Nigerian Writer: Okoro (3)

   By Felix Brambaifa
  He sneezed and his eyes watered. She looked at him and could see the old days, when men worshiped her services and were ready to pay so their heads could become heavy and lazy to think properly. But like every other human endeavor with a life span the Shop suddenly became a thing of the past. Okoro was there for them; his presence was treated like word from heaven and he blessed them with every visit. It was a responsibility he gladly answered to and she had come  to depend more on Okoro to bring sustenance. Her husband was the useless sort lost to alcohol and it did not matter to him that his daughter at the time of the agreement was been sent into a marriage contract, instead in celebration he stayed out the entire night, bathing in the Jacuzzi of inebriation.

   As a Mother she was quick to see the changes. The boys came, the men came and no matter how she talked, Agnes already too in love with material things would without worry give herself to them. The rumors became viral and the sordid details of her sexual adventures could no longer be concealed and so became news for those with ears for such things. 

   “He is an old man” She had shouted once when her mother became too much of a pest to handle.

  Mama Agnes in her best efforts had tried to bring Agnes to her senses but to no avail. She would not listen to her. No matter how she designed the questions Agnes was there with answers, it was as if she had no conscience and her Mother had felt more confused than ever.

   “I will pay him back one day” Agnes had said without pity for Okoro nor the mature mind that would have appreciated his sweats, money spent, time soon to become wasted waiting for a deserved reward which must now dishonor her contract even if it simply meant another five years of life tending to an old man who might either go blind or suffer from stroke in the near future.

  She could have long since ended the agreement but each time she brought the matter before Okoro, without giving full ears to her explanations would defend Agnes. She had become  the one the two of them were so quick to disagree with but still her sympathy for Okoro blamed her for not protecting the man who had suffered so much keeping her family afloat. A man who had come to hate reality, covering up for the obvious display of disregard with “She is just a child”

  Time was moving fast and the hours by the minutes were getting more pregnant and Okoro was no longer himself. She wanted to tell him but was afraid, but how could she tell him that Agnes had never been interested in him but greedily had placed before herself the sinful task of  taking from him as much as could be extracted from his large purse.

  He stood up, unable to continue with the moment in peace. At that same instant that lad who had called Agnes to her visitor returned, a small nylon bag held his goodies for him.

  “Mama Look at what Aunty Agnes’s friend bought for me” He said, his white teeth displaying his innocence. “She told me she will marry him and he promised to buy me ice cream whenever he comes visiting. He has a car, a big one”

  She could say nothing but look at her ignorant child even though she had badly wanted to squeeze that mouth. She tried but it was too late as Okoro in anger dashed out of the house, shouting Agnes! Agnes! As if a simple shout of anger would dissuade the inevitable from touching the theater of dramatized facts which old men like himself would quickly find disturbing and probably die from.