Abimbola Adebayo

Mr. Adeniyi shot a warning look at his youngest son, who gave him a pout in return, daring the consequences. The Adeniyi men had a zero-tolerance for wantonness. Infact, Uncle Bayo had once beaten a homosexual who lived down their block when he was a teenager, but he matured over the years. “The world is falling apart because human beings lack empathy. We all need to enter one another’s feelings and not condemn ourselves. Condemnation only creates monsters. You see, we need to protect the weak, the disoriented, the condemned, the defenseless and the likes of them because their state of mind could be beneficial or detrimental to us.” Uncle Bayo had said to his children and nephews.

“Empathy should be offered to every human being who needs help. That is our code of honor,” Wole retorted.

There was dead silence.

Dami and Muyiwa glanced at each other, both of them dreaded the consequences of their brother’s outburst. Wole wanted to bite his tongue afterwards. “I’m sorry sir,” he said quickly, lowering his eyes. He could not afford to get into trouble because there was a lot at stake. Their mom shrugged uneasily in her chair. Her husband would have asked the boys to go upstairs and remain there until he sent for them. But he did not. They were now men. Calculative and determined.

The Pashtunwali code of honor was all over the news that year. It was an extremist moral view in some parts of Afghanistan and Pakistan. Four U.S. Navy SEAL went on a mission to capture a Taliban leader in Afghanistan, but the mission was unexpectedly compromised. The soldiers were ambushed by Taliban fighters who killed three of them and injured one. One Afghanistani sabray chief; Mohammed Gulab and some villagers harbored and protected the wounded American soldier, fending off attacking tribes until word was sent to nearby US forces. It was their code of honor. This code of honor known as Pashtunwali means that hospitality, asylum, mercy and shelter be provided for all who require it; especially strangers or guests, despite their background and intentions. The Adeniyi boys had applauded the Afghanistani’s effort in protecting the American soldier and their Uncle’s mutual understanding for Emeka, too, and they expected their father to do likewise.

Mr. Adeniyi pushed his chair backwards from beneath him and got up hastily, leaving his family on the dining table. He did not want to hear about any radical code of honor. He expected his sons to abstain from wrongdoers and also, to take his instructions and judgments critically, but they did not.

***

Emeka put his luggages on the clean floor. Carrying them had become a strenuous and monotonous exercise since he left London. He looked around the open space and sighed in relief, the house was almost done; his kissing cousin, Ebuka, had supervised the renovation while he was away and he was grateful for it. He opened one of the letters Ebuka kept in the locker downstairs. They were about a dozen, all of them written by Seun. He had dated her for four years in secondary school, but she broke up with him shortly after the fire accident.

Hi

 I hope you read this before throwing it away. I am writing you for the umpteenth time and still no response; your silence is driving me crazy. Why did you leave like that? I’m dead worried. Emeka, I still love you and I regret my actions. It wasn’t my fault; my parents asked me to break up with you because they felt that we were too young to date and they felt that we did not make accountability our priority. We’re both twenty-one-year olds now. Nobody can tell us what to do anymore. Please call me as soon as you read this.

 Love, Seun.

 An avalanche of memories rushed into Emeka’s head. He wanted to tear Seun’s letter, but the doorbell rang. He did not have time for shenanigans, he had taken a hard line on her; he was in love with John and nobody else mattered. Seun lost her opportunity because she was undiscerning. He had loved and cared for her thoroughly and he stood up for her in school and helped her with her assignments too, but she had refused to tell her family members that they were dating and as soon as they got wind of it; they asked her to call off the relationship. And she too, did, in his most nerve-wracking moments.

Emeka wiped away his tears and walked sheer to the door. To his utmost surprise, Mrs. Adeniyi and her younger sons stepped into the sitting room. The Adeniyis were elated. Muyiwa hugged Emeka tightly, grinning from ear to ear. Kunle and Wole had since returned to their part-time jobs and studies in London. Muyiwa had come running into the parlor, shouting that he saw some light in Emeka’s house. He, his mother and Dami dashed out of the house to go and see; leaving only Mr. Adeniyi in the parlor.

“Emeka,” Mrs. Adeniyi said as she walked in with her boys. “Why did you leave like that?” Her penetrating eyes sized him up. His ponytail and make up gave him a pretty look and he looked dashing in a pair of skinny jeans and sweat shirt. Mrs. Adeniyi’s presence reminded him of her evening visits to see his mother; Emeka shivered.

“I’m sorry ma. I was depressed. I needed to get out of this place quickly,” he replied in a British accent.

There was a bit of silence.

Emeka playfully twisted Muyiwa’s hand in a bid to conceal the awkwardness. “Do those boys still bully you?” Emeka asked them. The boys said no and asked him about London. They all sat on the new sofa. He told them that he had gotten some money from his parents’ estates to renovate the house and study for a diploma in London. “Since Seun broke up with me, I felt that it was not necessary to stay here any longer,” he said.

“Is Seun the reason for your gayness?” Mrs. Adeniyi asked.

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