Diamonds Are Not Forever

Life was adventurous for Kongi and friends who all grew up in a secluded Research Institute established in the heart of a town in Oyo, Nigeria. Cocoa Research Institute of Nigeria (CRIN) bore its black bold characters against a white intimidating wall that called attention to every passerby that he was within the vicinity of the biggest and the most enterprising research institute in Ibadan, Oyo State, Nigeria. Six meters away from the main gate, a tarred street ran across 20 bungalow buildings aesthetically painted cream and wine. They were called T.O.

At the age of ten, Kongi already knew that T.O. was an acronym for Technical Officer and that living in the Technical Officers building was a big deal among the boys. Six of them grew together in T.O, and they strutted and swanked on their way to school every morning in sheer display of pride. Living in T.O. simply meant that one’s father was one of the people who made things happen at CRIN, sort of a policy maker or that in the scheme of things at CRIN he was a man of teak and timber caliber as opposed to others who lived in another less developed area of CRIN called JSQ (Junior Staff Quarters).

Boys from JSQ visibly envied Kongi and co., for the pure fact that T.O. where they lived had it all: a boy’s quarter, swimming pool, telephone, a set of finely finished Formica furniture, garage that contained elegant cars that T.O parents pushed around and, which by extension the boys thought were theirs. Kongi and his friends knew that JSQ boys envied them. Anytime they passed by, they cast a sidelong look and watched the JSQ boys pointing at them, whispering: look at the T.O boys, look at the T.O boys. The T.O boys loved this clandestine reverence and if there was anything that brought them joy, it was helping the JSQ boys fan the embers of envy. Anytime and anywhere their path crossed they say to the JSQ boys’ faces: don’t you know me, I am T.O boy.

This situation summarily established some kind of brotherhood among Kongi and his five friends that which solidified their friendship even more. Holiday season was the best for them. And if it rained, they were even merrier. Holiday and rain often provided the means by which they consummated their T.O brotherhood, often by sneaking around practicing pranks and notoriety. It was during holiday that they, in the rain, inadvertently broke three of Mr. Carter’s louvers with their red volleyball which they purchased with contributions from their weekly allowances. Deplorable as the act was, the crash sound of broken louvers when hit with volleyball was thrilling and drew them more into the vicious act. Kongi and Co. broke louvers and then they broke more louvers.

The togetherness, love, boys-age unity, stupid camaraderie that T.O bequeathed on the boys, in Kongi’s estimate, was interminable such that he vowed to hold the eternal sacred act of friendship tight in the palm of his hand. The boys did everything together – everything. They went to the same school, CRIN Staff School, picked up in the morning by the same Leyland bus and, maybe by sheer luck, even sat in the same classrooms. They tilted the same school farm together in a program that was called: Operation Feed the Nation (OFN). Kongi had no doubt at the back of his mind that this friendship was endless.

On one Wet Season afternoon, however, the sky appeared misty and cloudy. Kongi, now 12, standing by the windowpane and gazing intently into the sky, knew so well the meaning of the sky’s appearance. The height of the bond between the boys had reached such a stage that they acted with telepathy most of the time and didn’t even know. Such telepathy was displayed with this misty and cloudy sky. The other boys got the message, too. Without exchanging verbal communication, each knew it was time to converge at kongi’s boysquarter.

Yes, it was holiday season and it’s about to rain. It’s going to be fun cracking Mr. Carter’s window and a couple of houses’ more. The rain that day was heavy. Thick sheets pounded the earth and roofs so much that Kongi thought the world was going to end. Yet, making sure that he was not seen by any member of his household, he sneaked out into the furious rain where together with his five friends they must actualize the planned pranks for the day. Onward, through the rain, they waded to the general direction of Mr. Carter’s residence. Kongi couldn’t tell exactly why his insolent group picked perpetually on the poor plant pathologist and British expatriate. They just felt certain thrill carrying out some havoc on Mr. Carter’s property. And now, louvers are going to shatter, cars’ tires deflated, and a quick trip to the plantation would see to it that several unripe cocoa pods are plucked off the tree and the ground littered with them.

A lanky and very vociferous boy named Dandy was the custodian of the group’s instrument of destruction who often fought with the other boys just so he could lead the project of louvers breaking. At Carter’s residence, Dandy produced the volleyball and with all the excitement in him, launched the red ball. Whether Dandy lost control or something else happened, he slipped and slithered.

Bam! He hit the ground the same time the volleyball hit Carter’s louvers. Everyone was torn in between which of the two scenes to concentrate on. But as no louvers broke, they looked disappointingly toward Dandy urging him to get up and finish off his job. Dandy did not rise up.

Kongi moved closer to where his friend laid stock-still. “Dandy, Dandy,” he called as he tugged him with his right hand. The strength of the rain, at this moment, rose but Dandy would not rise. Kongi’s terror-filled face stared at the other boys. Their faces were picture of pure panic. Scared and perplexed, Kongi stood transfixed and did not notice Mr. Carter’s presence. But he was sure to hear his voice as if from a distance far off, asking them what happened to the boy on the ground. Kongi couldn’t tell what Mr. Carter did exactly, but in an eye twinkle, siren and flashing red with white uniform arrived at the spot and carried Dandy away even as each of them got whisked home by their parents under the ruthless rain.

As Kongi received the death news of a dear T.O boy and friend in his room, later that night, where he served punishment, he got the first jolt of his life. It was the moment that a veil was lifted off his face. And it came badgering into him, a spark, a warning that life is not a dress rehearsal and that it has no duplicate either. With Dandy gone, just like that, Kongi learned that an act of friendship of twenty friends could not last twenty years. There will always be a departure. Though involuntarily, Kongi surrendered to life, dropping the eternity notion he had hitherto held foolishly in the palm of his hand.


People also view

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *