Breaking Away

Kero was up even before the first cock crowed. Not bothering to put on a shirt, he got up and went outside to feel the coming dawn. The morning still belonged to the night. The air around was still as cold as the new season, and yet he was used to it, having lived his entire teenaged life here in the village of Gwada.
He wiped sleep off his eyelids as he shuffled lazily down the flight of wooden stairs. The entire house was silent and dark. He walked past the passage connecting door and into sitting room. He navigated between the sparse furniture to unlock the front door and stood there on the verandah, with both arms akimbo, turning his gaze both right and left of the compound as if surveying everything for the first time. His mouth son came open with a powerful yawn, feeling the last dregs of sleep slowly depart from him as he stretched his arm above his head. There was the remains of a tree stump at the right corner of the house. He went over and sat on it. From here his eyes took in the bushy backyard expanse of the compound; the hen house stood at the corner of the fence. He would soon have to go over and feed them for the day before releasing them, after which he would spend the next hour cleaning up every nook and cranny within the house. His father won't be awake till about eight, or even nine, depending on how many bottles he killed last night. From the way he had shambled back home, Kero figured he had taken more than enough.
Farther in the horizon, the sky was starting to emerge from a gloomy purple to an inviting dark blue beneath breaking cirrus clouds that hovered just above the crowned tips of rugged hills. It was the sign of another good sunshiny day. The air was still cold, but thank God it wouldn't last much longer. It was the month of May. The Harmattan winds had finally ceased its blowing; now the next question was when are the rains going to start falling. Already he could feel the tiny hairs on his arms beginning to prickle up to attention. He rubbed his hands over them, unleashing a thin wave of heat upon his skin before rising up to his feet. Time he started on his household duties for the new day.
An hour and a half later he was through with everything that involved the use of brooms and cleaning rags within the house. By then, his body was dripping heavy with sweat. He carried a metal bucket from the kitchen and went to fetch his bathing water from the neighbourhood well that stood a short distance across the main road. There were few villagers there awaiting their own turn as each person took his turn in dipping the stringed fetching bucket into the well, waiting a few seconds for it to become filled with water before drawing it back up to empty into their various buckets or large basins. Kero exchanged morning greetings with several of them as he waited for his turn, which didn't take much long. He filled up his bucket and carried it back home to have his bath.
He finished dressing up for the day and unearthing his travelling bag from underneath his bed, he set about packing right away. When he was through, he went downstairs into the kitchen and taking out the frying pan and some eggs he set about preparing breakfast. The sun was now out in the sky in majestic brilliance and everywhere was bright and gay just like any other day. Ironically, Kero didn't feel at all like it as he sat down by the table eating his bread and eggs and drinking his tea. Even as he turned his gaze towards the window, holding a fork-full of eggs in his hand, his mind at that moment was far from where he was.
There came a low growling sound emanating from above his head, sounding more like a gorilla roving haphazardly through a jungle forest and the sound stretched forth into a nightmarish music note. It was the infamous sound of his father snoring with reckless abandon. How it so irritated Kero's ears every morning he woke up to hear them; it was the most familiar sound in the house for as long as he could remember since mother untimely passed away. It was almost sickening as he quickly finished his meal and went about preparing himself another hot cup of tea. When he was done he took his tea outside the kitchen and went back to the tree stump. He'd rather his ears took in the noise of whistling birds or crowing of the hens, anything but listen to that atrocious sound.
He sat there or a while, just letting his mind to roam. Far above his head, he watched a flock of white birds travelling north. He imagined himself travelling alongside them to whatever destination they were heading.
"Good morning, Kero, a friendly voice came from behind, startling him back to where he was. It was Mr. Obi, his father's neighbour. A retired engineer with no one else in his life aside from his Cocker Spaniel dog, Lucky, who resembled his master in almost every way as it stood by his side waging his tail with lushness back and forth. Mr. Obi held a broom with a long handle like a walking staff in his hand; apparently he had been sweeping the fallen leaves on his yard when he sighted the young lad. Kero quickly got up from the stump and came over and shook hands with him.
"Good morning, sir. I'm sorry I didn't hear you approach.
"It's all right. I was just going through my backyard. Though, from the way you sat there I almost didn't want to disturb your thoughts. Is your father up yet?
Kero shook his head. "Not till another hour goes by, I guess.
Mr. Obi smiled ruefully as if he had expected this to be the answer. "I thought as much. I saw him along with several of his other cohorts heading out to their usual night spot along Tawali, yesterday. I still find it amazing with the way he keeps you here for nothing's sake. Has he finally settled your school fees?
"He promised me something last week. I tried talking to him about it the day before but he simply gave me his usual reply, that he had nothing on him anymore.
"With the way you are with him I'm surprised you never took like him. Nowadays you go out into the city, all I see are young people just of your age doing nothing except strutting around with empty heads. At least you're lucky that you're in school.
"But that isn't everything, Kero replied with a hint of frustration. "Already school has resumed and because I haven't gotten my fees paid I can't return back. Time after time this is the same thing that happens and it's so ¦ he couldn't think of the words to finish with. The pain was just too much for him and bear and he didn't feel like sharing it with any neighbour, even though Mr. Obi was long aware of the strained relationship that has existed between Kero and his father ever since his mother's demise nearly five years ago, leaving her only child to a man who was incapable of fathering any reasonable thing but himself. He deeply pitied the poor child. How he wished he had the money he would gratefully have given it to him, but the rainy season was yet to start and his maize farm hadn't reached germination period yet for him to start selling them.
"What about that something you planned on doing? Do you still intend on going through with it?
"Yes, I will. I'm only waiting for him to wake up before telling him. It wouldn't seem right if I just left a note.
Mr. Obi nodded his head. "It's best if you told him. Though knowing your father, I doubt if he's going to take it easy, especially with the way he depends on you too much. He's going to miss you a lot ' I know I would if I were him.
"I know of that, sir. That's why I've taken so long thinking all this through. But this is something I need to do because I know if I don't, I'll be regretting it some day.
Mr. Obi shrugged his shoulders. "Well Kero, I trust your judgement very well and I know you've made the best choice, even though I'm not actually in support of it. I pray everything works well for you in whatever you'll endeavour into in the future. They shook hands and said goodbyes before going back their separate ways.
Kero picked up his half-drunk tea and entered back into the house to start preparing breakfast for his father, at the same time go through his mind on what he intended announcing to him this morning. Still a part of him was feeling a bit nervous about what he planned on doing. Mr Obi was right that his father most likely wouldn't take it well, but the time of thinking such was now past. He either went ahead and told him now or keep silent about it and continue like nothing was happening.
He was pretending to be reading a novel in the kitchen when he heard his father's shuffling foot steps coming down the stairs. He appeared by the doorway, dressed in his faded purple bathrobe, looking more like something that just got ran over by a speeding truck; Kero couldn't help feeling more disgusted with what he saw. His father scratched his stubble chin and stepped into the kitchen just as Kero closed his book and went and carried his breakfast tray from the counter and placed in front of him on the table. He then went back to his chair across the table and continued with his book while his father ate.
"You fed the chickens yet? his father asked while swallowing a fork-full of egg. This was one ritual question he always pestered Kero about every morning, but this time the reply was different.
"No, I didn't. In fact, I was even waiting for you to wake up and go do it yourself.
He heard the sound of the fork suddenly dropping from his father's hand and clattering on his plate. There was deep silence; Kero didn't bother to remove his eyes from his book, not wanting to see the shocked stare his father was giving him.
"Since when did you have the nerve to talk like that to me?
Now he looked up from his book. "Why is it you always ask me the same question everyday when already you know the answer? 'Have you cleaned up this; have you cleaned up that.' All I do is clean, clean and clean everyday while you're still busy sleeping off.
His father grunted mockingly. "So, this is how it is then, eh? And to think all this time I've been training you right.
"Yes, it's all right for you to stand there and say that. Since you've long decided to keep me all day long in this house like a chained dog, cleaning up your everyday mess. Since you've also decided rather to drink away the school fees money you've long promised me.
"And since when is it your business now to tell me what to do with my pension money? his father shouted at him from the other end of the table. "Is this what you've been learning in school or did you just wake up with this kind of manners of late?
"Yes, I did, Kero replied in a cold voice, not wishing to succumb to his father's anger. "I've also got something else to inform you today. I'm leaving.
"What do you mean by that?
"I mean that I'm not going to spend the rest of my life sitting and waiting for you to keep throwing your bread crumbs at me. There is a bus heading for the city in the next hour and I intend to be on it and I don't plan on returning back here ever again.
"Exactly what are you trying to tell me?
"I'm saying that I can no longer live with you anymore, Kero said. "I don't wish to spend another night in this house anymore.
The look of anguished surprise that suddenly appeared on his father's haggard face was unlike any he had ever seen before. For a moment, neither of them said anything; his father tried peaking but his mouth only made mumbling words. He slowly sank back to his chair, looking more dazed and confused with what his son had just said. When he spoke, his voice no longer bore the fiery tone of earlier.
"You're serious of what you just said?
"Yes, father. I seriously am.
"And just where do you intend on running off to, you ungrateful goat?
"That's not for you to know about, Kero responded. "But just so you know, it won't be somewhere you've been to before.
"So, you wish to just up and leave me here to rot away while you go out and get yourself lost into the world, is that it? his father snorted. "You think you'll ever liven up to be anything out there without my help ' my guidance? In the end I know you'll come running back here to me, and then I'll be the one laughing.
Kero gave him a thin smile that seemed to carry much weight; it was enough to wipe any further argument from his father's lips. "Well then I'll just have to make sure that my coming back doesn't happen, won't I.
His father held both hands to his head, staring down at the rough wooden surface of the table, trying to stem down the emotion welling inside him. For a brief moment there, Kero felt sorry for him. But just as the feeling came, so it instantly died away. This was his life, his own personal decision and he was going through with it no matter what.
"Boy, if only your dear mother was still alive to hear what you're saying, his father raised back his head to look at him. "For twenty solid years I've raised you: I've cleaned, dressed, and moulded you up the way only a good father can ' I put those clothes on your body ' and this is how you intend on paying me back, you-good-for-nothing snot rag.
Kero picked up his book and walked past him towards the kitchen door. His father tried grabbing his hand but he flung it off and hurried up the stairs towards his room. His bag sat on his lonely bed, packed and ready for him. He picked it up by the long strap and hung it across his shoulder. There was the sound of hurrying feet coming behind him. He was about stepping out of his room when his father stood in the path with both hands on opposite ends of the doorway, blocking Kero's way. He grabbed Kero by the collars and spoke hauntingly into his face; Kero didn't bother fighting him to be free.
"I'm not going to sit back and watch you destroy yourself, Kero. You are my boy and there's nothing in the world that's going to change that. Do you hear me, boy?
"I hear you very well, father, Kero muttered as he managed to pry his father's hands from his shirt. "I'm just not listening to you anymore. Goodbye.
He stepped past his dazed father and went down the stairs. He inserted his book into the back of his jeans pocket, took one final look around the room as if committing everything to memory before stepping out the back door. He walked past the backyard to the front of the side of the house. He spotted Mr. Obi standing beside his shabby looking Peugeot and he went over to say a final goodbye to him. His ever faithful dog stood beside his feet; it gave out a friendly bark as it saw Kero approaching.
"I see you're already packed and ready, Mr. Obi said, observing the bag that hung over Kero's shoulder.
"Yes sir, I am. I'll be heading over to the motor-park and from there I'll enter a bus heading for the city.
"And once you get to the city, what next? You have any made out pans or destination in mind already?
It was Kero's turn to shrug. "Well, I've always wanted to head out to Lagos. I hear there're lots of opportunities there and I know it won't be long before I find something doing.
"Lagos is a very big place, I hope you know that. How will you be able to cope?
"I can only do the best I can, sir. The rest I leave to God.
"Hmm. I guess you told your father already, right? Mr. Obi asked.
"Yes sir, I did.
"How did he take it?
"Just as you said he would, sir, Kero replied, "but either way, I know he'll pull through. He always does.
Mr. Obi nodded in agreement. "Don't worry, I'll go over later and spend some time with him. I'll make sure he doesn't lack anything while you're away ' might even find him a decent house help to take care of him.
"I can't thank you enough for your kindness, sir, Kero said as he shook his hand.
"Just be careful out there, Kero. The world is never a bed or roses, and it never waits for you when you fall. Just be strong, keep God by your side and try as much as you can to stay out of trouble, you hear?
"I will. Goodbye, sir. Kero said and then reached down to ruffle his dog's head before heaving his bag back unto his shoulder and headed towards the road. It wasn't long before he met an Okada motorcyclist who willingly carried him to the town's motor-park.
There was an unfilled bus waiting at the park that was actually heading for the city. Kero paid for his fare and sat in the middle row between two others, wiping sweat off his face as he and the other passengers dully waited for the bus to fill up. Thirty minutes went by before more passengers appeared and the bus was ready to move. The driver started his engine and it wasn't long before they were off.
To Kero, it was the start of a different journey into a different world. Already he could feel his burdens dropping off and his spirit breaking away from his skin and reaching out to become a part of this new life.

The End