Dial episode 13 – 14

DIAL

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Sequence 13

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Fear was a very terrible thing.

I knew real fear as I stood at the car park of the Bare Light International Church that Sunday morning, looking at my car.

Apostle Williams had asked someone to bring it over during my stay at the upstairs suite. For the first time in my life I had no joy in me to enter my beautiful car.

My heart was thudding, and there was sweat on my face.

I jumped and almost fell when a car’s horn sounded behind me, and as I turned I saw that Apostle Williams’ car had come to a stop behind me, and he had got out, his face grim and…yes, scared.

He handed me a blue envelope.

“And what is this?” I asked angrily.

“Two cheques, Mr. Biko, two cheques,” Apostle Williams said, and he couldn’t look into my face. “Covering Twenty-two thousand cedis. From me and Light Greyhem.”

“What the f**k is the meaning of this?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. “I gave you ten thousand each, making twenty thousand! Why have you given me twenty-two thousand? What’s the extra two thousand for?”

He smiled and took out a handkerchief, and slowly wiped his face.

And when he looked at me I could see the fear plainly in his eyes now.

“Mr. Biko, we don’t want to owe that man in any way, trust me, hence the extra thousand each from us,” he said.

“Owe what man?” I asked, but I knew.

“That Wowo man, Mr. Biko, that Wowo!” he said shakily. “I have never witnessed the things this man has done ever before, and I don’t want to witness it again. I think he’s a very dangerous man, Mr. Biko.”

He turned and headed for his car.

“Hey!” I cried angrily. “Now what, you bastards! You promised me you were going to help, and so I didn’t go and see that man! And now you leave me in the lurch like this, you d–n fake pastors?”

He paused, turned and wiped his face.

“We are not fakes, Mr. Biko,” he said calmly. “But that man…he’s bad, very bad. If I were you, I’ll go and see him.”

“Now? You tell me this, now, you bastard?” I said.

“Go away with your troubles, Mr. Biko, just go away!” he said.

He opened his car door, looked in, and then he let out one almighty scre-m that made my hair stand up!

It was a crippling scre-m that tore at my in,sides by its note of acute terror!

Apostle Williams turned, still scre-ming, and rushed toward the buildings of BLIC, his legs moving so fast that I wondered why he was a pastor if he could run like that. He could have won some Olympic medals for us as a runner.

People in the car park were looking on dazedly, not understanding why the man of God had scre-med like that and left his car in the park. People were looking strangely at the car.

“Is it a snake?” a fat man asked across the lot. “Did he see a snake in his car?”

At the mention of snake all the people that were beginning to move toward the Apostle’s car stopped in their tracks.

I didn’t think it was a snake, and so I moved forward and stood near the open door of the car.

On Apostle Williams’ seat was the white pot with the white envelope in it. My heart gave a massive kick, but I smiled grimly. At least I was now sure that the pot was not in my car.

“Serve you right, you fuc*king bastard!” I whispered as I turned away and went to my car.

I got in, started up, and drove away from BLIC.

***

By the time I got to my residence, my mind was made up.

I had come to the conclusion that Nana Bosomba of Wowo was a very formidable man to go up against. I refused to think about the incidents that had happened ever since I met him, because the more I thought about them the h-rder my heart raced, and the stronger my fear became.

Yes, I had messed up, big time, where Akos was concerned. D–n, I should have left that girl alone, and not followed the uncontrollable instincts of my loins. In the past, I had not been scared of death. I had thought of death as something eventual, a strange phenomenon that would eventually catch up with everybody, and so death didn’t scare me.

Perhaps it had been because it was remote.

But now, I knew Nana Bosomba could kill me in the most horrible way. And because I was now seeing possible death, in a very horrible way, I was now scared to die. I realized now that life was a good thing, a fine feeling, and it was precious to me.

So, I was decided; I would go to Wowo first thing on Monday to visit Nana Bosomba, and beg him. My only prayer was that I would be able to last through Sunday, and the early part of Monday till I saw him. He had given me a deadline, and I had messed up with it, and now anything could happen to me.

I needed to see him, and beg him, and pay him, if I needed to. It was now imperative to do anything within my power to assuage Nana Bosomba.

Yes, I was scared of him.

And when I got to my residence, that incredible mini-castle I had designed and built, I found a beautiful white Mercedes Benz parked under the canopy garage outside my gates, and leaning against its side was Nana Bosomba.

I was staring at it, and my heart began to thud and yammer furiously because I knew without any shred of doubt that this was going to be an unpleasant encounter.

My eyes almost protruding out of my head, I swung the steering-wheel and brought the car to a halt beside the white Mercedes.

I jumped out of the car and rounded it, going toward the man with fear all over my face.

“Please, please, please,” I said, forcing myself to remain calm because I could feel the panic bubbling up in me. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so very sorry! I was coming over tomorrow to see you, to beg you! Please, I beg of you, let’s settle this issue.”

I noticed then that he was holding a half-eaten boiled egg.

Today he was not in a smock, surprisingly. He was wearing a white shirt over black trousers.

He looked at me and smiled, his face kind, calm and almost happy, and then he popped the rest of the egg into his mouth and chewed gently.

“Mr. Yao Biko,” he said kindly. “I was expecting you yesterday to honour my daughter, but you didn’t show up, choosing instead to spend time in a church whose members go around showing their vag-nas and p*n*ses. What were you thinking? If you had chosen a good Bible-believing church I would have known you were serious. But that pus*y church? Come on, give me a break!”

I looked at him, stumped for words. For a moment, I didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t know there were differences between churches, really,” I said desperately, fighting to keep the fear out of my voice. “Please, Nana, I beg of you. Can we go in,side and talk?”

He smiled again and shook his head.

“Oh, Mr. Biko, the time to talk is over, surely you know that!” he said calmly. “Akos was buried yesterday, and that effectively seals everything.”

“D–n it, man!” I said, and now the fear was on my face as helpless tears almost came to my eyes. “So what does this mean? You’re going to kill me?”

“That’s preposterous, Mr. Biko!” he said, his voice still calm, but I noticed that his eyes were now cold. “How can I kill you, Mr. Biko? I’m not God, please. I came over yesterday, after the burial, to take the rest of Akos’ things home. I decided to pass by to take my pot and the invitation, since you didn’t honour them.”

“The pot?” I asked, oddly disoriented.

“Yes, Mr. Biko, in the front passenger seat of your car,” he said calmly.

I turned, trembling, and opened the passenger door.

And there was the pot with the envelope in it, right on the seat. I turned and looked at him helplessly. He took a step forward, and then he picked the pot up, turned, opened his back door, and gently placed the pot on the seat.

I shut the door and turned to him, my eyes pleading.

“What now, sir?” I asked softly.

“Oh, nothing much, Mr. Biko,” he said in his infuriatingly clam voice. “Now I’ll take my snake, and then I’ll be on my way.”

I gasped and took a step back.

“Your snake?” I whispered with great terror.

I had always been terrified of snakes.

He smiled gently.

“Yes, in your backseat,” he said. “I sent it to mess you up this morning, because you angered me by going to that buttocks church, but I changed my mind. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll take my snake.”

He stepped forward and opened the back door of my car.

And then the gigantic head of an anaconda slithered slowly out of my car, followed by the shiny, exotic, gigantic body of the horrible snake. I gro-ned with acute terror and took frantic steps back, my eyes popping, my terror peaking!

I missed a step and fell to the ground hærd, quivering with terror!

That snake had been in the backseat of my car all along!

It had ridden with me!

It could have killed me, swallowed me!

I couldn’t breathe as sweat poured all over me! I watched with pure unadulterated horror as the snake slithered on the floor, and then climbed into the backseat of Nana Bosomba’s car in a never-ending shiny roll of snake body!

It was so frightfully long!

I knew, without a shred of doubt, that I was never going to ride in that car again!

Finally, its tail came out of my car, and moved into Nana Bosomba’s car.

He had sent that horror to mess me up!

Oh, Jesus!

This man was more dangerous than I had ever thought!

He shut his back door and then he smiled and looked at me.

“Should I help you up from the floor, Mr. Biko?” he asked gently.

“You keep your d–n hands from me!” I scre-med in anguish as I scrambled desperately to my feet. “What’s this, man? Why are you doing this to me?”

His face became bleak immediately.

The smile vanished, and the gentleness was gone.

In his eyes was the look of sheer malice, and pure hatred.

“She was my favourite daughter, Mr. Biko!” he hissed acidly, his eyes spewing sheer malice. “She was just a plaything to you, but she was my fuc*king world! You dishonoured her, and you killed her. The question is, why the hell did you do that to me, Mr. Biko?”

I ran my hands through my hair desperately, my face frantic with fear, unable to control my panic.

“Oh, come on, sir, please!” I cried desperately. “I was stupid, yes…but please, I beg of you! Let’s discuss this! I’m sorry, please, so sorry!”

“Sorry my ass!” he said softly, his calm restored. “You were not even at her funeral, Mr. Biko. You don’t know our customs. I had to bury my daughter in the cemetery of the lost, which is the final resting place of dishonoured people in my clan! I couldn’t bury her in the Black Cemetery where all her ancestors are resting, where I’ll rest when I die! Do you know how that makes me feel? You broke my heart by putting my daughter on your list, Mr. Biko. That was all she was worth to you, just another f–k*d pu**y on your bloody list! But she was my gem, boy, my heart and the apple of my eye!”

I was weeping now.

“I’m so sorry, please!” I cried, holding out my hands. “Please, forgive me! Please forgive me! I’m ready to go to Wowo now, to do anything, anything that will give your daughter honour and let her be buried right! Just tell me what to do, please! I can’t take this torture anymore!”

He stepped close to me, his face grim.

“It is too late now, Mr. Biko,” he whispered.

“So what are you going to do to me now?” I shouted in anguish. “Kill me? Is that it? You’re going to kill me?”

He patted me on the shoulder.

“No, Mr. Biko,” he said softly. “Unfortunately, Akos loved you, and she begged me with her final breath, in her letter to spare your life. And so I will respect the wishes of my daughter. I won’t kill you, Mr. Biko. You’re free.”

He turned away and opened his car door.

“I’m free?” I asked tremulously. “You mean really free? We’re cool?”

He smiled at me and nodded.

“We’re cool. At least, Mr. Biko, I know you will grow old with more experience,” he said gently. “Yes, you will grow old knowing that you can’t always do things the way you feel like doing it. You will grow old.”

He got into his car and drove away.

I heaved a great sigh of relief then.

Finally, the nightmare seemed to be over.

We were cool. Akos, by her kind heart, had begged her father for me, and he had listened.

I moved into my huge mansion, the great beautiful house I had built, the envy of many people, but which was so empty!

I had no family, no friends, no love…just a lonely, lonely life filled with emptiness.

Never had I missed my father so much! He would have known what to do, how to protect me from the horrors I had faced since Akos died.

I sat down in my expensive luxurious living-room and wept bitterly.

I wept for Akos, and I wept for my father.

More importantly, I wept for myself.

Finally, drained, I prepared myself some jollof rice, ate, watched violent movies…and then I went to bed.

Two weeks passed, and nothing happened to me. No attacks, no evil voices, no phones speaking or televisions coming on in spooky ways. No pots, no midnight foods, no white envelopes.

It seemed to me that Nana Bosomba had left me alone.

Life was looking up, and I was beginning to get happy again…until I went for a haircut.

My barber sat me down, covered me with the large silky barber’s apron, and then he picked up a comb and began running it through my hair. This man had been my barber for many years. My father had introduced me to him, and he had cut my father’s hair till he died.

“Ei, Mr. Biko, na worry you worry wey your grey hairs dey come na so?” he asked with concern. “Abeg, make you no worry o! Ah, even your father wey e grow like that no get grey hairs like this, Mr. Biko!”

I froze.

“What are you talking about, Felix?” I asked softly.

My hair had always been jet black, inherited from my father. Even at his rich age, he had just a speckle of greys in his hair.

I was just twenty-six years old, one year to the day my father died.

“Your hair, Mr. Biko,” Felix said gently. “Plenty, plenty grey hair. Ah, I don’t understand o! Or you use some yeye hair dye for top? Because last week when you came no grey, but today nooor so much grey like this? Why?”

I bolted from the chair and faced the huge mirror!

That morning I had combed my hair, and there had been no grey. What the hell was this barber talking about?

Everybody in the shop was now looking at me as I leaned forward and stared.

The crown of my head was covered with grey hair!

Not much, no, but visible…dotted and pronounced grey hair!

My heart gave one mighty kick with great fear as my head seemed to explode with the final words of Nana Bosomba of Wowo…

You will grow old with more experience…you will grow old!

DIAL

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Sequence 14

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For the first time in many years, I changed my haircut style.

Just like my father, I had always preferred the hairstyle where there was a bit more hair on top, slightly thicker than the sides.

 

That day, however, after seeing the speckle of grey hairs on my head, I went for a ‘down-cut’ hairstyle. The side hairs were whittled down to almost the skin, and the top was cropped close to my skull but with comparatively more hair than the sides.

I rushed home and sat down in front of the laptop and hit the internet. I researched extensively on premature grey hair, hoping to hit on a reason – any reason at all – to explain why my hair had been pigmented with grey hairs.

If I had gotten a reason on the first key words Googled, I just might have stopped researching any further. As it turned, I took about a couple of hours surfing the internet for a reason.

My hopes were dashed when I learnt that stress wasn’t a real cause of premature grey hair, contrary to popular belief. I was hoping, against all hopes that I would have very concrete evidence that stress caused early grey hair, but this was debunked by the many articles I read.

I tried to pin it down to genetics…but my father hadn’t greyed well into his fifties. And then I tried to pin it down to vitamin B-12 deficiency, or even something associated to my pituitary or thyroid gland…but I knew these didn’t apply to me, and I was just grasping at straws.

I finally stood up and paced my huge luxurious house aimlessly. I was a wealthy young man, and yet I felt so very alone. There was no one to call, no one to converse with, and no one to give me advice!

My life, indeed was a lonely one, and I was just beginning to realize it. I watched some movies, then retired to my huge study and drew up some accounts on projects I needed to complete, and then I headed to the kitchen to find something to eat.

After a while I gave up, returned to the living-room, picked my phone, and ordered pizza. At least that would make me meet another human being. I went to my courtyard and spent some time on the basketball court hooping in a few three-pointers. Somewhere in the neighbourhood a dog barked fiercely, and the sound really made me sad, and I stopped playing the basketball.

I didn’t even have a dog, or a cat, to call a friend!

My security system was the best money could buy, consisting of lasers and electric kickers to tempered steels lockdowns that had deterred many break-in attempts and burglaries.

Somehow, with my money, I had created a sort of prison for myself!

The sadness and loneliness hit me with relentless force, and I felt my heart stretched with emotion as I thought of my father, and at that moment I missed him more than I could bear!

My father, who had built up an empire from scratch…strong, focused, hærd. My friend, my only friend, my best friend! A man who had taught me the ropes, given me the best of education, prepared me for the world, and filled me with enough bitter and negative sentiments about my fellow humans beings that had permanently scarred me, and separated me from social living completely.

We had been there for each other, just the two of us…

And now he was gone, and I was alone, and I couldn’t fill that void. Now I needed him as a son would need a father, my fear escalating slowly out of control, and wishing for his firm assuredness, his rock-solid shoulder I could lean on, and find solutions.

I was alone.

Completely alone…with a horrible fetish priest breathing vengeance down my spine.

Tears came into my ears, and slowly spilled down my cheeks. And around that time the pizza delivery guy came, and I took it through the small cubicle, suddenly unwilling to speak to him this time. I tipped him generously and carried the big box up to the dining-room.

I poured a glassful of orange juice, dropped in some iced cubes, and tried to take it with the full-season pizza, one of my favourite dinner options.

That evening, however, it tasted like sawdust in my mouth, but I forced myself to gulp down six pieces, washed them down with juice, and then I went to take a shower.

Still feeling sad and lonely, I got myself a generous amount of whisky on the rocks, put on some slow reggae jams and tried to relax in the living-room. I worked my way through the full bottle of whiskey, got roaring drunk, and passed out on the floor.

Somewhere deep in the night I woke up and stumbled my way to the huge bedroom, and fell down on the bed.

When I woke up again sunlight was filtering in through the blinds, and I was having a hell of a headache and felt so feverish. I took off my pyjamas and walked unclad into the bathroom and got some pain killer from the medicine cabinet and swallowed it down with tap water. I washed my face and then picked up my toothbrush and paste.

It was then that I straightened up and looked into the mirror.

The toothbrush, with a generous amount of tooth paste on it, slipped through my fingers and dropped to the floor.

That was how severe my shock was!

I stood there, transfixed with horror, and looked at my reflection in the mirror. I didn’t move, and I made no sound, but tears came into my eyes and bubbled down my cheeks.

In reality, I really didn’t want to cry, no, but the tears fell on their own accord.

I could not tear my eyes off my reflection as I stared at myself.

The hair on my head, which I had given a ‘low-cut’ style, was now back to my usual haircut!

Overnight, the hair had grown back to how I normally wore it…and every little blade of hair was white!

No black.

White!

The hair on my chest and stomach, which the night before had been so black and luxurious, was now pure white!

And, worse of all, the hair on my g—n was pure white. What broke my heart were the tufts of hair on my poor balls looking white like ash on coal..

Not grey, not silver, not mixed with black…no, no.

Pure white! The wh0le hair on my chest, g—n and stomach was white!

I turned slowly and presented my back and buttocks to the mirror, twisting my head to look. There was hair on my back too, a fine covering of black on my shoulders, lower back and buttocks.

They were white too!

Only the hair on my arms and legs were still black.

Never had I felt so helpless, so abused, so small! It was a most humbling and wretched feeling, and as I leaned forward and grabbed the sink, I wept bitterly.

After a while, I turned away from the mirror and went back in,side. Hurriedly, I took my phone and called Apostle Jacob Williams.

He picked up on the first ring and spoke before I could get a word in.

“Listen, Mr. Yao Biko,” he said carefully, pronouncing each word with a pause. “I gave you back your money with extra, remember? That was because I don’t want you to bring that Wowo man to my doorstep, okay? Now, I don’t owe you anything, and you and I have nothing to discuss. Do not – I repeat – do not call me again, Mr. Yao Biko.”

And he cut the line.

I took a deep sigh, and called Light Duke Greyhem of the Bare Light International Church.

Eventually, I had to call about seven times more before he picked the call.

“Mr. Biko, I thought we discussed our issues concisely the last time, without any ambiguities,” he said in a cold voice. “To what then, do I warrant this call?”

“Listen, I spent some days with you, okay? My problem is compounding, in a most frightening way,” I said, trying to keep my voice from trembling. “I understand you can no longer help me, and that is okay. I just want to know, you being in this church business, if there’s anybody out there – anybody at all – who you think can be of help to me.”

“Take down this number and the address,” he said curtly.

“Wait a minute, let me get a pen,” I said and sat down at my desk, drawing a jotter toward me. “I’m ready.”

“His name is Prophet Doctor Ekow Dadzie, a powerful man of God that performs many amazing miracles,” he said. “This is his number and address.”

I wrote them down carefully.

“Thank you very….” I began, but he had already cut the line.

I sat for a long time, and then I called Prophet Doctor Ekow Dadzie.

He listened to me, laughed, and assured me that my problems were over, and so I should go over.

I cut the line and breathed with relief.

Quickly, I took a shower, put on a suit, and out of curiosity I went to the mirror to ascertain if, perchance, my black hair had come back.

The reflection that looked back at me was absolutely macabre, causing my heart to thud so nosily that I heard it in my ears.

“Oh, oh, oh, oh!” I whispered with horror.

My eyebrows were white now…pure white!

My eyelashes were white, very white!

And, to cap it all, my moustache was absolutely white.

I almost died at that moment.

The weight of the helplessness was indeed unbearable. I was trembling greatly as I walked to the wardrobe and took a beautiful Stetson I had bought but never worn, and then took dark shades too.

These covered my grey head, eyebrow and eyelashes nicely.

For a moment, I wanted to shave them all off, but it occurred to me that I should keep them so that the powerful man of God would know the nightmare I really was in.

I went out, and as the automatic high-security doors slid down behind me and the highly-automated state of the art gates of my mansion slid open, I saw Akos Bosomba of Wowo standing outside my gates with a puzzled look on her face.

She was in a fabulous white nursing outfit, a white cap and white flat-soled shoes, and white stockings.

Akos of Wowo…standing right there!

I scre-med my head off and twisted the steering-wheel and my car smashed into the side of the pillars!

The engine of the powerful car whined in protest and I looked down and continued scre-ming.

And then there was a knock on the window, and I looked up, and there she was, standing and knocking on the window and speaking…

And so I scre-med some more and raised my arm to shield my face and continued scre-ming, and suddenly this ghost wrenched the door of my car open…

Now, whoever heard a ghost wrenching a car door open?

And then she was shouting into my face.

“Mr. Biko, Mr. Biko, stop scre-ming scre-ming, stop scre-ming! I’m not Akos! I’m her aunt, just stop scre-ming!!”

And I couldn’t hear a word she was saying. Well, I did hear her, but her words didn’t make any sense to my terrified mind. She was Akos of Wowo, a ghost in a nurse’s dress!

And then she touched, and I scre-med even louder and tried to disappear into the car, batting her hands away furiously, and as my hand touched hers, and I realised she was human, and not a ghost, I stopped scre-ming and struggling, and I stared at her like a moron.

“Sorry, Mr. Biko,” she said, looking at me with something like laughter in her eyes, a kind of suppressed laughter bubbling in her cheeks. “Sorry I scared you. I couldn’t help it. I look like Akos, yes. We had always been mistaken for twins, but I am not her. Nana Bosomba is my older brother.”

And just then, around then, I burst into tears, weeping very miserably and trembling violently with self-pity…

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