LIFE ISN’T A BED OF ROSES: FLASH FICTION

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I currently live in Enugu, the Enugu state capital city in Nigeria. I am today a small scale poultry farmer as well as a novelist, poet and playwright.

Any graduate of a Nigerian institution of higher learning, be it university or polytechnic is expected to render a compulsory one year service to the nation, in a scheme called the National Youth Service Corps.

I moved to Lagos on completing my national service. Lagos is the commercial nerve center of Nigeria. A strong belief that I would quickly get a job was what made me go to Lagos. I then rented a room in a very remote area of Lagos called Agodo-Egbe. It was a swampy area where i could afford to rent a room with a portion of the money I saved up during my national service. The room I rented was in an uncompleted two-storey building that I first feared it would collapse one day. But my fears were quickly put aside because I believed I would get a job fast, being a university graduate. I had hope of moving on to a decent apartment in no distant time.

The building that became my home had just one pit toilet and one bathroom for more than twenty occupants. And this made it difficult to ensure that they were kept clean. Some occupants would even defecate inside the bathroom. It was common to have polythene bags full of human waste around the bathroom. It was also common to hear bags of human waste being tossed off windows into surrounding bushes by some occupants. This happened most nights. The state of poor hygiene degenerated to the point that I was compelled to start going to nearby bushes to defecate. I started having my bath only at night in an open space which was beside the building. I got fed up but could do nothing. My hopes of getting a job were now beginning to fizzle away as each day came along. Jobs I searched for were proving elusive. I had little money to feed and transport myself in search of a job. I would stay at home sometimes, to ponder at my life, with little to eat. I was becoming worried by this time. The roof of my room was peeling off and my Landlord didn’t care. Broken bricks nearly fell on me one night. They narrowly missed falling on my head. My windows were not well installed. My clothes and little mattress on the floor got soaked whenever it rained. My room always became a mini swimming pool whenever the rains came.

Time to renew my rent kept getting closer, and still I had no job. I was finding it difficult to afford to buy food now. Through the charitable deeds of a few friends, I was able to buy food just once a day, from little money I got from them on weekly basis. I could not eat more than once in a day because I didn’t want to be left with no money to go around in search of a job. My job search intensified but still met with no success.

Then my rent expired. It was like in a dream. I could not believe one year had just passed by at jet speed. My Landlord came banging on my door as if he wanted to yank it off. I quickly explained my predicament believing he would understand. He instead threatened to throw me out. I was only given a week to pay up or face eviction. None of my friends could help me this time. My heart throbbed as if it would rip off my chest each time I heard footsteps approaching my door. I always thought it was my Landlord. Fear engulfed my whole life as the last day for me to renew my rent got closer. The day eventually arrived with me having no money. My Landlord eventually came and threw my few belongings out, despite my pleas. My hope to get a job failed me. I was humiliated when my Landlord threw my things out. Other occupants had pity glued to their faces as they watched the little drama unfold. I begged my Landlord for mercy to no avail. Being desperate for a roof over my head, I took my belongings to a friend’s place to pass the night. These consisted of a few good clothes, a pair of worn-out sandals and some of my books. I had to leave some books, clothes, my mattress, pillow, blanket, partly broken plastic bucket and soap dish, storage cart and cooking utensils behind. I didn’t care who might take them in my absence. My bag couldn’t contain them.

My friend managed to raise some money the next day, with which I left Lagos, for Enugu, back to my family home. I thought of what next to do immediately I settled down. Then I made up my mind to start rearing chickens. I started off with little financial assistance from my mother. I have been making steady little progress in the business ever since, as I make a new home. I can afford to provide some of my needs today. I now have a better life. Thank God. Memories of my experience return each time I hear people talk about their ordeals or when I watch television and see displaced, desperate and homeless people. Tears sometimes come to my eyes. Today I help people in need as much as I can afford. It is a joyful thing to do always. Some folks are not just privileged to have a good life. They need help. Life is simply not a bed of roses.