VOMIT MY RICE

 VOMIT MY RICE

Hi.

I am… nobody. Yeah, perhaps, that should be my name for this course, because this line you are following may lead to my end, I mean if caution is not taken and I come and go and mention my real name in this, uhmm, I still care to write more, may death never cut our long story short.

Truthfully, he is not as chubby as I am, but, never you underestimate the power of a taller dude, I agree I’m afraid he’s going to tie my ears to the ceiling fan, set the speed on the highest and watch me roll, roll, roll my boat across the river Jordan, like a portal’s wheel we sang about together, in primary school.

We are just three in the circle; myself, Azeez and Abdulsamueldeen, but his mom will insist we call him “Adekunle”, even without her asking why we gave his son such appellation. I am a Christian, Azeez; a Muslim, Abdulsamueldeen was supposed to be a Christian by birth too, but his throat seems longer than his faith. Had it been we knew he would grow up to be this confused, we probably wouldn’t have pleaded to our teacher who was bent on flogging confusion out of him the day he wrote Mathematics assignment in an English notebook, back then, in secondary school.

Now we are about to graduate from higher institution, I hope he’ll change for better, most especially, now that his secret is hidden no more. For years, I and Azeez have been feeling oppressed at the kind of strength we thought he had for Lent and Ramadan, but at this end, we rather cherish ours.

The beginning of this end started early this year.

“This time around will be the last fasting we all will be observing together in school before we graduate. Abeg, I hope una don prepare to host me as usual, when the time comes?”; says Abdulsamueldeen. 

He is known to observe both the Christian and Islam fasting, since we gained admission into Moshood Abiola Polytechnic, Abeokuta, that people don’t know which religion he practices in particular, hence his appellation.

Lent period is always the best at my side. As a pastor’s child that I am, my parents hold this month in high esteem that they give double of my requests and supply me with different kind of foods, fruits and beverages. Time like this, my neither cold, nor warm friend is always with me, what can I put in my mouth that will elude Abdusamueldeen’s at the end of the day? Nothing, yes, that’s all I can say to it, because it is always the same in Azeez’s house during the month of Ramadan also.

Brethren, that is nothing to worry about; there is a lot on ground like sands by the river, so we don’t care how much we give to friends like him. But of a thing that bothers our minds is that; whenever we fast together, be it Lent or Ramadan, we can never see Abdulsamueldeen come back from lectures weak, which is normal for average sons of Adam, even in our class, they know him to always jump from a sit to the other, the one which makes them ask themselves a question I and Azeez ask God every year when we see him in action while fasting; “dear God, how did you give this guy so much strength to fast”. 

Truly, God answers his children. The day He showed us the source of Abdulsamueldeen’s strength, he didn’t say it quietly like the way we asks Him, He made it public, loud and clear.

Around 2:30pm, I was still in the class when my phone rang, picking up the call from a strange number, I could not control my emotion; “Jesus Christ”, I shouted out loud, the way my phone fell from my hand made Azeez ask what the matter is… 

“Our friend just got knocked down by a reckless biker”, I said.

“But, how come, he only went to use the rest room, there’s no road there?”; Azeez replied surprisingly.

Before a blink, the whole class was informed about the accident, and we all made our way to the school clinic where the call came from. Getting there, we saw Abdulsamueldeen lying helplessly in bed, we started displaying drama and before it got out of hand, the doctor called us to order.

“You all should calm down. The bike didn’t hit him in the first place, so there is no course for alarm”; the doctor assured us.

“But, why is he lying there unconsciously with a paled face?” one of our classmates asked.

“It was just a mere slap”; the doctor said with a pinch of smile on his face.

We were calm a little bit until the doctor made a detailed explanation of how our friend was looking at his back like a thief in a plantain plantation, instead of watching the road clear before he crossed.

“In a nutshell, he was being slapped goodly by a biker who was supposed to hit him badly when he wanted to cross the Bukertaria road as he was only looking back suspiciously instead of watching out for incoming vehicles. A slap on a move is always lit you know”. The doctor concluded with the funny statement as we all laughed out loud, even though, I and Azeez were looking at each other with a confused face, and I knew the thoughts in our minds were exactly the same.

“But, this guy ate in the midnight, and everyone knows he’s observing the Ramadan fasting, then why Bukertaria? The school canteen? For what?”.

Before our loud laughter faded away, Abdulsamueldeen woke up suddenly and coughed out, we all staggered, then the next thing we realized was that the floor was covered with fresh Yellow Eba and Egunsi soup. Our guy threw up!

Just like everyone in the hospital that day, Azeez starred at the ground, but he was more conscious of the Yellow Eba. Suddenly he called loud his real name, it wasn’t funny this time around because we only call him his name only when discussing something serious.

“Adekunle, wait, where did you see this Eba you just vomited? I thought we are both fasting, and we ate rice in the midnight, so why eba? Bro, this is not what you ate in my house o, vomit my rice, abeg!”.

Hearing this, all our classmates couldn’t hold tears coming from their eyes as they laughed uncontrollably back to the class, leaving the trio of myself, him and Azeez behind, with the doctor.

“Chai, my friend, you are a genius o, so this is where the strength comes from. I mean you’ve been using the Bukataria strength to oppress us since these years? Oh, God bless this biker for slapping you today o”; I said jokingly, as Abdulsamueldeen bowed down his face to the bed.

Shortly, a nurse entered the room to hand over some drugs to him and the doctor discharged him to go with us.

Entering the class, we met a bold sentence on the class white marker board which reads; “vomit my rice”. Shame was well written on our friends face and he felt like entering the ground, quickly he picked up his bag and ran out of the class as the entire class turned him to a laughing stock.

The shame went with him home that day, to every classes, till now that we are about to be done with our final examinations in school, I am sure he’ll be praying that we don’t remember this at any reunion we may be organizing in the future, that which is almost impossible. From now, till then and back, “vomit my rice” will still be an evergreen word on the record of our friend, Abdulsamueldeen, the only one with a Christian and Islam name coined together.

Wait.

That you are laughing is not what matters now, but my life. Remember I told you, my intention was never to disclose my identity, but, I was carried away, even though I didn’t mention my name, it will still be so easy for him to point me out. We were just three for crying out loud, and it is definitely not Azeez and he’s not writing his own story, so it is me! OMG!

Wo, one thing must kill a man, when he sees this, I’ll try my best to stay alive, but if it happens that he wins… Ijebu garri goes better with beans cake abeg!