Harrowing family ties.

Those were the glory days, so swiftly gone by. The days last so long and the nights even longer. I don’t know how to start this story but I’ll try. 

Daddy was one of the most successful businessmen from our village, from our State as a matter of fact. I know because we have community meetings and every family compulsorily attends. He was a shrewd business man with the most humble and loving heart. He was too trusting for a businessman. That was his waterloo.

He was a motor spare parts dealer. I’m sure you think it sounds like a shabby business but I understand figures and turnover and I have insider information. He had the eight biggest spare part shops in Abuja, and in the most lucrative locations. Two at the Apo Mechanic village, one in Jabi, one in Area 1, one at Mpape, one at Kurudu, and two others run by other people as a cover.

 A good number of established spare part dealers passed through my father’s business. You know this rule Igbo people have that you ‘serve’ under someone for seven years after which the person settles you with a stocked shop as settlement. My father unfailingly settled everyone that served under him, even the errant ones.

Ndukka was in the last batch of boys that were settled. He was almost like family and father loved him like a son. I had seen my father sit aside with Ndukka and pass on trade secrets. I envied him somehow. It should have been me, in another world, if I was a male child.

Father loved me, I was his Ada, his princess and everybody knew I was his favourite. He raised me like an heir and told me the future of his offspring was to be guarded and protected by me. I loved him too but he had his own flaws. Everyone did.

Daddy came into Abuja in the late 80’s with nothing but a dream and his lovely wife. She was from a wealthy family but she believed in the uneducated dreamer and stuck with him. They hustled from scratch and built their empire. She was with him every step of the way.

Back to my story, Daddy was a very loving and trusting man. He was the first in the family and had three siblings two brothers and a sister, quite the opposite of our family, three girls and a boy. His younger brother, Uche was a business man like he, just not as successful, he went into the cosmetics business but did not make it out of the East. The youngest sister got married early to a business man and was doing well. She lived in Lagos. Daddy used to send welfare packages to her from time to time.

My father’s heart and soul was tied to his second brother Ifeanyi. He was a tall and light skinned lad back in the day. Daddy loved him more than anything. He sponsored him to school, even up to the University level and was ready to do more. Ifeanyi sucked up all the affection like a sponge, no room for anyone else.

After school, Daddy entrusted the business to Uncle Ifeanyi. He was the most educated in the family and the beloved, it was just natural. Uncle Ifeanyi ruled with an iron fist. Daddy was even making arrangements to send Uncle Ifeanyi to the UK for his second degree. I heard later that behind my father’s back that he was planning to send him away so my mum would be in charge. Ndukka confided this information to me before his settlement. I have watched Uncle Ifeanyi with scepticism since.

Then Daddy took ill. His kidneys suddenly packed up and his blood pressure shot to the high heavens. It was a nightmare. Everyone prayed their hearts out for Dad to get better and he did. He went to a number of prayer houses and he was told that he had to be weary of his brother, the one he trusted so much. Dad ruled it out and named them false prophets. He even quarrelled with Uncle Uche for daring to tell him to check Ifeanyi.

Then he had a heart attack. His good kidney was steadily on the decline. He was bedridden, he was gradually turning into a vegetable. The whole empire held dedicated days of prayer and fasting and budget cuts were implemented. The bills at the National Hospital Abuja slowly but surely sucked the business. At the end of the first year, one of the shops was gone, paying hospital bills.

That was when Uncle Ifeanyi started living the life. He bought a very expensive car and would park it a distance from the house whenever he came to visit. Tongues wagged till I could not bear it anymore. I had to report to Daddy. He shut me up and warned me to stop thinking and sounding like a slave. I was confused and depressed.

The pockets stings were tightly held by Uncle Ifeanyi and they got even tighter and tighter. Whenever Dad could, he would gather his strength and go to his shop. One more than one occasion when Uncle Ifeanyi saw him in the shop he scolded and cried.

“You will not hear Brother, I have told you, give yourself a break. You want to kill yourself.” He pranced and shook his head.

“It is the life I am used to, any deviation is punishment.” Daddy had replied.

“You want to stop your heart, you want to just give up Brother,  I don’t like this money chase, your life is more important than any amount in the world.” Uncle Ifeanyi said, how loving he sounded.

“Being here, seeing the hustle and bustle actually calms me down.” Daddy replied. We all knew that was true. He never had a good laugh as when he was in the shop.

Uncle Ifeanyi cried that day. He was the perfect picture of a loving brother but the rest of us knew better.

Daddy had a cardiac arrest the next day. He went from bad to worse. Surgery upon surgery and the story never got better. Our shops reduced from 8 (eight) to 3 (three) upon hospital bills. Daddy was in the hospital for almost a year. He became a shadow of himself. He asked the hospital to let him go home and die in love, they obliged him.

One day, he went to the shop. He asked his boy for money and the boy was evasive and dodgy. After some prodding the boy replied.

“Oga Ifeanyi instructed us never to give you any money Sir.”

Daddy tried to reply but went into a seizure. He died the next day.

Xxx

That was two years ago. Daddy’s legacy has gone from 8 booming shops to just one meagre shop. We are even lucky Uncle Ifeanyi let us stay in the house we lived with our Dad. He treats us like the scum of the earth and my one joy is that my father’s only son is the youngest, just a child of four years old.

We go many days without a meal in the house. Mother has taken to petty trading and Uncle Ifeanyi is like an evil spirit, hanging over us, suspiciously watching to ensure we do not as much as perceive the proceeds of Daddy’s business.

He lives to the full in this town, with a harem of all sorts of females. The cars get flashier whenever I see him zoom past, oblivious of me.

Last week, I went to ask Ndukka for help. He is married with a young son. He runs his business with his wife. He took me aside and gave me Two Thousand Naira. He passed his gnarly hand around the sides of my bosom and passed a stinking comment about me turning into a woman with a foolish look on his face. I pasted a smile on my face and left. I would rather starve and die than return to Ndukka for any form of help.

The fate of the boys in the shop is even worse. There are about five of them who should have been settled now, with shops of their own but they remain. Uncle Ifeanyi claims that there is no money to settle them. Everyone lives in fear around him.

I love my siblings but I am teaching them to be independent. I look at my angelic little brother and I know that even though he is my father’s son, he is also from the same gene pool as Uncle Ifeanyi. I allow him no thoughts of entitlement. We all work hard. I started selling pure water last month. I have stashed away Five thousand Naira. I have faith that this would be my own empire someday.

I pray to God for wisdom.

Credits:            Abu, Sapphire Ojonugwa

Photo credits:truevisiontv.com