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fiction
A reply
to E.C. Osondu’s “Letter from home”
by OGE
ANYAHURU
Dear mama,
I received your
long letter with joy. It is always good to hear from you. It
fills my heart with joy that at least, my mother still
remembers me. You touched on so many vital issues in the
letter which I know you wrote from your heart. Let me try to
address them one by one.
About me not
sending Western Union like others and not visiting home. The
fact, Mama, is that since I came to America, I have
virtually lived without any status as I am yet to get my
papers. I have to be careful about where I go and what I do.
Any little mistake could result in immediate deportation
from America. Imagine what all those your enemies will say
if they hear that I was sent away from America and bundled
home in disgrace!!! Tufia! Jehovah Rafah forbid it.! It will
never happen to us.
Yes mama, I have married an American girl. She is a black
woman. Don’t worry, mama, it is just for Green Card. I will
marry Ngozi, or any other wife you have chosen for me, once
I get my papers. The akata wife I married has said she will
kill herself if I ever travel out of the country. So, I am
just waiting. Mama, once I get that Green Card, 'kpam', I
will enter the next plane, come home and marry my real wife,
so that she can kill herself and leave me alone. That will
save me the cost of divorcing her and the wahala that might
follow.
Please tell
Ngozi to try and slim down a little bit. I saw the picture
and I thought, 'Why is mama sending me the picture of a fat
cow with flower in his mouth'? I thought it was a bazaar cow
for the reverend father. I did not know that was Ngozi.
Please tell her to fast for me. Let her start fasting
immediately. The fasting will aid my progress and help her
to shed some of that excess weight. Yes, a man wants to
touch ample flesh at night, but Ngozi's flesh has passed
'ample'. I know fattening room is going out of fashion, but
is that why the old women decided to overdo it with their
final customer?
Let me tell the
truth, mama. It has not been rosy for me here. Initially, I
could not get any job at all. Hell is living in America
without a job. It is pure hell. So I went to hell for quite
some time until I met one of my brothers. To be honest, I
don’t know exactly where he comes from, but he speaks our
language, so he is my brother. This my brother, John, helped
me get a job dressing people up. It is true that the people
I was dressing were all dead and cold, but was not too bad.
I was paid well. In fact, sometimes, we even bathed the
people before we dressed them. That always ensured a few
more dollars. Later on, as the devil will have it, I got a
job inside a big supermarket. Loading and off loading many
heavy things, but the Oga there was jealous of my progress.
Would you believe that he fired me because, according to
him, I broke one TV. I did not break any TV, mama, I was
packing the TV when it suddenly thought it was a high
jumper, and jumped out of my hands and broke a little.
Everybody, except that my boss saw what happened and said I
was not to blame. I was ready to go back to hell when
brother John helped me get another job dressing people up –
again, but this time around, the people are alive. They are
bed-ridden but at least, they are still somehow alive. I
clean them up and take care of everything inside this
hospital. That’s is about my work.
About joining
the Nigeria meeting. I actually used to go to Nigeria
meeting, but I have not been going, because I am afraid of
some wicked people that go there. For example, I only
borrowed small money from one of my brothers there and he
has been after my life ever since. He has threatened to tell
his mama who is a powerful witch to cast a spell on me if I
don’t pay him back. I have owed him for less than two years
and he is threatening my life already. Sometimes I wonder
what he would do had he been Chikwe, another one of my
brothers in America. That one, I have owed for the past four
years. Four good years! But he knows and understands what is
happening to people like me in this great land of
opportunities. Frankly, I don’t know why some people cannot
understand that the downfall of a man is not the end of his
life. Not that I have fallen down, OK, maybe I am a little
down right now, but I will rise again. My God does not
sleep.
I will beg you not to keep thinking about the 'advice' of
the native doctor. The way my pocket is at the moment, no
amount of juju can bring me back to Nigeria. Unless the juju
you want to conjure will vomit money for the ticket for me.
If it vomits the money, I will first have to settle my akata
wife before I can know the road to the airport. Mama, you
should look for prayers that will help me to make it, to
hammer well well as our people will say. Then I will come
back and shower you with heaps of gold and wrapper.
Hollandis, lace, your name it, I will buy them all for you.
But for now, mama, please can you send me $1,000? I know you
have already sold your shop, but you can still get a loan
from the Women’s Fellowship in your church. I will settle
all of them, and open a big supermarket for you as soon I
make it. And I will make it in the mighty name of Jesus.
Amen.
The End
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