Touching Story: IS IT A SIN? EPISODE 4 (Nnena)

Touching Story: IS IT A SIN? EPISODE 4 (Nnena)

IS IT A SIN?? EPISODE 4

Written by: Olamilekan Afolabi (Certified Author Afolabi)

PROLOGUE (SPOTLIGHT) . My name is Nnena, I am the only child of my beloved parent. I am writing my storyline in tears………………..

Please if I may ask you guys……………….. is it a sin to be loyal? Is it a sin to be honest? Is it a sin to be faithful and diligent?…………. (Sigh)………. I am suffering from emotional trauma within because of my sincere actions, which I thought is the only way to life and to have an everlasting happiness………………….. But hell No, I mean capital NO.

Human being are the unrecognized devil they are talking about, our heart is filled with evils, human being are the prosopopoeia definition of devil…………

Why I am asking you guys if it is a sin to be good or not and also the reasons why human being deserve all this series of qualification. Find out in the other episodes of this interesting story.. . .

 

(Next day) . We embarked on the journey to Lagos. The Slave Dealer rode on his beautiful white horse, we (slaves) were plodding heavily, and his guards were trampling professionally with a very long whip on each of the guards hand, they were beating us as if we stole something costly and expensive from our boss (the slave trader), despite the fact that we are plodding and leaden heavily, different goods were backpacked on our backs like that of a camel or donkey, the guards were still insinuating that we are not walking fast as expected despite the heavy loads they loaded on our backs. 

We (slaves) were walking bare-footed on the hot land. We (slaves) were sweating and panting intemperately, we (slaves) were very tired and hungry but we dare not jazz, cackle, talk or soliloquize, if anyone does, such person has meet his/her doom. . 

(Fifteen days later) . We got to Lagos; we are totally exhausted because of the long journey, during our journey we would trek for days without food and water, my body is full of marks from whips/cane from the guard’s. The riches parable that says “the God that create the riches is different from the God that create the poor/slaves.” Getting to Lagos is another dimension of my agony. 

There I believed that slaves are meant to be anguished and grieved. Slaves are meant to work for their master till death. Slaves work hard for their masters without acquiring any income rather suffering and agony. Slaves’ lessons class only taught all sorts of immoral attitudes like Killing, Stealing, Kidnapping, Drug Trafficking and all other sort of immoral attitudes. In conclusion, slavery must be conclude to be Human Trafficking, Child Abuse and I think this has to stop…

(Two weeks later) . I am working on a field, looking lean and malnutritious, I am now the image of my own self, I am very sick but Slave are not meant to be sick or weak, because their days are already numbered, this is according to one of their rules. On that very day, a slave’s distributor came to the slaves market; she bought me and pays my fee to the slave dealer. I was clothed, she commands me to enter her car and I did as instructed, she zooms out of the slave’s market. “God, what will be my fate now, where is she transporting me to, ah! God! Why is my life stumbling from one misfortune to another, maybe this one is a kidnapper or ritualist, will I be turned into money just like that? God, why does my life seem to be this traumatic? After the death of my parent, I don’t have peace any longer. God! If I have gone against your wishes, forgive me oh lord, and if it is my parent that has pique your laws that may be the cause of this my suffering, Oh lord! Please forgive their soul and also see me through all this nisus, pains and traumas. 

I cogitate/thought, wholly heart-weeping. . (Few minutes later) . The slave distributor zoom into a mighty building, the building was very beautiful and well decorated; the building was surrounded by a monolithic coop big enough to be mistaken for the Presidential Villa/Aso Rock. The whole building was painted white and powder blue, from the gate toward the house laid a fully adorned field with a well cultivated and mowed grass on the right and left flank leaving a small passage but broad enough to contain a moving vehicle. 

The house was a duplex with twelve rooms on the upper floor and a wide sitting room down stair to greet any visitor. Also, the sitting room contained three toilets situated at the left side of the sitting room if turned 300 with a dining big enough to build a bedroom, build in a corner somewhere in the sitting room. 

Hi-sense flat screen stayed glued to the wall facing the entrance with a well arranged set of home theatre sitting consciously on the floor below the flat screen. The building is extremely beautiful and can be said to be the perfect personification of mighty. . 

(Present) . We are warmly welcomed by a beautiful woman, dressed in an elegant pink gown, her appearance have shown that she is dwelling in money. The woman offers each of us (The slave distributor and I) a glass of 5 Alive juice. The slave trader addresses the rich woman to me as Mrs. Chioma by name and I will be her housemaid. I greeted Mrs. Chioma respectfully; she answered my greeting with utmost humility. “My friend, I will be traveling to Dubai tomorrow, and I will return in no specific date for now. And as for this one (pointing to me) you own her, you can kill her if you like, she is a slave, just pay her fee that is all” The slave distributor counterblasted. Mrs. Chioma sees off the slave distributor. I sat down in the sitting room watching a cartoon shown on the TV. Mrs. Chioma came back looking elegant and gorgeous as usual. “You what is your name?” Mrs. Chioma asked. “N….n.e…….na.” I replied stammering. “Welcome to my territory” Mrs. Chioma said laughing as she opts for her bedroom. I was baffled by her last statement, “welcome to my territory” that statement re-echoed in my ears, I don’t know what her reaction meant. Many thoughts ran through my innocent mind but I couldn’t fathom exactly what her sentence meant, but I prayed it mean good.

 . Voom! A Venza 2017 Model, beautifully pimped, arch in colour whizzed into the compound swiftly, Mrs. Chioma went out to welcome the August visitors. Lo and behold they are Mrs. Chioma children, a young, cute and handsome boy, I guess his age can’t transcend 13-15 years old, and a beautiful young girl, she took after Mrs. Chioma in appearance and her age can’t exceed 16-18 years old. They just came back from United State of America for vacation. 

They school in United State of America, and I learnt that they are three the second child of Mrs. Chioma is also a boy and he is also schooling in United State of America, but he didn’t come to Nigeria for vacation. Mrs. Chioma ushered her children in. She was quite happy to see her beloved children. “Nnena!……..Nnena!!..” Mrs. Chioma screamed my name. “Ma” I replied as I quickly opt for the sitting room. “How many times must I call you before you answered my call?” Mrs. Chioma uttered disappointed. “Am sorry ma, I am washing the dirty dish, so I have to wash my hand from been soapy before I came here ma, am very sorry ma.” I responded beseeching. “Ok, meet my children, his name is Obinna (pointing to the boy) and her name is Chiamaka (signaling the girl), so therefore every respect I deserves from you should be given to my children. 

They are three my second child is also a boy and his name is Chinnedu.” Mrs. Chioma enunciated. “Met our housemaid, her name is Nnena, she just resume here today and I think she must be a good girl.” Mrs. Chioma addressed, I greeted her children but they responded to my greeting unsatisfied. “Go and prepare something for them to eat, they must be exhausted by now, check the food timetable on the kitchen wall and cook what is on the roster for today breakfast.” Mrs. Chioma commanded as I swiftly evanescent/vanished from the sitting room. . “Mum, how can this dirty looking girl cook for me? She is too disgusting and irritating; 

I don’t think I can eat her meal” Chiamaka presented with a very bad expression showing on her face. “She is from the village but don’t worry my dear, I will blend her” Mrs. Chioma bridled. “My sister, she is also a human being, you do go to church in USA but it doesn’t shows on you that you are that religious……..” Obinna isolated. “Will you shut that gutter you call a mouth, I am talking, you are also talking, who invited you to this discussion? Don’t ever again in your life intervene in my dialogue. Understand?” Chiamaka counterblasted. Obinna soliloquized and opt for his bedroom. . 

“Mummy I don’t like that girl, she is a foul. Gosh. I don’t even know what you like about her. Or is it because she is also beautiful?” Chiamaka retort. “Chiamaka, please change the topic.” Mrs. Chioma said with an implied command. . Ehn! Ehn!! That reminds me mummy Chinedu said he is coming home next year October.” Chiamaka said quite happy. “Okay, he is always welcome.” Mrs. Chioma replied. “Mummy, My brothers and I have decided to finish our education here in Nigeria.” Chiamaka premised. “You got your dad permission for that?” Mrs. Chioma replied. “Mummy, when last did you hear from daddy? He isn’t calling us more often as he usually do” Chiamaka pried Mrs. Chioma who was busy listening to the network news. “Yesterday, he travelled because an issue came up so he went to Abuja to settle it” Mrs. Chioma replicates. 

“What issue?” Chiamaka inquired. “Chiamaka you are too nosey, what concerns you with the issue that broke out?” Mrs. Chioma sassed. “Am sorry ma, when his he coming back?” Chiamaka apologized and quested. “Before Christmas he said.” Mrs. Chioma replied now uncomfortable. “Mummy, when……………………” 

Chiamaka unfinished with her words when Mrs. Chioma bangs in. “Chiamaka, go and eat. When you not a reporter!” Mrs. Chioma said as she opts for the dinning. TO BE CONTINUED

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