by John Ukah
“Philip, I have actually had enough of your indiscipline,” he said. “I put in an entry personally for you at the wrestling event of the State Sports Festival, three weeks ago. The weigh-in was last Wednesday, but you didn't attend. Luckily for you, it was moved to Friday. You had a bout on Saturday; again you failed to show up. This behaviour is just unacceptable for a professional wrestler like you. I’m washing my hands off you.”
Some other professional wrestlers had tried reasoning with me, but as far as I was concerned, they were the ones who had issues. Strangely, my parents were blissfully unaware of my antics.
One fateful day, I returned home from chilling with some friends. I wasn’t completely drunk; just a bit more than slightly tipsy. I swayed on my feet, feeling good and singing some bawdy songs. I entered my room and immediately went to my bedside table for my regular dose. To my astonishment, the table had been swept clean of my usual stuff. I was mad with anger. I flung the table with one hand and it went flying. I ransacked the house, but I could not find my stuff. When I returned to my room, I remembered that I had stashed some of the Megamix powder in one of my trouser pockets. I grabbed all my clothes from the wardrobe and threw them on the floor. Then, I rummaged in the pockets of my trouser pockets. I became gleeful when I found what I was looking for.
I snorted more than my usual dose. I had never felt so good. My breathing was faster than usual. There was some music playing on the radio. I had heard it before, but now it was simply fantastic. I turned up the volume so much, that items in the room began vibrating with the sound. I started doing some drug-inspired dancing. It was like paradise.
In a sudden flash of inspiration, I knew who had taken the drugs. Morgan! Some will tell you that certain drugs induce an altered state or higher level of consciousness. The Megamix is one of them. I went to his room and searched, thoroughly. I found them in one of his bags. My anger spiked. How dare he? What gave him the right?
Unfortunately, that was when he walked in with Stephen and Young, another good friend of mine. I do not really recall what happened next. I was not myself. They told me later that I seemed to have taken complete leave of my senses. Morgan, it seemed, after clearing my table, had gone to call Stephen to talk to me about the dangers of doing drugs. I was also told that as soon as I saw Morgan, I lunged at him. Meanwhile, Stephen and Young tried to restrain me. Somehow, I overpowered two of them and grabbed an empty bottle, which I smashed on Morgan’s head. The bottle broke into pieces and Morgan’s head started bleeding.
Still unsatisfied and clutching the neck of the bottle, I attacked Morgan again. I cut him in the hand. Neighbours were called and I was finally overpowered. Stephen and Young went out to get a cab. Morgan was taken into the cab with blood all over him and together, they had headed for the nearest hospital. It was on their way that they had a ghastly motor accident; an oil tanker, whose brakes had failed, ran into their taxi. Both Stephen and Morgan died in the huge explosion that immediately followed the collision.
It was the next morning after the effects of the Megamix lifted, that I finally came back to my senses and my father disowned me. But even then, I did not remember what exactly I had done until Young told me. Till today, I remember weeping for myself. I knew I could not stop taking the drugs on my own, because I was addicted.
It was however on my own, that I walked into the Stayfit Drug Rehabilitation Centre at the state-owned hospital. It took two long years before I was finally free of my addiction. A drug habit, which took me just a day to start. The words of one of in-house psychologists will always linger in my mind.
“When you commit to anything, it becomes a circle in your life. After a while, any habit set in motion becomes addictive. It becomes a circle. But not every addiction is a bad thing. It is advisable to always set in motion, only good habits. Habits, as a rule, take on a life of their own.”
Without the drug, in the early part of the treatment, I felt like climbing up the walls. My body and soul yearned for it. I got mad at everybody, smashed things and even fought with the hospital staff. At a point, they had to restrain me with handcuffs. Dr. Owolabi described my reactions as withdrawal symptoms.
No-one called on me during my stay. I was lucky I had enough money to pay for my treatment. My life had been quite smooth and drug-free, until I met Bobby Brown. That was just his nickname, of course. But even now, I cannot recall his real name. He had been a guy whom I admired. He had a way of talking that made everyone laugh and want to hang out with him. His style of dressing and haircut were unique. And he had ladies falling all over him. He was tall, well-built and dashingly handsome. He always spoke using American slangs he picked up from their movies. When he walked, he would sway to the right, then to the left. I could not help admiring him. I soon found myself trying to emulate him.
We had met at a party and struck up an instant rapport. I always wanted to be associated with the in-crowd at social events. Despite my Olympic medal, I wasn't satisfied. I wanted to be the life of the party at social gatherings, but I was too reserved by nature. Bobby, on the other hand, was always the life of the party. It was much later that I realised that his confidence wasn't real; it came from the drugs. So, I did not hesitate to experiment with it when he made the suggestion. But I guess I learnt the hard way that it was not the best way.
Bobby died last year. He flung himself off a rooftop at a poolside party, while trying to fly like a bird.
It was Dr. Owolabi who suggested that I come to Obudu and draw some inspiration from the serene environment, when I mentioned that I didn't know what to do with my life. When I arrived here, I understood what he meant. The place has a soothing calmness and the beauty of nature is everywhere, especially at the beaches and recreation parks. My major problem was getting over the deaths of Stephen and Morgan. My conscience smote me that I had killed them.
“There is not much you can do to undo the past, Philip,” Dr. Owolabi had said to me. “We all make mistakes and everyone has a right to a second chance, especially when they are truly repentant. Try a new environment and start afresh. And forgive yourself.”
So, I had checked into the Lodge, under a different name.
“My name is Philip Newman,” I had told Ayuba. But I was in for a surprise because one of the guests at the Lodge recognised me.
“I never knew of your change of your name until now, Philip,” said Mrs. Marshall, as she sat knitting a blue cap in the lounge. It was a sunny afternoon and I had just walked into the lounge and taken a chair close to hers.
“Uh, change of name?” I was at a loss for words.
“Philip Ajayi. I remember your wrestling matches at the last Olympic Games. You were impressive.”
“Oh, I see. Mrs. Marshall?” I asked smiling. “It was a memorable time for me.”
“Are you still into professional wrestling?”
“No,” I replied looking down at the terrazzo floor.
“Why is that?” she asked.
I found myself telling her everything. I guess I had needed to talk to somebody for some time; it wasn't the same as talking to a psychologist at the clinic. My conscience often worried me, concerning Stephen and Morgan.
“You can’t bring them back, Philip,” said Mrs. Marshall. “No matter how much you wish you could. Pick up the pieces of your own life and put the past behind you. Letting your life stand still and hating yourself makes no sense, because it won’t bring them back. Forge ahead, Philip.”
At times, even now, the craving suddenly comes on me … my hands start trembling, my throat goes dry. But I can overcome it by taking a long walk and reminding myself of the immeasurable harm the drug had caused and how far I have come.
I fell in love with Maria Marshall, the very first day that I saw her. It was on the day I arrived. I was just entering the Lodge with my bags, tired after the long journey, when I caught sight of her. She was standing inside the lounge, her body in profile watching TV. Whoever said that the beautiful ones are not yet born evidently had n
ot seen her. Her face, a sight to behold. It had perfect symmetry. Her hair past her shoulders, almost reaching her waist. Her dark eyes, enchanting with long lashes. Her nose seemed to be pointing defiantly. Her skin was dark and lovely. Her full lips were sensual and she was wearing this white dress that had no back, and seemed to cling to the front of her body and her bottom more by sheer willpower, rather than anything else … it revealed curves that made my head swim. It occurred to me when I got to know her better that she may have stood in the lounge that day, hoping to be noticed. She was the classic attention-seeker.
She was the only one in the lounge, but I could see a man standing behind the bar. His back was turned to me, so he wasn't in a position to see me coming.
“Hello,” I said. I noticed that my voice sounded deeper than usual. The sight of her had impacted even my vocal cords.
“Hello,” she replied, with a charming smile showing perfect white teeth. If I thought I was smitten before, now I knew I was dead meat.
“Are you a guest here?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
“It can’t be dull around here, then,” I said and she laughed. She came forward and extended her hand.
“You are?” she asked, as we shook hands.
“Philip Newman,” I said, holding her hand far longer than was necessary.
“Maria Marshall,” she replied, in no hurry to remove her hand from mine. She looked up at me, into my eyes. “You are on the big side, Mr. Newman.” She said this, as she looked at her hand, which was very small in mine.
“You’re very beautiful, Miss Marshall,” I observed. I discovered two things about Maria Marshall. She was a flirt, and she had a wild temper; both proclivities could be easily aroused.
“Listen to me, Philip,” Bobby had once told me. “It is difficult to know if a girl is genuinely interested in you, or is just playing hard to get. But if you stubbornly persist, despite the cold reception and all the odds stacked against you, you will know at the end of the day. You may learn through hurt pride, disgrace and humiliation or through acceptance.” Now and then, Bobby said something sensible one could relate with.
I was in the lounge one hot, sunny afternoon reading a Playboy magazine. Actually, I was just flipping the pages and looking at the pictures. I was bored and slightly drunk, which was unusual for me. After I came out from the hospital, I had promised myself that I would stay away from alcohol and hard drugs for life. But from time to time, a great depression would come upon me, out of the blue. Dark thoughts about the past would seize and weigh me down … on a couple of occasions, I felt like killing myself. Most times, I would take a walk around the neighborhood and by the time I returned, my head would have cleared. But on that morning, the depression was terrible and I decided to drown my misery in a bottle.
A movement caught my eye and I looked up from the magazine. It was Maria Marshall. She had just entered the lounge and gone to the bar section. As she walked to the bar, she swung her hips provocatively. She always sent my heart racing.
She sat on one of the stools at the bar. I closed my magazine, summoned the courage, and walked over to join her. I observed that she was having a coke when I got to the bar. I sat down beside her.
Lately, she had been running around with Nagoth, and hadn't been paying me any attention.
“Hello, Sunshine,” I said.
“Hello,” she replied, not looking at me.
“Let me have whatever she's having, Mallam,” I said to Ayuba, who was behind the bar. “You have been hiding away from me, lately,’ I told her, as Ayuba brought my drink.
“You think so?” she asked, sipping her drink indifferently. “I didn't know.”
I just could not say where exactly I had gone wrong. We no longer seemed to have the flow we initially had.
“I know so,” I said. “How about we take our drinks to my room?” I asked her in what I felt was a romantic tone.
“What is so special about your room?” she asked.
“Drinks always taste a lot better in my room,” I said. She laughed.
“You are drunk, Philip,” she said.
“You think so?” I asked. “I didn't know.”
“I know so,” she replied.
“How about my proposition?” I asked.
“My drink tastes just fine here,” she said.
“I guess you are saving it all for lover boy, Nagoth.” I said.
She looked at me, for the first time with some annoyance. “Saving all what?” she asked and I said some things that I do not want to repeat. The next thing I knew, her drink was in my face and all over my shirt. Then, she walked out of the lounge. Ayuba sympathetically handed me a clean cloth and I wiped my face, but several eyes had witnessed my humiliation. I could also hear some low chuckles. I couldn't blame anyone but myself; I had asked for it. Bobby was right about the hurt pride, disgrace and humiliation.
Maria had so many sides to her, that it was often difficult to understand her. She had graduated from the Cross River State University of Technology, with a degree in Childcare Education. She had specialised in Child Psychology Education and taught children suffering intellectual disabilities. She often helped out in one of the schools for special children in Obudu. She volunteered at the school when she came to the Lodge.
I did not speak with Maria after that episode at the bar, until the day before she died. I was coming out of the lounge and she was going out of the Lodge. She was wearing a sky blue skirt-suit that hugged her body; her jacket was fitted around her slender waist, accentuating her lovely curves. She seemed to be in a hurry and had bumped into me. We stared at each other. It was our first physical contact since that day.
“Maria, I’ve been looking for an opportunity to apologise for my behaviour the other day. I’m sorry.”
“It is okay, Philip,” she said. “You were drunk.”
“But that’s no excuse to act the way I did,” I said.
“I forgive you, Philip. Now, you're in my way.” And she made to push past me.
“Hey easy, what’s the big hurry?”
“I’m late for school,” she said. “We have special programmes today and tomorrow.”
“What is it all about?” I asked her.
She gave me a quick breakdown. It was the end of term and the school was organising a Christmas party. Several things were needed to be in place for the occasion and she was the person in charge of these arrangements.
“Philip, do you know where I can find someone who would dress in a monkey costume and amuse the children for free?”
“You have found him,” I said. “That’s if the costume will fit me.”
“You are a darling, Philip. I’m sure the costume will be just your size. Come with me,” she said, and I went with her.
The costume fit me perfectly. I danced and did monkey-jumps, as the children pulled my tail, climbed my back and offered me biscuits and bananas. I enjoyed the interaction with the children.
The children, despite their challenges, were all looking beautiful and gaily dressed. Maria and the other teachers ran around, making sure that every one of them was happy.
I was a hit at the party. The children were engaged and had a terrific time.
“Monkey, dance! Dance! Dance!” They screamed and I danced with them.
“Monkey, jump! Jump! Jump!” And I had to jump until I felt my head almost touching the ceiling boards.
“Monkey, eat! Eat! Eat!” And they tried to force many bananas at a time, into my mouth.
“Do it again!” they shouted. “Do it again!”
And I went “Grump! Grump! Grump!”
I was exhausted, when I came back with Maria at about 8:15pm.
“Thank you, Philip,” said Maria, as we entered the lounge. She was smiling and leaning tiredly on me. I liked the feel of her against me. I felt protective over her.
“Grump! Grump! Grump!” I said.
“You can stop being a monkey now,” she said laughing.
“Oh, I see,” I said smiling. “I enjoyed myself.”
“The children had a good time too. Thank you for coming,” she said.
“The pleasure was mine, Maria,” I said.
“Maybe we can have that drink after all, Philip,” she said with a wink.
“In my room?” I asked.
“No, not your room, Philip,” she said. “And not today. I’m dog tired.” And she yawned.
“I’m monkey tired,” I said, also yawning. “How about tomorrow, Sunshine?”
She looked up at me with a puzzled expression on her face. She was almost sleeping on her feet.
“The drink,” I said.
“Oh sure. I mean, no wait!” she said, holding up a hand. “We have the prize-giving and award of certificates tomorrow and also a parent-teacher get-together in the evening. I don’t think I’ll be done before 10. How about coming over, then? Say, between 10 and 11?”
“You won’t be too tired?” I asked her, my pulse quickening at the prospect of spending the evening with her.
“No, I won’t be,” she said. “Come to my room at that time.”
“What’s so special about your room?” I teased.