As panic built in ahead of my exams, I realized that informing my parents about my situation was the last thing on my mind. It was a make-or-break situation, and the anxiety was devouring me. Suddenly, a ray of hope appeared in my head, as if an angel had whispered a solution.
Uncle Shola, my father's brother, and his family lived close in Lagos. Uncle Shola was noted for his strict minimalist living, despite their financial prosperity he was very stingy. Some of my relatives said Uncle Shola finishes a bottle of Malt for over two days, demonstrating his conservative mentality, possibly because he has a degree in Financial Accounting. In the middle of my concerns, I considered approaching Uncle Shola for assistance. Sure, his economical behavior was famous, I just need a shelter, food is not a problem.
I dialed Uncle Shola's number out of desperation. "Hello, Uncle Shola, could you please call me back?" "I'm stranded in Lagos and out of airtime," I pleaded before hanging up. Soon later, Uncle Shola texted me to connect over WhatsApp in order to save his remaining airtime. I wasn't shocked given his frugal practices, of course that's a typical Uncle Shola. I promptly entered into WhatsApp and detailed the entire situation. Uncle Shola miraculously agreed to let me spend the night at his house. He quickly gave me his address, and by 8:00 p.m., I was in a cab and on my way to his opulent mansion.
As I approached Uncle Shola's house, I was taken aback. It was as if I had walked into my grandparents' village home. I couldn't imagine how an accountant in a famous firm could live in such a house. The old Panasonic TV with an ancient DVD player made me wonder if time had stopped for Uncle Shola. Despite the antiquated equipment, the house was clean, which put me at ease.
When I entered the house, the delicious aroma of Afang soup drifted through the air, indicating that Uncle Shola's wife had been preparing it awaiting my arrival.
Kelvin, their 5-year-old son, ran toward me, hugging me as if we were old friends. "Welcome, Ade!" he exclaimed, leading me to lift him into a warm hug.
"It's great to finally meet you, Kelvin." You've grown so fast!" I laughed.
I greeted Uncle Shola's wife as I made my way to the kitchen. Uncle Shola's wife, a gorgeous lady from Akwa Ibom, was overjoyed to see me and bombarded me with questions about practically everyone in Ibadan. Her cheerfulness was contagious.
Uncle Shola took me to Kelvin's room, where I would spend the night. It wasn't luxurious, the decorations made me wonder if 5 years old Kelvin doesn't have nightmares every night sleeping alone in a room decorated with black and red. The bed on the other hand, was a little undersized. I instantly changed my clothes and decided to join Uncle Shola in the living room for a talk.
As our talk progressed, I watched Auntie discreetly inviting Uncle Shola to join her at the dinning. As the visitor, I waited for their invitation or believed they would serve me separately. Time passed, but Uncle Shola did not call. I figured they needed some quiet or to finish their dinner before inviting me.
I expected I'd be called in next when Uncle Shola returned to the living room after their dinner. Instead, he said softly, "Ade, I hope you got something on your way here." We hadn't intended on having an extra guest tonight; the meal was enough for my wife and me."
Was Uncle Shola for real? Could he really be that stingy?
His severe attitude made it appear like a punishment for not alerting him of my visit. But his reaction appeared to be excessive. All I could manage to say was, "Uncle, it's okay, no problem."
My stomach groaned loudly, but I was hesitant to complain. After all, Uncle Shola was known for being frugal. Even his shoes appeared to be 1980s throwbacks! His wicked smirk as I minimized the situation simply contributed to my confusion.
I needed slumber badly because my exams were at 9 a.m. I went back to my room, feeling hungry and curious about Uncle Shola's strange conduct. My eyes sprung open at the crack of morning, since I was always punctual. But something went badly wrong. My entire clothes was soaked,
I felt as if I'd slept my way through a river. "What on earth is happening?" I couldn't believe it.
I had been sharing the bed with a young John the Baptist, a bed-wetting champion, little did I know. His bed was nearly tarpaulin-fortified! My uncle, being his usual self, conveniently forgot to mention this details.
Rushing to the shower became my priority to freshen up. I had to swiftly wash the sodden clothes before the day began. Dealing with such an unexpected situation at such an early hour was definitely not what I had in mind for a morning routine, especially with exams looming ahead.
Determined to get some breakfast after last night's hunger, I blasted loud music from my phone and banged the doors vigorously, hoping my uncle's wife would sense my preparation and start cooking. The thought of tasting that elusive soup from last night was tantalizing. But despite the racket, neither my uncle nor his wife stirred. "Are they really going to let me go hungry again?" I muttered to myself in frustration.
I decided to give them a heads-up by knocking on their door, announcing, "Uncle, I'm heading out now."
"Okay, Ade. Best of luck, and please, spare my doors" It was becoming apparent that Uncle Shola had deliberately left me starving. No worries—I'd grab something to eat on my way out.
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