The Road Where Paths Meet – John Chibuzo

CHARACTERS

Abba

Ebuka

Paulina

Shola

Nanret

ACT ONE

A congested hostel room. Abba is seated on a frail mat, looking tired and exhausted. His bag and lecture notes are scattered on the floor; a nylon sac of garri lies in one corner of the room, just beside his very thin bed. Beside the bed is a small reading table.

ABBA (Answering a phone call): You won’t believe that I have been soaking garri for the past week. I do not have any money. Tell Mommy to stop calling me. If people think I am flexing here, you can come and join me. Mirabel, listen: if Daddy dies, it is not my fault. I have tried. Have you cared to ask about how I am faring/what if I die? See, I won’t warn you again. If you call this line again, I swear I will block you! 

He drops the phone and crashes on the bed. A knock his heard on the door.

EBUKA (calling out): Open the door, sharps comrade!

ABBA (with a frown): This fool has come again. These hostel people won’t allow someone to have his peace. Every time they are looking for whose food to devour. If it is not food, it is soap, or comb, or hair cream, or tissue paper, or handkerchief, or gas cooker…hostel cockroaches. 

He gets up and opens the door.

EBUKA (strolls in merrily in with a cup): Yo, man! What’s popping today?

ABBA: You did not come to shorten my ration, ba? You sef, try to pity your guy na. It’s the only garri I have o.

EBUKA (sighing): Garri again! (He fetches some garri into his cup.) 

ABBA: Pack small, oh. There are only two mudus remaining. 

EBUKA: Deh garri don deh finnish sef.

ABBA: Na you finish with this garri, Ebuka. I swear!

EBUKA (sarcastically): Blessed is the man that giveth than the one that receiveth. (abruptly changing discourse) Oh boy, one fine Shimmah deh my room deh wait like so. Make I rush deh go. Enjoyment wan wound me dis afternoon.

ABBA (shaking his head):  You broke, but you deh still follow woman like fly deh follow shit for nyansh. I still cannot understand why the brokest boys always turn out to be the greatest womanisers.

ABBA (smirking): I will leave you to ponder on your high-sounding nonsense, my broda. 

He strolls out.

EBUKA: Wait, wait! They told you that next week is the election, ba? Hope you and your course mates will come out in your numbers and vote for me?

EBUKA: Yes oo, the incoming, our 001 SUG! God bless the leader. 

Ebuka salutes and strolls out with his cup of garri.

ABBA (to himself, sadly): How do I attain balance? How do I scale through all these problems in my life? Should I collect TETFUND? My family wants money, handouts are there waiting to be photocopied with money, data to browse and communicate with my course mates must be bought with money –  toothpaste, tissue paper, cream,  sorry pomade (who gets money to buy cream now?), hair cream, polish… you can go on and on. They are all bought with money. We have not even talked about food, the baba of all. What about Paulina? Her billing these days is getting out of hand. I really need to do something about it. I will tell it to her face. Who is she sef? If she does not like my show, she should pack and go! Ah girls, ah girls; why can’tthey just think of having a simple relationship? Well, as my friend Ebuka always says: relationship sweet, na too much billing kill am. I will tell her straight up when next we meet. I cannot be battling with family issues, aluta issues, studies, my wellbeing, and now join relationship issues. Do you want me to die before my time? Do not worry, I will tell her, and I will tell it to her hot.

There is a knock on the door.

ABBA: Who is that again?

A young, beautiful lady, Paulina, walks in.

ABBA: Oh, it is you, Paulina. (His sad countenance changes into a contrived smile.) Welcome, my love. 

Paulina takes the second chair.

ABBA: How are you? How was your day?

PAULINA: Fine.

ABBA: You do not look bright this evening. What is wrong?

PAULINA: Nothing.

ABBA: Come on, tell me what is wrong. Your pain is mine, your sorrow is mine, and your joy is mine. Always feel free with me, darling.

PAULINA: How can I be glad when I have not eaten? Can a horse run on an empty stomach?

ABBA: Oh no, even you? You have joined the world to add to my uncountable sorrow, you of all people, Paulina?

PAULINA: Look at who calls himself a man; a man who cannot provide. 

ABBA: Do not say that Paulina. You must learn to have patience. Even Caesar had his days of lack, abi do no you read your history books? 

PAULINA: What kind of guy gives this kind of reply to the woman he claims to love?

ABBA: Baby, you know I love you. I love you so much.

PAULINA: Prove it, Abba. Prove that you love me.

ABBA: Have I not proved it before? Have you forgotten all I did for you last week so quick?

PAULINA: Let’s leave this talk for now. We will get back to it later. This is not my main reason for coming here. Now tell me, who was that lady I saw you with at SOSA this morning?

ABBA (pauses for a little while): I thought we were talking about love. She is just a friend.

PAULINA: Who holds a ‘friend’ by the waist? Who kisses a friend on her lips?

ABBA: The Americans do that.

PAULINA: And so?

ABBA: See, Paulina, I am not trying to justify anything. But there is nothing wrong with that.

PAULINA: I knew it! 

ABBA: You knew what?

PAULINA: You are just like the rest of them. You give men your heart, and they throw it right into the gutters! Abba, you are a coward!

ABBA: Stop this now, stop it. I do not like it.

PAULINA: I won’t stop anything! You are a liar! A pervert! I gave you my heart, my soul and my body, yet your wicked heart, that knows nothing of gratitude, could not be contented.

She runs out of the room in tears.

ABBA: Paulina, come back! Let me explain. I love you, I swear! 

He stands up to chase her but sits down again, in confusion.

ABBA: What is happening to me? Oh my God, I can lose everything but not Paulina, not her, and not now. Why is all this happening to me?

There is a knock on the door,

ABBA: And who is that again?

Shola enters.

SHOLA: How far, Abba? Come make we deh go common room, sharps.

ABBA: Why, just like that?

SHOLA: You forget say Professor Bayo gives us the Sociolinguistics test tomorrow by 8 am on the dot? And you know say him deh very punctual.

ABBA: Jesus, I don’t die!

SHOLA: Wait first. Na after you write a test, you go die, no be now. 

A knock is heard on the door.

ABBA: Who is that motherfucker? How many times have I warned you guys to stop visiting me?

Nanret walks in.

NANRET: I greet you, comrade in the struggle.

ABBA: Keep your greetings to yourself.

NANRET: Good evening, Comrade Abba. 

ABBA: What is good about the evening? Please tell me!

NANRET: You seem to forget you are speaking to a lady. You said we are to have a strategic campaign meeting by 5.30pm this evening, because of the upcoming elections next week.

ABBA: Oh, it is true.

NANRET: Yes, comrade. We must strategise against our enemies because they are cooking up plans to rig this election.

ABBA: True. Nanret, Shola, can you two just give me some minutes, please? Just a few minutes.

They both leave. Abba paces round the room, sometimes looking at the ceiling, sometimes at the floor.

ABBA: God, oh my God! I am finished in this life. I cannot call off my aspiration; no, not at this moment. I cannot afford to lose Paulina too; not at this critical juncture. And I cannot afford to get any carryover this semester, except that I want to spend another extra year, I have three already. How and when did I get to this stage without noticing it? I came into this university with big dreams, with hopes, with vigour, with youth and life! Now all that I am left with are carcasses. Why am I no longer at ease in this environment? Everything in my life is falling apart, and there is nothing I can do about it. What is happening to me, God? Can the ghosts from my village unravel this dilemma? Like Odewale, I am standing on the road where different paths meet. Which do I take? The path less travelled by? And what is the path less travelled by? Who is to blame for all of this, for all of my problems? Am I to blame, or are the gods? Please somebody answer these questions.

Chibuzo Emmanuel John is a writer from Jos, Nigeria. His works explore themes of love, corruption, growth, culture, and spirituality. As a writer, he identifies mostly as a naturalist. Chibuzo’s writings have been featured in various Jos offline publications, most notably: The Roots Magazine. He is a part-time blogger, is passionate about literature, and currently studies English at the University of Jos.

*Image by Ralph Katieb on Unsplash