Short story
By Joshua Omeke
In a displacement of societal norms, young Obiwuru decided to overcome his homophobic fears and speak for a friend who had been assaulted by market women. Shortly after, his childhood friend, Emeka, was stoned with tomatoes in a market at Iyana Ipaja axis for painting nails. He had become furious to stand for those who were maltreated by the unprecedented peasants of his home country.
It was 11:30am and the thugs of NURTW were arguing about who was the strongest among them. In that region, there was a man who said everything that needed to be heard, he was the Idi Amin of his garage. None dared speak after he had spoken. He was known as General Jango, sometimes called General Pipe-her because of his uncontrollable emotions around beautiful girls who hawked oranges, groundnut, walnut, pastries and fizzy drinks. But regardless of his fierceness, one thing brought him to his knees, the tears of another.
Obiwuru, known as Omo Igbo, who sold pirated cassettes, imported home appliances from China and sometimes gadgets, had seen this as an opportunity to report to Iya Alaje, the head of market. It was believed during a service at the Celestial Church, where Mama Yemisi, the market leader, worshiped, she stood and shouted at the prophet that his service was too long. He should round up so she could depart for business meetings.
The prophet was afraid of refusing it, as she was a major sponsor of their activities. That was how authoritative she was, but, still, General Jango held her remote control, because his boys looked after her market women and overrode the authority of corrupt tax collectors at Alausa Local Government Area.
Furious Obiwuru, dragging Emeka in tears to General Jango, was in anticipation that Mama Yemisi was going to be humbled by tossing tomatoes at Emeka for painting his nails and heckling him. He started experiencing a different inspiration.
“Omo Igbo, bawo ni. I think you say you no dey open on Environmental Sanitation Day,” said General Jango.
Obiwuru smiled and said, “Correct, General Jango. I only came to restock my foodstuff for the month with a friend.
General Jango said in anticipation, “Which friend?”
Obiwuru said, “So, you cannot see the man standing next to me with red eyes and tears dropping?”
General Jango pretended to be scouting and said, “I no dey see any man.”
In disgust, Obiwuru said, “I know Iya Alaje has called you before I came to you. She loves to report herself beforehand so you reduce her punishment, but this is unfair.”
“Okay, Obiwuru,” said General Jango. “I know you have great expectations, but, sorry, I have no say about this, because, why would a man dress up as a woman, paint his nails, makeup his face and walk like a woman? Is this what society is becoming? A place of bad riddance?
Obiwuru responded with, “We are not in place to judge another but to adjust our emotions to their existence.”
“Just comot for here,” said General Jango.
Emeka and Obiwuru walked off in silence. Too unbearable to take public transport, Obiwuru booked an Uber ride to his home in Ikeja. The driver almost had an accident severally, because there was a man, and another man cross-dressed in tears. He started to stir up unnecessary conversations to diffuse the air and know what was going on.
Looking at the central mirror, he said, “Oga the price of fuel has gone up. That is why our prices are also unstable.”
Both men were silent. The driver swallowed saliva and kept driving while looking at the central mirror. He had thought about asking about their day and carried on; then said, “Today has been slow, thank God you booked this ride.”
In disgust, Obiwuru said, “My friend, will you face your front and drive properly so you stop giving us two two seconds heart attack you are going to crash.”
At the end of the incident, Obiwuru had seen what it meant to be rejected, and how it felt to be the one standing up for another. And as the driver journeyed towards the Third Mainland bridge axis, Obiwuru looked to the side to see Emeka had slept off, but, in the end, it was not about what others had to say about those we care about. What mattered was we ourselves had come to accept them and would stand for them —even if they desire to dress a certain way.
Obiwuru, in need to spite the driver, said, “Oga”, and he responded, “Yes”.
Obiwuru asked, “Does your girlfriend wear jeans and trousers?”
The cabman said,”Yes, Of course. If she does not wear one, how would I be able to admire her?”
Then Obiwuru said, “Why have you been staring at us since we entered your ride?” The cabman was short of words and had realised he was indirectly a hypocrite for judging a man who painted his nails.
After arrival at a family house of Emeka, as he would be needing that emotional support, Obiwuru felt accomplished, and promised himself to always stand for those under the wiles of societal torment because of their nature.