When the rain never comes 3

* Dera’s Dialectics!

By Izu Osuigwe

CASMIR was on his way to Aro Slum City when he heard the ping of a message on his phone.
Clinging to the speeding bike man, he had to wait until he got to Aro before checking it.

Aro Slum City could be approached from different directions. From Elf Bus Stop on the Lekki-Epe Expressway, you turn right if coming from Victoria Island, hit the beach, and turn left until you get to the area close to where Lekki Sunsplash Music used to be held. Or you approach from Alpha Beach Junction.
But the best route is directly from Jakande Roundabout. Head towards Lekki Beach, and to the right, you’ll see a settlement of polythene-on-sticks huts—thousands of such structures, housing families, singles, and runaways.

If you can’t afford the high cost of housing in Lekki but don’t care about the basic comforts of a home, head to Aro Slum City.

The smell of weed hung in the air like a dense cloud.

That guy coming to look for messenge work in your office in Lekki? You wonder where he lives? Aro could be his home city. That girl who fixes hair in a salon? She might be living in Aro.

You appreciate Aro better when there are riots in Lagos, and you see malls and shopping complexes under attack by looters. The police and army wonder where the overwhelming crowds come from.
They surge from Aro. Half a million people, deprived and almost forgotten.

Casmir first heard of Aro the year a neighbor’s housemaid went missing with stolen property. At the Ilasan police station, the officer on duty asked if they had checked Aro. They took the advice, drove to the beach, and met the area boys in charge of the settlement. After paying a token, they described the girl, and one of the boys remembered seeing a new face in the area. He took them there, and it was indeed the missing housemaid.

Now, with nowhere else to go, Casmir remembered Aro and headed there.

On arrival, he met the guys in charge, paid five thousand, and they allocated a polythene hut to him, with torn carton papers on the floor as a bed. He lay his weary bones down and, only then, opened his phone to read the message. They were from Dera.

“Your clothes have been sent to Mr. Chigbo. When you get a place, send the address so we can forward your remaining clothes and property.” — D.

He managed to walk to where a woman was selling Agoyin beans and Akamu, bought five hundred naira worth of each, and made hiswerenner. Then he lay on his carton bed, thinking.

He would go to Mr. Chigbo in the morning. Even seek help while collecting his clothes.

He had three ,weeks of medicine left. He needed to be conscious of that.

The following morning, Casmir walked out to the Mai Tea man and ordered fried egg, inserted inside two hundred naira Agege bread, with hot Milo and sugar.

Then he trekked to the tarred road off the beach, climbed a bike to Jakande Junction, hopped into a bus going to Ajah, and stopped at Eleganza, opposite Ikota Shopping Complex, walking towards Road 3 to Mr. Chigbo’s office.

The secretary told him Mr. Chigbo was in and would see him once he was done with the two visitors ahead of him.

Casmir recalled they had been best of friends before he started withdrawing from lounges and social gatherings. The last couple of years, they had barely spoken.

Chigbo had retired from the upstream oil sector and gone into the importation and sale of POPs and security doors. From the well-furnished office, he seemed to be doing quite well.

The secretary poked her head through the door.

“Oga, will see you now.”

Casmir walked in, stopping only to give the secretary his phone to charge.

“Aaghh! Mr. Casmir, how things? Long time!”

“Oga Chigbo, na wao. Una abandon me finally?”

“Abandon who? You, who stopped attending meetings and hanging out with the boys?”

“I don’t blame you. Na wetin pass the mouse visited the mouse.”

Chigbo studied him for a moment.

“But you’ve lost weight, Casmir. What happened?”

“My brother,it hasn’t been easy.Lost my job, health challenges, and now… wife issues.”

Chigbo leaned back.

“I know about the first, heard of the second. But the third is news. When did this happen?”

“In the midst of my health challenges. I was on admission when my wife served me with divorce papers. I must have signed non-contest documents among the papers to sell my house because the next thing I saw was her coming with the final divorce order. She warned me never to set foot in the house again.”

“Too bad. Could this be related to the package I got yesterday addressed to you?”

“Those are my clothes, bro. I don’t know where to start. As you see me here, I’m kobo-less.”

Chigbo sighed.

“Sorry, my brother. So, what’s your plan?”

“Plan? Does a naked man reach into his pockets?” Casmir forced a laugh.

“I’m hoping to raise some money, rent a place, and start reconnecting with old friends. See what we can do together.”

Chigbo hesitated.

“Hmm… Cas, to be frank with you, unless you want to create a new friendship circle, our friends are not happy with you. Let me ask you— in the last seven years, whose child’s naming ceremony, housewarming, anniversary, or wedding have you attended?”

Casmir lowered his voice.

“None, Chigbo.”

“Exactly. And at ; it of those ; shes, your name came up. People asked where you were. My advice? You can try reaching out, but don’t expect much.”

Casmir swallowed hard.

“Okay. Thanks for the advice. Meanwhile, can you assist with any amount? I’m really broke.”

“Not now. I’m trying to clear some goods.” Chigbo reached under his desk and brought out a package. “This is what you came for, I guess?”

“Yes, please.”

“Good. I have a meeting to attend. It was nice seeing you, Cas. Stop being a stranger.”

“Okay, I won’t. Thanks, brother.”

“You’re welcome.”

Casmir eased into the secretary’s office. She was not there, so he sat for a bit to let his phone charge.

He decided to wait about twenty minutes.

Inside Chigbo’s office, his phone rang. It was on speaker.

“Onwa, how you dey?”

“Ochiri, I dey. How far?”

“I’m good. Guess who just left my office?”

“Ochiri, I’m not into Bet Naija. Who came to your office?”

“Casmir Okafor.”

There was a pause.

“Casmir? Our longtime friend? I heard his wife divorced him.”

“Same person. He was looking like a scarecrow. In fact, if you saw him, if you denied him laughter, you wouldn’t deny him tears,.”

“Nawoo,too bad,what did he come to do?”

“Two things, to collect a package his wife sent to him and beg me for assistance “

“Hahaha,that’s funny,you recall we discussed him at our last meeting in January, and where someone said soon he would be coming around to beg for help”

“Yes, it was Michael who said it and some of us expressed doubts, the guy has deteriorated to a great extent, I was even ashamed he came to my place, then he said he want to visit old friends to ask for assistance “

“Same way he assisted others? A man who concentrated only on his family, let him visit me first, I would keep him at the reception for hours “

“I told him how we feel about him and I am sure he won’t come to disturb you guys “

“Na WA you should have let him come so we can have our laugh at his expense, I will look for his number and invite him over”.

“It was not necessary, I advised him to relocate to the village”

“But he is the only surviving child of his late parents, what would he be doing in the village?”

“He can take up wine tapping and trap setting, hehehe “

“You are wicked, Onwa.”

With a beating heart, Casmir listened as his two former friends ridicule him.

Now he knew—he was alone in the world.

A heavy burden settled on his chest. He shuffled out, caught a bus to Jakande Junction.

And as he alighted, the solution came to him. He wouldn’t be a burden to anyone. He would commit suicide. The decision was so simple, he felt some pressures lift from his chest.

Tunde lay on the bed beside his wife, reminiscing over how he convinced Dera to go for the divorce.

He had moved in as a concerned colleague over her financial problems. Had asked how she was feeling about her hubby. The things she loves about him.
She had recounted how Casmir was there for her from WAEC to her first degree, then paying for her studies in one of the best schools of Capital and Financial management in the world, Stanford University.

Then he probed about what she does not like about her hubby. She was forthcoming.

How Casmir never liked to lose an argument, hardly apologizes.

Tunde had explained it as a typical toxic African patriarchy attitude. Then he started persuading her.

“Dera, you have paid back whatever he spent on you with the children you have for him. You could still have had no kid but just your being his wife was due payment, but having one, two and three kids for him were more than enough payments”

“And now you are over paying by taking care of the bills in the house, school fees, rent, food”

“In short, mehn! you are a super woman,up I hope he was washing plate daily in appreciation?”

“Even before he fell sick, he was not that concerned about my intimate happiness, now he is ill, the doctor insists no pursuit of conjugal interests any longer”

“Wow. How do you ease tension, toys? Dildos?”

“Tunde, don’t you think it’s getting too personal?

“Personal, we have been delving into your personal life for a week now and I would go deeper because I care about you so much I won’t standby and let you be destroyed by my fellow man if I can help it.”

Dera was touched by his bold declaration on her behalf.

“Thanks, Tunde.”

‘You are welcome. So what do you use to ease off tension?”

“My fingers.”

“Inadequate, but not important now. Let’s work on setting you free.”

“How?”

“Different approaches, each dependent on you, and hinging on if you wanna be free to enjoy your life, take care of your children without the spectre of a bogey man standing behind you, pointing an accusatory finger at you, and snarling, “I made you who you are today – you owe me big time!”

“He had never come out to claim he trained me as an accusation, but you can see that strand of thought behind his attempts at winning arguments.”

“He would soon and you don’t want to be around when gets to that category. It’s high time you put him in his place.”

“How?”

“Just promise to see it through when the process starts, then you will appreciate the freedom that comes at the end.”

“Okay, Tunde.”

Dera arrived at the office in an emerald green gown, paired with a black jacket. As she stepped inside, her friends, Michelle and Emotan, were in a celebratory mood.

“What’s poppin’? You guys look like you just won the lottery.”

“In a way, yes!” Michelle grinned. “Emotan closed another huge deal this morning.”

Emotan beamed. “Yep! A US client finally signed off on Lekki Galaxy Heights development. Bought Three apartments, N900 million total. My 5% commission? N45 million. That puts me at a total of N70 million in commissions so far , and the year isn’t even halfway through!”

“Wow! I’m so happy for you!” Dera whooped, hugging her.

She wished her luck would change too. She had done well—her commissions never fell below N30 million annually, plus her N10 million bonus shares, bringing her yearly earnings excluding her salaries to around N40 million. But since joining the firm, she had observed that Emotan consistently crossed the N70 million mark and was now on track for N100 million in commissions alone.

Even Barrister Michelle, despite not being a marketer, always managed to rake in well over N50 million in commissions.

That’s the kind of money I should be making, Dera assured herself.

“Also, guys, we’re free of that animal, Osaro, for a week.
He took leave to travel to sort out a custody battle with his Brazilian ex-wife. His adult daughter wants to move down to Nigeria,but her mother doesn’t think it’s safe.”

“Serves him right,” Dera said. “I bet his daughter is just as nasty as he is.”

“Let’s not spoil the air talking about that man,” Emotan interjected. “Lunch is on me today!”

Cheers erupted.

As Tunde turned into the Optimal parking lot, he checked himself in the car mirror—for the tenth time that morning. He had dressed to kill, like any man aiming to impress a new catch.

Navy blue Lanvin suit, Italian cut, hugging his 6’3” frame. Sky-blue double cotton Charvet shirt. Red polka-dot tie knotted the easy Clinton style, paired with matching dark red polka-dot socks, Dark brown Italian ankle-length shoes.

He admired himself one last time before noticing an SUV pulling in. It belonged to Dr. Ime Udoka, the elderly General Manager. Not in the mood for pleasantries, he waited for Udoka to go up before stepping out of his car.

As Udoka exited the back of the SUV, something looked off. Then it hit him—the man had dyed his grey hair jet black and even parted it at the side. He looked like an old-school headmaster.

Tunde smirked. Different? Yes. Better? Debatable.

Once Udoka disappeared inside, Tunde waited another ten minutes before entering the building.

After exchanging greetings with the security and cleaning staff, he took the lift straight to Dera’s office. His suit was still crisp—perfect, he checked.

But just as he reached her door, he froze.

A man’s voice—laughing.

Udoka’s voice.

He peered through the window. The GM was perched on Dera’s desk, blocking his view of her. Chatting. Laughing.

Tunde’s blood boiled.

How dare this old man flirt with his woman?

Fuming, he turned back to his office. He couldn’t risk Udoka spotting him loitering outside Dera’s door.

Fifteen minutes passed. Then thirty. He went to check again.

Still in her office.

He went back later, peering through the window. Udoka was still there.

‘Oh, my heavenly God in heaven! Won’t this old man let this girl do the work she was employed for?

He stormed back to his office.

At 11 a.m., he tried again.

Still there.

But… the figure is shorter now. The suit, outdated. Cheap.

Determined, Tunde burst in—just in time to hear:

“Madam Dera, I bin dey come from Free Trade Zone where I drop clients. I stop for opposite LBS Sango Tedo buy corn and Ube for you. Then I see udara, I buy am too. E sweet well well. I hope say you dey like corn?”

Tunde lost it.

“Ebuka! What are you doing here? Buying and selling agbalumo and Ube? Has this office now turned into Oyingbo and Iddo market? Get back to the drivers’ lounge! And don’t ever wear that 1955 coat again!”

Ebuka scrambled off the desk and scurried out.

Dera burst into laughter. Tunde couldn’t help but join in.

“Haba, Tunde! You chased my toaster away!”

“I came earlier to greet you. You were busy”

“Yes, Dr. Udoka came to chat with me.”

Tunde was relieved she did not lie to him about Udoka.

“Okay, I will see you before close of work. Maybe, we can hang out somewhere after work.”

“Okay Tunde, see you then.”

As he opened the door, Udoka closed his. He, like other staff, heard Tunde shouting on Ebuka and looked thoughtful as he walked into his office.

“Chima, abeg stop laughing, I don’t see anything funny with the situation that would make you laugh.”

“Guy, it’s funny, you just said you can’t imagine someone named Ebuka competing with you over a lady and you don’t find it funny?”

“But I am serious nah,imagine you competing for a lady with a guy named Olaitan or Qudus? Yea, I can understand Kunle, Femi, Wale, but Olaitan. I would feel doubly insulted. It’s like you visit your girl and heard that one Udeme came to scope her too, instead of nice sounding names like Akan, Ebong, Udoh or Eno, so instead of Chuks, Emeka, Okey. It’s an Ebuka, not even because he is the company pool driver or he was wearing an ancient and modern suit!”

“That’s a new one! Ebuka wearing a suit? I have not seen him wear a suit before. This is getting serious ooh.”

“You can say it again, you know those suits we used to call dead men suits, they sell along Marina, near Broad Street Lagos?”

“Yes”

“Those suits you buy post graduation, nearing the end of your service year and ready to start job hunting, you head out to the marina and walk to and fro observing and examining the different suits hanging in front of the stalls, even as you pretend like they were the last thing on your mind, then having homed in on one you like, you make a U turn, observe the suit very very well, then when next you pass by, fiam you dart into the stall so fast any person walking behind you would conclude you just dissapeared from the face of the earth like Elijah, then haggle the price with the seller, he folds and puts inside a small black nylon bag, you grab and zap out of the store and area like you got in there by mistake and hated whatever you encountered inside there”

“Ofcourse every graduate or corper who lands in Lagos heads out to the marina to buy dead man’s suits, the worst about those suits was that after the first dry-cleaning, the sleeves hangs out of balance “

“You know the ones I am talking about bro,the sleeves hang out of balance like the hanging gardens of Babylon.
Now the suit Ebuka was wearing to go chase Dera appeared to have been made at least one hundred years before those marina suits we were buying years ago, to be honest, it looked like the suit William Wilberforce wore to frighten off slavery traders from slavery,then dashed it to Lord Lugard to wear to force emirs and chiefs to agree their coming together for the 1914 Amalgamation of Northern and Southern Nigeria”

“Kai, I get your point, but don’t worry, shoot your shots like we agreed”

There was a knock, Fred, Dr Udoka’s messenger poked his face in.

“Oga Tunde, Dr. Udoka said you should see him in his office immediately”

“Okay I am coming” as Fred closed the door, he continued.

“If I were a woman now he would have come to see me in the office, this company is becoming what I don’t know abeg,let me go and see him and know what he is calling me for”.

“Tunde, drive to Cemad’s Ogba office. Inspect the place before we approve training there. I want a full report.” Udoka instructed him.

“Sir, it’s noon! Peak traffic. It could take four hours to get there.”

“Then leave now, make sure you take pictures.”

Tunde clenched his jaw.

Udoka smirked under his breath. Next time, think twice before shouting over a woman you haven’t married.

“Chima, this guy wants to ruin my after-work date with Dera. It would be after six before I come back, and our office closes by 5:30.

“Sorry, bro, just manage,” Chima said, and Tunde left.

Chima waited for 30 minutes and walked over to Dera’s office.

“Hey, Chima, what’s up?” Dera asked.

“I’m fine, Dera. How’s it going?” Chima replied.

“I’m doing good,” Dera said.

“Okay, I came on behalf of my guy Tunde. You know he likes you a lot,” Chima said.

“Really? How do you know?” Dera teased.

“Because he talks about you often, and I’m aware he was there for you during your trying moments,” Chima explained.

“If you say so,” Dera said skeptically.

“I know so, Dera. I made moves on you when you first joined us, but when you declined, I respected your wish, didn’t I?” Chima asked.

“You did, Chima, and that’s why we became close friends,” Dera acknowledged.

“More than friends, Dera. I have tried to gently let my wife copy your attitude to life because I admire you a lot,” Chima said.

“You do?” Dera asked, visibly delighted.

“Of course, see your mode of dressing? I have tried to suggest to my wife that she mix her clothes and colors the way you do. How do you get it so perfect each time?” Chima asked.

“I don’t know; I guess I have an eye for fashion,” Dera replied.

“No, not just fashion. Even your food is so tasty; it’s like you infuse your wonderful essence into the food,” Chima said.

“Hmmmmnh, you mean it?” Dera asked.

“Yes, I do, though I haven’t eaten your food for some time. But each time you give me a share, I try to avoid eating anything else until the following day,” Chima said.

“Thanks, Chima. You’re making me so happy with your words. You may have a chance to eat my food again today,” Dera said.

“Wonderful! That would make me so very delighted. I’m looking forward to the food,” Chima replied.

“Okay, Chima, thanks for stopping by,” Dera said.

Tunde drove out of the office and headed to the Silverbird Galleria along Ahmadu Bello Way. He sat inside a lounge, ordering a bottle of Goldberg lager beer.
He picked up his phone and dialed.

“Yea, Philip, yea, I’m okay. My office is considering using your place for training based on that letter I told you to send. Yea, just add 30% on top as my commission. But meanwhile, snap pictures of the premises, the lecture rooms, convenience, your office, the street. Snap a minimum of one hundred pictures and send them to me. I’m waiting,” Tunde said.

He dropped the phone and took a sip of the ice-cold Goldberg lager beer, muttering to himself, “Shebi he wants to see pictures? No be only pictures, he go see the ones they call picturesque today.”

Two and a half hours later, he was back at the office and went straight to Dr. Udoka’s office.

“Sir, I was so lucky there was no traffic from VI to Ogba,” Tunde said.

Udoka was unimpressed. “Where are the pictures?” he barked at Tunde.

“I’m sending them to you, sir. They’re so many,” Tunde replied.

“Send all, and I hope you got everything,” Udoka said.

“I did, sir. You would be happy with my job,” Tunde said.

Udoka ignored his remark, the assignment was not assigned to make him happy.

Tunde walked out, got to Dera’s office, but it was locked. Frowning, he went to Chima’s office and found him eating food with enthusiasm.

“Dera’s not around?” Tunde asked.

“She went out with Emotan and Michelle. Emotan took them out for a lunch outing to celebrate her latest deal,” Chima replied.

“Okay,” Tunde said.

“You came back so quickly,” Chima observed.

“Yea, I did. Cunny man die, cunny man bury am,” Tunde said with a chuckle.

“Hehehehehe, what happened?” Chima asked.

Tunde told him what he did, and they both laughed. Tunde went back to his office.

As he was about to enter his office, he recalled the food flask Chima was eating from. It looked very familiar; he knew he had seen the flask somewhere but not with Chima.
Something not so clear is happening in this office, all of a sudden , he told himself. Suddenly, Udoka is dyeing his hair and visiting junior offices, Ebuka is now wearing Ancient and Modern suits and dealing on Agbalumo and Ube, now Chima is eating from a familiar looking food flask.

Around 4 pm, Dera and her colleagues returned to the office, their happy voices filling the air.
Chima returned her flask to her with thanks. Tunde came and discussed with her about taking her out to Bay Lounge by Lekki Waterside that evening

Nkechi is her father’s child.
In her culture, the father is usually the first daughter’s first boyfriend and they share secrets even the wife won’t be privy to.
In some homes, the wife uses her first daughter to pry concessions from her hubby she won’t have gotten on her own.

Dera had explained to Ekene, her second daughter and Onyi the last child and only son, that their Dad was becoming a liability and his needs were making it difficult for her to provide for them.
She had followed this up by taking them to chocolate city for them to indulge in.

Either they believed her or they were too young to understand, they had not protested.
She had hoped they would have broken the news to Nkechi, so it would be a matter of her promising to take her out for shopping and she would be sorted.
Moreover, she had hinted that they would spend their long holidays in the US with their maternal cousins instead of Dubai as had become their practice since Casmir fell on hard times.
After the embraces and hugs.
Nkechi had retreated to sit on the long sofa, her large eyes on her mother.

“Mummy, where is my daddy?”
That was the first sign of trouble, not where is daddy but the prefix “my” denoting personal ownership.

“Mummy, where is my daddy?” Nkechi asked again.

Her voice was calm, but her hands were balled into fists. The dim light in the sitting room cast shadows on her face, but her eyes shone with a sharpness that made Dera shift in her seat.

“Ohh Nkechi, didn’t Ekene and Onyi inform you?, I could no longer cope with carrying his burden, it was becoming hard for me”

“Mummy, I am not understanding you, I asked where my daddy was, not if he was a burden or not”

“I guess he should still be in the clinic”

“No mum, I called the clinic, they said he had checked out without permission and they had reported him to the police because he was owing the hospital, I called his phone and it was switched off”

” Oh well, I don’t know about that, but you can see it’s typical of him to run from the clinic “

“Mum it’s not typical of him, he was evading arrest, how come he did not return here on leaving the clinic “

“Mum said she told him we were parking out and he should not step his foot in this estate again or he would be embarrassed ” Ekene volunteered

“Oh my God mummy, you turned daddy into a fugitive, for what, mummy I want to go to my daddy, wherever he is is where I want to be”

“Young lady, enough of the drama, I took a decision for your best interest, I can’t be taking care of him and be paying for your international college education, your lessons, rent, your holidays, so stop the nonsense, I took a hard decision for you guy’s sake and you better respect that”

“Mummy, mummy, I don’t want to attend any international school or holidays or lessons, I just want my dad, mum how can you do this to us mummy, how can you, where is my daddy, my daddy is very ill, before I went back to school, he told me he would be alive till i come back, so I can hug him once again before he gives up, mummy how can you be this cruel, would daddy have abandoned you, would he?”

Nkechi was now bawling her head off, rolling on the ground like someone bereaved and the other two joined her.

Dera’s phone was ringing, it was Tunde, she put it on silent, wondering if it was all worth it.

She went to the kitchen and sat on the kitchen island with her hands on her jaws, she had gone too far to turn back, Casmir is her children’s dad but he evokes only contempt from her, she can’t imagine that scarecrow she left in the clinic touching her body, infact she cringed to think of his fingers on her delicate body.
She resolved to go and talk to Nkechi and calm her down.

“Marie Claret!” Dera called Nkechi with her English name, to distract her.
Nkechi turned to look at her mum, the name arresting her attention.

“You are almost a woman at 13 years and should understand more than others, your father and me have stopped being husband and wife since the three years he has been sick, it’s not about the money only, I am a human being and the doctor told me not to make any demands on him because of his delicate health, it has not been easy for me too, what if he had died since last year or last two years, won’t we continue with our lives?”

“Mummy even at all these, I asked you a question, could my dad have abandoned you if you were the one sick?”

Dera knew the answer and refused to answer instead now seeing her calmer, decided to press on.
“You saw how he left the hospital?”

Nkechi didn’t move, didn’t blink. “Mum, he didn’t just decide to leave. He was forced to leave because of the hospital bills. Why didn’t you pay them?”

Dera inhaled deeply through her nose, then exhaled in a slow, measured breath. “Nkechi, you’re old enough to understand some things. I have done my best for this family. Your father is a man. A man should provide, not become a burden on his wife. I carried him long enough. I have three children to take care of, and I cannot add a grown man to the list.”

There it was. The hard truth. The one she had been swallowing for months, pretending it didn’t exist.

Nkechi tilted her head slightly. Her voice was softer this time, but the hurt in it cut deeper. “So, you abandoned him because he got sick? Because he couldn’t make money anymore?”

Dera felt the sting of those words more than she expected. She uncrossed her arms, sat up straighter. “That’s not how it is.”

“Then explain it to me,” Nkechi pushed, her voice rising just slightly. “Explain how the man who took care of us, who worked hard until he couldn’t anymore, suddenly became a liability!”

Ekene shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting Between her mother and sister. Onyi pulled his knees to his chest and stared at the floor. The air in the room had become thick, heavy with something none of them had the words to describe.

Dera let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. “I didn’t abandon him, Nkechi. I made a choice. A choice to protect you, to protect your future. Your father would have dragged us all down with him. Would you rather we all suffer because of him? Clarets, your education is very important to me and I can’t compromise it for anything, the sacrifices were for you also and not only for me “

“Mummy, I don’t care about any education, I try to come first in class , to see those smiles on my dad’s face, when he got sick, I studied more to give him some joy, if he had died, I would have promised him on his death bed that I would attain his dreams of me to be a neurosurgeon, but who would I promise that to now? Mummy please tell me”

“I am very sorry Nkechi, I may have been a bit selfish, but we need each other now, please find it in you to forgive me”

“Mummy, who am I to forgive you, the only thing I am sure of is, I am not going back to that school unless I see my father”

Nkechi stood up and went to her room.
Her siblings followed her without looking at their mum.

Dera picked her phone and went to the balcony,it was raining, she opened the phone and sent a terse text to Tunde.

“Sorry I can’t come out as promised, I will explain tomorrow “

She sat on the balcony listening to the rain ,for like two hours, when she came into the house, she went to check on her kids.
They had fallen asleep.
Nkechi was clutching an old shirt of her father to her chest and murmuring in her sleep.

Casmir had been crying as he googled on the most painless method of committing suicide.
The rain was beating a heavy tattoo on the polythene roof, percolating in the grooves and threatening to tip the nylon hut over, so every thirty minutes, he would push up the nylon roof for the accumulated water to cascade over the side.
He was luckier than some others, he could pay for a nylon roof over his head, for some others,out there on the beach, they would rent a big polythene, wrap it around themselves,head to toe, then lie on the beach buffeted by the rain and the waves.

After the embarrassment in Chigbo’s office and incessant calls from the hospital, he had removed his SIM card and bought a used one to enable him access data.
With tears in his eyes, he thought of his children as he wondered how his body would be treated if strangers found it in the hut.
He had ruled out drinking sniper because of the final discomfort, he can swim, so drowning won’t work.
He had gone out to buy razor blades.