Today didn't go as I had planned. I wanted to go out in the rain and play but I did not because I had a lot going through my mind. I thought of the young man that stood in front of everyone and shared his pain in the support group. I could feel his pain as much as he could understand my pain.
Today, I sat alone in Mrs. Uju's sitting room, thinking about Delaney, wondering if she was still in Nigeria or if she had left the country. I thought of sending her a letter but I didn't, I couldn't. I just told myself that I had no other choice rather than to accept she was gone forever.
I fell sick today. My eyes were pallid and I was unable to breathe properly. I tried to stand up, I couldn't. The voices inside my head kept on screaming loudly as if they wanted to tear me apart.The room was plain white, and it took more than a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the bright lighting. I felt almost over taken by the weakness of my body, the failures of its nature to combat diseases.Struggling to regain my strength, I tried to get up from the hospital bed and would have stopped if it weren't for Mrs. Uju who kept on encouraging me to keep on fighting, who seemed to be having nearly the same level of pain and discomfort I was experiencing. I kept on making attempts to get up from the bed, my hand placed on the soft white bedsheet that covered its nakedness. I failed."I can't! Why can't my body get over this?" I complained.I blinked, accepting my condition with a slight moan. I didn't know how I found myself in an ill state. All
June 16I woke up early the next morning to find myself alone in the hospital bed. Mrs. Uju was already up and pacing by the window with her thumb between her teeth as if she was thinking about something. I watched her, admiring the patience on her face and the lines that stood out on her ebony skin, which looked as if it had grown fairer in the past few days."You are still sick," Mrs. Uju informed me."No, I am not," I turned to her and urged her to touch my skin for signs of heat. She declined."Did you pray to God as your slept on your sick bed today?""I told you I don't believe in God. Why are you saying something that has to do with him?""Nothing, Perer." She turned to me and sat down on the bed. "We made a bet concerning your health. I told you that I was confident you wouldn't last a day, you said otherwise. I will give you time to think about your loss."After she left, I
Dear Henry,I am not quite sure how to begin this letter. I would have loved to start with the seas and then move to the dry land and it would have been nice to tell you all about them but I can't because I am in a depressing state I am still trying to figure out. Two days ago, I had a bet with my aunt's friend. She said I wouldn't get well before the end of yesterday. I told her I would win. She said I wouldn't. There are days when I would have let such bets go without hesitating but I didn't. We had the bet and I lost. I am in a critical condition now. I have been in the hospital bed for two days now and the doctor is saying I will spend more days here. From a distance, I can see the Red Sea, cloaked in a fog so that I am unable to see the other end. I wish I could see the other end but the more I try to look for the other end, the less I see what is going on there.Since today, I haven't smile much because I am too
I was discharged from the hospital today. The sound of Mrs. Uju's voice made my heart jump for joy as she led me slowly to her car."You will be fine, Perer. I wish you could have lasted up to a week," she said, "so you will learn to appreciate God for everything he has done in your life and in the life of your family."I raised my eyebrows, wondering if she was trying to be polite with the words she said or if she was trying to persuade me to follow her religion, her way of life that I could spend a day of my existence condemning."Besides," she added, "it will do you good to know that my daughter came here with me.""The one that doesn't talk to me in your house?" I asked, rather skeptical."If she blinks way too much then that is my daughter."I smiled, reasoning how many times I have seen Mrs. Uju's daughter in her house, always silent, always thinking about something only her could understand. Her condition suited her well. The whole blinking disorder was suited for someone of her
The boy who was wearing a black cap with an adidas logo knew he was not supposed to keep quiet when he saw a man with a gun running inside a compound close to Mrs. Uju’s house but he did. I didn’t know what to do. My heart was beating as fast as I could remember. Even my pulse was rising. Mrs. Uju was not yet back home. According to her daughter, she was in her friend’s house, discussing about the politician who was granted bail despite his crimes, despite all the amount of money he had looted from Nigeria. I stood outside Mrs. Uju’s house as I watched the man who recently entered her neighbor’s compound come out. He was looking tensed. His eyes resembled a deep black hole sucked in its own void. He looked from left to right. He left before I could raise an alarm.*It was afternoon when Mrs. Uju arrived with her friend. The people who lived across the street a
After church service was over, I stood outside the church entrance, waiting while Mrs. Uju greeted the people crowded around her like chickens searching for grains to eat.“Good afternoon, glory be to God who has blessed us with good health and long life,” she said, before shaking hands with the ministers, acknowledging the wonderful voices of the choirs, and congratulating a newlywedded couple. Some of the ministers whispered to her concerning her efforts in the church projects, Mrs. Uju didn’t whisper back. She didn’t see the need to exchange words with them when she considered service to the people of God as service to God himself.“Good afternoon, sir! This is the child I was telling you about,” Mrs. Uju said.The senior pastor of her church looked up, observed me quickly with a smirk on his face. His complexion was very light, like albino, and the hairs that covered his chest and chin were even worse. He hit his small bla
Sometimes all I can do is sit and wonder at what happens in life. I can't weep because my eyes have lost its well of water. I have cried and can't again. Everyone will always say there is hope and I strongly believe in that. I strongly believe everyone will always say there is hope and not hope itself. Sometimes, I wonder if I should just kick myself and tell them there isn't but I can’t do that because I have to always keep my mouth shut.The very day Clag died, no one knew what I did but I did it and I'm not afraid to say what I did. The very day Danny died, I drew a map on my hand to comprehend if there is a road leading from life to death or if there isn’t. I have been sitting for all these while now but now, I am looking at things in a different direction. I can't breathe but yet I live. What is the use of life? Why was I born? Why was I given emotions? Why was I told I have a great future? Why was I t
After the incident that occurred in Mrs. Uju's neighbor's house on Saturday, after the incident that occurred in Mrs. Uju's church, I want you to know that I felt bad for three days. I want you to know that I felt pain but not clueless ones. I want you to know that I felt the true meaning of a friend in need.I wanted to express the pain I felt for her neighbor through tears but Mrs. Uju warned me not to waste my time pissing her off. I wanted to express my refusal on the decision she made with the senior pastor but Mrs. Uju reminded me of her ownership in the place we lived together.Today, I asked myself about my identity. I asked myself who I am. Am I the loner who lost himself trying to search for someone else? Am I the loner who lost his past while seeking for a lost cause? Yes! Lost cause! The senior pastor of Mrs. Uju's church told her I was a lost cause, a demon infested human being with a craving to go against the will of God. What is God? A system? Who is God
Chibuzor Victor Obih was born in the southern part of Nigeria. Delta State to be precise. His writing includes essays, poetry and short stories. He likes to play soccer, read, study and above all, write. He is currently a fourth year student of a renowned public university in Nigeria. The University of Port-Harcourt is where he is pursuing a bachelor's degree in Mechanical Engineering. Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger is his second book and his second attempt to explore the beautiful world of a novelist. To stay connected with him and his works, you can follow him on Instagram using the account name, Chibuzor Victor Obih or follow him on Facebook using the account name, Author Chibuzor Victor Obih.
The pathway to heaven is rough. The streets are not tarred. The bells are not ringing. Where is God?Apart from the sound of the water dripping from the tap in the bathroom, I couldn't hear anything. I couldn't even hear my heart beating inside my chest."This is going to be my last attempt," I said to myself.I tried to turn around as I felt the impact of the drug I took. I tried to move my limbs but I couldn't. I closed my eyes and saw myself dying. It was terrible. Then, suddenly, I saw Jesus Christ looking down at me. His feet, white as snow. His hair, colorful as gold. He took my arm and told me to get up."I will give you another chance, Perer," he said."Why?" I asked, confused."Because you deserve it."I didn't know what else to say. I just stood there, shocked. I stood in front of the son of God I had condemned most of my life and I couldn't say anything. All I could think about was my book. The diary I had writt
"The first time I have ever thought of killing myself was in Port-Harcourt. I wanted to make my death quick. Less painful! I wanted to pass any sharp thing through my body and bleed till I was dead. I didn't realize how painful it was until I grew older," I said to the therapist."Where were your parents when you were going through all of this?" The therapist asked."What can I say about my parents," I said, thinking. "Dad stayed with us until he divorced Mum some months ago. Then I was sent to live with my uncle here as if I was the cause of their divorce. Dad was always thinking about life. He constantly joked about God. For your information, Dad hates God. I don't know the exact reason why he hates God, I only know he hates God. Anytime someone mentions the name of God, he gets pissed.""Do you think your Dad's hatred for God is the reason why you hate God too?""I don't think so," I swallowed hard. "My case is different from Dad. I only want answers t
For days, I have been pondering about the meaning of my life and I can tell you that I haven't been gripped by the fear of it even if it is the slightest bit of it. Have you ever been scared of dying and as well feel you are not afraid of living? Only two days did I hear a preacher speak of eternal life and it resounded in my ears for as long as I could remember. It was the first time a person read a bit of my mind without knowing me. Do you think I am slowly turning to God?For so long I have dreamt of Clag and Danny. And for so long I have demanded an answer as to why I was brought to this life, but yet, there haven't been any answers. For some reasons, I reckon, I am but only a roaming lifeless mustard seed enclosed in a showcase and packaged in a nylon called life. To prove my point, think of an empty space with an empty sack lying downwards. Can you imagine that?I left home today to visit Goodness. A newness of
"Thank you for coming today," the therapist said. "I was afraid you wouldn't come because of the way you sounded when you left my office the other day.""Can we continue from where we stopped. As you can see, I am already getting tired of this introductions.""I understand. I understand, Perer."The therapist turned my file to the next page."I thought I would never say this about you but you are an incredibly smart person. You deserve a good life.""Almost everyone does," I replied."Some, more than others. Those who set goals, work very hard, stay out of trouble and complete their education deserve a better life.""Can we get on with this, ma? I am trying hard not to freeze to death.""Are you cold?""No! But I am freezing yo death inside of me.""Give me time."I watched as the woman looked at my file, raised it up, turned it over and placed it back on
"Seven children?" Miss Bisi repeated. "I am sorry, you want us to have seven children.""Yes!" Uncle Max smiled."And you mustn't apologize all the time. It is permitted for couples to share diverse opinions on children. As long as there is love, there is unity.""And you want us to have peace in a home filled with seven children?"Uncle Max didn't mind having lots of children even if it was a dozen because he had spent most of his whole life being alone. The fact that Miss Bisi wanted less than seven kids was not going to change his mind."I was thinking," I interrupted, "with the rate of inflation going on in Nigeria and with the way jobs are getting fewer, how are you guys going to raise seven children in an unstable mixed economy?""God will provide," Uncle Max smiled."Yes! God will provide," Miss Bisi added, supporting his statement. "What is on my mind is not giving birth but being referred to as a married woman. I want people to start
"I want to help you, Perer," the therapist said. "We agreed to meet two days ago. Why did you delay?""I can't answer that, ma. And you can't help me. I am already a lost cause who is swimming on the surface of the earth. My time will come and I will soon die.""I understand," the therapist wrote something down on a book. "Any memories of your childhood you might want to share with me? Since the conversation about the people you care about last time did not lead us anywhere, I thought it would be best if you tell me about your childhood.""There is nothing to talk about in my childhood. It was a moment that has passed. It can't come back again even if I want it to."“Are you happy with the way your life is right now, Perer?”"Happiness is a subjective question, ma. It can mean a lot to a lot of people. Some people are in a relationship not because they are happy about it but because th
My day started almost in a haste. It started with the early morning sun shining in a rush before the rain started falling slowly from the sky. The rain fell like fine sifted unwanted powder thrown from above. I was still in Enugu and I was still at Uncle Max's house, acting with utmost perfection as if everything was alright with me. Not for one single time did Uncle Max wonder if my silence was a new found habit or if it was a cage I had deeply fallen into. The lack of communication that started between us two weeks ago was still growing everyday as if it had an unquenchable hunger that needed to be settled. The lack of communication bothered me as I counted the number of days remaining for the year to end. One hundred and fifty two days!"Miss Bisi is coming today," Uncle Max said as he served me a plate of rice and stew. "She has been asking questions about you and I have been finding lies to tell her. What is really wrong with you, Perer?"I felt my jaw drop but I
I did not talk. I could not talk as I sat on the white plastic chair. The therapist repeated the question, and again, instead of a response, all she got from me was a bland dying stare."Perer, relax. I want you to relax. I hope the plastic chair is comfortable?""Relaxation is not something that I fancy these days. Say what you want to say. I will answer as much as I can answer.""Alright," the therapist wore her glasses. "Perer, it may interest you to be informed that I have read your file over and over again and I still don't understand what your problem is. You said you are not suicidal but yet you are depressed. Do you care to explain what you mean by that statement? I will give you time to think about my question while I go through your file. I have decided to not charge you because I admire your courage to seek help. It is not common for young people of your age to admit they are suicidal. They see it as a crime!"I inhaled softly as I climbed into