Junkyard Blues

Al Moye

Description

In Cameroon life isn�t only like living in limbo, it is like living in the very centre of a hellish junkyard where dreams are dumped and wishes shattered at will by forces which can barely be controlled or understood. It is in this junkyard of dreams that Jude Maimo finds himself after years of studies and obtaining a university degree that could not even procure him a decent job. Reluctantly living under his brother�s care after having failed grossly in an attempt to be independent, and doing a job that is more than an insult to him, he still hopes to one day live his simple dream; furthering his education long enough to have a respectable and decent job that could make him truly independent. Entangled in a relationship he can barely understand and weighed down by the daily temptations of natural life, a long lost friend from back in his school days suddenly appears as a light to lead him to the end of the tunnel. But a little too late, he discovers that the promised light of salvation is just another face of darkness, a darkness that wants more than his soul, a darkness that can only lead to tragedy�.

Sujets

• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Langaa RPCIG
• Date de parution: 24 juin 2013
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9789956790562
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Al Moye
JUNKYARD BLUES
In Cameroon life isn’t only like living in limbo, it is like living in the
very centre of a hellish junkyard where dreams are dumped and
wishes shattered at will by forces which can barely be controlled or
understood. It is in this junkyard of dreams that Jude Maimo fi nds
himself after years of studies and obtaining a university degree
that could not even procure him a decent job. Reluctantly living
under his brother’s care after having failed grossly in an attempt
JUNKto be independent, and doing a job that is more than an insult to
him, he still hopes to one day live his simple dream; furthering his
education long enough to have a respectable and decent job that
could make him truly independent. Entangled in a relationship he
can barely understand and weighed down by the daily temptations
of natural life, a long lost friend from back in his school days
suddenly appears as a light to lead him to the end of the tunnel. But
a little too late, he discovers that the promised light of salvation is
just another face of darkness, a darkness that wants more than his
soul, a darkness that can only lead to tragedy…. YARD
AL MOYE hails from the North West Region of Cameroon. He
holds a Bachelor of Science Degree in Medical Laboratory Science
from the University of Buea, Cameroon.
BLUES
Langaa Research & Publishing
Common Initiative Group
P.O. Box 902 Mankon
Bamenda
North West Region Al Moye
Cameroon

The Junkyard Blues









Al Moye
























Langaa Research & Publishing CIG
Mankon, BamendaPublisher:
Langaa RPCIG
Langaa Research & Publishing Common Initiative Group
P.O. Box 902 Mankon
Bamenda
North West Region
Cameroon
[e-mail]
www.langaa-rpcig.net



Distributed in and outside N. America by African Books Collective
[e-mail]
www.africanbookcollective.com






ISBN: 9956-790-51-6

© Al Moye 2013









DISCLAIMER
All views expressed in this publication are those of the author and do not necessarily
reflect the views of Langaa RPCIG.Prologue…


e felt it start from the pit of his stomach; a big ugly wave that was
only bound to go up toward his mouth. His crowded stomach H gave a name to that wave before his brain could register it; it was
nausea and it was so strong that he knew everything inside his stomach was
going to come spilling out at any moment. He parted his wet lips waiting for
the mixture of horror churning inside his stomach to start the flow out, but
only a thick vapor mixed with a horrible stench came out and hung before
his face for almost an eternity before dissolving into the wet night air.
What’ve I done to myself? He asked the quiet wet night, knowing full well the
answer and also that it was not going to matter. It was already done, and
there was no going back. The half bottle of cheap whisky was now resting in
his stomach, and not resting in peace as the waves of nausea hitting him
prophesied.
What’ve I done to myself? Why did I do this to myself?
The question was there again, but there was no answer coming forth
from the wet night. Only the drizzling rain leaking down continuously from
the dark blanket of a sky above him and soaking him wet right to the bones.
It was like everything in the world was against him, fighting against his every
move, even the damned nature itself. The work of God! The only one bit of
good news was that he was not feeling the cold that was there, the furnace
inside his stomach was still doing a good job of heating things up.
Then why the goose bumps, padre?
He looked at his arm under the soft light cast by the street lamp above
him; the goose bumps were still there and actually seemed to grow larger in
size. In fact, he could swear that they looked now like tiny oranges. A new
wave hit his stomach again and he opened his mouth waiting for what was
going to come, but only the thick foul smelling vapor came out again, a
vapor that reeked only of liquor.
God! He wanted it to happen, the waiting was killing him. He wanted to
free his stomach as fast as possible before the next ordeal…A cold chill ran
down his spine as the thought ran through his head. He felt the goose bumps
growing in size again.
iii
God what I’m I doing?
God didn’t care! Yes, he felt deep inside like God didn’t care, at least not
about the next ordeal. In fact he was certain God had never cared, not about
the things that had happened before or that were going to still happen. He
didn’t care about the little sacrifice he was going to make to put things right;
that was just trivial matters to Him.
But he could handle it; he was prepared to handle it.
He looked up at the dark sky, the drizzling rain landing on his face. It
was impossible to see anything up there. It was just dark and black up there.
Dark and black and seemingly empty. Was there anything up there? Some
huge powerful something that was actually there and controlling everything?
Some huge powerful something that could see everything and could see him
now? And if there was that huge powerful something up there was it looking
down at him right now? Looking at his face right now? And was that
almighty powerful something happy now?
He shook his head sadly; there was absolutely nothing up there, just a
bunch of dark thick clouds that were mercilessly leaking down water on his
face. A thick dark cloud that was just like the dark cloud that had embraced
him and did not want to let go. But they will disappear; he knew that. The
rain clouds and his own dark cloud, they will disappear when the light came.
And the light was going to come. All that was needed was only the small
sacrifice. And nothing was going to stop him from making that sacrifice, not
even…
Are you sure?
He halted his thoughts for a while feeling the trembling trying to take
hold of him again, but he did not need that, not right now.
I’m doing it!
He looked down at the half-empty bottle of whisky lying on the ground
beside him. Just the sight of it caused another wave of nausea to rise. The
new wave culminated in a stinking belch and a mouthful of saliva that he had
to spit on the ground. He wanted to blame all this on the liquor, but he knew
deep inside that the liquor was only part of the big picture. It was the idea of
the sacrifice he was going to make, the idea of having made the decision, of
having finally seen the true light and the color of that light - Not the light
that was preached by the multitude who knew nothing about the true face of
iv
God - But the real light that controlled this world. He knew that light and
that face and it was not what anybody believed.
He looked up at the dark heavens again. Yes, the true face of God, the
face that was not up there or anywhere else near this world. The face that
was hidden very far from humanity, and had a wide smile filled with
amusement on it as things went bad and bad with the matchsticks roaming
around the world in the name of human beings. That was the face, and what
he knew was that that face had forgotten about him or truthfully that that
face had never even known of his existence. It did not care, not one bit. A
tiny smile formed on his own wet lips as another wave of nausea hit him.
This time the quantity of saliva that landed on the ground was double the
original quantity.
“Nobody cares,” he whispered to the dark heavens, “Nobody cares, not
even you; nobody.”
That was the only single truth in the world and he knew it; the only
reality that made any sense. The world was for the brave and the courageous.
For those people who could lift their arms and take what was theirs for
taking and do so without any care. All he wanted to do was play his own part
and be one of the braves. Create his own niche and start taking the right
steps in his life. That was all. And the beautiful thing was that God did not
care, not one bit.
Or it is God’s will!
Another wave and another belch, this one stinking to high heavens. It
was close, very close and all that was necessary was for him to relax and let
go…
He closed his eyes, feeling the world spin out of control. The wave in his
stomach was now a hurricane, rocking everything and sweeping up
everything that was in its way. He felt like he was simply going to blackout
and disappear in the blackness, and part of him was really trying to embrace
the idea. But he knew that that part of him was the weak part. The weak
stupid and cowardly part of him that was afraid to take the big step. It was
that weak stupid cowardly part of him that had been afraid before and had
made him believe in all the silly lies about life. And he was tired of listening
to that stupid part of him.
v
He slowly pushed himself off the wet ground with some determination,
opening his eyes as he did.
“I’m d