PROSE: COUNTING by Testimony Akinkunmi

The last time a bird had landed its slimy green stomach processed waste on my head was when I was returning home from a common entrance lesson. I had fallen sick that day, and even after exhausting expensive medication. It was only when I prayed by myself, counting Papa’s wooden rosary that I got healed. Two days after, another bird pooped on my brother. He had died instantly. 

That coincidence stuck to my cerebellum, more than a tooth to its gum. So when I was returning from school today to my self-contained apartment, drained with hunger, and bird dropping fell on me, it was with great alacrity I ran to my flat. Hoping it won’t be too late for the beads of grace to save me. 

Today, was the first day since the last time it had happened to me that I had not worn the rosary. It was all because of Damilola Gwen, the most beautiful girl in my level. She had said it that she didn’t like boys who wore chains of any sort. I had been eyeing her for so long that I had planned how today, my first conversation with her would go for months, from the perfume I would wear, to the cloth, to my manner of approach and ultimately, the speech that would sway her. All well laid out without the rosary resting on my hirsute chest for the first time.

After our lecture scheduled to end at 2pm ended, I walked up to Gwen. My friends did well not to whistle or make snicker comments as planned. 

“Hi, I am Testimony.” I raised my hands slightly.

She stared into me with her coffee pupil “Am I supposed to shake hands with you?”

“Etiquette demands it.” I replied trying my best to regulate my breathing.

“Etiquette?” She hissed. “Mr. Testimony, what do you want to say to me?”

Straight to the point. I noticed. I had unfortunately already planned lines for a merry-go-round conversation. I moved my eyes behind her, from my standing position I could see her clique impatiently waiting behind the class, for me to leave her like all the boys before me. But they didn’t know I don’t back down easily.

“You know the exam is drawing near and I am lacking behind in POL101. When I met with the lecturer he referred me to you.” I lied, thanking God that there was no rosary nestling my neck. She took her tender lashes off me, packed her properties with her left hand and rose to meet my gaze. She was brown, the Bournvita type of brown, and having a tomboy black hair. 

“When do you want to start?” she responded in a tone of surrender. That wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted an intense conversation filled with energy. I tried a line I had not practiced.

“It is not compulsory if you don’t want to.”

“Seriously?” 

The way she asked was in exact opposite to how she had asked when I wanted to start. I could see she was playing with my emotions, so I decided to play with hers with a little edge.

“Okay, why don’t we discuss for a bit today and you can decide which stage of nurturing I need.”

“Today?”

“Yes, I feel we shouldn’t leave what we can do today till later.”

She turned from me, careful not to graze a nearby table yet leaving me at the edge of her table. The same place she had left uncountable boys. I hoped gently to meet up with her, ignoring the outburst of snickers from my once cooperating friends. 

“Is that how you just leave a willing student?”

“Student?”

“I am tired of your monotonous one-word questions. You are not a beautiful robot. Please behave human.”

“Beautiful?” She stopped and waved her giggling friends off. “Beautiful?” She asked again.

I didn’t know whether to continue in that tone or suddenly become the bad-boy type as stated in the former script. 

“Am I supposed to answer you?” I gave her a piece of her medicine.

She looked at me exasperated. “Canteen. Now.” She then took my hands and put in her hands in the crook of mine, like I was her groom taking her down the aisle. I blushed especially with the attention. Thanking God again that I hadn’t put on the rosary. 

At the canteen, she immediately confessed that she had been dumb since birth, and could only start speaking three years ago. She added that I was the first person that called her beautiful. We talked about so many things that I didn’t know I was hungry throughout our stay in the canteen. The only thing I had, was a drink she had bought. The time I had with her made me happy because it was worth putting off the rosary. 

When we finally parted, I promised her to remain alive to continue our soul-connecting conversation tomorrow. She had promised me, in her words; “Tomorrow. Unexpected Surprise. Just for you.” She whispered in my ears as we left the canteen our separate ways.

But would I see tomorrow, I thought as I hurriedly opened my wooden doors. I searched for the rosary unsuccessfully. I felt my heart was pulsating at a higher rate than normal. It seemed my feet were overheating, my head pregnant with blood. I searched ceaselessly for the brown rosary the pope had given a Father. A Father, an evangelist, an evangelist my father’s father, my father to me. I thought as my feet gave way. I felt a strange sensation in my gut.

I counted.

Testimony Akinkunmi is a young Nigerian who has desire for creative thinking. He is a law student at the University of Abuja, Abuja. He loves the works of Wole Soyinka and William Shakespeare.