”Meet for what” i asked.
He said he wanted to apologize for slapping me.
”I don’t need your apologies again Mr Clement. I am going to the Police station to make a statement. I am going to tell them that you threatened to kill me in Amsterdam. I am also going to tell all the Enugu people here in Amsterdam. They will know that you are after me. If anything happens to me, they know what to do” i said and hung up.
His subsequent calls were ignored. He sent a text message, telling me that he wasn’t coming after me. He wrote that he was willing to forget what happened.
I called Billy, our Enugu Chairman and met with him in his house. I told him what happened between me and the people of Nando. He was surprised at the actions i took. He never knew i was capable of doing such a thing.
The following Saturday after the incident, i went to the football field in Kikenstein. All eyes were fixed on me. I had covered my face with dark sunglasses and held ‘Angels and Demons’ an interesting novel by Dan Brown.
I watched as people played football. Nobody came to where i stood. I believed they were scared of me or they conspired to isolate me. Whichever one it was, i didn’t care. I had a mind of my own which eclipsed every other thing that ever happened to me.
If i wanted to buy drugs from anybody, i would simply give money to Robin or Nduka to do that. The only time their isolation could work would be if i needed to buy the drugs on credit or if i needed to take the drugs to a customer before paying for it.
It was true that we had a large Igbo community in Bijlmer but i was certain that i could cause a lot of problems for everybody. I didn’t need to be angered by anybody.
Our people hated the truth, it hurts them.
Ikenna stole my money and some stuff belonging to the Colombians, nobody did anything. To them, it was just one of those petty crimes. He impregnated a woman who lived with me, nobody did anything. The Nando squad were nowhere to be found. Nobody came forward to ask about the pregnancy. They saw me walking around town with a pregnant woman and all they did was to gossip about how it wasn’t mine and how i was servicing someone else’s pregnancy. According to the news i heard, the Nandos believed that they will come and claimed their son when he grew to a certain age. According to them, it was an Igbo culture that a son must go to the biological father later on in Life.
The problem of black man lied with him. What exactly was the big deal in climbing a woman and getting her pregnant? Was that the real work in having a baby?
No, that wasn’t the real work in having a baby. Anybody could think otherwise but i personally think that the real work wasn’t climbing a woman and enjoying yourself on the process.
Pregnancy required maximum attention. I recalled what happened between me and Ify during the course of her pregnancy. She would suddenly get up in the middle of the night and start clutching her stomach. I would stay awake and
Tease or console her. I would remind her that since it was her first pregnancy, those symptoms were bound to happen. Sometimes, she would wake up and cry over the sudden movements of the baby in the stomach. Sometimes she would send me out in the night to buy one thing or the other.
I recalled the day i went out a little past midnight looking for milk. I eventually end up buying it in a petrol station where i also had to trek for over thirty minutes in the cold. I was controlled that night by the police.
I remembered taking her to the hospital in the middle of the night the day she complained about not being able to breath properly. We eventually spent two days in the hospital and paid through my nose since we had no health insurance.
I would prepare food for Ify, wash and spread her cloths too. Sometimes, Ify would ask me to cut her nails and even showed me how to paint them. I would clean the house and wash the dishes. I would rub her stomach and pamper her to sleep. She was just like a baby. I did all those things while hustling for money to pay for the rents of two apartments. I also had to deal with numerous requests of money from friends at home.
All those times, i never confronted one person from Nando. I didn’t know them. They never stopped me on the road. All they knew was that their pregnancy was in my custody and care. They had hoped to come up someday and ask for how much money i spent on the pregnancy, then they would pay me off and take their illustrious son Samson.
There were things we can’t just buy with money, the troubles i had while nurturing Ify’s pregnancy was one of them.
Ikenna made the biggest mistake of his life by coming to my house after the birth of Samson. He paid with Prison and deportation. His Kinsmen made the same mistake of stopping me on the road and issuing a one week ultimatum. They paid en masse too.
If the Igbo community thought it wise to isolate me without hearing my own side of the story, then i regard them as cowards. I wasn’t interested in confronting any individual who did nothing to me. What i hated most was physical assault like slaps.
I believed that an individual was also a nation of its own. We set our own rules and laws which guide us. I had made my own laws long time before Amsterdam.
Law Number one was; If you kill my dog, you better hide your cat. It was such a simple law.
Number two was; Don’t ever slap me, it represented insult to me.
You can kick me or push me but don’t slap me. Turning the other cheek was part of Jesus’ laws in the Bible. It was one of those laws i disagreed with Jesus on. There were other laws which you disagreed on too. Turning the other cheek wasn’t part of Ozoigbondu’s laws. I had mine.
Mine was made out of the current circumstances. The world had changed a lot since the Bible was written.
Bring it on Nandos and the entire haters of Jungle justice. I wrote my own rules. Obey them.
Kwakoe was some hours away from the time i was at the field watching football.