The Season of Brown Water

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CHARACTERS

MAMA BOLU: A woman in her mid-50s, owner of a foodstuff shop. 

BOLU: A young man in his mid-20s. 

MAMA NKECHI: A woman in her late 40s, and a shop neighbor to MAMA BOLU. 

OFFICER 1: Police Officer

OFFICER 2: Police Officer

YOUNG GIRL: A young girl of 7 years old, Mama Bolu’s customer.

RADIO VOICE: Governor

SCENE

The shop is damp, small, and nearly empty. There are a few bags of foodstuffs scattered around. Some have spilled on the floor, leaving traces of dark lines that indicate the height of the flood from the ground up. There are two plastic chairs beside each other. KUNLE sits down, glued to his phone screen. MAMA KUNLE paces around, checking the wet bags of garri and flour at intervals. A small MP3 radio plays softly.

Just outside is a small veranda, where a large wooden table displays rubbers and provisions. The road in front is filled with potholes and murky water.

RADIO VOICEOVER – GOVERNOR: We are deeply affected by the recent incident. We sympathize with our dear citizens who lost their lives, homes, or businesses. Today, we are assuring you that we will ensure that every one of you…

(MAMA BOLU squeezes water from one of the bags. She lifts it and realizes that it has torn underneath. She shakes her head and glances at Bolu, who scrolls incessantly with his airphones plugged in.

RADIO VOICEOVER – GOVERNOR: Every community will be attended to. And we assure you that no one will be left behind. 

(MAMA BOLU drags a loud hiss, walks closer to the radio, and turns it off.)

MAMA BOLU: Story, every time. They have seen fools. BOLU, these people think we don’t have any brains. (She stares at BOLU, but there is silence.) BOLU! (She raises her voice and pats him on his shoulder.) Remove that rubbish thing from your ears! 

(BOLU startles and quickly unplugs his ears.)

BOLU: (Frantic.) Ma! You…

MAMA BOLU: So, you didn’t hear everything I’ve been saying all day. (Shakes head.) I have been speaking to the air, right? (Pauses.) Look! This thing you’re constantly putting in your ears, hmm… I’m saying it now. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. 

BOLU: It’s not as if I didn’t hear anything. It wasn’t that loud. It doesn’t block the ears like…

MAMA BOLU: (Interrupts.) Shut up! And don’t you dare trade words with me. (Stares at BOLU.) You think because you’re now tall with beards and muscles? (Pauses.) So, what did you hear on the radio? 

BOLU: (Drops his phone and looks around as if he’s finding a lost item.) Hmm… something about the country. Blatherings here and there. 

MAMA BOLU: Huh! What exactly?

BOLU: I don’t know

MAMA BOLU: How can you know? When you’re always on your phone day and night. Let’s assume there’s a current danger where you are right now, you won’t even know anything. (Grimaces.) I pity you. I really do. 

BOLU: But it’s not as if they ever say anything new; it’s always the same old story. 

MAMA BOLU: If you don’t listen, how do you know?  (She drags a loud hiss, moves away from BOLU, continues pacing, and scans through the mess of her shop.)

BOLU: (Silently.) I’m tired. 

(MAMA BOLU does not hear.)

MAMA BOLU: Just look at the book I use for record-keeping, for goodness’ sake. It has almost turned into a tissue.  Damn! May God judge them all!

(BOLU does not answer. He continues scrolling.)

MAMA BOLU: (Picks up a soaked paper.) See, look at what it has turned into. (Pauses.) All your school fees and pocket money. (Raises voice.) This is where it comes from. (Lowers voice.) Not like your father ever bothers anyway. God’s judgment is always the best. May all of them… (Quickly stops speaking, draws an empty chair closer, and sits on it.)

MAMA BOLU: Once they come. We won’t be here sitting around like fools.

(BOLU remains glued to his phone screen. Footsteps approach from the verandah. MAMA NKECHI enters.)

MAMA NKECHI: (Scanning the surroundings for a seat.) Good afternoon, MAMA BOLU.

(MAMA BOLU clears throat and stares at BOLU. Their eyes meet, and BOLU quickly gets up from his seat and stands. MAMA BOLU stares at him again, and he rushes to the verandah.)

MAMA BOLU: (Drawing the empty chair towards MAMA NKECHI.) Is NKECHI back from school already? 

MAMA NKECHI: (While sitting.) Yes.

MAMA BOLU: Time is running out too quickly today.

MAMA NKECHI: Really? Today was very slow.

(Motorbikes make a loud, splashing sound from outside.)

MAMA BOLU: All these motorbikes speed as if they have double lives. When does one even hear a word in this place?

MAMA NKECHI: Imagine God sparing your life a few days ago, only to lose it today. (Hisses.) All because of impatience. 

MAMA BOLU: God forbid (Snapping her fingers over her head.) It’s them, not me. 

MAMA NKECHI: Of course. That’s what I meant, I mean…

MAMA BOLU: (Interrupts.) I needed to clarify. In case. 

MAMA NKECHI: Even heaven must be full of prayers and curses from the recent days. 

MAMA BOLU: This last one was even worse. It’s just as if a demon angrily triggered the water. There’s so much rage. I don’t lie to myself; I know that having this shop stand is nothing but a miracle. Did you hear how many bodies they found down the streets? It’s really sad. 

MAMA NKECHI: Who knows? You know there are things beyond the naked eye in this life. So many people lost everything. But I’m grateful for life regardless. (Snaps and faces Mama Bolu again.) I’m happy you’re also alive. 

MAMA BOLU: Naked eyes? (Grins.) There’s nothing of the sort in this matter. We all know the source of our problem. We both know those who keep sand-filling. (Pauses.) Those rich and selfish bastards. They live life as if there’s nothing beyond it. Just look at my shop. (Looks around.) May God deal with them. 

(A woman walks by and greets the two women. They both respond with a smile and great enthusiasm. There’s a short silence after.)

MAMA NKECHI: (Breaks the silence) Eeh! Things dey happen for this area.

MAMA BOLU: So, all her certificates, everything is gone like that? With all the books. Some people are really good at hiding their pain o. Or maybe she thinks we haven’t heard. (Pauses.) That man must be happy now; he can now do as he likes. Some women are exceptional at harboring suffering. 

MAMA NKECHI: I tell you. I don’t think she knows we have heard. You know, those people are good at pretending that everything is fine. All these so-called elites are pro at deceiving themselves. I even heard that… (Quickly looks around.) I will tell you that later. We don’t know who is passing. 

MAMA BOLU: True. (Pauses.) But after this, I hope we have a meeting in this area so people can stop pouring refuse into the gutters. 

MAMA NKECHI: It’s easy to say. But where do we pour it? Not like anybody comes to take them.

MAMA BOLU: Burn it, at least. That’s what I do. 

MAMA NKECHI: If everybody does the same thing? Do you know what happens? 

MAMA BOLU: Whatever it is. I know the cost I have to pay for what happened. You’re lucky it didn’t happen to you. 

MAMA NKECHI: Mind you, if the shops were just a few buildings away, things would have been a different story. Be grateful for life. (Scanning the shop.) You have foodstuffs to sell. So, it’s not that bad. 

MAMA BOLU: They must pay o. They must!

(Two policemen walk straight to MAMA BOLU. MAMA NKECHI sees them and exits. BOLU follows the policemen in and quickly sits on the empty chair with one earplug in, scrolling his phone at intervals. The two police officers patrol the shop with a pen and paper. BOLU stands beside her son, watching the officers keenly. The officers stop patrolling and walk closer to MAMA BOLU.)

OFFICER 1: This is very unfortunate. 

MAMA BOLU: That’s why I invited you here. Abi? 

OFFICER 1: They took so many things. How were they able to even carry it across so much water? Are you sure that…

MAMA BOLU: Please, officer. Just…

OFFICER 2: (Interrupts.) Let’s get straight to business. I will be asking you a few questions, and I will appreciate a prompt response from you. 

MAMA BOLU: Whatever you want to ask, I’m ready. 

(OFFICER 1 removes the cover of his pen, flips through pages, and places his pen on an empty page. Officer 2 stares at him briefly.)

OFFICER 2: How did you say you arranged the goods? Where did you place them exactly? 

MAMA BOLU: The exact place you were parading the other time (Points her index finger.)  Right there. Everything. 

(OFFICER 1 quickly jots down. OFFICER 2 looks around one more time.)

OFFICER 2: Okay. Is it the first time this has happened? 

MAMA BOLU: Yes, I have only heard about situations like this, but I have never experienced it firsthand. In fact, I wonder how people find the chance to engage in such activity.

OFFICER 2: Do you suspect anyone? 

MAMA BOLU: Every single person in this area is a suspect. Not only the young men, officer. Every single person in this vicinity. Look! Apart from myself, everyone else is a suspect. 

(BOLU stares at his mum in shock. Still, he’s unwilling to engage and continues scrolling. One of the officers makes eye contact with him and quickly looks away.)

OFFICER 2: What about your friend in the next shop? 

MAMA BOLU: (In low tone.) Friend? That one? As I said, everybody is a suspect. 

OFFICER 2: Alright, what’s her name? 

MAMA BOLU: (Quickly.) Mama Nkechi 

OFFICER 2: I mean her real name. 

MAMA BOLU: Erhm… I don’t know about that. We call ourselves by our children’s names here. So, it has never crossed my mind to ask. (Pauses.) Just put Mama Nkechi

OFFICER 2: That is not who she is. What is her own name? 

MAMA BOLU: I said I don’t know. I will have to figure it out later. Just put down what you already have. 

(BOLU shakes his head after hearing his mum speak. His mother scowls at him and faces the officer, forcing a grin.

OFFICER 2: Well, you will have to come to our station to put down a statement. 

MAMA BOLU: (Surprised.) Again? What for? After all the interrogations. The incident is giving mental stress already. Yet, I still had to pay you so I could catch the thieves that took advantage of the situation to loot my shop. 

OFFICER 2: Did you just say pay?

MAMA BOLU: (Grimaces.) Did you come for free? 

OFFICER 2: (Facing officer 2.) Did we charge her at all?

OFFICER 1: No, sir. 

MAMA BOLU: Why are you speaking like this, officer? 

OFFICER 2: Do you know how much fuel is now? How much we are going to spend on the investigation, among other things? You think all these things are cheap? 

MAMA BOLU: I’m in so much loss already. 

(A YOUNG GIRL walks into the verandah to buy something.) 

YOUNG GIRL: I want to buy two rubbers of Garri.

(MAMA BOLU rushes to attend to her. She quickly picks up a rubber and uses her hand to pour some Garri inside. She hands it to the YOUNG GIRL in exchange for money.)

MAMA BOLU: (Walking closer to the officer) Apologies if I took your time. 

BOLU: (Angrily.) Mummy, but that rubber was short now. It wasn’t even full. 

MAMA BOLU: So you can talk now? Suddenly, you can hear? (Hisses.) You just open your mouth whenever you like. Is this the best time to bring this up? Shame. 

OFFICER 2: (Pretending not to see what had just happened.) MAMA BOLU, you were saying…

MAMA BOLU: Maybe I will find a way to add something more. I don’t even have anything right now. (She bends a little and picks up some cash from a small, covered bowl.)

BOLU: Haa! Mummy. What we’re still managing. 

MAMA BOLU: Keep quiet. 

OFFICER 2: (Staring at BOLU.) Everyone is also managing

BOLU: Not like this one. This place is all messed up. 

OFFICER 2: (Facing BOLU.) Young man, did you vote? 

BOLU: Vote? (Smiles sheepishly.) What does that even mean? Lol. 

OFFICER 2: You see? 

BOLU: (Silently, facing down.) I bled. 

OFFICER 2: (Startled) Wait! What? 

BOLU: At the protest that year, I bled. (Pauses.)  You’re here because those who were voted in the last time refused to expand that gutter there into a bridge. This is not the first nor the second time. These people show up, but they never build anything once they get there. What else do you want me to do? 

OFFICER 2: So, now you just scroll through your phone? (Pauses.) Does that solve anything? 

(BOLU does not respond.

OFFICER 1: The rain will come again. 

(The officers collect more money and leave. MAMA BOLU sits on a plastic chair, staring hopelessly. The wind makes a howl from the outside. Distant footsteps run. BOLU plugs his earphones back in.

Lights out. 

Olaseni Kehinde Precious

Olaseni Kehinde Precious is a writer from Nigeria. When not writing, she’s either lost in pages or telling stories through photography.

Follow her on X: @thekprecious and Instagram: @thekprecious.