Lesson: When next you waste something, remember it is the prayer of someone else.

Lalasticlala

We had had a long day. The sun was blazing hot. I absent-mindedly trudged out of the sea of gray and white uniforms. Getting home was the most important thing on my mind because getting home would lead me to get earthenware that bore cool, fresh water. The thought made me swallow involuntarily. I winced. My throat was constricted because only sticky saliva that was almost none existent found its way down my patched throat. I could have easily had cold satchet water outside the school, but that would have meant walking the 20 minute drive from school to home. The purpose of the water bought would have then been defeated. Better to stick with hiking a rickety ride to my bustop and walking the not short distance home, to my earthenware pot.

I was relieved when I finally alighted from the overcrowded bus. Greasy, sweaty faces, repugnant armpit odours and uncouth barbaric chatters were the price I had to pay if I really wanted to get home on time. The first buses to leave the school gate were the ones that bore the loud and dirty chatterboxes - the rowdy students who had spent their transport fares on yoghurts and sausages and now, would board buses in pairs making a fourteen passenger bus bear 26 people instead. The other little cabs that admitted civil students and would not allow for the barbarity of pairing( or is it doubledecking now?) came much later. Waiting for them would have also meant enduring the angry glare of the two o'clock sun.

Anyway, I began my walk home, consoled that in some 20 minutes, I'd be home. Halfway home, I met a pack of students from a neighbouring school - the likes of the ones that board the first buses. My eyes met with the most appealing sight. Cold water. The degree of my thirst, well nigh made me forget my principles - never stooping so low as to beg. To think that I really would have, appalled me. Those students were the true colour of repulsive. What with their necks shiny black with grime, and their dirtysocks clad feet raising one hell of a dust as they walked!

I decided I didn't want any of what was theirs. Just as I was about to turn my eyes from their company and continue on my journey after choosing to maintain my integrity, they did the most damning thing! They unanimously threw the half empty satchets of water they were drinking away.

What on Earth! Wait... Prior to this time, I wouldn't have thought much of this. It was pretty much normal for students to throw water away. Even I, did it most times. My eyes rested longingly on the sweating satchet that was now covered with sand. My eyes followed the gentle spurts of the cold liquid as it found its way through a tiny opening and into the sand. Closing my eyes for a split second and swallowing for the second time that afternoon was a reflex.

My eyes trailed the backs of those who had committed this sacrilege. They continued in thier garrulous way, oblivious to what had been done. Just for the briefest of moments, my eyes misted over. I quickly blinked to stall what might happen next and continued on my way home.

I vowed never to waste water again, no matter how small. I figured placing the half empty satchets on pavements or low walls along the street was better than throwing the whole thing away. At least I was sure it would be useful to some persons, even if it was in the minutest of ways. Perhaps someone thirty is watching from behind, and hoping to God, that he could partake of the water.

If you come across such satchets anywhere, just know that I have passed by that way. I have had a satchet of water to drink and have been unable to finish it.

The End

The end.

Thanks for reading

It was a few weeks to the end of the session. By the end of the session, we would have lost the automatic passport we got to live in the hostel. The prudent forsees the evil day and hides himself but the simple pass on and are punished. We were the prudent sorts and we would prepare for the rainy day. The best time was now because a new session would send prices skyhigh. The opportunistic agents and houseowners would have a field day acting the boss by then because we'd need their services and wisdom would have begun to tell us to better accept the offer because time is going.

We both planned on pairing and sharing _ two to one, "pay half, I'll pay the other". We were low on cash; the sun was blazing hot. We set out anyway. We kept on walking. It was like the journey to heaven's dome. The Mama that fried pastries on a large scale was the cue that would make us heave a sigh of relief; but she wouldn't show up. The journey was still far, we kept on. My partner had lost interest, I was beginning to also, but since I initiated the move, I had to keep on. We trudged. Finally, we saw the Mama. We crossed the road and took the path that led to the house that'll become our home while in school for the next one year.

The house was eerily silent. The compound was nothing close to fine. Inside was neat anyway. My partner suggested I asked one of the occupants about the house and how manageable or enjoyable it was before knocking on the Landlord's door for enquiries. We knocked. She opened. She was a student. But she was selfish with info. Or was it rathert that she was guarded? She seemed to be censored; under some obligation not to spill, so, we wouldn't turn tail and run. We said our thanks with tight smiles and slipped inside again. The eerie silence returned. I wanted a house whose environment was serene and quiet; not one with an eerie silence.

I summoned courage. Merely asking wouldn't hurt and hey, we came all the way! Better we made all the enquiries and established interest in the apartment. Time was running out and other students would readily grab the space if we fiddled with it.

We knocked. A woman attended to us and asked that we come in and make ourselves comfortable. I was skeptical. The large parlour was sparsley furnished. The floor was bare cement. I sat on the edge of the seat. So did my partner. The Landlord came in. He was blind. Oh! I would that he hadn't been; for perhaps it could have put a little restraint on his verbal prowess. Or wasn't it said that those with certain deformities had their other sense organs heightened, because the potential energy that was meant for the sense of perception lost, was evenly distributed amongst other sense organs that were functional, thereby increasing their potential abilities? Well, the man was blind but he was verbose. He could perceive the faintest sound but he'd be damned if that hearing didn't find expression through his mouth!

He talked endlessly, and when we established our interest in the one room apartment that was vacant in his house, he was pleased. We asked for the rent, but he wouldn't budge. Not until the hinges of his tongue were greased with the lubricant of OWO BOOKING. We had to pay for the information. The idea was ' if they're interested in the house, they'll pay this token and once paid, they'll think twice before deciding to not take the house'. I was curious. I had the money. So, I paid. My partner warned me, though.

And then, he began, punctuating his breakdown of the rent with brown-toothed watery chuckles. I was near repulsed but I was scared too; the man looked like a phantom. We listened to his blab.
He didn't stop talking for the next 45minutes... needless expansions, dry jokes to which we gave tight chuckles for the sake of respecting an elder, disjointed diversions that bared past glories and conscientious efforts at establishing himself as a man of integrity both then and now as far as it concerned the office of a landlord.

We made sure not to make comments that'll lead to more talks _ we had tried that for politeness sake at the beginning and learnt the hard way.
Eventually, he ended the analysis of how the rent amounted to that much and then began with the rules that governed living peacefully in the house. At the end of all this, he gave a self satisfied grin and congratulated himself on a job well done.

"The talking business is no childs play, don't you think?" We nodded assent and quickly mumbled a beeni to assert our support of his claim. Still grinning and punctuating it with chuckles that now sounded like gasps, he said " So, you see that I did a real job with the breakdown eh? Your money has served you well."

We said our thanks and began to shuffle our feet to register our readiness to leave. He asked when we'll come back." Soon", we chorused.
We bolted. Then all the flaws I was unwilling to admit, joint forces with Baba's tendency to be verbose and meddlesome. There was no way I could stay in that house.

Baba must still be sitting there in his parlour, hoping that he's secured these ones because we paid Owo booking. I laugh. He had looked like he would appreciate a good meal that night. I was glad to have contributed in some way, to the satisfaction of an old man.That money must've gone a long way. I am glad.

Owo Booking...

Introduction

I was willing to take it. I would not mind the distance. All I desired is silence. All its other faults had thinned out in the face of my desperation. He would have had a fair chance at claiming the booty. But, wait, hasn't I fought with every reasonable bone inside of me?. Every reasonable and logical cell had come with staves and clubs and watery desperate me had withstood them brashly; branding only sheer will. Well, the latter won and the booty was going to be dumped in Baba's laps. But he flunked.

Hello... New writer here...

Here is the first ever story I will publish online

Critics are welcome please