Saturday, July 28, 2012

MY MOST REGRETFUL DAY ( a story)

My uncle was an international business tycoon. He imported commodities that he distributed to his business colleagues across the country. Whenever he would travel, he would entrust me to act as his vicegerent, or rather, an interim householder; and to take care of everything that went on in his house, especially commuting children to schools and running some errands.
With all this invaluable trust my uncle had for me; I was very notorious. Nobody had such trust in me, including my parent. Nobody cared about me in all that I did, and I cared for nobody. Thence, I was engaged in many vices in which I became addicted to smoking and taking narcotics. I wasn't brought up by my parents. This was because my father had been in Mexico together with my mother working for a private company. They would only come back on vacation at the end of the year. All my three siblings were born there, but were taken back to my mother land after being suckled for a period of two consecutive years as ordained in the Noble Qur'an that: " Mothers shall suckle their newborn babies biennially for those who wanted to complete the suckling period." Habitually, my father preferred his children to grow up in Nigeria to Mexico, as he believed that, they would not be influenced by Western culcure. Consequently, he thought, they would get optimum Islamic knowledge; moral and religious upbringing.
I was in the second year in high school when my father resigned from his job. He enviably returned home, but he was very disappointed to find the situation I was in for the downfall and decadence of my morals, a very great disillusionment that resulted in blaming his brother (my uncle) for the collapse of my upright behaviour. As the result of that, my father tried to keep watching my movements so that I would minimise, if not hook, line, and sinker, reform and abandon such immorality. He made me to very much closer to him; driving him to various places, and whenever the school hours round off, I would proceed to his office and give him some assistance especially in works such as typing and filing. And we usually went to mosque together and attended some preaching points. Through all this, such bad demeanour vanished.
With the passage of time, my father was employed on contract by another textile company in Lagos. He really wanted to go with me, but my uncle insisted that I must stay with him until the time I have completed my studies. Naturally, my father was lenient and capricious, so, he agreed to my uncle's decision and left for Lagos alone.
One day, as I was lying on a sofa in the parlour, my uncle called me into his room and informed me that he would travel to Dubai. He said that he wanted me to take care of the activities in the house. He handed me over the keys of his cars, and warned me against reckless driving. I received the keys with glamour and some feeling of exaltation that now I had become trustworthy in his sight. Meanwhile, he gave me a huge sum of money saying: " Have this, in case the house might be in shortage of money or foodstuffs." I received the money and pocketed them.
A couple of weeks after his departure, I started visiting my ex-friends who were my accomplices. Unfortunately, they were not as good as I expected them to be; they were not changed. With their persuation and obnoxious advice, I rejoined them. Hence, we smoked Indian hemp, spent nights at night clubs, and visited a host of other similar places where undesirable acts took place.
Three weeks later, my uncle's daughter was hospitalised in a private hospital in the out-skirt of the city, after being diagnosed, her mother phoned me telling me about the charges to be paid before giving her any further treatment. She further told me that the child had been suffering from typoid fever, which had already had a negative impact on her intestine. After my arrival at the hospital, I was given the prescription list, but the meagre amount of money with me could not even be enough to fuel a car. However, I went for debt, but no one cared to lend me a kobo, as they realised the state of intoxication I was in. So, I started to search for money by hook or by crook.
I conspired with my companions to burgle, after being advised by Manga, the physique and the strongest of us. Initially, he engineered for the operation to be undertaken at night. Firstly, as high way robbers, but Tanko, the next in strength to Manga, insisted that it must be burgling, in which all of us agreed.
Unfortunately, we were arrested by the police soonest after we burgled the mansion. We were taken to the police station and put in the cells. Eventually, we were taken to court for trial. After two months' trial, Mangal and Tanko were found guilty as they were already wanted for the murder of an innocent driver and two passengers who they robbed and killed in one of the city streets two months ago. They were jailed for twelve years. But I was the luckiest of them as I was sentenced for half a decade without fine.
At the hospital, the patient died for lack of adequate medical care. This was because the charges were not paid, and the doctor promised not to give any patient whose wards didn't deposit a minimum half of the charges any advanced treatment. Initially, nothing was deposited to the hospital in terms of medication. The patient was only given some few tablets and syrups that might be donated by WHO.
Consequently, when my father heard about this regrettable incident, he was depressed and wept ceaselessly until his eyes turned red and vague. But my uncle didn't attack me physically or verbally as he referred to the incident as fate predestined by God. And that, of course, didn't bring hatred between us.
Now, I have been released after five years, but my greatest worry is that of the death of the innocent child. Would i be held accountable for her death on the Day of Judgement? It it is so, I can't do anything but regretting the day I did this pitiless act.

2 comments:

  1. this is extremely depressing chronicle, however a lesson en route for many. may God grant us the ability to subsist a good life.

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  2. Thank you Yusuf (Baba) for reading this piece. It is a work of act that imitates the reality. This happens, and it is high time to re-think, with a view to bringing such issue to an end, if possible.

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