#2 - MY ACADEMIC PURSUIT... The Tears and The Joy

in #fiction6 years ago


pixabay.com

I immediately dashed into the bus to see my father but met his cold and unresponsive body, with his eyes still open as if he was still here, and his seat soaked in his own blood. I broke down in tears and one of the passengers, an elderly man, came to console me, pulling me out of the scene as he did.

MY ACADEMIC PURSUIT...The Tears and The Joy - Episode 1

Many of the passengers were in shock, some counting their losses with teary eyes and a few others sympathized with me.

The police arrived the scene about 50 minutes later. No doubt other passing motorists must have informed them, as none of them were courageous enough stopped for fear of being secondary victims.

They gathered necessary information from the scene and one at a time they stopped other registered commercial vehicles asking them to help a victim or two to their final destination.

Having boarded the last victim, they took the passengers manifest, the vehicle particulars and then drove me, the driver and my father’s corpse to their station, where they obtained a more detailed statement and opened an incident file.

Being that we were Muslims, to respect our funeral doctrine which requires that the deceased should be buried as quickly as possible, that night the police drove me home with my father’s corpse in the trunk of their vehicle.

People watched and wondered as the police vehicle drove into our courtyard and when they saw my wet and heavy eyes, and the body bag in the trunk of the police vehicle, they all started wailing.

It was a long night of sorrow and mourning, the sky equally mourned as the stars were absent. My mother was the most devastated and all effort to console her broke her spirit the more. She has just suffered an irreplaceable loss. Her strength, her strongest pillar in the land of the living has been taking from her, leaving her alone with all the struggles.

At dawn, the final rites were performed and my father was buried.

In the pursuit of a better tomorrow for me, his life has been cut short.

Life continued but certainly not for my mother as she cried with each passing day, grieving and asking the same fate to befall her, but with the help of time, she gradually healed.

Three weeks after the unfortunate event she called me from a distance - “Usman, lia ta” (come quickly -Igala dialect), and then she said, “remind me again, when will the result for that examination be published?” A week from today mama, I humbly replied.

“We will be there, I shall see to it that your education continues as it was what your father wanted, and Allah will see us through”, she spoke with a reaffirming assurance.

The day came pretty fast, more like in a flash and my mother jokingly asked “do we now have less than 7 days in a week?” and with a smile I relied "Mama, you make me smile always."

On arrival at the school, we dashed to the result boards were parents and pupils were already clustered, and while we were trying to make our way to the front, so as a get a view, one tall and lanky parent who was standing almost right in front of the board exclaimed “wow! Who is this Usman Abdullahi Junior? Not only did he get straight A’s in all the subjects, he also got the highest scores in all.”

Before I could acknowledge my name, my mother’s voice filled the air “that’s my son”; and just like the examination day where everyone gazed at me for my poor appearance, I was once again heavily gazed at, but only this time my poor clothing weren’t noticed, rather my performance was briefly celebrated, with many parents congratulating me and my mother.

All the while, professor Oyibo sat by the same tree where he and my late father waited on the examination day and not until he called me Abdulllahi Junior, I did not notice his presence. Prof. I called out, before turning to the direction where his voice came from.

“Intelligent boy” he said smiling. “How did you know it was me?" He added. You voice gave you up Sir. I replied, while he smiled in agreement.

Please meet my mother Mrs. Achibi Abdullahi; I quickly introduced as she genuflects and prof. said “welcome madam, “you son is a wise and an intelligent old man living in the body of a child.” My mother took that with a smile and then he added, “I am so pleased to meet you, and also your intelligent son once again. I have seen his outstanding performance and I have being waiting here hoping he would come with his father so I could congratulate him but fortunately enough he came with you, giving me the opportunity to meet you. Well-done ma you and his father have done a great job.”

Then he asked. "How is your husband doing?" That simply enquiry bruised the partially healed emotions of my mother as she began to sob almost immediately. I am sorry madam hope all is well? Prof. enquired, and when he learnt of what had happened, he too couldn’t control his emotions as his eyes turned red and wet, with his handkerchief frequenting his lower eye lids, wiping away the painful tears.

He consoled my mother and I, and told us to please take him like a family and feel free to visit him whenever we had a challenge or visit the city. He then gave my mother a complimentary card which he pulled from his breast pocket, and also reached for his wallet in his back pocket, pulling out some Naira notes, and then he begged her to please accept it for transportation.

Immediately, we went on our knees to thank prof. who humbly and quickly helped us up, begging us not to do that.

Admission commenced a month and two weeks later and my mother had a little difficulty meeting up with some of the requirements because she had challenges selling our farm produce as sales were really poor and the markets were saturated; but being on the fortunate side, she eventually did and without further delay we journeyed down to the school to process my admission.

The state had only two unity schools; one a mixed school for both boys and girls, and the other strictly for girls only. Thus, girls had an advantage over boys and that made the admission into the mixed school very competitive for boys.

We met the proprietor in the secretary’s office and from his stare, he sure wasn’t happy to see us. “Why are you just coming? He questioned, and then he adds, “It is so unfortunate, you have lost the admission as the school has admitted the maximum number of students it is allowed to take.”

“But Sir, how is that possible? Isn’t the admission supposed to end in two days’ time anymore?” My mother questioned. “I am sorry madam, I cannot answer further questions” said the proprietor as he walked out on us, into his office, slamming the door behind him.

Watch out for the Final Episode


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Just as gripping as the first episode! Eagerly awaiting the finale :)

Thank you so much @xmarnarx88. I am truly honoured by your comment.

Really touchy and good flow... Thanx for sharing anthoo:) true writer indeed

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What an inspiring and captivating episode @nicewoody69 if i may guess, at this point i think the prof he's going to bail abdullahi and his poor mother out in the next episode??. Thanks again bruv, i look forward to the final episode. Well done. 👏👏

Nice try @jayfamous.

Well the final episode is out, so now you can see for yourself how it all played out.

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