When he got to the admin's office, he saw the door was closed but was not bolted shot. With a gentle tilt with his index finger, the door eased open, revealing a short man who was hurriedly setting a women's magazine below the table drawer. His eyes waged war on the unannounced intruder.
"Idehen!” the administrator cried irritably. "Don't you know the utility of an entryway? It is there for you to announce your appearance."
The use of 'big' phrases brought fulfilment to the heart of the administrator who was wonted for using terms he knew the semi-literate people who worked for him would not understand. Idehen had gotten nothing from what the man had said. Not knowing what to say but knowing that the situation demanded a reply, he said the safest thing that came to him.
"Sorry sir", as he bowed slightly
"'Sorry' is insufficient. A sack will be more fitting", the administrator announced indifferently while making obvious movements on his untidy table as if searching for something.
As soon as he heard the word 'sack', Idehen stamped the carpeted floor with his knees as he pleaded.
"Admin sah, abeg no sack me", he begged, snort building up in his nostrils as the tears, hung up by his pupils, refused to fall.
The administrator paid no heed. Finding what he was looking for, he tossed a yellow folder at the pleading man who jumped away from it as he went to the man and hugged his knees.
"Please, I be family man, sah", he expressed tearfully. "My pikin never grow finish. Abeg no sack me, sah".
Sensing the man was not going to leave his trousers that ran the risk of dropping due to his weak belt, the administrator told the man why he was summoned to his office that morning. Idehen has been posted to work in a new quarry in his hometown as an Administrator. He has been promoted.
Surveyors have discovered a possible site for a new quarry. A huge slab of rock with a lifeless temperament where a snail market operated by day and lovers tattoo initials within its pebbly belly by night. The people refused to relinquish the rock, not because of its acquainted use, but for the stories of how government's excavation quests, often excavate a people's tranquillity. However, a change, it takes from them while taking their peace, giving debris for remuneration. Thus, they demanded an indigenous local for Administrator. The government was going to succumb to the people's will except that the local will be a man they can trust to do their whims; a man who has worked for them in the past, a man like Idehen. He was chosen because it is his hometown, the place he had lived before he left to work at the quarry.
We were happy for him. Urbi was, in her own silent way. For me, this could mean Idehen will stop coming home as rocks. We might have to move but that was welcomed. Maybe he will come home with the scent of air-conditioning and printed papers. Maybe his hands will become tender as hot pap. Maybe Idehen will stop noticing that I do not greet him anytime he appears with the quarry following behind.
I do not mean to disrespect Idehen in his house. No one should insult the roof over his head but Idehen is wrong, very wrong. He uses the length of his arm to judge a child's contempt for him. He might be right to do so except that Urbi birthed no dumb. Words do not play on my tongue as it does for other people. If they played, it was a weighty game of Hide-I-Seek as I sometimes sift through my shelves of vocabulary, seeking the word, which will not cause a stutter. At certain times, the words stick to my throat as powdered milk gums to the roof of the mouth.
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