Chapter 4

Michael raised his head up from his phone, said a quick prayer and stepped out of his room. He took a deep breath and exhaled, the early morning sunlight felt like a blessing to him. It signaled all hope was not yet lost. He crossed the compound and unlocked the gate, deep in thought. He paused for a minute before he set off, and gazed upwards. He loved it here in Mida. Mida, where the sun was never too bright and the temperatures were just right. Mida, where the rains could fall gently all morning before giving way to the sun, which would heat up the atmosphere, as if to remove every trace of the rain.

Michael brought his eyes down from the sky to take in his surroundings. The quiet of this neighbourhood was what pulled him here two years ago. His house was the last along the line. Casually, he glanced over at the next house; where the college boys rented, and smiled softly to himself. Ah… college… good times. He wasn’t shy to admit it; he envied the college boys. He spied the landlord walking out on his balcony as was his routine every morning and his eyes stopped. Old Ofori, everyone called him, and not affectionately too. The rumours surrounding Old Ofori were too many to keep up with. Some said he was sad and lonely, others, he was a pervert who only allowed the college boys in his house so he could prey on their endless stream of visiting girlfriends. The people of Mida were friendly; they also paid much attention to the affairs of one another. Michael’s eyes lingered on Ofori, and he remembered vividly an unsettling conversation he had with his landlady a while ago...

It was a full moon night, he recalled. He had come outside to catch a draft of the cool breeze as it swept through the town. The unexpected voice of his 69-year-old landlady had sent a shudder through him when it sounded behind him. She gestured for him to sit on the bench beside her and he obliged. Seconds later, Ofori had appeared beyond the gates, fumbled through his pockets for a while, then slouched back towards his house in obvious desperation.

“His father and my father were excellent friends you know," Nana had offered, her eyes on Michael’s face, searching for questions she knew were roaming his young mind.

“Little John, everyone called him when we were growing up,” she continued. “Such an animated and nimble child as I have ever seen. He ran everywhere he went; in fact, that’s how I came to know him. I was riding this bike I received for a birthday present…” Her voice trailed off and Michael had turned to look at her; she was smiling.

“You see, I could barely ride the bicycle," she resumed. “I taught myself a little trick: I would push the bicycle up a small mound of sand and push off with all the strength in my legs. Then it was just a matter of holding on and steering for dear life. But one day, I pushed off as usual, and just as I was gaining speed, guess who comes flying around the corner?”

Michael knew the answer before she said it.

“Why it was little John, of course!” she laughed softly to herself. “I crashed my bicycle into him, the poor boy. He spent two days in the hospital after that. My father was not impressed with the whole incident at all, I recall. He gave me such a scolding”

Her voice trailed off. Michael watched her swipe a tear.

“We became fine friends for a while after that; I would walk him to school and make sure he was in class before going to mine. You could say I became a big sister to him, the little scoundrel.” She was smiling again now. “Then two years later tragedy struck."

Her tone changed, now soft and near breaking. “Nobody guessed his poor mother was suffering, bless her soul.”

The tears dropped freely from Nana’s eyes at this point. She paused to dab at her eyes.

“She was found hanged from the ceiling in her bedroom. It broke his father’s heart. I remember clearly my father staying long periods with him to console him. Then a few months after the funeral of his wife, the man just disappeared. Some said he had gone to join his wife, others claimed he ran off with another woman. Nobody ever heard from him again. Amidst all the drama, people finally noticed the strain it had taken on poor little John. He hardly run anymore, his eyes betrayed his confusion at what was happening and soon, the poor chap was taken away to live with relatives, before I could ever get a chance to tell him how sorry I was.” Nana paused for a minute, and Michael felt his heart go out to John.

Nana resumed, “The years passed and the town moved on, then one day a man walks into town making enquiries about the abandoned Ofori house. Nobody was left to recognize him, but I could point out that mischievous face any day. It was Little John, returning after all this time. He moved in with his wife a year later after purchasing and refurbishing his old home and soon, everything was starting to feel like it did years ago. His eyes had found the light in them again and he was such a joy to be around. The years flew by so fast and little John soon had a little daughter himself. Everything just seemed to finally be falling in place. And then the incident happened.” Nana’s voice trailed off – she sobbed quietly, unable to continue. Michael placed a supporting arm on her shoulder to hold her steady.

He knew the next part of the story so well. A fire had broken out in Ofori’s house, engulfing everything in its wake. Him and his wife escaped by jumping from the balcony. Their daughter, regretfully hadn’t been as lucky. She perished in the fire. The real damage started when the cause of the fire was determined: a poorly discarded cigarette. Ofori, then reportedly in the process of lighting a cigarette had frozen. Eyes wide, hands trembling, he looked up to find the eyes in the small room of the police station glaring. His wife, who hated that he smoked so much, felt that he killed their child. The marriage fell apart and soon, they were divorced. Restoring the building had almost rendered him penniless so he rented out the rooms to the college kids.

Michael felt feelings of grief rising up inside him all over again thinking about it.

Crap! The faint cry split through the quiet morning and rocked Michael’s roaming thoughts to the present. He noticed Old Ofori was no longer on the balcony. How long have I been standing here? His eyes moved, tracking the source of the voice, and came to rest on the large afro of the very quiet college guy, one of them that rented Ofori’s place. He seemed to have paused to stare at something behind him, over the wall and through the window of the house three doors away from Michael’s. Michael recalled clearly another college student lived there, a rather good-looking girl too. Maybe they were seeing each other? Probably not. The guy was walking away quickly, a change from his usual slow walk, as if embarrassed.

Ping! Michael’s phone announced a new message. Good luck son, we are rooting for you – words from his mom. He jumped at the message, the job interview! He closed the gate behind him and hurried along, silently saying another prayer for good fortunes.

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Elsewhere, in a university parking lot, Professor Smith sat, listening to the radio. He took a glance at his watch, 8:03. He reached to turn off the radio and exit his car. In twelve minutes, he had a lecture. He had to get to class.