Zhero

Vincent Egbuson

Description

An inspiring and intriguing tale of heroism, Zhero�s quest for education and self-worth takes him from the rustic village of Amabra to the cities of Port Harcourt and Lagos. Armed with a determination to succeed against all odds, his quest unearths a malignant problem in the society, which is the degradation and loss of human values. Vincent Egbuson�s book is compendium of issues pervading contemporary Nigerian society. It beckons on its readers to emulate acts of kindness and self-sacrifice.

Sujets

• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Kraft Books
• Date de parution: 29 décembre 2011
• Nombre de lectures: 4
• EAN13: 9789789182664
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Kraftgriots
Also in the series (FICTION)
Funmilayo Adegbite: Bonds of Destiny
Frank U. Mowah: Eating by the Flesh
David Adenaike: The Mystery Child
Olu Obafemi: Wheels
Babatunde Omobowale: Seasons of Rage
Florence Attamah: Melodies of a Dashed Dream
Ifeoma Nwoye: Death by Instalments
Uche Nwabunike: Forever She Cried
Clement Idegwu: Broken Dreams (2000)
Vincent Egbuson: Moniseks Country (2001)
Vincent Egbuson: A Poet is a Man (2001)
Benedict Ibitokun: Sopaisan: Westing Oodua (2002)
Vincent Egbuson: Love is not Dead (2002)
Tayo Olafioye: Grandma’s Sun (2004)
Ikechukwu Kalikwu: The Voice from the Grave (2005)
Wale Okediran: The Weaving Looms (2005)
Richard Maduku: Arigo Again! (2006)
Vincent Egbuson: Womandela (2006), winner 2006 ANA/NDDC Ken Saro-Wiwa prose prize
Abubakar Gimba: Trail of Sacrifice (2006)
Abubakar Gimba: Innocent Victims (2006)
Richard Ovuorho: My Grandfather (2007)
Abubakar Gimba: Witnesses to Tears (2007)
Abraham Nnadi: Not by Justtification (2008)
Majovo Amarie : Suspended Destiny (2008)
Abimbola Adelakun: Under the Brown Rusted Roofs (2008)
Richard Masagbor: Labyrinths of a Beauty (2008)
Kayode Animasaun: A Gift for the Corper (2008)
Liwhu Betiang: Beneath the Rubble (2009)
Vincent Egbuson: Love My Planet (2009), winner 2008 ANA/NDDC Ken Saro-Wiwa prose prize
Richard Maduku: Kokoro Compound (2009)
Ted Elemeforo: Child of Destiny (2009)
Yahaya Dangana: Blow of Fate (2009)
Jonathan E. Ifeanyi: The Campus Genius (2009)
Kayode Animasaun: Perambulators (2010)
Ozioma Izuora: Dreams Deferred (2010), winner 2009 ANA/NDDC Ken Saro-Wiwa Prose Prize
Victor Akande: A Palace for the Slave (2010)
E.L. Agukwe: A Tale of Trioubaz (2011)
Chris Okonta: Trampled Rose (2011)
Bolade Bamidele: Wits Battle of Awareness (2011)
Sam Omatseye: The Crocodile Girl (2011)
Ozioma Izuora: Scavengers’ Orgy (2011)
Ozioma Izuora: Merchants of Flesh (2011)

Published by
Kraft Books Limited
6A Polytechnic Road, Sango, Ibadan
Box 22084, University of Ibadan Post Office
Ibadan, Oyo State, Nigeria
0803 348 2474, 0805 129 1191
E-mail: [e-mail]
© Vincent Egbuson, 2011
ISBN 978-978-918-037-0
= KRAFTGRIOTS =
(A literary imprint of Kraft Books Limited)
All Rights Reserved
First printing, October 2011
‘Odedekoko! Odedekoko!’
The woman by the speaker looked at her, shocked by her childish delight in the simple song of a bird. Zhero suppressed his amusement at the speaker’s neighbour’s frown.
‘Odedekoko!’ the happy speaker repeated, while her neighbour deepened her frown and Zhero struggled to suppress his laughter at what was happening. ‘Sing on, sing your happy song,’ she said to the bird, as if it was by her.
To Zhero’s surprise her neighbour guffawed.
A happy song! You call that a happy song? My mother used to call herself Odedekoko anytime she was crying over the death of a child.’
‘For me it is a happy song. I used to ask my mother, "Why does Odedekoko’s name resemble its song?" My mother used to answer, "Because its song resembles its name."’
The women laughed together. Zhero searched for a stone, went near the tree in which Odedekoko was singing and aimed it at the bird a bird he had loved since he was in Primary One, the meaning of whose song he had never thought any adult would argue about. Odedekoko flew away.
‘Zehroh!’ one of the women shouted. ‘Winch!’
‘Jero na winch!’ the other woman affirmed, in pidgin English too, and in her happiness unconsciously pulled off her adire scarf and unwittingly showed that her hair had been dyed black beyond the hairline. She quickly restored the scarf. ‘Jero na original native winch.’
All the people in the waiting shed, except one man, laughed heartily. Since he came to Mabo Waterside the boy had not ceased to engage his interest. In fact his interest in him started when at the Mabo Motor Park he ignored a woman who wanted him to carry her large sack and came to him.
‘Sir,’ he had said respectfully, ‘I go carry your load.’ The boy laughed when he saw that all his ‘load’ was just a briefcase and a life jacket. ‘I think say you bring good business, na only that you carry? Sho! Make I go where money dey’
‘Where’s the way to Mabo Waterside?’ he had asked him.
The boy turned sassy.
‘Follow the people. Anywhere you reach na waterside,’ he answered as he walked away.
He went to the woman he had ignored and heaved her sack of beans onto his head. The woman laughed.
‘Zeehero, you no dey shame?’
‘Person wey dey shame for money, im head correct?’
The woman laughed again, adjusting her happy adire headscarf. ‘Zeehero, today na only twenty naira I go give you.’
‘Plus de normal fifty naira,’ he had replied and the woman had laughed once more. ‘Ma, dis load heavy. Make we dey go. Me and you no go fight because of money.’
The woman insisted on paying him only twenty naira. Without a word he started to move then stopped and called out.
‘Sir, please follow us. We are going to Mabo Waterside.’
As he came up to them the woman greeted him with a gap-toothed smile and after a minute or so said gratuitously, ‘Dis Zeehero, he like money too much o no money, no help. No matter how you beg am.’
A woman who was about to pass them in opposite direction stopped and said to him, ‘Zhero, my van go soon come o. As you go, come back quick. Na only you go touch my things.’ She turned to the woman by Zhero. ‘Mama Yagi, good day o.’
‘Good day, Mama Susan,’ Mama Yagi replied and they resumed walking.
As his friends greeted him they variously called him as Zeehero, Zehroh, Jero, Zorro, so he had to ask him what his name was. He had first spelt it then pronounced it the way Mama Susan had done. The pronunciation reminded him of a former girlfriend whose name he was never able to pronounce properly Zera, a girl from Dahma, a girl he had looked out for everywhere he went.
When he asked Mama Yagi why Mama Susan would insist on the services of a person who liked money too much she had laughed.
‘Dat na de thing nobody understand. Zeehero no dey do anything free, but if you put Zeehero in charge of your things, even if one million naira dey inside, one kobo no go miss when you come back. Any other porter here, dem go disappear with your money.’
After he finished carrying Mama Susan’s goods to Waiting Shed 3 he had carried things for several other people before coming to Waiting Shed 1 where the women had jokingly called him a ‘witch’.
A boy who had been somewhat rude to him suddenly turned very respectful, and when he introduced himself as Engr. Bati Bazi and asked him to pronounce the name he baulked at doing so, only saying ‘Thank you, sir.’
Four twenty-five-seater speedboats were coming. Bazi stopped thinking about Zhero. Mabo Waterside which had been somewhat quiet for about thirty minutes after the last speedboat left for a village suddenly came alive: porters, some of them shouting to their friends, as they rushed about unsure of which jetties the boats would land at; touts for taxi drivers shouting out the destinations of their taxis even though the boats had not landed; some traders in stalls far away from the jetties packing their trays with goods and noisily hurrying to the jetties; intending travellers now unable to sit, some of them on edge, loudly wishing the boats were for their destinations, some of them cursing the government for not building roads and bridges in the riverine areas to make travel easy for the people.
All the boats were for Waiting Shed 3. To beguile the time Bazi went there to watch the travellers. An old woman was begging Zhero to carry her bunches of plantains into one of the boats.
‘Mama, I tell you say I no come watch video here, na money I come find.’
‘So because I no get money nobody go help?’ she asked, looking left and right, as if for a compassionate ear in the universe.
Zhero was slightly offended because he felt she had spoken as if in virtue of her old age she had the right to free service from him, but he only shrugged and started to walk away. Bazi smiled and asked him to carry the bunches into the boat. He frowned, Bazi smiled again, and he did as he was requested to do. The old woman thanked Bazi profusely. As she went into the boat and sat down, she shook her head and wiped her tears. Two women who knew what had happened comforted her, while they cursed the owner of the boat who had refused to employ a boat assistant to load and unload passengers’ goods and luggage into and from the boat a miser whose life and physical appearance the money he loved so much had not impacted on positively.
Mama Susan had agreed on a price with the driver of the fourth boat, who signed his assistant to moor a little away from the jetty. With the commanding voice of wealth she shouted, ‘Hey Zhero! Come!’ He rushed to her, and each of them made three rounds to the boat with her goods, wading barefoot through the shallow water. She obviously paid Zhero handsomely he was happy as the boat pulled out and he waved back to her. He then brought his rubber flip-flops from the side pocke