THE AHMED SERIES: CHAPTER TWO

Alright, now let’s get to one of the more important parts of my story. My story, as in how I got here.
My name, as you surely know now, is Ahmed. I’m a Nigerian, a yoruba (strange isn’t it? A yoruba boy named Ahmed…) first son of Mr. Olasupo Olowoniyi. No, I’m not an only child, I have another sibling. A little brother named Dayo.
My name came from my grandmother. On her deathbed, the strange woman asked that my father name me Ahmed as her dying wish. I was just three (3) days old then. And so it happened.
Anyways, I had a pretty ordinary childhood, growing up in the quiet suburbs of Jakande estate, Lagos state. It was fun growing up, and I had a nice quiet life till it was terminated when I fell off the balcony of our house… Yesterday?
I don’t know how time flows here.
My grandfather died two years ago, and because we were really close, I wanted to follow him. I wondered how it felt to die. Now I know.
It was really quiet and lonely for a long while. I couldn’t feel my body at all. I knew for certain what had happened. I knew I was dead. I could see a bright light far in front of me, instantly I was pulled towards it. Slowly I got nearer and nearer, and nearer… Then I blacked out and woke up in this place.

Back to the present. My grandfather is walking around me, seeming assessing something only he understands. Hmph! He never behaved this way before. Just as I decide to ask what exactly he’s up to- WHACK! He hit me on the head

Yeee! Baba kilode na? Ki ni mo se?

“Lesson one, don’t ever let down your guard.”

I shifted into a fighting stance. No wahala, shebi he wants to fight bah? He asked for it. I lunged for him, intending to show him pepper. Someway, somehow, I found myself on the ground, dust in my mouth.
“Lesson two, don’t ever underestimate your opponent. Brute strength isn’t everything.”
I spat out the dust, sat up and lunged for him again. Again, same result.
“Lesson three, learn from your mistakes…”

***********************************************
I’m sweating really bad now. My grandfather and I have being sparring for what seems like years. We’re dead, so we didn’t need food or drinks, rest or bathroom breaks. We don’t even need to blink. Its really nice, this training of a thing. Now I can actually beat him with a hand tied behind my back. I know the 362 pressure points in the human body. I know how to kill a man in 999 different ways without using a weapon. Honestly, I’m feeling pretty good with myself right now.
“Alright, you’re ready. You can now return to the world of the living.”
“Hmn. Baba, its been so long. How do I cope? How do I find my targets?”
“Here’s a piece of advice. When you get back, mingle with the thieves and pick-pockets. You can learn a few tricks from them. Now, your time here is up. Go home.”

And just like that, everything went blank.

Again.

I woke up to screams and shouts of joy.
O ti ji! Olorun eseun!” I tried to turn my head towards the sound but couldn’t. My body seemed to have been forcefully immobilised but otherwise I felt perfectly fine. I opened my eyes, and a pretty nurse was sitting at the foot of my bed, holding a clipboard.
“Ahmed? Ahmed. Can you see me? Can you hear me? Nod if you can hear me.” of course I can see you, I thought. I can even hear the beats of your heart. And know almost a thousand ways to stop it permanently. But instead, I just nodded.
“Hmn. Its a miracle. We rarely have patients come out of comas.” and on that warm note, she left. The instant she stood, my mother slipped into her seat. Ah ha! That was the reason for the noise earlier!
“You gave us such a scare. What were you doing on the balcony? And those first few days. We thought we had lost you forever.” and then she started to sob. Typical.
Then a voice I least expected.
“At least he’s okay now. Let’s be thankful for that.”
Dad? I turned as much as I can and was able to glimpse a flutter of black silk. Wasn’t he supposed to be at work or something? Then the doctor came in.

“Nurse Titi, you say the patient has fully recovered?”

“Yes Sir. His blood pressure is okay, temperature is normal, and he seems sound generally. No internal injuries, no bleeding. And the head wound has been sutured.”

“Mr and Mrs Olowoniyi, you may take your son home this evening. Go home, eat something, rest and come back. I’ll go now and compile a list oof drugs to be administered to him later on.”
Hmph! Like I’ll be needing them…

Ahmed is back in the world of the living. His mission has begun. How will he fare? Will he be able to do it?

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