He had heard so much about the Otakara that he would have done anything to avoid this experience. Mr. Okeke wasted no time in receiving father and sons into his office made from plank and asbestos sheets. The only visitor’s seat in the office was covered with the yellow and black plastic sheeting that women often used to carry their purchases from the market. The three-legged chair was placed against the asbestos wall forcing Papa Nonso to sit forward carefully with his two feet firmly placed on the floor.

Clearing his voice, Mr. Okeke asked, ‘Papa Nonso, how old are your children?’

‘They are both six years, Onyenkuzi.’

Mr. Okeke, alias Onyenkuzi, could not take his eyes off Ohamadike whose head could barely be seen above Mr. Okeke’s table.

‘No, I mean this one here,’ he said, pointing at Ohamadike.

Papa Nonso responded with a twinkle in his eyes. ‘Onyenkuzi, have you forgotten that you were at the dedication of my twin boys six years ago? You were present with your second wife Afonmma.’

‘Oh yes. I now recall . . . but he looks nothing like Nonso or this other one beside him . . . He’s a little on the . . .’ Mr. Okeke did not finish his sentence as he stood, all six feet and three inches of muscle and starch before the boys. ‘You,’ he said pointing at Ebubedike, ‘what is your name?’ Before Ebubedike could open his mouth, Ohamadike who felt he had had quite enough subjugation for one morning spoke up in his loudest voice.

‘My name is Ohamadike Onwuchekwa, and my twin brother’s name is Ebubedike.’ Mr. Okeke looked at Ohamadike with interest and cocked his head sideways as if his head was too heavy for his long neck to carry.

Clearing his throat, Onyenkuzi said, ‘Very well, let us see if you are ready for Otakara. Now, cross your right hand over your head.’ The boys’ right hands flew over their heads to their ears. Ebubedike’s hand covered his left ear completely. Ohamadike was still struggling to get the tips of his fingers to his left ear while Papa Nonso looked on with a worried frown on his weather-beaten face.

Mr. Okeke frowned slightly. ‘Hmmmmm, hmmmmm. Papa Nonso, under normal circumstances, Ohamadike would not be accepted for Otakara till next season, but seeing that his twin brother is qualified by all standards, it would be unfair of me not to take in the two of them at the same time.’

Papa Nonso was very happy with Mr. Okeke’s decision as his words were final in terms of admitting children for Otakara.

‘Onyenkuzi, I will not forget this gesture. You will have your own children, and they will not be discriminated against because of their looks.’

Mr. Okeke waved aside Papa Nonso’s comment with an indifferent gesture and proceeded with the business of school fees.

Papa Nonso parted with some hard-earned money and got Mr. Okeke to give his word that his sons would receive the best education and instructions as could be expected from the village preparatory school. Papa Nonso then made his sons promise that they would attend the school and participate in all the functions. The boys promised to be of good behaviour, and they bade their father goodbye as he returned to Onitsha where he was trading at the main market.

The school building was a large hall coated with the dull grey colour of cement mixed with white sand. In some areas, where the cement had worn off, you could see the red mud that was originally used to build the hall. All sizes and shapes of lizards were at different levels of motion on the wall, and Ohamadike thought to himself, at last some interesting sport. While Mr. Okeke was recording the day’s admission, Ohamadike and Ebubedike found their way into the school hall from the door nearest to Mr. Okeke’s office. In reality, there was little or no difference between the windows and doors because the windows were almost as large as the doors and had no shutters to shield the children from the oscillating weather. The roof was a relic of the old days; it shuddered and moaned from the slightest onslaught of the cold January wind. Ohamadike held his slate close to his chest and prayed silently that should the roof of the school give way, he would be sound asleep at home in the comfort of his mattress.

A large part of the wall was painted in charcoal and served as the blackboard. Right in front of the board was a large wooden table, whose sturdy legs Mama Nonso could have put to use as a pestle to pound yam. On the table was a very large brass bell, which Ohamadike heard could wake even the dead. On the left side of the table was a very long flexible stick, interwoven by someone who should have made a good career in basket making. The legend of the koboko had preceded it. Truth be told, it was the main reasons Ohamadike dreaded going to the Otakara school. As he quietly eyed the koboko, he made a strong resolve never to be at the receiving end of the twisted snakelike cane, while hatching a plan to ensure that it got missing from its elevated position on Mr. Okeke’s table.

‘Good morning, sir,’ rent the air as soon as Mr. Okeke walked into the hall. All the children quickly scrambled to their feet.

‘Ehen . . . where are the two new boys who started school today?’ Ohamadike and Ebubedike quickly signified by raising their index fingers. ‘Now you, pointing at Ohamadike, go to the end of the hall, while your brother will come to the front and sit.’ Ohamadike was glad for the separation; he never wanted to be compared with his twin brother. Ohamadike watched Onyenkuzi take one gigantic stride after another as he walked the length of the hall. One hand was in the pocket of his stainless shorts and another was holding the snake-like koboko, Ohamadike stood in awe of him.

Mr. Okeke doubled as the Otakara headmaster and the class teacher. In the class of forty-five children ranging from six to ten years, Mr. Okeke was the alpha and omega. His voice thundered and sounded like what the voice of God might sound like . . . deep, deafening, and authoritative. Despite his large size, he was agile, fast, and very smart. Mr. Okeke was a finicky man. He had some peculiar idiosyncrasies and was not willing to deviate from them. Well, his eccentricity caused him two wives within six months. Mr. Okeke had been a teacher in one of the popular schools in Enugu town. He had no children and had no sentiments for children, who would not toe the line. Eventually, his old mother, who had him as an only son, persuaded him to come back home with the hope that someday, one of the village damsels would catch his fancy and that the damsel would overlook his peculiar inclinations and make an honest man out of him. His family is still hoping and praying, and ears of the villages were still tingled.

‘Yes! Where