Puss and the Queen

She got to London and she saw the Queen. It was a dream come true! She was given a tour of Buckingham Palace. She saw the portraits of all the rulers of England from the 10th century. Finally she got to see the official living quarters of the King Henry, the Tudor. Puss had heard so much about him.
Puss got so many autographs she had to ship them down to the country separately. The weight of the autographs exceeded the weight of goods any aircraft would allow. Her shipment of autographs would have landed long ago but the ship suffered a mishap. And of course the stupid deckhand felt a cat's luggage was no use. So they threw them overboard. Puss contacted the local Animal Rights' group about the incident and they promised to take it up. She would have shown all the doubters at the monthly Lagos Pussy cats Meeting! She had been so prepared for it. Her pictures alone filled an entire suitcase! That's why Puss had to make do with the few pictures she came back with.
Her greatest moment was the minute she got a snapshot of the queen. Unfortunately she couldn’t snap with the queen. Some over-zealous security agent felt a cat had no business taking pictures with the queen. The impunity! Puss nearly spat at him but she remembered her latest regimen for dealing with anger. She took many deep breaths, took a walk round the gardens of the palace then walked back. By that time the Queen had stepped into her study and couldn’t be disturbed.
Puss still keeps her favourite pictures from that journey hanging round the house. It is a pity rats have gotten so clever and determined these days. They nearly ate off the Queen’s head from her favourite picture. Thank goodness, the head was only partially chopped off. A good observer will still see it’s the Queen. That was when Puss decided to carry the picture in her wallet. It’s safer that way. She just tries to always avoid the rain always.
After liaising with the local school authorities, they approved Puss' travelogue. It details her journey to London to see the Queen. The book quickly became a worldwide bestseller. A nursery rhyme about her going to see the queen also came out of the book. Puss was the cat who had gone to London to see the Queen! She was the cat that made history! The newspapers and magazines sought her for some weeks. Her pictures covered front pages of big magazine issues. And like everything that is news, she finally became olds.
The Benue still flows into the Niger and the Niger into the Atlantic but the world no longer remembers the Pussy cat that went to London to see the queen. It’s not a tragedy. It is just that “celebrity” is a dubious word. The world celebrates what now is. While Puss was celebrating going to London to see the Queen, the world went ahead of her, crowned a new Queen, and then crowned a Prince and King in her stead. Then the world evolved and made palaces museums and tourist centres. It was a harsh deal for a Puss intent on hanging on to old glory.
The Pussy cat Association finally decided on new measures to gain the world’s attention again. They will send someone to go see the president. If that doesn’t get any attention, they will form a militant group and go on strike. Their strike will be in place till the world hears them again. No pussy will chase, eat a rat or run from a dog while the strike lasts. I totally concur with them. At least cats going on strike is NEWs!

Pussy cat, Pussy cat, where have you been?

She has been to London to see the queen. I doubt she made it through. My concern wasn’t whether she got to see the queen. My concern was what she wanted to see the queen for. That kind of insight bothers me because I wonder if I can still wonder like that rather than wish to be the pussy that went to London on such a mission. Many would gladly become cats if it mean going to London to see the queen.

It must be a mighty big deal being a queen, isn’t it? You can’t smile when you want to because someone is there to record it. You can’t be in a molue laughing at the story about Mr. President’s last visit to the zoo, that time he ate all the bananas. You’ll never hear the story of how FIFA banned India because they beat Nigeria 99-0 using jazz. The ball always turned to a lion when the Indians shot it towards our goal. Our goalie ran for his dear life. Your instructors will tell you fabricated stories about Indians not playing soccer. You need to meet my dad! He’ll smash all their theories. I bet you never ran around naked in the rain and you never tied your mum’s wrapper on your neck, flying around like Superman. You also believe aeroplanes don’t throw down sacks of cash. You really need to meet Obiozor. an airplane threw him a sack of cash. That's why the village witches kept troubling him till he lost it all. You didn’t throw stones at a lizard or chase a chicken till you were out of breath. You were never chased by a stray ekuke dog. Sadly, you never wondered at the remote control. How did such a little thing have so much power over those large TVs? And you never shouted “oku NEPA” when electricity was restored, not knowing it was “UP NEPA” others shouted.
I wish I could remember the time I mixed garri and sugar then carried it around in my pockets, eating at intervals. Then there was the time I disgraced my class teacher. I wish I could remember it as well. I was fresh from the village and couldn’t speak a word in English. And here was my class teacher taking advantage of the little kids in my class. She actually claimed she knew everywhere. The naïve fools kept asking her about streets in Lagos. I was incensed. She didn’t know anywhere. When I could hold it no longer, I burst out in Igbo, “Aunty, i ma Ezi-igwe?” Ezi-igwe is the junction to my house in the village, more than 700 kilometers away. Those kids laughed me to scorn for being a bush boy, but I won. Aunty did not know Ezi-igwe! I was so scared of those kids. They spoke English as easily as I ate onugbu soup. And whenever I wanted to sit, they would draw the chair away and I would land flat on the ground. Sweet terror, it was Biodun that did that. My pain was that Wunmi laughed at me too. If I could remember those stories, I would share them with you. You really missed childhood. Did you ever marvel at iced water? How water ended up stone after hours in the freezer? I stopped taking my tea in the mornings when I discovered it. I kept it in the freezer. Then after school I had iced tea to lick! I’ll have to ask my Kaodili my big bro. I didn't know we were cousins then because I didn't know the meaning of cousin. If he remembers we’ll tell it all to you.
Did you ever dream of riding limos and living in big houses? Did you ever fly a kite, watching it till it was out of sight? Did you ever dream you were a kite? Did you ever pray for rain so you wouldn’t go to school the next day because you were sure the wicked French teacher would flog your buttocks red?
Did you ever dream of some things you couldn’t have because mum would never buy them for you? That’s the fun of childhood. You get to imagine. You create the things you can’t have. You just pretend you have them, then play with them and all is well.

My Homecoming

Father is the wealthiest business owner around these parts. His investments are as diverse as you can imagine. He has investments in Agriculture, solid minerals, livestock, and so on. The list goes on and on. Father has just about a stake in everything. His real passion however is raising Entrepreneurs. I never considered it a viable investment portfolio. Things are stable. People are variable.  A kilo of barley is a kilo of barley everywhere. Not so with people. Not so at all.
Father trained my big brother and me in the very best schools. We did very well too. I graduated from Business School with an MBA and joined the family conglomerate two years after my big brother. My biggest strength has been my proactive approach. That has been my brother’s biggest weakness. He just sits and does just what he is asked to do. You never met a more reactive fellow! I take initiative. I love leading. And I never waited for Father to take all the decisions. I went after opportunities and nailed them square!
Well, I got fed up with the house and Father’s larger than life presence and decided to strike out on my own. I had been monitoring the commodities market way out in the West for some time. It was juicy. I figured I could buy up some grains, store them and sell them off in about six months. My profits would equal my capital! It was huge, trust me.
So I walk up to Father and tell him my plans. He agrees. We three each had a 33% stake in the family business. Father transferred cash into my account. Mother was so quiet she looked like a statue. I had to look away from her so I wouldn’t lose my courage. By and by I went on my way.
I travelled far West and settled down. I soon got down to business and started buying up grains. I guess I was in too much of a rush. I bought up everything I laid eyes on. I was acting like I had no business acumen. I spent so much the people of the West revered me above God. I was so happy I almost forgot home. I threw a few parties here and there and spent some money getting by. A man’s got to live big if he’s got the means. And I had more means than you could ever think of. What did it matter if I spent a huge chunk having fun? I was going to get so much more after selling off my grains.
I had been storing grains for more than five months and I was going to begin selling in less than a month. I was already running out of cash and couldn’t wait for the rains that would mark the beginning of the planting season. That would be the time for sales. It had been a long and hot dry season. The sun scorched and burned. Even shadows seemed muted by the heat. They seemed to walk with a little less dignity than before. It was terrible.
So, I wake up in the middle of a fine (but hot) afternoon to wails of the fire service sirens. I guessed a large house was on fire judging from the number of trucks rushing along. When I got the news it was the storage houses on the plains, I nearly died. My grains were so dry they had no problem contributing to the fire. The investigation as to the actual cause is still ongoing. A lot of hand pointing was going on, but what did it matter? I had lost all my grains.
Quickly, I sold off some properties and planted some plantations. Then I threw in the money I had left in some shares. I was hoping to recoup some losses then continue with storing grains for sale. And by jolly, that year turned out the hottest in recorded history! My crops died, all died. And by the way, that was also the year of the Greater Depression. My stocks went under. Just like nail goes under water. More like bread in water. Everything was lost.
Parents committed suicide and children dropped out of schools. It was terrible. Everyone in the West was affected. I was devastated because I was penniless. Rather than live off alcohol complaining what a hard lot I had, I got a job. Jobs were scarce. A man had to do anything to survive. I got a job as a stable hand. I doubled as house keeper and errand boy. My pay was worse than meagre. I did it all for a place in the stable to escape the scorching moon at night. Food? Not a chance. It was precious commodity. I kept wishing I could go back and take better decisions. I knew too much to have allowed myself be so extravagant and careless. But wishes aren’t horses.
One day, it hit me! That nagging in my heart wasn’t just my regrets. I missed home. I missed Father and Mother and I wanted to see them again. I wasn’t interested in making a name for myself anymore. My longing was to see them every single day for the rest of my life. So, I set off for home. I was going to apply for any job in one of Father’s businesses. I would take the lowest pay if it meant a chance to see my family again.
After a very long journey on foot, I wasn’t even getting any closer to the Home Country. I was dead exhausted. I couldn’t recognize myself at the stream I stopped at for a drink. I knew nobody would recognize me as well. A little rest and I decided to walk a while before retiring. I knew I would never get home. The journey was way too long. Just a few steps on and I nearly didn’t see them swoop on me! Father and Mother! They never went away from the Home Country. And they never ran. But here they were: away from the home country and running like excited little kids. They even recognized me. For want of words I wept out my eyes. They had come for “me”. I was home.
Mother had clothes packed for me in the car. Out came a new suit for the journey home. And while I crying my apology, Father gave me the family ring he and my big brother wore. I asked for the least paying job he could offer. He gave me his share of the family wealth! Father didn’t cancel my debt. He paid it with his portion. Then he gave me his place at the head of the company. Mother held me and let me feel her love. She wanted me to understand they longed to show me love, that they were glad they could give everything for me. I looked at Father and saw Love. Love paid my debts, brought me back, made me love more than ever before, and gave me a place among the great.
I am not the prodigal son. He died back in the West. I am the son Love brought home. Luke 15: 11 – 24.