Ibrahim's Big Joke

Ibrahim’s Big Joke
(Against Global Terrorism)

We lived close to Government House, just three blocks away from the seat of state activity. My father’s house was situated close because he had purchased the house on impulse when the advert for the sale appeared in the dailies. I could not blame father. He couldn’t adjust himself to the rural lives of Obiakpo setting. The place we purchased was so frenzied; the motorway, the trade flare, the bureaucracy and the overtly civilised urban life.

Father had a habit for gardening. Our small-sized mansion was wreathed in greenery of the wildest kind. Our garden was a haven from punishment when we erred and a meditative ground as well.
That morning, I was suddenly struck by the beauty of various flowers in full bloom. I was so engrossed in them that I didn’t see Ibrahim and my brother, Dumbiri sneak up behind me and let out an eerie howl.

I practically jumped out of my skin before I realized that our Hausa gate-man and my naughty sibling were at it again.
“You buffoons! Must you always frighten one so?”
They kept laughing at me and it was so infuriating.
“I thought you were the one bragging that you are a big girl the other night. Why are you scared?” Dumbiri asked, laughing some more.
I glared at him good-humouredly, “One of these days I’m going to blow off that head of yours.”

“Yes o! Aunty Ajuju. You go blow off Dumbiri’s head to fieces like that bomb blow them head off to fieces for Jos. Bam! Bam!”
“Oh come on, Ibrahim. I didn’t mean that and you shouldn’t interpret everything I say literally. How can you even think about that now?” I asked, piqued.

“I just dey joke por una,” he hastened to calm the negative sentiment his joke had caused.
“Then don’t joke if you don’t know how to, okay?”
I didn’t wait for his reply but turned to my brother who had watched the exchange with a sly grin.

“You really are a small madam, Ajuju.” he teased.
“Spare me. That’s a rather expensive joke. Anyway, where are you off to this morning?”
Dumbiri shrugged as he tapped the large brown envelope tucked under his arm, “Daddy’s correspondence must be dispatched as usual without delay,”

“To the post-office then, okwia?”
“To the post-office then, okwia?” he mimicked.
I suppressed the urge to slap him since he was much older. He loved repeating my questions whenever he was out to play with that mischievous twinkle in his eye.

“Will you drive down there or walk the short distance?”
“I’ll walk ofcourse. I’m very energetic and still young as you know,”
“I know you’re an agadi to be precise.”

He raised his hand to deal me a painful blow but I ducked and ran into the garden. He came after me as my dress caught on a branch and we both tumbled headlong into the dirt, struggling and laughing as we rolled together.
Ibrahim was standing over us with an amused expression. He was Dumbiri’s patner in such folly and was used to naughty fights, “Let your father catch you, you will see fire.”

Dumbiri got up slowly, dusted himself and grinned at me. I stared at my sixteen year old brother, the only sibling I had and joy as he extended his hand and helped me rise. He tucked a lily flower in my hair.
“See you soon, nwobele.”
“See you soon, nwobele.” I said as well.
Dumbiri growled and Ibrahim looked up in exasperation.
“Alright. Alright! I’m off, Ibrahim.” he said and disappeared from my view.
Ibrahim was still inspecting the damages to the ridges and plants three minutes where we had fallen, when we heard the earth-shaking blast that flung both of us hard on the ground.

“Bismillahi ramonu rohim!” Ibrahim shrieked shaking from head to toe, “Bismillahi ramonu…,”
I didn’t wait to listen to his incoherent chatter or babble. My heart jumped into my mouth as a frightening thought struck my mind. I raced out of the house and saw an increasing crowd in front of the government house and sprinted there.

There had indeed been a bomb blast. Victims were lying in disparate angles, some lifeless while some groaning in pain barely moved. I saw Dumbiri’s body lying against a hedge. He must have fallen over it because I could only see his back down to his waist and his hands were shaking.
Glad he was still alive, I ran and turned him over barely aware of the ear-splitting scream that escaped my lips.
Dumbiri, my joy and only brother was headless.

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