Not you ma, I love your daughter!

The giant Rat

Several months ago

"SQUEAK. SQUEAK."

That was the evil rat again. I don't need to be told. My eyelids shook firstly, and reluctantly before they paved way for my deep brown pupils.

The squeak of the rat came again. Not from under my cupboard, nor in the midst of the sacs where I put my clothes. But close to my ears. The chattering and hissing were like a devilish hymn.

Now you know why I call the rat evil. At least, some rats I've known, have some reason of responsibility, reasoning and belonging. They know their places. But this blackish brown huge rat in my single room had no fear of God, let alone a fear of me.

Or isn't it obvious? If he does fear me, would it be close to my ears making such wierd noise? You know, a way to look at it is that, the rat is the natural alarm which I don't have to pay for. Because it does wake me every morning. Which had plunged me into a dilemma, whether to be grateful to it or seek its downfall. Because two masters cannot man a boat, so it has often been said.

So, I sprung up to do the logical but cliche thing which everyone would expect of me. Of course, to catch and kill the rat. But you've got to come live with me, this rat is so blessed with instinct and swiftness that a part of him is quite jealous of its wit.

I can see the rat next to my white-turned-ash pillow, beaten by time. At least if I had enough money, wouldn't I had changed it? But when eating is a problem, how would you expect the consideration of the pillow to come into context?

Back to the rat, twas standing beside my pillow and I was on my knees. Like you do when you want to pray. And truth be told, a part of me is praying for the downfall of this satanic rat which even share my foods and shoes and clothes. Talk of insecticides and taming it, bro is very wise. I have no idea how it does evade death. But I'm certain that it moved in with me, and had been living off me like a leach, without paying a goddamn rent. The fuck?!

I was looking at the rat and twas looking at me. I was very sure about that. It didn't even whimper nor make a movement. How bold and daring.

I tried to play my palm by my side to pick one of my shoes quite close to the door and my bed. I did pick it, and with the intention to crush it unawares, I went for it, but it moved sideways and evaded, evaded death again.

The rat had turned and was facing me now. A part of me is spiritual and kinda dismiss the fact that even if the rat was sent from the dark kingdoms by witches, the blood of Jesus is enough for me.

"Stay there right, I'm coming for you."

I stood up that time and walked to the other end of my room where my cupboard is. I picked a turning-stick, a stick used for making some of my traditional food. Though I know the consequence of killing a rat with what I use to make my food, but all I could think of was the death of it.

"You're still here eh?"

I said, standing before the rat which was peering at me as though it had an intention. Of course it would. But I had no faintest idea.

Then I knelt before it again. I wasn't scared. Why would I be? Even though the rat was acting possessed. Even I am possessed, possessed by penury and hardship of the fucking country I'm living in. Don't ask me. It's Nigeria.

"You think you can send me out of my house? You think you are powerful? You've been sent by the witches right? All these whiles I've been very pitiful of you, but today... No more pity."

I raised the turning-stick up and brought it down in an attempt to hit it, but I hit the carpet which had been eaten halfway by the same rat. But I felt something on my face.

I wasn't so scared but I didn't know when I screamed. Twas the rat on my face. As I tried to pick it and fling it away, it leapt off.

"You fucker."

I cussed and stood up, trying to search for it but twas out of sight.

"My face!"

I gritted my teeth, kicking my 8 years old cushion which I've been using since my college days. Shouldn't I had bought a new one, but how could I? I'm fucking poor. Poor and haunted by a devilish rat.

I do not really have a bed, I only have a cushion, I call it foam. I kicked it around to no avail, I picked it up and tried to figure if the rat was lurking under as though twas some pin.

"Wèrè" (Yoruba)[Mad one.]

I cussed and dropped the bed. I looked around my shabby room which had nothing intriguing in it. My bed is by the door, and filled the space of the small room up to the wall up ahead. Beside it were my shoes.

To my side by the left were my cupboard, my stove and in between the two, my sac of clothes. If the room could talk, it could had cussed me for messing it up and choking it to death.

I have my stove in my room because I hated to have to share my little food with the neighbors. Not that I'm stingy or something, but in this my neighborhood, if you give a thing to your neighbor the first and second day out of goodwill, they would make it a ritual. And the day you CHANGE IT FOR THEM (get annoyed), they call you names. And I don't have time for such. I'm busy thinking of how to break out of this penury.

You should know a little about my story. I'm 25 years old. 6"2 inches, thick beards hanging down my jaws, reaching from the base of my ears and clouding my thick but wide lips. I have a straight nose and stiffened cheeks, which helps me to keep stern face anywhere I go. Especially for my job. My hair black and hard, eyes brown.

Let's go further into history. Back in highschool, when twas time for us to become seniors. My friends said they wanted to become doctors and since they were richer and took care of most of my break-time feeding fees, I followed them to the science department. My mother was poor, father dead. No family would help.

Okay! After highschool, I wrote my WASSCE (West African Senior Secondary Certificate Examination). My grades weren't perfect but were good. I discovered that if I want to be a doctor I would have to work harder. So, I sat for my UTME, after promising myself that I would do best. But I had 230. Which was not enough for being a doctor. I knew my fate would take a new turn.

So, at admission, I wasn't given a course in Medicine neither could I become a Doctor. But I was given Microbiology. Getting to the respective school, Kwara State University, for my POST UTME, I couldn't meet up with the cutoff mark. My cutoff mark availed me to study Animal Nutrition.

Later did I hear that, the Animal Nutrition department were not looking for students anymore, so, I had to make do with an available course. Fishery. Else I'll wait another year and probably repeat the same hurdle.

Well, after the hurdle of years at Uni and Service, I'm working now at a NEPA office. (Now called PHCN- Power Holding Company of Nigeria)

I should be well paid if I had connections and am working in the office. At first, the first two weeks, I did work in a office as a secretary. But soon, my boss moved, but I had to remain in the division. The new boss fancied a lady over me and made her his secretary. And now, instead of I to go jobless, I've joined those who lift ladders around the community to cut the wires of people who refuse to pay their funds.

Don't be piteous of me. I'm kinda smart. The money I've been making from the NEPA office hasn't been enough but someone said HALF-BREAD is better than CHIN-CHIN.

And aside the money I send to my mother, and house rent, and data subscription on my Tecno Pouvoir 2, I have been saving up for my international passport. I always believed that sooner or later that I would meet a billionaire American woman who would like me and fly me out of my country. And bless goodness, I just downloaded the top-face dating app and uploaded two super edited photos.

I've just finished bathing and getting ready for work. I've soaked my Garri (cassava granules). I opened my door and stepped out of my room to let the Garri swell before coming back for it. My phone in my hand.

As soon as I closed the door behind me, I heard my name,

"Dare. Your mom is in the hospital. I ran into her when I went to see my sister."

A middle-aged Yoruba woman said in my native language.

"What happened to her?"

I asked as the woman got to me, but she walked past me instead without adding a word. I rushed in and changed into a pair of trouser and top. I was tempted to take few spoonfuls before leaving but I couldn't think. I love my mom so much.

I jammed my door and locked it. Then hurried out of the FACE-ME-I-SLAP-YOU house. As soon I got out, I unlocked my phone to call one of my friends at work to tell him I'll be late.

I headed for the way to the hospital. Then I heard my name,

"Dare."

I looked behind in the opposite direction (two directions lead to my house). Twas my best friend, Kola, but I couldn't wait on him.

I thrusted my hand into the air and rolled my finger signifying that I would be back later. But I knew too well that Kola was going into my room. He has a spare key to my room.

Shit. My Garri is gone. But I can't choose a Cup of Garri over my mom. I know too well.