A Few Pretty Thoughts | Sndbox Summer Camp Writing - Task 2

One thing I’ll tell you, though. One thing I’ll really tell you—you can’t know anything for certain.

Take the well beside which I stood with my sister, for example. Amazing well. Made of rings and all. Huge ass rings, of cements about six inches thick and everything. Really huge. About sixty centimeters in diameter. About the same centimeters in height. Really huge stuff. But what’s amazing about it, you see, what’s really amazing, is that our well, beside which I stood with Lydia and everything, had about twenty of these rings. I’m not even kidding you. Twenty huge ass rings arranged all the way down the earth, knocking on Hades and everything.

Lydia and I we fetched water from this huge ass well every day. It was one of our daily chores, and to fail to do it meant we were going to get flogged, but this made it no less amazing. It was vigorous workout and stuff. We were really in shape, too. I mean take Lydia, for instance, pretty girl like she was, extremely dark-skinned and all, she had started to have this really cool biceps. Amazing, I tell you. I didn’t even have to do my pushups anymore after I’d return.

I was away, you see, serving the country. I wasn’t really crazy about it, to tell you the truth. But around here you have to do it once you graduate the University and all. And it’s not like it’s the military or anything, so. Plus it’s supposed to be fun—it wasn’t, though.

Well Lydia and I fetched water from this huge ass well every day. And that day, the one I was telling you about, was no different. I was fetching into a bucket and she was carrying the bucket inside and everything. I was pulling out for the last time, though, when the rope slipped from my hand and the fetcher fell in the damn well.

"You’re finely screwed."

Lydia said.

Honestly, though, I wasn’t. I wasn’t, really.

I mean, if it was Lydia and everything, she’s screwed. She really is. But not me, though. Sometimes even, when she makes faux pas of that sort, I took the fall; I’d tell mom I did it, because, honestly, she sort of treated me special, mom.

To tell you the truth Lydia and I aren’t even really related. Not like the conventional stuff, anyway. But around here you get to think, and you realize nothing is even how it is, or how they say it is. You really get to think. For example what is the meaning of family and everything? DNA? Naa fmily’s the people who really understand you. Conventional philosophy would have us believe, though, that it is these people you share the same DNA and live in the same goddamn shack with that would really understand you and all. Poop pooh all that, though.

So Lydia wasn’t really my sister if you decide to go with conventional philosophy. She was my distant cousin or something. Came to live with us after her dad died.

"You’re finely screwed."

She said.

She knew I wasn’t, though. She really did. I guess she just liked to say that and everything. It’s always pretty to think so. Another thing I’ll tell you is it’s always pretty to think so.

"I’ll get it out."

I said.

"Well get to it, then."

I didn’t get to it, though. I just followed her inside while she carried the half-filled bucket in. We had just stepped in the living room, though, when this really crazy stuff happened. Our damn roof began to quake. We halted and felt the room shake and everything. Then it stopped, and we started laughing. Then it shook again.

So what Lydia did. What Lydia did is she dropped the bucket and ran outside. Then not long after, she appeared with a damn pipe. A damn pipe. Then she ran under the falling roof and everything, and supported it with the pipe.

"Come over here, will ya?" She said. "trust me I’ve done this before.

So I went over. I didn’t really believe she had done it before, though.

"You know the roof could literally fall over our fucking heads, right?"

"Stop cursing."

"You know we could fucking die!"

"Isn’t it pretty to think so?"
She said.

I thought so too. It’s always pretty to think so.

"No, it’s not." I said, still holding the damn pipe. "It’s not pretty to think so, I mean, aren’t you going to miss this life and everything? I mean we have such amazing lives. I mean we’re holding a frigging pipe, to stop the frigging roof from falling and everything. We’re like superheroes or something.

She smiled. And that just killed me. I swear it did. She just smiled. This really sad smile. I really fucking died inside. Because it was really pretty to think so and everything, and I’d said it wasn’t and she just smiled. The roof held, too, supported by the pole and everything. And it was a really brilliant idea, the pole.


The next thing we did after the roof I can’t remember. All I know is we found ourselves inside the room and everything. I remember I was pretty hungry, and was drinking garri—which is this amazing thing you soak inside a cup, or a bowl, filled with water. It’s really amazing. You eat it with all sorts of nice stuffs, too. Most times I had mine with fried fish and a heap of sugar. Groundnut finds its way in there somewhere, too. There was no fish this time, though. Mom was mad at Lydia, you see.

Apparently Lydia had said some things to some people about her. That mom maltreats her and everything, so there was no fish this time. I really can’t tell if it’s true, though, that Lydia said those things. I can’t even judge either way, so.

She swore to me she didn’t, though. Swore on her life. I don’t even care, really, ‘cos you never really know anything for certain. Mom wouldn’t believe her, at any rate.

What made her really sensitive about this case, though, mom, is that the woman whom Lydia told these things to—allegedly—is this woman, Mrs. Rotimi, who owed mom a lot of cash. Mom had gone to pester her for the damn money when a fight broke out between them. She was pretty close to our family, Mrs. Rotimi, to Lydia especially, so when this fight broke out, and was broken off, and words begun to be exchanged, first thing Mrs. Rotimi brought up was Lydia.

Anyway mom was furious when she left for work that morning. So she left us no money to buy fried fish and heap of sugar and everything. I like to think, though, that she forgot. There’s that. Anyway there I was in the room, peacefully soaking my garri, when I noticed I was the only one doing it.

"Aren’t you going to eat?"

I said.

Lydia was silent. Kept on looking at me intently with half a smile.

"Why aren’t you soaking your garri?"

"I'm not hungry."

She said.

She’s never hungry whenever mom’s mad at her. You should have seen her, though. It’s unexplainable. If you didn’t know her and anything, you’d think she looked so peaceful as she sat there watching me soak the garri and all.

But if you were me and you know her so much and everything, that same look, I swear, you’d think is so depressing and everything.

"You did a good job with the roof."

I said.

"Screw you."

She said.

"Stop cursing, fair lady."

I said.

It gets to her when I call her that.

"There’s a cockroach inside your garri."

She told me.

It wasn’t inside, though. It was right beside it. And it wasn’t a big deal, too, and she knew it. We practically lived with cockroaches and everything. They climb on you while you’re asleep and everything. Worse part is you don’t even know what. Might be a damn cockroach, mosquito, soldier ant, or a frigging snake. We’ve had a snake crawl in once. Father killed it, and burned it right in front of the house. Made a bonfire and everything. Cursed the witches too, because it was they who sent it, of course.

They’d failed, though. Mother gave a testimony in church that Sunday.

So the cockroach beside my garri wasn’t really a big deal, but I acted startled anyway. Didn’t know why I did it but I did it. I knew Lydia was just looking for something; and I thought maybe what she was looking for was a sign. A sign that I was no different from her. I took my slipper and killed the damn cockroach. I could tell she was relieved.

I was going to throw the cockroach outside when mom arrived. I entered the living room, and, after hearing mom’s voice, Lydia joined me there also.

You should have seen her face. Mom dropped her bag on the chair, ignoring Lydia’s greeting. Then it happened.

Lydia said:
"I’m sorry about earlier, ma."

And it happened.

For a while I thought she shouldn’t have said anything. But I was wrong to. What’s worse would have been to let the anger fester inside mother. She was more difficult to placate like that, mom. Anyway Lydia said she was sorry and it happened.

Mother went off. She went off, really.

"You little ingrate," She said. "you little good-for-nothing ingrate. After everything I’ve done for you. After everything. Did I not pay for your JAMB registration?"

Lydia was silent.

"Can’t you answer me? Or have you suddenly gone dumb? Answer me before I break your damn skull with this bag."

"Yes, you did."

Lydia said.

"Did I not pay for your WAEC exams and NECO?"

"Yes you did."

"Did I ever give you food without any meat on it?"

That might have happened a couple of times, but Lydia said no, of course. No you didn’t.

"Do I not like to take stock of everything I’ve done for you and nag about it every fucking chance I get?"

She didn’t say this, of course. I just included it because she really did like to take inventory.

Anyway I was feeling very uncomfortable and everything, so I thought about what I could do to stop the damn situation from escalating. So I decided I’d bring up the well and all. Take the fall and everything.

"Mom," I said, fast. "so, um, the drawer, it, um, it fell in the well. It was my fault and everything."

"Okay?" She said. "so get it out, and stop disturbing me for chrissakes. Now you,"

She turned to Lydia. "tell me, what am I supposed to do for you that I don’t do, huh? Tell me. Tell me, huh?"

When she gets like that, things heat up pretty fast. Next thing you know her eyes are red and everything.

"Get on your knees," She said. "get on your knees, close your eyes and raise up your hands."

What Lydia did is she got on her knees, closed her eyes raised her hands and everything. And even though her eyes were closed you could see these tear-like stuff around them and everything. Anyway I started thinking about the damn roof and all, and how she had held it with the pole, brave and everything.

No sooner, though, had I started thinking about the damn roof than it started to creak again, and shake violently. It really threatened to fall this time. She was right under it, too, right under.

So what she did. What she did is she sprang up and ran towards us by the other side of the room. Mother wouldn’t have it, though.

"I gave you a punishment," She said. "And you’re relieving yourself. What nonsense. Go back there now!"

She wouldn’t have that the roof was falling. So Lydia went back, under the falling roof and everything. She was chill now, though. The tear-like stuff had disappeared from her eyes. It was amazing, really. I just stood there, though, thinking about what I’d said earlier, about the roof falling and us dying and everything. And I thought about what she said, how it’d be pretty to think so. So right there I figured something. What I figured, you see, what I figured was I’d go there, under the creaking roof and everything, and kneel with her. I’d have my eyes closed and hands raised and everything, and it’d be just like earlier when we were erecting the damn pole.

I’m going to stop telling you stuffs now, though, I am. I’m not really in the mood anymore, to tell you the truth. I’m not even going to tell you if I went over and knelt with her under the falling roof or anything. I’m not going to tell you if the roof fell, either. I’m not going to tell you because it won’t even matter.

You’ll only start getting ideas in your head that you know things for certain or something. Which, of course, you don’t. And you don’t simply because no one does. No one can. Not even me. So what’s the point? Which is why I’m doing you the favor of not telling you what happened. You can make that for yourself.

It won’t matter.

One thing I’ll tell you, though. One thing I’ll really tell you—it’s always damn pretty to think so.

END