The Invalid Citizen And Other Stories. Foraine Amukoyo Gift

His family followed him. Ovie had buried his father in one of the guest bedrooms.

      “This is an abomination. Ovie, what have you done to your father?” Mamus calmly asked.

      His mother covered her mouth in shock, “I was right. You are mad,” she said.

      “I just wanted to bury my father the way I want. This is his house, is it not? It is a tradition to also bury people in their houses?” Ovie slid to the floor and cried, “I have a right to bury my father the way I want.”

      Ovie’s mother invited some youths to take the corpse back to Godere. Ovie paid some money as a levy for his act. The villagers pardoned Ovie and allowed him perform the final rites of the burial.

      Four

The Danger of Self Medication 

      Iya tried to feed her son some herbal mixture. The child’s flaying legs toppled the cup and the brown liquid content spilled on some coloured panties stacked on a low bench. Iya hissed at the mess. She imprisoned his tiny legs with her arm, and used the other to pin down his hands. She smiled at the workable tactics.

      She poured another warm brew from the flask into the cup. Iya held her son’s nose. Due to blockade of his nose, the baby breathed through his mouth. She poured the herbal brew into his tiny mouth and the medicine gurgle down his throat. His mother let go of him. He let out a cry and began kicking his leg in protest of the bitter taste.

      Sissy came by the store, “it is wrong to give such a little baby agbo-herbal mixture to drink,” she took the baby from his mother. She gently rubbed his back and fanned his face with her mouth. The baby stopped crying and hiccupped.

      “It works well for sugar belly,” Iya said. She stood up and separated the good pants from the stained pants, “how will I recover this loss?” She looked worn-out.

      “That is your business, Iya, so figure a way out. I am angry with you. I just went to the slaughterhouse to get meat and you fed him agbo.”

      “I only wanted to cure his belly off sugar.”

      “Iya, you only gave him a wrap of chocolate to eat. Children actually need sugar for growth, it helps them become bright.”

      “That chocolate was too sweet. All the worms in his tummy will be dancing by now.”

      “That is why you should deworm your child in every three months,” Sissy raised three fingers to Iya’s face.

      “Sissy, three months is too far. The agbo that I have given him will make my husband and I sleep well at night.”

      “Iya, this mixture is dangerous. The pharmaceuticals are not fools for making drugs that weaken and eliminate worms. Unknowing, you might be feeding him poison.”

      “Agbo worked for me, it will work for my child.”

      “It did work for you, yes. How well does it work for you? When last did you go to the hospital for check-up? Perhaps, in our days, the natural foods we fed on revitalized these strong herbs. You attended antenatal at the hospital, do not desist from their medical prescriptions for your baby. Agbo is not an approved medicine by NAFDAC or WHO. Most of these herbalists just brew all sorts of leaves and tree stems without accurate measurement and sell to people.”

      “My sister, agbo works at any time and on anybody. The midwives sanction agbo for ila-measles treatment. You know, and I know that it works well. Agbo is a component of powerful herbs.”

      “Yes, I know, but the substance you constantly give to your child, I have my doubts. Please stop giving my fine baby this stuff to drink. His system may not agree with it.”

      “But his system agrees with eating sweets? Hmmm, he will drink agbo to wash out the sweetness.” The baby urinated on Sissy. “Oh, dear, I am sorry; he has ruined your dress.”

      “It is okay. Why did you not wear him diapers? Would you prefer to tie leaves around his waist?” Sissy rocked the baby and pecked his cheeks.

      Iya laughed, “I will wear him pampers. If he eats another sweet, I will give him agbo to drink. A person that does not like bitter leaf should not be fond of eating sweets.”

      “Iya, I have warned you.” Sissy sighed and handed the baby to his mother.

      “So Sissy baby, which of the pants will you buy?” Iya spread many pants on the table, “your man will love this red colour very well. It matches your nail polish.”

      “I have not worn the pants I bought the last time jare. I have been too busy to go to my boyfriend’s house for a weekend. I will only take two black bras. I need them for the white polo shirts I will wear for a two-day awareness walk. It is a campaign for people to stop self-medication. I will like you to attend. It is for people like you that like to administer drugs themselves, worse of all, traditional medicines.”

      “Who will look after my business while I roam the streets with placards and banners? Please, I am too hungry to get involved in your campaign, I cannot afford the walk, and I do not have the strength. I am looking for money. Sissy, maybe I will attend some other time.”

      “Iya, life is not all about making money. Iya, you should also learn how to use it. You can save up the Fifty Naira for agbo to buy worm medicine in the next three months. Please, you should pay attention to important programmes, especially those with health benefits. If you lock the shop for a day, there will not be loss in your business or profit margin. The kinds of goods you sell allow most of your customers to wait for you or come back again if you are not around. They can call you on phone when they are in urgent need of an item.”

      “Okay, I have heard you. I will join the campaign. Is it not just to walk about to share flyers and raise posters above my head?”

      “It is not just that, you will take home lessons that are applicable to your health and practice it.”

      “Okay, thank you Sissy, I will see you tomorrow.”

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      The next day, Iya was shelving her goods when Sissy came by. “Aha, Iya, you are displaying your goods. I told you the programme is by eleven o’clock, and this is past ten o’clock.”

      Iya adjusted her headgear. It loosened. She removed it and tied the scarf around her petite waist, “eh Sissy, the thing is. I cannot make it today. You see, today was market sanitation and it took an extra thirty minutes before the meeting ended. We opened the market just five minutes ago, so I want to make up for lost sales, I hope you understand.”

      “Iya…you should just lock the shop until we are back. I will help you arrange your wares and sell for the day.”

      “Sissy, please not today, I cannot make it. Please do not be annoyed. You know I am the only one fending for the family. My husband is yet to get another job. I am trying to raise capital for him to start a small business.”

      “Yes Iya, I understand. I wish I could help,” Sissy’s eyebrows furrowed.

      “Sissy, your patronage is an assurance that we make profit and be able to keep body and soul together. Please tell more of your friends to patronize underclothes from me. I will sell at good prices,” she started fixing the finest, sexy pants into hangers.

      “Sure I will, Iya. I will be on my way. I will share useful information when I return. How is your son? You did not bring my fine boy to the shop?” Sissy peered into the shop.

      “He stayed home with his father today. Let him babysit for today.”

      “That is good. Iya, I will see you later. Send my love to my fine boy,” Sissy left and Iya fully opened her shop.

      After she made some sales, Iya added up the money to previous sales and counted. She looked sad at the total sum spread in her palms. She rummaged through her wooden coffer and came up disappointed. Invoices, kola nut, old pen and some torn naira notes were all that filled the box.

      “God, I am far from gathering substantial amount for my husband to start his phone repair business. God, please boost sales so I can raise enough money.” Iya got up and propped up her goods to attract customers. She sang as she mopped her veranda.

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