Lost and Found, Careful Owner
(A Short Story on Self Esteem)
'Where on earth could this boy be?' Godwin mumbled to himself and then with a loud voice called out from his sitting room, 'Okon!'
'Sir!' came a shout from the kitchen.
Godwin was aware of where his Calabar cook was but he would always ask himself the question before calling on the young man. Doing so always reassured him of his position as the master, or may be it helped him raise his voice to eventually shout Okon!
Okon appeared almost as he answered that anyone observing would definitely conclude that he had been at the door to the dinning waiting to be called.
'Sir', he answered again to register his presence, with his right palm on his navel and his left hand suspended behind, at his waist. He made a theatrical bow. He was sweating profusely, wearing Dunlop slippers that made a flip flop sound when he walked. He actually ran most of the times. He had admired Madam and other maids in the neighbourhood putting them on and so thought that wearing them would as well make him look like a city-brought-up. Okon did not notice that the slippers' design was specifically for the feminine gender, or if he noticed, he did not care. He had an Afro haircut which he always boasted of making him look like some of the people he watched on television playing football on a clean-cut pitch. Then as if to crown it all he wore a perfume that smelt like a disinfectant.
Godwin enquired about what he was preparing for supper.
'Fried rice and plantain, French salad, water melon juice. Sir'. Okon liked to be sophisticated. He liked that because he did not want to be seen as outdated or as he used to hear people say, behind the moving trend.
Godwin turned to look at his cook. He raised his face and observed Okon devotedly from the head down to his toes as if he was trying to locate a particular oil dot. Noticing the irritating perfume and the slippers, he felt vexed, but immediately doubted any genuine reason for his vexation. He smiled wryly. He quickly repeated the evening's supper to himself and smiled again, this time chummily.
'When will this boy learn to be himself?' Godwin asked himself.
He thought he had muttered those words in his mind but was sure he didn't when Okon immediately asked, protruding his head with his face facing his left and his right ear his master, 'sir I should...?' He always asked that whenever he did not get his master's instructions correctly, ever ready to exhibit his servility.
Godwin looked pitifully at his cook who has engaged himself in a struggle albeit uncalled for. Okon could prepare a delicious variety of African dishes facilely, but tediously, his foreign dishes were not as tasty as his African's. He would not like this anyway. Overlooking his expertise he concentrated on his weakness. It was indeed pitiful. 'He knows not what he is doing', Godwin's aged mother would thus put it.
'Okon', Godwin called with a low tone, 'come back home'.
                 ********     
And so Mr. Okon (aka Afrijolly) sat on the sofa in his parlour that evening reminiscing with a seeming nostalgia. It's now eight years since he left his master Godwin but those words "come back home" were still fresh in his mind. At certain points he raised his face to the shimmering light above and smiled. His face glowed. He now owns an eatery which he calls "Afrijolly Kitchen" widely acknowledged for his mastery of different kinds of African food. The well-to-do's troop in daily and come out with loosened belts and toothpicks in their mouths.
'Are you sure this Afrijolly is not using roots and herbs to lure us here?' one man in a blue kaftan asked his colleague, 'because a day cannot pass without my coming here.'
'If he likes let him use taproots from Nri, the most important thing is that my wife won't have to poison me anymore with those things she sets before me', replied his colleague.
They laughed boisterously and waved to the waiter not to worry about their change.
It was evening and Mr. Okon had come home. Not just that, he was at home with himself. He now does what he knows how best to do and from that lives large. He feels ensconced in his current position.
He took a long deep breath and shifted a little bit from the spot he occupied on the sofa. Before him and right above his plasma television hung a calendar with the inscription "It's in You". It was a calm evening and so he could hear from the neighbourhood a song by one thickly bearded Nigerian musician playing "... is my talent, that's my i-den-ti-ty...."
He stood up. 'I am back, sir', he said, smiling.

- @ciboura

Self acceptance is vital in life. "In whatever you are be a good one."