Kaleidoscopes

By Adebola Adisa

Life itself is a Kaleidoscope!
Kaleidoscope is a fictional novel which chronicles the lives of ten women of different races, backgrounds, tribes, professions, social strata and marital status, who are linked by one thing; they are either infected or affected by HIVAIDS. Through their stories, we read about the dilemma which some of them must deal with when faced with the reality that they have tested positive for HIV.

Anyone can become infected or affected and HIV infection transcends race, tribe, sex, age, profession and social status. AIDS is still a very much dreaded disease, mainly because of the terrible stigma attached to it and because it is still incurable. However, it is noteworthy to reiterate the fact that being HIV positive is no longer a death sentence because there have been several advances in the Scientific and Pharmaceutical world. People living with HIV/AIDS, now have the chance to live positive lives.

So, have you had your HIV test ?
Let us stop spreading the Virus
Let us stop the HIV/AIDS stigma!

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Oct 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781546298267

Adebola Adisa

Adebola Adisa is an accomplished writer. She wrote her first book ‘the Magic of Destiny’ under the pen name Jessica Dice. In her second book ‘Kaleidoscopes’, she chronicles the lives of ten very different women who have been affected by HIV/AIDS. Aside from writing, she enjoys running, trying new recipes and loves to spend time with her family. She is a GP in the United Kingdom. Facebook Adebola Adisa instagram.com/p/BiVC7zph0Ot https://twitter.com/TheMagicofDest3/status/1031136566398398465?s=19

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© 2018 Adebola Adisa. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 10/24/2018

ISBN: 978-1-5462-9825-0 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-5462-9826-7 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Fati’s Story

Madam Goody- Goody’s Story

Bimbo’s Story

Ngozi’s Story

Cherie’s Story

Regina’s Story

Jenny’s Story

Iyabo’s Story

Faith’s Story

Hauwa’s Story

About Kaleidoscopes

Dedication

To everyone infected or affected by HIV/AIDS,

Don’t forget to keep living.

One day hope is sure to spring up and a cure will arise.

Acknowledgements

I acknowledge and thank every member of my family and all my friends, for everything.

I am especially thankful for my wonderful husband Niran, for my beautiful daughters; Orinayo and Mo, my beloved sister Adetola and for my loving parents

I also thank all my teachers for giving me the access key to the gate of education, through which I have been able to catch a glimpse into the world of never-ending fountain of knowledge and haven’t looked back since!

I thank you all!

There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune;

Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries

On such a full sea are we now afloat,

And we must take the current when it serves,

Or lose our ventures.

Julius Caesar Act 4, scene 3, 218-224

William Shakespeare (1564-1616)

Fati’s Story

The night is here again and believe it or not I am used to the dusk along with whatever tidings that it bears, either good or bad. There are numerous characters on the street, each acting their own script; the drug peddlers and their vulnerable addicts, the prostitutes who some people prefer to call the women of the night and their willing customers, the rapists with their cruel intentions, the thieves and their would-be victims. There are also strange noises, creepy insects as well as the intense and gross darkness along with all kinds of evil and the likes.

You see, I work as a beggar. Oh yes, I beg for a living. I can hear you question why anyone would choose begging as their profession. People tend to see beggars as very lazy people, who in most cases possess two good hands and a pair of functional legs, but would rather avoid hard work and well-deserved sweat, choosing the easier way out to earn their daily bread. I hear a lot of snide and even cruel comments directed at me, sometimes as mere whispers but occasionally loudly echoed and directly within the easy reach of my hearing.

People mostly question and wonder why an able-bodied woman like me would beg. I always shrug off their judgemental looks and unspoken questions. I have become quite accustomed to all these spoken and unspoken thoughts. Besides, I do not care much about what anyone thinks or does not think!

I did not choose to beg! No, I didn’t and yes even though I try to meet my daily needs and that of my family members through begging, it is not the easier nor is it the lazy way out. Begging is hard work and it entails constant and heavy sweating. I am a family woman; with a husband and two lovely children who are twins, a boy and a girl. I am also heavily pregnant, several months gone now. I secretly hope that it would not be another set of twins.

Another lovely little girl would certainly bring a nice completion to our family size. It would also be a consolation for my other daughter who I buried some years ago. I had carried her for the full nine months, but sadly she died of an undiagnosed illness during the very first week of her earthly life.

Occasionally my husband also begs to make additional money, however he does this rarely, when he manages to stay sober, off the alcohol and the weed. Most of the time he is busy recovering from his hangovers, either from Panya or Paraga or a combination of both. ‘Paraga’ is a very strong form of alcohol and ‘Panya’ a home-grown and cheap form of weed also known as Marijuana. His hangovers tend to last for a while and at times he would be unable to wake up for several days and nights at a stretch. When he does wake up, he would simply sit around the house doing absolutely nothing. Most of the time, he is busy trying to avoid getting into trouble with his area boy colleagues or hiding away from them after getting into trouble, lying low as he called it!

Yes, we do have our own house, a makeshift haven right under the Molete Bridge in the heart of the ancient city of Ibadan, the city of brown rusted roofs. The Molete Bridge is the linkage between Challenge area, a suburb and Molete, a less privileged area. A large part of the space under the bridge is occupied by several household types similar to ours. It also houses all manner of characters that you can think of; including the weres, who we all try to avoid as best as we can. Weres are people with mental illness, who everyone prefers to call the mad people.

It is easy to identify a were; they often have torn clothes on, look unkempt from head to toe and appear so dark skinned that when it’s dark you can only see the whiteness of their eye balls. This is as a result of several months or even years of not taking any bath. In some instances, they would remain completely naked until brave good Samaritans convince them to wear clothes, which would only last for a brief period before it got torn yet again. At times, you would see them having deep conversations with no one in particular. Sadly, people always make a spectacle of them and in most instances chase them or run away from them.

We all know each other but are not friends with each other. This makes it easier to steal from ourselves, quarrel or verbally abuse each other if the situation warrants it. Everyone is always alert and wary, we also become envious if we see any sign of progress in the lives of our neighbours.

Despite all these, there is an unwritten code that no one is allowed to physically harm anyone else and this helps to prevent unnecessary chaos, maiming and loss of lives. However, this does not in any way imply that it is a safe neighbourhood to either live or raise a family in. Still, it is home sweet home to me, besides we don’t have anywhere else to stay. I can’t tell you how comforting it feels to have a place to call home. Home is someplace or any place where one can rest after any day’s hard work.

Back to my life as a beggar; it is a tough one, really tough. As the years have gone by, the kind heart and giving nature of the people has gradually dwindled and this is as a direct result of the economic hardship which has threatened almost every household in the country. Only a few are exempted. These unaffected few are those who have direct or indirect access to Nigeria’s pot of wealth or close ties with the big men and women in the Government. It also includes those with a lot of authority and power either by birth or by right.

There is a very high inflation rate which has become more severe and made worse by the ever-increasing cost of fuel as well as by the lack of constant electricity supply. Every business is being affected either directly through the cost of fuel and electricity or indirectly through the increase in the price of raw materials and finished products. Most people are their own electricity generators and they make use of imported generators or locally produced ones.

Every business or store owner, especially the market women tend to increase the prices of their goods sporadically and as often as they fancy. If given half the chance, the typical tomato seller, rice seller or the garri seller would proudly inform anyone who cares to listen, that the rise in the cost of their wares is due to the increase in the cost of fuel. I can never understand that reasoning, but I suppose that they are right. It is appalling that there are no checks in the system. No one cares and no one would dare call them to order. This is how they too cut their own piece of the’ free for all’ National cake.

In addition, the law enforcers are not bold enough to serve in their role as law enforcement and regulatory officers. Nobody wants to bell the cat and in most cases their hands are already well oiled with bribery and too slippery with corruption, which makes it impossible for them to do anything sensible to correct all that is going wrong. In any case, how can they, when they themselves no longer have the moral justification to do so.

A few years ago, it was the norm that we received alms in the form of many twenty-naira notes and even the occasional fifty-naira notes, but now it is very rare for anyone to give you even the extremely dirty, crumpled or torn ten-naira notes; one of the smaller paper denominations of the Naira. Still, on a very good day my family would be able to collect alms of about fifty naira as our total takings. The presence of a heavily pregnant me and my two cute, but hungry looking twins still manages to evoke the much-needed pity out of people.

Nigerians are not a completely heartless people. They would dip their hands into their full or nearly empty pockets as the case may be; then proceed to drop ‘something’ into our kitty. On the very few occasions when none of our charms work, we simply resort to begging from our fellow beggars who are surprisingly generous despite their own circumstances. It never ceases to amaze me that those who are themselves poor, the poorest of the poor, are often more willing givers than those who are rich.

I always hope that soon, my children would be old enough so that they too would be able to go out to beg on their own, that way we would be able to live more comfortably off our joint collection. I know for a fact that people are more sympathetic towards children and all I need to do is to teach Remi and Wale Junior the art of begging.

One of the most effective tricks of the trade is to try to reach out as if you want to touch passers- by. We know that no one likes to be touched by dirty beggars like us, so in their bid to avoid this and any form of contact with us, they would quickly throw a token at us and run along at a speed that is faster than lightening.

There are still a few good-hearted Nigerians. Some of them give us valuable gifts and substantial amounts of cash, foodstuff, second hand clothes and shoes, as well as old toys for the children. However, they mostly do this on the rare occasions, especially during the religious festive seasons; at Christmas and Easter, which are important celebration days for the Christians and during Ileya and Itunu Awe, the big and small Eid; important celebration days for the Muslims.

During these festivities, there is an overwhelming feeling of peace, love and joy as well as appreciation and respect for God and fellow men. Most people feel the need to be kind to their neighbours, most especially to the less privileged ones and as such we often receive many gifts and far too much cooked food such as Jollof rice, Moin -Moin and chicken. We often have more than enough to eat during these periods. We have no electricity or fridges to store any excess perishable food and as such the leftovers are often dumped onto the already overfilled rubbish dumps. This wastage is in itself such a big shame, as we could have had several weeks’ worth of food to eat if we had the means to preserve them!

Fridays are also the ideal days to beg. We always queue outside the huge mosques where the rich and affluent men and women in the society attend their Friday Jumat service. As it is seen as a good thing for any devout Muslim to give alms to the poor and less privileged in the society, we always leave with a good amount of money which helps to take care of some of our needs for the next few days. We also do the same at the big churches on Sundays. At other times there would be nothing, so during those times, we half- starved!

Fortunately for us, we also have our regular dependable philanthropists. These kind and generous people would come to our homes underneath the bridge to share out goodies out of the goodwill of their hearts. My firm favourite is Madam Goody- Goody who we call ‘the Cash-madam’, a lovely pleasant woman. She is such a passionate giver. She often showers us with gifts in cash and kind, in and out of season. Her gifts are always timely too. Everyone here likes her and