The Stench of Success

By: Ibinabo Amakiri

I woke up yesterday morning and I smelt it!
I smelt it! Faint but it was there

Oh God I hope I was not making a mistake
I had wanted this for so so long
Was my breakthrough finally here?
I inhaled deeply again

“Dara can you smell anything? I asked my son as he bolted into my room after his piercing response of “Yes Mommy!!! in answer to my urgent scream of Dara – Obong!

I could see he had the look he normally has on his face when he feels he has been up to no good and is wondering what my detective antenna has picked up this time. It’s a very interesting look – a blend of curiousity, deep searching, perplexity and preparing to dodge an “IGBAYA” if one is launched

Dara can you smell anything? Please go out of my room and come in again. He went out sniffing…
My eyes followed him..focused
He came back in saying nothing

“Oya check under my bed and around my wardrobe area… can you smell anything?

I looked at him with pleading eyes anxiously waiting for someone else’s confirmation after all the good book says out of the mouth of two or three witnesses the truth is established

Ibinabo, the writer, at the restaurant

I had strategically reasoned out and mapped out this whole plan giving deep thought to it

It was my final attempt and if this failed, I would now be sure that the gods of Okrika were working overtime and needed to be appeased

Ahh Ahh!
How much trauma can one person take for three years! Three Long Years!!!

Something had to give…

This one my mind had started thinking sensationally in ways an educated exposed mind should never venture was definitely a cause for concern. It had heightened after that market woman had sowed the thought in me the other day…

Wait! Was that really me that day? head bowed in self pity muttering amen to that woman’s prayers? Was that the way I was becoming so desperate that I was now acting strange; clinging to every wind of doctrine? Unbelievable!!!

But I am a fighter
I have fought long and hard…been bold and brave since it started
I mean I have tried it all
spent time and money
Even prayed
yet still…

IT has taken continuously from me
Deprived me of sleep
Made me suffer untold loss and hardship Destroying everything and leaving a huge mess in its wake

I had gone to the market to meet her once again for the umpteenth time

“Madam e never still happen?
Ahhhhhhh No oh! this one is spiritual
after all the solution wey I don dey give you since how many months now?
Ha! No oh No oh No oh
This one no be ordinary again oh. Den send am but their plan must fail. Don’t worry there is nothing prayer cannot do!
Don’t worry God go do am
She put her hand on my shoulder to show support, understanding and encouragement

I stood beside her piously muttering a series of amens with eyes tightly shut. It was a busy Saturday afternoon in Mile One market with people pushing past us as usual. You see, her stall was one of those illegal ones constructed in a passage way which reduced pedestrian thoroughfare to a barely passable squeeze

On a normal day I would have felt inconvenienced and irritated by the distraction of many people pushing past us impatiently yelling “Chance! or Mepụta ụzọ” but today
I had more troubling things on my mind…

Was this really me Ibinabo?
Ahh Something had to give!

She showed me another one…
Madam I have tried this one before but it didn’t work I reminded her
“It’s the strongest I have oh!
The words had barely left her mouth when the plan flashed
I re-thought it again… more intently…

“Okay Give me 3 packs let me try again”

I paid my bill of N600 and left hurriedly, Her final prayers for victory floating past me as I walked away

I knew what do
This will be my final chance and last attempt

Destination – Taco Succulento, A new Mexican themed Restaurant that just opened on Abacha Road, GRA in Port Harcourt

I parked, walked in and asked for the Menu
I was looking out for something strong, aromatic, pungent, irresistible

A fast look through I saw it.. Quesadillas

I called the waitress to confirm
A Flour Tortilla, Cheese, Chicken, Chipotle Sauce, Bell peppers, Vegetables, Guacamole

I was good to go
I placed my order and tasted it
I mean I had to try it out
It had to taste right…succulent, exotic
Afterall it was going to be a last meal
A Feast of Death
It had to be good

The writer’s meal

A long drive home
A quick application
A set meal
A fitful sleep
and Dara’s Confirmation

“Mummy Yes I can smell something, I can smell it…It has died”

Oh Victory!
Sweet Victory!
After 3 years…
I won… I won!!!

But wait oh so even in death you had to go the luxury way out!

Garri no work
Crayfish and Indomie nko? Mba!
Even better freshly roasted dried Agbara Fish no work

It took Imported better orishirishi food with a hard to pronounce name (it’s pronounced Kesediya) that knocked me down N3500 to do the work Okwia? You will not rest in Peace Anuofia!

Nigerian Rats are just like their Political Owners

Greedy, Destructive, continously reaping where they have not sown, living fat on collective largesse and hard to kill

Like the saying goes it’s the stubborn fly that does not heed advice that follows the corpse into the grave

Una go soon chop the one wey go finally burst your belle

Cunny Man Die
Cunny Man bury am!

The dead rat…

‘Igbaya’ – The Yoruba word for a brain resetting slap that leaves the imprint of your 5 fingers on the target

New thing I tried this week: Mexican Food

There is a type of progress that people may see and call PROGRESS, a “kind of money” you may have that people may mistake as success and call MONEY but that type stinks to high heavens. That type is the road to perdition. That type will be your downfall. No matter how long you enjoy it for, one day your day of reckoning will come and you will pay for your sins


Article was first published on Facebook. Published here with writer’s permission.

Posted by Deji Yesufu

Leave a reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *