*         *         *

If only weary wheels could cry, this wheelbarrow fulcrum would do more than squeak tiringly time and again like clockwork, as it gallops down the red sand and rocky pebble plastered road. Loosely clad with a stretched out grey singlet, threadbare black shorts and a pair of rubber bathroom slippers, Shola diligently pushes the loaded wheelbarrow up the outer ridge of another pothole, and in success, the three expertly arranged thirty litre jerry cans within it bounce together in a seismic jolt and along with Shola's propelling steps continue their journey along the streets of Kpako. It is nearly dusk, and Shola is headed to the house after his first trip to his street's major watering hole—the borehole taps of Mama Efe, one of the landlords in their neighbourhood who lives in a single storey building of four apartments. Everyday, people come from far and wide to fetch water for drinking, cooking, cleaning and other purposes because they do not have access to pipe borne water or to standard borehole water supply like many average Nigerians. Hence, Mama Efe has formed sort of a minor business of supplying water to many homes in the neighbourhood for highly discounted prices. Although, in many ways, considering the affordability and fundamental need effectively satisfied at nearly all hours of the day for the sustenance of others, it is much less a business of lucrative nature than it is essentially a service to humanity.

Nearing his humble abode, Shola tilts the wheelbarrow in the direction of the distant dongoyaro tree and hails the old lady in the small provisions store on the opposite side of the road, "Good evening ma!"

"Ezigbo nwa!.. good evening," she responds warmly as she removes some packaged groceries from the wooden shelf in front of the shop, in preparation to close for the day. Afterwards, she comes back out, readjusts the wrapped wax print fabric and small fading blue and pink apron loosely fastened to her waist. She looks up and takes a heavy breath before going forward to the pavement in front of her shop to slowly dismantle the small grinding engine with which she commercially grinds tomatoes, beans and other foods for members of the neighbourhood, as part of her business. One thing worthy of note in her countenance today is the look of gloom, unlike usual. Despite being a seventy-nine year old widow with no child, the many health, physical and long-term socioeconomic challenges she has had to face in the past decades trying to fend for herself in a societal clime of severe hardship, zero social welfare and low economic encouragement for small scale entrepreneurs, she has on average remained a very jovial woman. One can say that due to muscular strain and wrinkles, a perfect smile gradually fades with age, but in many ways, it also appreciates in the patented value of genuineness and retains its robust beauty in the light that it radiates from the soul, especially when goodwill abounds. Most people are used to the selfless smile of this old woman, but today unlike many others, a cloud of gloom hangs over her head.

Entering into the compound with zest, Shola wheels the large barrow of heavy jerry cans to the side of the house and offloads them onto an extended concrete pavement spanning the length of the house and carrying almost an entire assembly line of cans, drums and buckets of water.

"Ah ah.. Where are you taking the other jerry can to?" a shirtless Mr Ehigie asks.

"It's not our own. It's for Mama Hadiza." Shola responds.

Mr Ehigie widens his eyes in shock at what his son just told him. Then he stops to adjust the rumaging chewing stick in his mouth to the side. Apparently, out of the three jerrycans Shola fetched, two belong to a neighbour whilst only one is theirs. Usually, Shola is assigned to fetch three jerrycans of water at the start of each week, whilst Peter does so for the rest of the week. Each trip to the Mama Efe's borehole is taken to fill three jerrycans at a time, two of which are currently not in sight as Shola has replaced them with a neighbour's.

"And what happened to our own water? Did you sell it on the way??" Mr. Ehigie asks in fuming annoyance.

Shola takes in a short breath as he takes hold of the handle of the wheelbarrow, "No, daddy, I've fetched it. I'm going to carry it now."

"What???" Mr Ehigie exclaims, "You mean to tell me that you left my jerrycans and our water at someone else's house! Are you alright??"

"No, I told Efe to help me watch them. I just wanted to quickly bring these first ones before going back for the rest. I'm going to bring them now." Shola responds and slowly starts to wheel the barrow away. However, Mr. Ehigie rebuffs, "Shola! Come back here! I'm still talking to you."

Shola returns.

"Have I ever stopped you from helping anyone you wanted to help??" Mr. Ehigie asks.

"No, sir."

"Do I or do I not tell you, that with every step you take, you should act with prudence???" he asks again.

"Yes, sir." Shola responds.

"So why would you leave water that we are supposed to drink in the hands of a stranger.. or of someone who is likely not even paying attention to it.. and in a public place where everyone is queuing and rushing to fetch water.. and to equally steal if possible???.."

Shola remains silent.

"So the water of Mama Hadiza.. who has children of her own that can fetch water, and have been playing recklessly around this house since morning.. is now more important than my own???.. When na me be your papa, and I send you message?.. Is this how disrespectful you have become? So because I no longer treat you with an iron fist, you now behave anyhow? No regard for me! No regard for your family! Because you have started eyeing that girl, Hadiza.. you want to impress her with your noble prowess, right? Na you fetch water pass. Uzuọr mwe! Now, as I'm looking at you, drop that wheelbarrow. Go and bring those jerrycans of Mama Hadiza's you just fetched and empty them into this drum."

"Ahh.. Daddy??" Shola grumbles in response.

"Are you mad??.." Mr Ehigie barks as he pounces on Shola with the aim of delivering a heavy slap. But Shola evades it and moves away quickly.

Adjusting the nearly falling wax fabric cloth wrapped around his waist, he yells again, "I said, go and bring those jerrycans!"

Shola trudges sideways to carry the Jerry cans and then with an attitude of defiance, starts to pour them into the drum.

"Pour everything." Mr. Ehigie says.

"Ah ah! Wetin dey happen? " Osas, one of their other neighbours inquires with concern after hearing a ruckus at the side of the house upon walking into the compound.

He receives no response. However, seeing that it was a not so uncommon father son debacle, he quietly decides to exit the scene and mind his business.

Afterwards, Shola returns the jerry cans to the pavement behind Mama Hadiza's window and then walks back to the wheelbarrow to go get the water he left at Mama Efe's.

"Don't touch that wheelbarrow." Mr. Ehigie commands. "Go back to where you left my jerrycans and bring them to this house with your hand."

Shola widens his eyes in bewildered shock. Thus far, he had not yet wanted to react significantly because in certain ways, he believes that he is at fault. Nevertheless, his father deciding to punish him in this way by expecting him to carry two 30 litre jerrycans with his hands from that distance to the house is by his judgment, a step too far. As he begins to walk away in anger, he mumbles and grumbles, "I don't know what wickedness does for you o. I don't know what wickedness will do for you.."

"You said what?? Just come back here first with those jerry cans!.. Nonsense! We go see whether no be this house you go sleep. You have really lost your manners!.. Very silly boy!" Mr. Ehigie echoes as Shola finally leaves.

*       *       *

A few hours later, a woman wearing a brown hijab with very tiny glistening sequin designs around its rims approaches Mr. Ehigie in the backyard while he nails together some pieces of his broken cabinet.

She begins, "Na wa o! Oga Ojo, wetin you do, e no good at all. Ee no good e at all, at all. I be dey window for back dey hear ever'thing wey you dey talk am with Shola today. I just want to let you know.. that the thing you did is not a thing of conscience. You call yourself a Christian.. That thing is not a thing of Christian!"

Upon hearing this, Mr. Ehigie immediately stops what he is doing, drops the hammer and turns to her with slow shock and discontent. Then he points a finger and clarifies with solemn fury, "Mama Hadiza.. Don't you ever mention my faith again. In your life, don't ever try it again! I have never used your faith against you, so don't you dare try to use my faith against me.. to question my morality. Are your children not in this house?? Hadiza, Amina, Kudirat?? Have they not been frolicking about since morning and making all sorts of noise?? Is Hadiza not up to seventeen years of age?? Is her sister, Amina, not fifteen?? Don't they know how to fetch water??.. That you would be sending my son to go on two trips for your sake, at the expense of an errand I sent him on several hours ago??.. Go and look at our drum.. it's almost empty!.."

"I am not questioning that!.." Mama Hadiza responds with several eye blinks and repeated vertical head motions, ".. What I profer is the inconscience way you handle the situation!.. We are neighbours in this house. And we assist each other. I have assist you before. There's nothing wrong with Shola assisting me."

"I am not questioning that either!.. And I've never stopped my children from assisting anybody in this house." Mr. Ehigie responds. "But there is something called mutual consideration in requests, especially when you have fully grown children in your house who can assist you well enough! This is not the first or the second time Shola is fetching water for you. Nobody is anybody's houseboy in this house. And what happened today is a lesson that I wanted to teach my son for personal reasons, which is why I did not just have him turn the water, I gave him back your money to return to you."

"And for us??.. We die of thirst??.." she rebuffs.

Mr. Ehigie then widens his eyes, "You and I both know, Mama Hadiza, that you still have enough water for that not to happen."

"What business of yours is that? Are you inside my drum?? Ehn??" she retorts.

In obvious bewilderment at her line of speech, Mr. Ehigie then says, "Oh Ohh.. Okay.. Mama Hadiza.. since this has become a problematic affair. Please henceforth, don't send my son to fetch water again." Afterwards, he turns back to continue his work whilst everybody else in the background stares in confusion at the drama.

Mama Hadiza in response, furiously breathes out heavily and continues to go off in the Hausa language, "Kai mugun mutum ne!.. Duk abin da kuke yi yana haifar da matsala!.. Your wickedness will take you nowhere, Mr. Ojo!!.. Kuna kiran kanku Kirista??.. Kai Kirista karya ne!.."

Hearing partially what she is trying to say, despite not fully understanding the language, Mr. Ehigie rebuffs in equal fury, "Mama Hadiza, don't get me angry this evening! I have had great respect for your husband for a long time. Don't let this become what will make me lose respect for you in this house! As a matter of fact, from today, don't ever send my son or any of my children on an errand again!! If there is anything you want to do, let your children do it."

"Banza!.." she echoes before finally walking away.

Looking up after hearing her words, Mr. Ehigie takes in a long breath to control his temper whilst staring at her direction in deep disdain.

Most people observing the altercation gradually begin to piece together what likely transpired between them, but only one person, Mr. Imuetinyan slowly approaches to inquire, "Ah.. Epa.. Wetin happen?.."

Mr. Ehigie responds in the Edo language, "I ka họn vbe okhuo na gele wa gualẹ ẹmwẹ, ti ma ya iyi. Oko mwẹn!!
Okhuo na vbẹn ọmọ eha nikhuo.. nọ nékhéré vbọ se ukpo iwenẹ. But ovbi mwẹn.. ọ gie ẹdẹgbe dẹgbe nọ ya sa amẹ nẹ.. not once.. not twice.. but several times!!
Eshọla ni gie nọ ya sa amẹ sisiọnsi, sa amẹ mwẹn a hié vbo udi iye Efe, ne mwan bun vbọ.. rhumnwunda okhuo na.. A vbi ivbi-enikhuo tota yo wa sẹsẹsẹ, ẹ i mwẹ emwi na iran vbu vb'owa?
Ti ghélé van mu ẹre vbe ota na, i na do tama rẹn wẹ, vbe nọ rie igho ẹre nẹ. What nonsense!.. Ne n'azẹn ri evba na, do tie ẹbọ mwẹn! "

In diplomatic concurrence,  Mr. Imuetinyan responds, "Ahh.. why ee go do dah one nau?"

"Make she no ever send my pikin message again o! For this house! Make she no try am again! What nonsense!!"

About thirty minutes later, after finishing the wooden cabinet reconstruction, he carries it into the house and enters their room.

Eki has already served dinner for everyone. Today, it's white rice and spicy tomato stew with pieces of fried fish. Peter, Eki and Shola are sitting across the edges of the low mattress and on the floor. Unlike the usual 'happy family' meal, the social air within the room right now is tense. Shola is still emotionally gloomy and deeply furious from the earlier fight with his dad, and Peter and Eki are making sure to eat their square meals in utter silence, putting off the television as well, to avoid doing anything that could potentially anger Mr. Ehigie further or escalate tensions within the room. Immediately Ehigie enters, they all look down and focus on their meals; Peter in particular, opts to eat as fast as possible, so that he can go outside to get some fresh air before ten o'clock tonight, which is the official bedtime for him on nights before school. Shola on the other hand, seems to not be sparing his father any form of eye contact much less out of fear and much more because right now, he cannot stand to look his father in the eyes.

Taking a seat on the plastic chair by the small plastic table beside the wall and opening the large plate of rice and tomato stew on it, Mr. Ehigie beckons, "Eki, bring water for me."

Immediately, she stands up and does so.

Like many tenants in this building, they do not have a refrigerator. So drinking water stored in a small drum is usually served in a jug and then poured into a cup by anyone who wants to drink. Most of the time, Shola and Peter store cans of drinking water in the fridge of their friend, Osas who lives two rooms away. And considering the current amount of belongings and small space in their own room, they would always joke about where exactly to keep the refrigerator, if eventually they were able to afford one. However, today, there is no cold water available. Hence, Mr. Ehigie turns the lukewarm water into his stainlesss steel cup and takes a sip, saying, "Mama Hadiza just came to the backyard to insult me. Henceforth, none of you should ever run any errands for her in this house again! If she tells you to do anything, tell her that I forbade you to. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, sir."
"Yes, sir.."
Peter and Eki echo in response.

*       *       *

Glossary:
Banza! - Nonsense!
"..When na me be your papa, and I send you message?.." - "When I'm your father, and I sent you on an errand?"
"..Na you fetch water pass. Uzuọr mwe!.." - "..Water delivery guy par excellence. You idiot!.."
"Ah ah! Wetin dey happen? " - "What is going on?"
"We go see whether no be this house you go sleep." - "We'll see whether or not you won't come back to sleep under this roof."
"Na wa o! Oga Ojo, wetin you do, e no good at all. Ee no good e at all, at all. I be dey window for back dey hear ever'thing wey you dey talk am with Shola today. " - "Wow! Mr. Ojo, what you did is not good at all. It is so not good. I was by the window behind and heard everything you said while scolding Shola today."
"Ah.. Epa.. Wetin happen?.." - "My chief.. What happened?"
"Kai mugun mutum ne!.. Duk abin da kuke yi yana haifar da matsala!.." - "You are very wicked man!.. All you do is cause problems!.."
"..Kuna kiran kanku Kirista??.. Kai Kirista karya ne!.." - "..You call yourself a Christian??.. You are a fake Christian!.."
"I ka họn vbe okhuo na gele wa gualẹ ẹmwẹ, ti ma ya iyi. Oko mwẹn!! Okhuo na vbẹn ọmọ eha nikhuo.. nọ nékhéré vbọ se ukpo iwenẹ. But ovbi mwẹn.. ọ gie ẹdẹgbe dẹgbe nọ ya sa amẹ nẹ.. not once.. not twice.. but several times!! Eshọla ni gie nọ ya sa amẹ sisiọnsi, sa amẹ mwẹn a hié vbo udi iye Efe, ne mwan bun vbọ.. rhumnwunda okhuo na.. A vbi ivbi-enikhuo tota yo wa sẹsẹsẹ, ẹ i mwẹ emwi na iran vbu vb'owa? Ti ghélé van mu ẹre vbe ota na, i na do tama rẹn wẹ, vbe nọ rie igho ẹre nẹ. What nonsense! Ne n'azẹn ri evba na do tie ẹbọ mwẹn! " - "I had previously heard that this woman was a troublemaker, but I didn't believe it, now I do. Can you imagine??.. She has three daughters.. and the youngest of them is fourteen years old. Yet she always sends my son out to fetch water for her.. and has done so, not once or twice.. but several times. Shola, who I sent on an errand several hours ago today, then left my keg of water at Efe's mother's house, where people gather recklessly.. all because of this woman.. when her daughters essentially do nothing but sit around at home all day?.. I made sure to scold him seriously this evening and I instructed him to give her back her money. What nonsense! And the witch came here to hurl insults."
"Ahh.. why ee go do dah one nau?" - "Oh my.. why would she do that?"
"Make she no ever send my pikin message again o! For this house! Make she no try am again!" - "She'd better never send my child on an errand again! In this house! She'd better not try it again!"

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