CHRONICLES OF A NIGERIAN PHYSIOTHERAPIST by 'Bola Abioye

EPISODE FIVE

‘Mum, who called you this time again?’ I finally asked.

‘Oh… Charles, that’s what matters to you now right. What matters to you is if it’s Prophet Jabesh or Prophet Judas that called me?’

Then I burst into laughter. I can’t help but wonder why these prophets must bear names as Judas, Jabesh…if you know, you know.

Then she changed it for me straight up.

‘Charles, why exactly are you laughing? You know I get scared anytime you get close to that girl and you know that I am at the risk of having stroke with the way my blood pressure rises in little situations.’

There she goes again. My mum gets little information on health precautions and that’s the end. We hear nothing else save what she has learnt in the house for about at least a month. She subscribes to all sorts of health tips on her network and then tries to confirm her newly found information from me.

She has several facts on why eating eba, using an onion bulb that has been cut once and used again is wrong, why she should eat neither fish nor meat but eat only shrimps and crabs. If I listen and agree with everything she says, I’m sure I’ll not be eating food anymore. I’d probably have to invent something else that can supply me ATP. While I’m not saying these facts are strictly right or wrong, I’m suggesting that people confirm these things from a good health journal before holding them close to their hearts as truth. As for the information she had on stroke, well…that’s correct.

Like I would always say, some writers put up facts, some put up mere opinions and it’s important to be sure of what we read; especially when it comes to issues of the health.

Back to my father’s house and the situation at hand, of course, I had to comfort my mother who was now in the midst of sobs. Then dad came in.

‘What did you do to my wife this time?’ he asked in a casual tone. This was not typical of him so instead of replying, myself and mum stopped and looked up at him. At this point, it was important to confirm the good news.

‘Mr. Omagbemi, what has happened?’ Mum asked. Mum always called dad like that when he got into his casual (not business focused) mood. I know reverse is the case as seen in Nollywood movies where wives call their husbands by name when they get into a strong arguments and call them their pet names while in casual moods. Well…

Dad kept smiling. ‘Follow me Charles’, he said.

‘He’s going nowhere’ my dramatic mother said, dragging my shirt. ‘You are breaking the news to us both she continued.’

‘Oh really, then I’m breaking no news at all.’ He responded.

‘Then you are going nowhere’, she said standing in his way and smiling as broad as a broad smile could be. I sensed that whatever the news was strongly had to with me and so I knew I had to put a stop to this drama that my parents seemed to be enjoying so much.

‘Dad, please just talk. Ignore whatever is happening right now.’

‘Charles, you’re indirectly asking your dad to ignore me, right?’

‘No, mummy….’ I was already trying to defend myself when dad caught in.

‘Take your redeployment letter my dear son.’

I jumped for joy. There was no need asking how he did. We knew too well of his connections here and there.

‘Goal ball jor!’ I shouted.

‘What’s that? What did you say?’ my mum asked.

‘Woman, you better quit picking up fights with your boy and hold on to him tightly since he’ll be staying with you for a year’ dad said, in a bid to make jest of mum. Then it dawned on me that yes, I wanted to stay in Lagos but staying in my father’s house? I was strongly reconsidering. I mean, I need to be my own man…