The Voice Speaking

PARROT

Written by Odugbemi Isaac

“Do you know who you are talking to?!”

The voice that spoke these words was not familiar to me so I refused to pay attention. My head remain bowed and my eyes fully fixed on the novel in my hand. The temperature of the breeze was a mixture of fresh air and heat. The two ladies sitting on the other side were writing something on plain sheets. One is yellow like ripped orange while the other is moderately black. Few minutes ago I had to leave what I was doing to help that woman in the 9mobile counter shut the iron window, though I could not perfectly close it, thanks to the experienced elderly man with a four line tribal scar on each cheek who finally submitted the iron window to the will of the attendant.

Again, I heard the same voice say, “I will surely deal with you and you are very stupid a boy”

Now, I was on line twenty on page sixty something on the novel. The story is getting interesting. The story is about a lady known as Hesten Prynne. On that page, Hester Prynne had been standing on her pedestal, still with a fixed gaze towards the stranger just like I am fixing my gaze on this pages, at moments of intense absorption, all other objects in the visible world seemed to vanish, leaving only him and her. Such an interview, perhaps, would have been more terrible than even to meet him as she now did, with the hot afternoon sun burning down upon her face, and lighting up its shame; with the scarlet token of infamy on her breast; with the sin-born infant in her arms; with a whole people, drawn forth as to a festival, staring at the features that should have been seen only in the quiet gleam of the fireside, in the happy shadow of a home, or beneath a matronly veil at church.

Again, I heard the same voice at this time so loud and audacious, “now get down from that car! You are very rude and indiscipline!” 

At this juncture I think I needed to see the interlocutor and the interviewee so I turned my skull towards the direction of the voice. You won’t believe what is happening. 1 had to wipe my face with my handkerchief palm to be truly sure I was not in a trance. 

An old man on glasses, green coloured well-tailored native attire, six feet tall, dark skin, and white hair afro, the old man had sat at the security stand like any other person would do under the tree flower when suddenly a silver coloured Toyota Muscle car pulled in to the driving space adjacent to the man. The man in a very straight forward and declarative utterance said, “Youngman, don’t park there, go and park on the other side” pointing his fingers further. He said this out of agitation wanting the driver to obey as soon as possible without delay. The driver came down majestically, looked at the old man, ignored him, turned his gaze at the old man again and said, “…and must you shout at people when you to talk”

Sincerely, I felt embarrassed. This boy should be nothing more than twenty five years old, addressing an old man like seriously! 

Unfortunately, the old man is a Professor. He corrected the boy again and the boy said something that sounds like, “What is all these gon…?”

The professor became irritated at the rudeness emitting from the mouth of this boy, he quickly called the security office and the youngman’s car had to be driven to their office while the security van led the way.

I sat there ruminating. Sincerely, that boy deserves that piece of cake. What would cost him to simply obey the old man? And a very simple instruction for that matter. Perhaps, if he had pleaded with the professor, no one would need to call the chief security officer or maybe he felt it was an opportunity to claim his right because many Nigerians are too deprived of their rights and privileges.