Short Stories: The Three Unused Coverings

I got to Dubai at 3:30 in the morning. The flight was smooth and I enjoyed the beauty of the Ethiopian air hostesses, more than the food they served. It’s funny how they think to cover a small bowl of rice with stack naked chicken, and what seems to be a film of sour Ice cream, instead of a proper tomato and pepper stew. We were ninety percent Africans on the flight. For crying out loud, I don’t know what the deceit of pretentious European cuisine will do for them, we Africans like African food anytime, any day, on land or in air.

I looked around, the airport was truly beautiful compared to where I was coming from, and I quickly joined the long queue of passengers in front of me, going through immigration, and i did not fail to notice the Arab women behind the counters, as the quietly centred the camera in your eyes and in very unfriendly voices issue commands, ” O pin your eyes.”

I finished with immigration in a very short while and still joined the others.I picked my suitcase and a “Ghana must go” full of all kinds of Nigerian food; from yam to garri, amala to ofada rice and even dry fish. This was supposed to help till I receive my first salary in Dubai as I start work with immediate effect.

I opened my eyes this time without being told and looked out for the man carrying my name on a placard, who was supposed to pick me at the airport, but there was no such sign or any one at all. After what looked like ages, I looked for the paper where I wrote the phone numbers and called, a man answered and asked me to take a taxi to an address he dictated to me

I finally found my way to the address,and even though, it was my first time in Dubai, and judging from the places I saw through the taxi window, I knew we were in the dingy down town of Dubai. In red burnt bricks, the houses looked choked together, as though begging for breathing space, And this man’s particular apartment was small, very small. The sitting room could only hold one chair. It was choked and darkish, as if holding the secrets of many men.

I sat, peeking at him in the half light of the parlour,as he sat with half buttocks on a small table, holding house hold items, from cups to plates, flasks,a small tin of coffee,a sweater rolled into a ball,some files and a bag that has seen better days.

My suitcase and Ghana must go bag were leaning on the wall near the door i came in in through. I just knew that was as far as I could go into the the house.
Victor told me the man who invited me, to whom my uncle paid six hundred and fifty thousand naira for supposedly finding a very good paying job and a flat for which a years rent has been paid was on holiday in Nigeria and will not be back for about six weeks.

My uncle , that is my fathers brother, had made me to sell my car, quit my not good job, sell my TV and generator, collected all the money and told me he paid for this dream. He said I was in demand in Dubai because I have a 2.1 in computer science.

This man, Victor told me there’s no such arrangements.He took me to a hostel in the morning where there were seventeen able bodied young Nigerian men. All in one room, double decker beds, and I payed a hundred and fifty dollars for a week to stay in this place. He took me to a few places he said I could get a job and the women openly touched my arms and chest as they interviewed me on my competence on the computer.

Every night in that hostel, I slept with my international passport and my air ticket in my pocket and I took every thing to the bathroom with me, for safety.
Victor told me subtly that he has witnessed many young men who complained against Mr Arrangee disappear without a trace.

Exactly five days later, I found my way back to the airport, taking my suitcase and leaving the bag of food. On arrival,in Nigeria, I went straight to my uncle’s house. I looked at his well furnished house, and the cars, and I just knew where the money came from. He did not deny that this is a classical case of 419, he looked at me, real hard, without any affection,without any remorse and rebuked me for lacking patience to suffer like other people in Dubai .
He said I needed to be humble. The wife added that she has always advised him to stop helping family members.

I was truly humbled by the callousness of man towards each other,and my uncle,my father’s own brother, the same father, the same mother

Bose