Sacred Oaths

EPISODE 4: WHO IS HE?

#SACRED_OATHS

Author: Samuel Frederick

Episode 4: WHO IS HE?

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A week after the incident at my place, the second semester examinations commenced fully. I spent more time in the library than I usually did before, and it soon led to my breakdown. I fell sick.

One way or the other, my dad got to know about my illness. I hadn't informed him at all, and I wasn't planning on doing so either. He just took me by surprise on a certain Thursday afternoon.

"Dad?" I exclaimed with shock as I laid my eyes on him. He was holding a bag and a briefcase in both hands, while Mimi stood beside him with a polythene bag that contained some tubers of yam.

She dropped the items in the kitchen and was about to leave but my father called her back. She adhered straightaway.

"Thank you, my daughter. Have this token for yourself." He stretched some Naira notes to her but she refused them politely. He insisted adamantly until she collected it shyly, and then she thanked him and left with excitement glowing on her face.

I stood up with the intention of collecting the bag and the briefcase he was holding, but he refused to hand them to me. I also greeted him by kneeling politely, as our tradition demands for elders, yet he didn't respond to my greeting. He was acting cold.

"Sit down," he said, and I sat as instructed. He also sat on the bed—beside me.

"Fifi." He called my name and took a very deep breath, and then sighed afterwards.

"Sir!"

"Fifi!!"

"Sir!"

"Fifi!!!"

"Sir!"

"How many times did I call you?"

"Three times, sir…"

"Hmm. What is wrong with you?"

I didn't know whether to respond or just remain quiet. It was a very direct question, and a very tough one at that.

"Answer me!" He demanded promptly. I still didn't know what to say in response, nor could I look up at his face, so I just buried my head down and toyed with my fingers.

"Our people say, a toad does not come out in broad daylight unless it is being chased by something." He began, just as I had predicted he would.

That was one thing about my lovely father. He always referenced every little thing to proverbs.

"They also say," he continued, "a child does not know how far the journey is as long as it is being carried by its mother."

I simply stayed mute and listened to his words.

"Fifi, what is wrong with you?" He asked again.

"Nothing, dad."

"Nothing? Do you want to kill me?"

"God forbid it!" I reproved his statement indignantly.

"What is God forbidding about it, Fifi? Is this how I brought you up? Or since when has it become a crime to let me know when you feel sick, my daughter?"

"I'm sorry…" I managed to say, still fiddling with my fingers.

"This is not a matter of being sorry here, child. You fell ill for a whole week and you didn't even bother to inform anyone, not even your sister. You just kept it to yourself that way. That's too bad! What if your friend hadn't called to inform me, how would I have known?"

"Dad, I'm sorry… I just didn't want to bother you unnecessarily. It's just a slight fever and it's nothing to be worried about!"

"Am I complaining?" He asked with a very unlikely frown in place, and I buried my head down again.

Then a brief silence ensued between us, before he said, "Fifi, you and your sister are the only reason I see hope to live in this world since your mother died. Everything I do, everything I am today and everything I work for is for the good of the both of you. Why then would you hide something this critical from me? Do you have another family elsewhere?"

"No sir," I replied. "I don't."

"Then make sure this never repeats itself, okay? Ever again! If not, I'll report you to the authorities and I'll personally make sure you get deported back to the streets of Accra." He joked and we both laughed hysterically, knowing that the matter was already settled.

The bag he brought along contained a lot of items, especially stuff like Bournvita, Milo, tinned evaporated milk and a packet of sugar, amongst others. He also gave me some money and spent some more time with me before taking his leave.

Then I accompanied him to the car park where I eventually bade him farewell after he'd gotten a bus, and as I was on my way back home, someone called my name from a distance. I looked around but I couldn't find the person in particular, so I just kept walking.

I hadn't taken more than seven steps forward when a hand suddenly blindfolded me from behind and asked me to guess who it was. From the tone of her voice, I could easily figure it out.

"Ijeoma!" I said loudly and we both burst out laughing. We embraced each other very warmly and gossiped together on our way back home.

When we returned home, I met Mimi sitting outside with a female friend from school. We all exchanged pleasantries as I walked past them but Mimi suddenly called me back.

"Fifi, a guy came here about ten minutes ago, asking to see you."

"A guy?"

"Yes. He said I should hand these over to you." She said, handing me a sheet of paper which was folded neatly, and a polythene bag.

"Thanks." I gestured with gratitude, collected them and then went inside.

Crashing on my bed, I opened the nylon and saw my trousers and T-shirt inside of it, neatly washed and excellently ironed. An envelope was also under the clothes with some money in it.

Amazed, I looked through the paper and saw a phone number on it, and a perfectly hand-written short note which read:

“Thank you for helping me last week. You are too kind, and very beautiful, if I must confess. Send my regards to your friend, Ijeoma. I owe you both forever!”

A sense of pride washed over me at once, so I just smiled to myself and read the note again, especially the part where he complimented me for my looks and hospitality.

As basic as it seemed, it felt somewhat special to me, probably because I hadn't gotten such sincere compliment in a long, long time.

Honestly though, who on Earth is this guy?