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September 4
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2024-10-29 19:42:56It was roughly ten minutes past four, early in the morning and still dark, when I woke up to someone touching my feet.
I know it may feel weird when you are having a crazy dream about falling from the top of a treehouse, and when it seems you are about to land and crash on the ground, you suddenly realize you are on your bed with an intruder romancing your feet. That is how I felt when my cold feet came in contact with foreign hands. I groaned and mumbled to myself, half asleep.
"Perer!" I jerked fully alert at the sound of the treacherous voice above me. It was my sister.
"Christle!" I said in surprise, aware that she had arrived from a night party.
In case you are thinking about her name and feel it is odd and awkward, you are not alone in your silent quest. I feel the same way too. Sometimes, I try to accept a very funny idea I brought up which I think is true. It has something to do with her naming ceremony. I think my parents were probably excited that after all the years of cuddling and spilling bodily fluids all around their large bed, the moments of agony and despair, God eventually answered their pleas and gave them my sister. So in appreciation, they thought of a way to give her back to him.
I know you may be thinking about dedicating Christle to God or confining her in a nunnery for the rest of her life. No! My parents had other ideas and the best way they felt to give back to God was to name her after his son, Christ. And my Mum was of the opinion she should be like him — Christlike! I can imagine my Dad looking at her face, shaking his head and finally rejecting the idea. In the end, they came up with Christle. But those are just my thoughts. The truth may be different. You never can tell.
"Yes, it is your big sister, the one who likes to do wild things," Christle said and smiled in a way that showed only her upper teeth.
I pushed her aside and raised the bedsheets close to my face.
"Are you trying to drive me away from your room?" she asked.
"If I could, I would. You are a pain in the ass," I said.
She looked at me delightedly.
"You are not going to greet me? So you are not interested in asking me how my lectures are going at the university?" Christle smiled again.
"What do you want from me? Can't you see I am all messed up and trying to get my brain to rest?"
Now, you would think she probably might say, "Ok, I am sorry for disturbing you. You can go to bed." Christle was not like that. She was full of life and could dance all day to the sound of one particular song. Now, she is a terror, and every form of torture - no matter how small - gives her a sense of excitement that I really can’t explain because she is abnormal.
"I need some money," Christle said. "The allowance that Mum gave me has finished."
I tried to sit up but she placed her elbow on my knees. I stopped trying.
"I don't have any money if that is why you are here," I said like a child who wanted to go in the rain and play with his peers.
"Can't you get some money for me? Even if it is a few change. I really need the money to survive on the school campus," Christle lowered her head.
"Sorry, does Mum or Dad know you are here?"
I was about to complete my sentence when Christle dragged me closer to her body and hugged me.
Christle was prettier. I could see it. The red lip gloss applied on her lips made them look shinny in the dark. Even the tiny dark spot on her face could not hide her beauty. She was my big sister and the only queen that I knew.
"They don't know I am here," Christle said.
"How did you get in my room?" I asked.
"Through there."
I murmured as I saw the open window. For chrissake, I thought there comes a time in a girl's life when she starts to know the difference between guys stuffs and girls stuffs. Entering through a window was a guy stuff and there is no exception no matter who you are. In the movies, you don't see a girl sneaking into a guy's room for hedonistic reasons. Rather it is the direct opposite. Guys use the windows not girls.
"Are you not going to get ready for school?" Christle asked, stretching on the bed.
"If you were interested in my life, you would know that school doesn't start for another three weeks."
"Are you going to blame me now for not storing your school records inside my little brain?"
"You have never really been serious since I have known you."
"That is right," Christle agreed.
"How much do you need?" I asked my big sister, reaching out for my trousers. "You know I don't have much."
"A thousand naira will be enough till our parents decides to respect me by sending my weekly allowance."
"Manage this," I said to Christle, giving her the Nigerian note with two great men faces on it.
"Hey, little brother! Sorry for coming in this manner. I will make it up to you when I visit this weekend. I promise," Christle smiled delightedly and threw a kiss in my direction.
I snorted noisily. "See you this weekend."
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Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger September 12
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Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger September 16
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Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger September 21
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Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger October 8
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Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger About the Author
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.
Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger August 31
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
Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger August 26
"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
Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger August 23
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Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger August 20
"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
Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger August 13
"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
Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger August 9
"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
Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger August 1
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
Perer Ford: Diary of a Stranger July 31
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
