“Sobajo”
“LISTEN neighbour and listen good. “I began. “I have finally decided to forget about the existence of Sobajo. I don’t give a damn how he continues to survive and nobody will ever ask me to forgive that idiot, Enough is enough”.
I drained the glass of iced water down my throat with the hope that the burning nerves in my entire body, could cool down to a certain degree of pushing my heart beyond possible stroke.
My neighbour of 25 years stared at me, his lips dropping from surprise while his eyes started searching the truth out of mine.
“Is it an April fool or something?” He asked, not quite sure of what I was saying.
“April what? Is it 1st of April today? Is it not Eid-el-Kabir today? Or do you think this fantasy something should dominate my life, my world? Come on give me a break”.
I unnecessarily found my anger building up. What’s the big deal if I should get rid of Sobajo? Just because he was introduced to me by Grandpa some 28 years ago, wouldn’t mean he should be my friend for life. How many marriages disengaged after celebrating silver or golden jubilee by the couple? And because Grandpa asked me to keep my friendship with Sobajo, it shouldn’t mean he would stick to me like my twin brother or part of me that I couldn’t do without. See me see trouble!
“When we became neighbours, we vowed to be faithful and honest neighbours, didn’t we?” it was my neighbour Colel. When I nodded, he found the courage he needed and continued: “You once told me that Sobajo in your language means ‘a friend’. You rated Sobajo so high, you once told me he was more precious than your job or that he was always available when you needed him and that he never left you for more than 24 hours since your Grandpa introduced him to you and asked you to keep the friendship between you too by all means and at all cost.”
“I remember all those – those – but that was when things were going on smoothly between us – when we were sharing our sadness and joy without prejudice. We were, then, scratching at each other’s back but now it seems I must say good bye to him.”
“Why?”
“Why? Did you say why?” the stage of my anger was now building up more gradually than expected.
“Okay, I’ll tell you why. “I’ll tell you why I can’t have anything to do with this thing – you – call Sobajo. I’d have pardoned him if he’d eloped with my fiancée, or if he’d contributed in expelling me from work or anything worse than that – but what he did to me? – No way. No forgiveness and no more being together again. Never !”
“Cool down,” my neighbour said, little above whisper. He got to his feet and walked out of the sitting room as if he was avoiding stepping on rattle snakes.
As my hand reached the telephone receiver to call a friend, my uncle almost jumped into the sittingroom. The expression on his face nearly sent me out of the room.
“Uncle, what’s the matter. Are you sick or something.”
The six-footer stood in front of me, exposed his kolanuts-stained feeth, squeezed his pointed nose until he completely disfigured it, bowed his head and started measuring my height with his bulging-red eyes.
“Non-sence! Idiot!! Stupid!!!”
“Uncle!” I was confused why he should come to my house and start showering me with those uncompromising words.
“Who do you think you are? You little-bra-you-“. His hands kept painting me through the air, while his protruding lips assisted him tremendously in expressing how good-for-nothing I was.
“Whether you’re Mr. Fantasy or Fantastic or Fanta lemon, who cares? So you have the guts to say you’re calling it quits with Sobajo after nearly 30 years of togetherness? Shame on you.”
“I though you’re going to ask me why I’m taking that measure”.
“Though, ke? Rubbish. Because Grandpa isn’t handy to show you your true colours, that’s why you’re now throwing away a partner he gave you to remember him with, eh? Now listen and listen good. If you dare end your friendship with Sobajo, I don’t exist in your life. Don’t come to me for anything.”
“But uncle”.
“No buts. No uncle. Remember that it’s over between us if – if you break your relationship with our father’s only legacy – Sobajo. We were all around but he entrusted him in your care for the love he had for you. Besides, you’re his first grandson”. He took three steps away from me, stopped, turned round and pointed a shaky finger at me. He then shook his head and hurriedly walked out of the livingroom, slamming the door behind him.
I threw myself on the nearest sofa and held my head between my hands – you should know what I was thinking about.
I sat on that sofa until my eldest sister jeered me back to reality by tapping me gently on my shoulder.
“Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.” I said, apoligically. “Please sit”.
“You know why I’m here, don’t you brother?” she asked, her voice full of pity for either my condition or for their –our dear Sobajo!
“Sobajo?”
“Yes. Yes. Sure”.
“All of us, your brothers and sisters, uncles, aunts – everybody I should say, is completely against your idea of parting with Sobajo, someone so close to you, so loyal. Someone who obeyed you like a slave, you know”.
I raised my head to enable our eyes to meet. God, her eyes were full of tears. I also saw that her lips were trembling and by wearing no make-up, I sensed that she left home unprepared.
“I – never disobeyed you in my life.” I began, using the most convincing tone. “But for the first time – this time around. I would please like you to forgive me. I’m tired of having Sobajo clinging to me-see, the only two places he doesn’t accompany me to, are my bathroom and bedroom. Why? Put yourself in my position sis. How would you feel if your friend should follow you everywhere you go except your bathroom and bedroom?”
“But your case is different”.
“Different? What makes it different?”
After what seemed to be the mother of all arguments, she left, defeated per se, because I refused to give up myself to their decision.
I sat in front of the TV, half watching the Network news and half thinking about what my neighbour, Uncle and sister told me about Sobajo. But then I remembered that in the 28 years Sobajo had been with me, nobody, not even once, did anyone help me feed him, pay his medical bills or any other expenses incurred in maintaining him.
Suddenly, my sittingroom became brightened by several car headlights, parking in front of my house. I was amazed because it was somewhat late for any social visit. I hurriedly walked to the nearest window and peeped. What I saw sent shivers across my already tired and worn-out nerves. One of the car had our Grandmother sitting at the back of it.
“Come in Grandma,” I said loudly, surprised that she was able to beat the severe harmattan and that late hour, to come to my house. Something tangible must’ve occurred. Something I must say should be terribly serious.
The four-foot five lanky figure of Grandma, more like a letter C, lightly passed by me. She didn’t bother to even look at me, let alone answer my question of “anything wrong?”
Myself and eight other people, mostly my uncles, aunties and cousins followed behind, with sealed lips and our hearts in our mouths.
“Look here and listen. Listen very attentively. I don’t care about your Samanja moustache, or your Buzu-Buzu hair or your fansy ideas. I came to talk business”.
“Grandma, business? What business?”
Her eyes rolled round, surveyed all those who were around her and then her eyes finally rested on me.
“Sobajo—“
“Sobajo?” I asked, now getting the right picture of the whole situation.
“Yes, Sobajo.” She cleared her shaky voice and pulled her lanky frame to the edge of the sofa.” Did what these people tell me about your decision—“
“Oh yes Grandma—“ I cut her short.
“Don’t Grandma me, you silly thing. Don’t you ever interrupt me again. “Her voice was full of anger and my mind told me to be very careful to avoid creating unnecessary scene.
My family suddenly joined the uninteresting ‘meeting’. I signaled at them to be quiet, especially when I noticed that Grandma sort of stared at them and waved her hand down, in a sign of ‘go away’ movement.
“What’s your plan – about Sobajo?” Grandma finally broke the intense silence covered by very boring conversation and unconducive atmosphere.
I refused to answer her question for fear of further embarrassment.
“How many of us here bear the name of Isa?” She asked, her voice forming more anger.
“Grandma. I’ve been having the company of Sobajo pushing 30 solid years today – and I’m -” “you’re what?” she interrupted fiercely. “Shut up. Shut that your Agwagwa looking mouth.” She suddenly got to her feet, pointed her bony finger at me and continued: “With those Chinese eyes of yours, you hardly see things below your nose”.
I thought she was going to describe the way my nose was like; thank God she didn’t, but deep inside my mind, I described her figure at 95 but I’d rather reserve my comments.
“Grandma, my family and everyone down here, I’m sorry I can’t continue with Sobajo. Haba! There’s limit to tolerance. You just can’t have someone following you wherever you go like a shadow! Even your own wife a times gives you a break, let alone someone just introduced to you. Please give me a break too.” I uttered the words so quickly no one had the opportunity to interrupt me.
“Okay since you want war, you’ll get one!” Grandma shouted. “This is your two families. Your wife and kids on one hand and your other family on the other – and we shall seize to be part of you and you part of us, if you dare – if you dear disassociate yourself with my husband’s only legacy – Sobajo.” She covered the few feet between us, stared at me, squeezed her pointed nose, twisted her lips and uttered some uncomplimentary words.
“We’ll all go back home and wait for your final decision on this delicate issue – and mind you, I’m taking your wife and children with me – now! “Are you coming with me or not?” I saw them all nodding, and that nearly gave me away because I took all my strength to control bursting into laughter.
When I tried to see them to their cars, Grandma commanded me not to even try it.
“Stay right there and decide – final decision”.
I angrily walked to the study where I left Sobajo lying helplessly on the table.
“Just because of that 28-year-old Rado wristwatch given to me by Grandpa, my life is thrown into this misery?” I asked myself.
My eyes then fell on the photograph of Grandpa. I smiled and gently held the photograph to my chest and whispered loudly: “Sorry old man. I just cooked up a funny story and attributed it to you. Sorry, forgive me my Grandpa, ok?”