Mirror 4c

Blame Adura for this delay. *tongueout*

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I’m running on the treadmill Fola had installed, several thoughts running through my mind. I am glad he had this installed. I badly need to get back in shape. Tola’s job as a programmer doesn’t give so much reasons to go out. The guy just has to sit in front of a computer and he rakes in enough to make him do whimsical things like installing a gym into a house he bought barely a year ago that he will soon be leaving. I must admit I’m a bit scared about his money spending decisions. I wonder what he would do if he laid his hands on the Omiata fortune! I for one hope he would shove it down his uncles’ throats. Those miserable lots. I’m ecstatic that they would be alive to watch Fola assume his position. I remember the smug smiles on their faces those years back when we first met them. After that day that we met at the junction, Fola and I went through a lot of things. I found out he had a brilliant mind and could deal with large figures in his head. At first, it was creepy but then I got used to it. For the first eight months we were together, he was the brain behind every business we did. Left to me, I would have gotten that money in an easier, faster although immoral way but Fola was adamant and besides the replay of almost being killed by a mob always doused that fire. It took almost a year before we could afford to go to Lagos but we got there and it took another month before we could find his family. The guy had absolutely no idea. I must have had so much faith in him to have persevered that much. Actually, it was a stroke of luck. We were newspaper vendors then. It was unbelievable when we went to get our daily delivery early that morning and found out  his father was in the news although it was a sad news. 

‘Olumide Omiata- Richards also known as Ata rodo is dead!!!’ was the headline.

I can remember vividly the crumpled look on Fola’s face. I could see his whole life had taken a new turn that day. His hope was shattered. I was tongue tied. I didn’t know how to comfort him. I collected the newspaper and scanned through it omitting big words. I could deduce that he died of a chronic kidney disease and left Fola the heir to the fortune under the guidance of his uncles. I felt there was at least good news. I looked at him meaningfully and he seemed to understand my reasoning. The next day, we packed our bags and left for Apapa but met a totally different kind of reception. A cold one. His uncles had taken over everything and refused to acknowledge him. Fola didn’t want properties though. He just wanted family. He said if he could have his family, he would go back to bring a girl he used to know in Port harcourt and take care of her. He didn’t really say anything about her but that he was going back for her. He kept going back to his father’s estate but his uncles kept turning him back and he became depressed. 

Honestly, I was giving up on him. I always hated it when he was in a terrible mood like he is now for some unknown reason. Anyway, one day he just stood up from my side and asked me a simple question, on a piece of a paper, of course. Have you had enough? 

I looked into his eyes and knew what he was asking. The street was tough in those days. We didn’t look back from that moment. We worked hard and since he had the penchant for numbers, he went in to programming and became successful. He is the Nigerian representative of many international programming  industries. 

I am proud of him.

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