Hi people! I am so tired of writing and editing my novel that I just want to quit. After critiques spoke about the theme, I did a thorough rewrite and now need feedback. I would really appreciate your help: is this any good?
CHAPTER ONE
FIRST NIGHT
9th October 1999
That Friday came the worst night of the torrential rainy season in Oore, a rural town in Ondo, southwest Nigeria. Waves of raindrops spattered the muddy streets abating slowly, then starting all over again. A swift wind blew pieces of shrubs about, bending trees sideways like lean, old men in a stupor. At the crack of thunder, branches snapped and fell to the ground as lightning flashed in a brilliant stream in the dark sky.
Two young men sloshed in the flood of water gushing over the bare muddy streets. One of them held a package tightly to his chest, and taking two steps ahead of the other, he took purposeful strides with his spiny long legs. A skeletal figure in long sleeves and a pair of flimsy dark trousers, his jaw was set in a stern grimace. He would frequently pay a visit to this town, and this night was no different—except for the rain and the companion he brought along.
‘I swear Oore has the worst weather,’ the man spat.
‘What about Lagos.’ His muscled, fair-skinned, short companion nodded.
Whenever it rained in Oore, only the brave dared walk its bush paths as the dim light from darkened clouds would paint a menacing picture of the jungle that surrounded the town. And guided by an occasional flash of lightning illuminating the night, walking the streets was a hopping dance.
With fingers numb with cold, the men aggressively rubbed their hands over their arms trying to warm their bodies.
When they got to their destination: a diner nestled beside a long line of shops at the end of a street, they stopped.
Quick to see a woman in the diner’s doorway, the young man bid her good evening in Yoruba: ‘E ku ale, Mummy Esther!’
His companion merely snorted.
A lantern cast its dull light across the frontage from a table where it stood, aiding Mummy Esther to assess the newcomers outside her diner. In the dim glow, she was quite an impressive figure to behold: dark and buxom, with voluptuous thighs, and a slightly handsome face. Dressed in her ankle-length beige-coloured gown, she had a piece of cloth wrapped around her head.
‘Ku ale, Obong, customer mi,’ she smiled, using the English word ‘customer’.
She stepped out of the doorway for them to step in, and dusting off a bench, she shifted it forward and sat down. Then tapping the space next to her, she smiled as both men wiped their trousers and joined her.
‘Obong, so you could come in the rain? Well done! I was just wondering if you would make it here tonight,’ she said. ‘You’re not alone today, though.’
‘Yes, na my friend,’ he said in Pidgin English, pointing at the short man. ‘Not wanting to walk alone in the pouring rain, I came with him.’
His friend nodded, raising his right hand in greeting.
Mummy Esther gestured at him as she returned the nod.
Swiftly, Obong darted his hand in his pocket, brought out a dirty handkerchief, and wiped raindrops off his brow.
His eyes made two flicks towards Mummy Esther before he assured her of the quality of their goods.
‘I know. This isn’t the first time we have done business together,’ she answered.
The nameless short man chuckled. It seemed it was all he could do, apart from shivering visibly. He didn’t look that intelligent, and he was unashamedly ugly. Clasping his fingers together, he played with his hands. He appeared very impatient, darting his eyes here and there as he listened to the two. Shortly he snapped, inclining his head toward the bag his friend had placed on the cold, concrete floor.
‘Yes, definitely you’ll love this one,’ Obong said as he opened the bag, dipping his right hand in and bringing out a puppy.
He turned it around for Mummy Esther to see.
It was a golden-brown furred pup.
Once it was out of the bag, it began to whimper as all puppies do.
Mummy Esther took it from his hand and gently cradled it in her bosom.
‘An attractive prize, isn’t it,’ said Obong.
‘Indeed! He is very attractive, and will do nicely,’ she smiled, pulling on the skin on its neck to feel its weight. And petting it affectionately with soft strokes, she said, ‘Ajami! Ah, my dog!’
The two men smiled at her affectation towards the dog.
And pepping up her English, she said, ‘How are you?’
It whimpered miserably.
Lifting it up, she added in a stern, flat tone: ‘Don’t cry. No, don’t cry. This is home now, just you and me in this shop.’
Then lowering the puppy onto the floor and patting it firmly on the head, she said, ‘Dear . . . oh, dear!’
A flash of lightning brightened their dark faces as they all watched the nimble puppy crawling on the floor.
‘What about our money? It’s late,’ Obong’s friend spat. He indulged himself in the English ********, albeit, with a thick foreign accent.
Rising with some effort, Mummy Esther went into the room, rummaged around some paper in plastic containers, and brought out some money. She handed it over to Obong, who went straight on to count it.
With a grunt of satisfaction, he said, ‘OK! Let’s be on our way. O daaro! Goodnight!’
Happily, his friend sprang up, and together they stepped out of the frontage, and walked into the dark as Mummy Esther’s goodnight trailed away behind them.
Howling like a thousand phantoms, the wind swelled in all directions as the storm began to settle. Mummy Esther stepped back from a sudden swish of rainfall as a branch snapped and fell to the ground leaving her wondering about the men in the rain.
She watched the straggling puppy crawling on the floor making short, sharp, whimpering whines.
‘These dogs will soon get me to dear London,’ she murmured with quivering excitement.
What she knew about the wonderful city called London was what she heard and saw on television. It looked like paradise! She believed everyone deserved to see the beautiful city. And reckoning that with the money she made from her diner *****ng meals, and 404—a popular delicacy—she’d one day travel there. Her darkest fear was the exact opposite: working to the bone, never realizing her dream of a comfortable retirement abroad.
Straying away from these thoughts, she went about packing her pots and pans, and once through, she gave the dog her favourite name. ‘Larundo, are you hungry?’
Bending to look beneath sheets of newspaper under the table, she brought out a steel plate. Then thrusting her hand into a nearby basket, she took a wrap of *****d, ground cassava, known as fufu, which she moulded into bits. She dipped a spoon in two separate pots, pouring some okra soup and stew on the plate and passing it to the puppy.
It merely sniffed it, turning away, and whimpering miserably.
From experience, she knew dogs didn’t eat when troubled as such, but she went on to make the meal anyway. Perhaps it would eat it later.
With a keen eye, she pondered if it was a male. It was too dark, and her lantern was slowly dying out; but cconsidering Obong had never disappointed her, she relied on his foreknowledge.
‘Larundo,’ she said, ‘it’s time for me to go home.’
Then grabbing her bag, and stretching forward, she put out the light.
The puppy turned its wet nose up in apprehension. Larundo, who upon the departure of the men had chosen her as his new mistress, stumbled after her; but she pushed him back and locked him inside the wire netting constituting a wall around the frontage.
And in the moonlight, catching what there was of the quiet scene, she gave Larundo a handsome smile and sighed, ‘Yes, all my dogs will get me to London.’
And stepping onto the street, she felt the flood of water wash over her feet as she hopped with a slopping gait into the darkness.
( تقرير عن مشاركة سيئة )، و الموجودة أسفل كل مشاركة .
2023-07-13, 11:41
So I am in a very hard place
العرض العادي
