MY HERO HAS RETURNED!!!

She dragged a heavy bag in each hand as she labored towards her apartment. It was scorching hot. The sun seemed to have come closer to earth, as it pounded
everything below it with unrelenting heat. Bisola was a plum, beautiful woman, even in her forties. Her round face, charming smile, and curves still caught the eyes
of men around her age. She had refused to have anything to do with men since the catastrophic death of her loving husband, Wale in a ghastly motor accident.
Streaks of sweat dripped down her forehead and
dropped lazily to her shoulders. It was just a few more
minutes before she’d reach her apartment. “Welcome
Mama Gbemi !” Shouted the children playing in front of
her building. It was a shabby, old yellow building in one
of the many shanty streets in Ajegunle. It was hard to
determine the population of the building. Friends and
families of the real tenants were always squatting with
their friends and relatives at one point or the other.
Gbemi was Bisola’s youngest child. She was only seven
years of age. “Thank you children, how are you?” “Fine
thanks,” they echoed. Gbemi ran from inside the house
to greet her mother. One of the children in front of
the building, Bello had already grabbed one of the bags
from Bisola. Before Segun could grab the other, Gbemi
was already there to yank it off her mother’s hand.
“Welcome Mom!” Thank you Gbemi. How was school
today?” “School was great Mom. I drew a tree and a
car. Mr. Adeniran said I did very well,” Gbemi
answered with infectious gusto.
“That is what I like to hear. Mr. Adeniran never gets it
wrong. If he said you did well, then you must have done
very well,” Bisola replied enthusiastically. Gbemi smiled
ravishingly, as she basked in her mother’s praise. “So,
where are your brothers?” Bisola asked when they
entered their tiny two-room apartment. One room served
as the living room, while the other was the bedroom.
Bisola had two sons, Aremu and Adefemi , and they
all crammed into the small apartment. “Aremu must be
playing football at the field behind the house. I saw him
there a while ago. I don’t know where Adefemi has
gone to.” “Okay, go and fetch Aremu. We have to make
dinner before NEPA strikes.” “Okay Mom.” Gbemi dashed
off to fetch her older brother. Aremu was three years
older than Gbemi. Adefemi was to turn nineteen in a
few weeks. Bisola had him before getting married to
Wale. They were secondary school sweethearts and
before they realized it, their educational careers hit the
rock before it started. Bisola became pregnant in the
final year of secondary school, and Wale had to drop out
of school to provide for her and the coming baby. Both
of their parents were poor, living just a few streets
away in Ajegunle. Wale became a bus conductor and
later a driver in an effort to provide for his family.
Bisola had problems conceiving after Adefemi was born.
Nine years later, God answered her prayers when she
conceived Aremu and only three years later, Gbemi was
born. Wale died just before Gbemi was born.
Bisola was an excellent cook. Wale used to rave about
her food. Quickly she made stew and rice. She ate with
Aremu and Gbemi, who had their shower afterwards and
retired to bed. They had to get some sleep to be sharp
at school the next morning. That was Wale’s idea to
send the kids to bed early enough and Bisola had stuck
to it after his passing. Adefemi was still nowhere to be
found. This was a common scenario in their household.
Adefemi had grown unmanageable over the past two
years. He dropped out of school and hung out with the
wrong crowd. Before Bisola knew it, Adefemi was
puffing out cigarette smoke like a chimney, and he soon
graduated to Marijuana. He reeked of weed each time
he returned from his numerous late night outings. He had
just been released from police cell for stealing. Bisola
could hardly sleep at night until Adefemi returned, and
this night was no different. She sat at the table and
tried to read. She had been taking classes of late in an
effort to complete secondary education, and hopefully
write SSCE. She always wanted to do more in life – go
to university and get a degree. She wanted to make her
parents who did not study any further than primary
school proud, but getting pregnant too soon snuffed out
her dreams. She was reading a government textbook
with keen interest. When she stopped to check the
time, it was midnight, and Adefemi was not home yet.
She needed to sleep as she had to be at the market in
the morning. She had a small stall at Boundary Market
where she sold food items.
She looked up at Wale’s picture which she had left
hanging on the wall. She missed him so much. He was
the love of her life. If only you were still here,
Adefemi would not treat me like this. You would control
him, I know that, she thought to herself. She could not
take her eyes of the picture. She got up, took the
picture and wiped dust off it with her palm. She
thought of when he used to take her to Bar Beach…
how he would make her laugh. They were real soul
mates. Wale loved her immensely. Then, Adefemi rammed
loudly on the door. She placed the picture back on the
hook on the wall and walked over to the door. “Where
are you coming from?” She asked as she opened the
door. “None of your business,” he replied disrespectfully.
He walked past Bisola as though she did not exist. His
baggy jeans were hanging below his butt and he reeked
of Marijuana and alcohol. “If you keep returning this
late, I will be forced to throw you out Adefemi,” she
threatened. “You can’t,” he countered with annoying
impudence. He went to the bedroom and took his plate
of rice Bisola had already dished out for him. Bisola
returned to the bedroom and lay in bed. Tears trickled
down unto her pillow. She worried that Adefemi might
graduate from stealing to armed robbery. He might get
killed, then I would have failed my husband. God, what
do I do? She wondered painfully. She had gotten Wale’s
brothers to talk to Adefemi, and his parents too, but
Adefemi seemed to be getting worse. He would listen to
no one.
The next day Bisola got a call to report to the police
station. Her heart was quivering feverishly as she
trekked briskly to the station. She had quickly called her
friend and neighbor, Kemi and asked her to take care of
Aremu and Gbemi in case she stayed out late at the
station. She knew it had to do with Adefemi. “Officer,
I was told to report here, please is it something to do
with my son? The police man wey call me no gree
tell me wetin happen .” Her voice was riddled with
apprehension. “ Wetin be the officer name wey call
you ?” “ I no remember, but my son name na
Adefemi Olusola. ” “Sit down there. I dey come .” The
officer left and returned shortly with a frown on his
face. “Madam, your son was caught with his friends
trying to rape a girl at knife point. And they had
Marijuana in their possession.” Bisola was not surprised.
She had known it was only a matter of time before it
happened. She put together all her savings to hire a
lawyer who got Adefemi out of police net. That did not
end his run-ins with the law. There were more arrests
and more spending, leaving Bisola cash-strapped and
prone to high blood pressure.
One evening, she was in the bedroom by herself. She
had been crying all day. She woke up in the morning
with no desire to get out of bed. She managed to take
Aremu and Gbemi to school, and returned to bed, where
she sobbed her heart out. Adefemi had not been home
in two days. His friends claimed they did not know
where he was. Fear; immobilizing fear encapsulated her.
She knew something bad was in the offing. Her spirit
craved her late husband; someone to take charge and
put the boy in his place. “Are you crying mom?” Gbemi
asked. Bisola did not hear her come in. “No I am not.”
“You always say we should not lie but you are lying mom.
I see the tears in your eyes. It is about Adefemi isn’t
it?” She nodded her head. “Mom, you must remember
that you still have Aremu and I, you know. If you kill
yourself worrying about Adefemi, there will be no one
to take care of us.” “I will not die Gbemi,” she said
forcefully. She pulled her closer and hugged her. “But
you are worrying and crying all the time,” Gbemi insisted.
Bisola knew Gbemi was right.
A day later, Adefemi appeared from nowhere. Bisola had
left the door open in case he returned late. She was
fast asleep having taken a sleeping pill earlier. I can’t
change him. I leave it all in God’s hands, she had
decided. In the morning, she pretended she had not seen
him. She put her wares together and headed to the
market. Adefemi rolled out of bed and went over to the
living room. He turned on the TV and scanned through
the channels. It was a Saturday morning. Aremu was
playing football in the backyard with friends. Gbemi who
had been playing outside ran into their apartment to get
something, and that was when she found Adefemi
guzzling down yam and egg sauce while staring at the
TV distractedly. She stared at him for a moment.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked. She
walked closer and asked, “Can I sit in your lap?” “No.
Why?” “Because I want to, like old times. You
remember? You used to carry me in your lap when I
was little. You would buy me biscuits and sweet. Will you
carry me again big brother?” “Reluctantly, Adefemi
placed his plate on the table and carried her. He placed
her on his laps and stroked her hair gently. “It has been
a long time since you did this Ade.” Gbemi said. Adefemi
said nothing. “You are not talking to me, but I know you
can hear me. You used to take care of Aremu and I. I
remember then…fun days. I would wait all day…
impatiently for you to return from school. You’d carry
me around the compound and tell people you’d do
anything for your little sister. You’d take me to the
kiosk and buy me sweet. I was the queen of the world.
I would sit atop your shoulders glamorously, as if I
controlled the world. For me, I was really a queen
because you made me feel like one. Mom was very proud
of you and how you looked after us…and her too. Don’t
you think she needs you to that now? With us not
having a dad, she expects you to be our protector
around her when she is not around; but you…you are
never around big brother. Some days I come in here like
I did today and I pretend I were sitting in your laps…
hugged and held by my brother who represented the dad
I never knew. I was told by everyone that daddy was
a good man. In you I saw the same, but not anymore.
You come back late and you talk to mom anyhow. You
don’t even notice your little sister anymore. I have gone
from your little queen to nobody. Aremu misses his big
brother too, but he just carries on. I miss my hero. The
one that used to lift me shoulder high to the top of the
world, not the one talks back at my loving mother. If
she dies worrying about you, I will never forgive you.
Please let me down. I want to go and play now. When
my hero returns, I will let him carry me again…right
now, you are not my hero!”
She wriggled out of his grip and walked away confidently
as if nothing had happened. Adefemi could not hold back
his tears. A pang of guilt ravaged him. Memories of his
father came flooding back. He recalled how his father
used to lift him shoulder high too. He cried for a good
two hours, then he went to the wall and stared at his
father’s picture. “I am sorry papa,” he said quietly. He
went to the shower, had a quick wash, got dressed and
walked to the market. Bisola was shocked to see him
around. It had been ages since the last time he came to
see her at the stall. “Hi mom,” he said in a low tone.
“ You well so, this one wey you come here today?
Or you get wahala wey you need me to take care
of?” “I am fine mom. I no get wahala .” He sat beside
her. Almost immediately, someone came to buy pepper
and Bisola was about to get up to serve them, but
Adefemi beat her to it. “Don’t worry mom. How much
pepper you want ?” He asked the customer. With his
mother’s guidance, he made a sale; the first in over two
three years. When the customer left, Adefemi melted
into his mother’s arms. “I am sorry ma! I am sorry.
Please forgive me for all the trouble I put you through.
I have been dealing with papa’s death for some years
now and in my grief, I sought satisfaction in all the
wrong places. I am sorry. I will never hurt you again.”
Bisola did not know whether to start dancing or crying.
Overcome by emotion, she burst into tears, hugging her
son. Her neighbors at the market who knew what had
been going on were in tears too. “ I no sell again
today ,” she said. “ I dey go house to make him
ewedu soup, his favorite .” Bisola announced after a
prolonged mother and son hug. She packed up with
Adefemi’s help and they walked home together, hand-in-
hand. Adefemi joined her in the kitchen, cutting and
grinding as she mixed and stirred. Gbemi walked into the
kitchen and saw Adefemi with their mother. She was
delightfully surprised. “Are you helping mom?” “Yes oh!”
Bisola answered before Adefemi could utter a word. She
ran towards him with joy shouting, “That is my hero. My
hero is home!” He scooped her up and lifted her shoulder
high. “This is my hero!” She continued to shout.
The End!