Time Says No – Praise Osawaru

The sky rumbled, drops of rain descending. A number of people—mostly residents of Ijoro—dressed in black, gathered around a brown coffin, black umbrellas shielding them from the rain. A man in black, wearing a white collar, stood inches away from the coffin. He held a bible in his left hand, his other hand swept the air as he spoke. A few seconds later, he shut his bible and bowed his head. Then a feminine voice emerged from the gathering, airing Amazing Grace.

Nadoese stood before the coffin, lowered into the ground. He kissed the flower in his right hand, and threw it atop the coffin. He turned around and walked away, his face boiling with a blend of anger and sadness. His mother watched, exhaling. Somewhere in her mind, she understood that he left to cry elsewhere. Her tears weren’t shy, they streamed freely. Her daughter had only breathed for a little less than a score before Ogiuwu uprooted her from the living.

Nadoese sat down, reclining on the bark of a tree, his knees drawn up. He took slow, deep breaths.  Three days ago, his sister walked the earth. They talked and laughed about how Nigerians are quick to talk about racism when tribalism is buried deep in the country. Tears trickled down his face. In his right palm, a purple pendant necklace sat gracefully. It had belonged to his sister. He gripped it, closing his eyes, as he fell into a memory.

Finding Efe by Johnny Drille played from the Bluetooth speakers perched on the table in Eghe’s room. She sat before a mirror, while Nadoese stood behind her, his hands loosing her braids. White light bulbs hung from the ceiling, and the window was open, permitting the sound of birds and air to breeze in.

“Ekinadoese, be careful. Don’t cut my hair.”

“It’s not my fault I don’t know how to do this,” Nadoese responded, with a chuckle.

“Now, you’re learning.”

Eghe’s phone chimed, putting a warm smile on her face. She grabbed her phone with her right hand from the surface of the table. 

“Who’s this person who keeps beeping you every five minutes like this?”

“Hey, mind your own business. Oya, go get a lover,” Eghe shot him a look through the mirror. 

“Oh, okay, I’m won’t loose your hair again,” Nadoese responded, discharging a half-loosed braid.

“Wait. Can’t someone play with you again?”

He laughed out loud.

The tears trickling down his face brought him back to reality. He breathed out slowly, and wiped his face with his left hand. 

“Ekinadoese?” A masculine voice emerged from behind him.

Nadoese’s heart throbbed, taken aback by the sudden intrusion. 

“Sorry to bother you,” The man uttered, walking around until he stood before Nadoese. He appeared in a different kind of attire, unlike others who came for the burial. He looked to be in his late forties. And he wore a white shirt, brown pants, and a long, black coat. A loose Adire fabric-tie hung from his neck, and his hair was so low, he could be mistaken for a bald man. 

“Um, I’m not in the right mood for a chat right now. This isn’t the time.” Nadoese stood up, tucked the necklace in his pocket, and dusted his pants. 

“Believe me, this is the right time.” The man pulled out a black pocket watch, and opened it.  Light blue clock hands ticked in the watch and a map of Africa floated above in blue lining. 

“Whoa!” Nadoese staggered, nearly stumbling over a tree root. 

“Easy there, Ekinadoese.”

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?”

“My name is Pamilerin, and I’m here to help you rewrite a past.”

“What do you mean rewrite?”

“Eghosa, your eighteen-year-old sister, was raped and murdered, and her body was found three nights ago. Time says no. According to Lira, there’s still a window to go back and save her without entirely altering the timeline.”

“What? Are you talking about time travel?”

“Yes.”

“Are you crazy or something?”

“I perfectly understand your lack of belief. You see, this here is African Time,” he paused, raising his pocket watch in the air, “with this device, I can visit any time period in the whole of Africa. I can read the time stream, and in very few cases, alter the timeline without making waves.”

“Okay. These all sounds like something from a movie. I don’t know if you know, but my sister actually died. She was raped and murdered, her body dropped by the fucking roadside!” Nadoese’s voice went a few decibels higher.

“Ekinadoese?”

“Get the hell away from me,” Nadoese waved him off, walking back to the gathering. 

#

It was midnight. The stars peered out, and a half-moon hung in the dreary sky. The night breeze swayed, compelling Nadoese to wrap himself in a blanket. He laid in bed for almost an hour, unable to sleep. The words from Pamilerin were on replay in his head. He closed his eyes, hoping to purge his body of insomnia. 

A few minutes later, he had dozed off, or so he thought.

“Leave me alone!” His sister’s voice reverberated. 

Nadoese opened his eyes and found himself in a lit room, his sister held down by two dark-skinned boys. The first one smacked her in response to her scream. The other boy pinned her, parting her legs. 

“No! No! No!”

“Shut up!” The boy who parted her legs yelled. “Gag her now,” he added, facing the other boy. Then he unzipped his denim pants, yanked out his penis, and slipped between Eghe’s legs without a second to waste. 

She shrieked. 

“No!” Nadoese roared, jumping up in bed, panting. His room was unlit. He felt his pajamas moist, a sign his body, too, mourned. He leaped out of his bed, walking towards the window to open it and receive copious air from the night. 

“What the hell?” He saw a man standing, gazing at him. It was the same man from the burial, the one who sounded like an asylum escapee. 

The man raised his pocket watch in the air, yelling, “Clock is ticking. The window will close soon. It’s now or never.”

Nadoese glanced around as if he was expecting a response from his room. He didn’t hear a sound. His parents were still asleep. He walked over to his closet, and grabbed a cardigan. Then he exited his room, creeping slowly to the front door. 

Their home was a three-bedroom flat with his room situated in the middle, and he had his keys, so it was uncomplicated to sneak out. On opening the front door, he saw Pamilerin standing, waiting for him. He closed the door and stepped onto the porch. 

“What do you want from me?” Nadoese snapped.

“I just want to help you. The window closes in an hour. If you want to save your sister, now is your chance.”

“S-s-so, like, you are a time traveler, and that pocket watch allows you to travel through time?”

“Yes.”

“Come on! And I’m supposed to believe that?” Nadoese chuckled.

“Well, maybe after you’ve seen it in action.”

Pamilerin waved his fisted right hand in the air and opened it. The pocket watch, laid in his palm, opened. For a few seconds, he stared at the blue clock hands. Nadoese wondered what he hoped to achieve until the map of Africa floating above the watch began to swirl. The hands of the clock ticked backward, then spun hastily as if about to unravel. 

Blinding blue lights emanated from the watch, enveloping Pamilerin and Nadoese. Pamilerin snapped his finger, and the lights dissolved. Nadoese turned around, gasping. They were back at the cemetery. 

“What the hell?” He uttered, as he gaped at himself, from across the field, speaking with Pamilerin by the tree. 

“Do you believe me now?”

#

Two hours past midnight, Nadoese and Pamilerin stood at the backyard of Nadoese’s home, under the blanketing sky. Nadoese had changed his outfit. He wore a white shirt, black pants, shoes, and Pamilerin’s long coat and Adire fabric-tie. Pamilerin disclosed to him that it was necessary for the job, for the time travel. It was the attire for any traveler. 

Pamilerin placed the pocket watch in Nadoese’s hand. A pin ejected from the side, piercing his thumb. It retracted with a drip of Nadoese’s blood, then it opened. The clock hands glowed blue, and a map of Africa appeared, hovering. 

“So, what do I do now?”

“Regular people use ten percent of their brains. But people like you and me, we can push further. To use Lira, you have to picture the time and place perfectly in your mind. Stare at the clock hands and move it with your mind. And time will unfold before your eyes.”

“You say it like it’s simple. Are you sure you can’t do this or come with me?”

“He who wields Lira must go alone.”

“But you took me along the other time.”

“Quiet. Focus,” Pamilerin hushed him, instantly. 

Nadoese raised the pocket watch, staring at the clock hands. He knew when he was going to—the moment after Eghosa left home to see her boyfriend without informing their parents. He stared for a few seconds, but nothing happened. 

“I don’t think you want to save your sister. Or maybe you’re happy she’s gone. Maybe this is what you wanted, to be the only child. Then your parents’’ love would be focused on you alone.”

Nadoese fumed from Pamilerin’s utterances. He gripped the watch and stared; a fiery look stamped on his face. He exhaled. Eghe’s voice resounded in his head, and the clock hands ticked backward. He sighed softly. 

“I did it,” he uttered, looking at Pamilerin who gave him a thumbs up.

Blue light emanated from the watch, engulfing him in a bubble of light. The light grew intense, causing Nadoese to shut his eyes. When he opened them, it was daytime. 

“I’ll be back before Mum and Dad, okay?!” Eghe yelled as she boarded an Uber in front of their house. 

Nadoese hid behind the tree, watching his past self, shut the front door. He exhaled slowly, flapping his coat. A white paper flew out, courageously, from the inside pocket. He paused. Then bent down to pick it up. 

“Hi, Ekinadoese. Sorry to throw Lira on you, but I had to. For a thousand years, I’ve been the bearer, travelling through time, helping Africans. It’s been a long ride; one I can finally rest from. When Akello, the previous beholder, handed Lira over to me, I took it up, knowing at some point in time, I, too, would eventually pass the torch to someone else: you. Your journey begins with saving your sister, but after that, you can never live a normal life. You cannot spend over three hours in a time period. Eventually, you’ll have to forfeit your life. Like I said before, I’m sorry to throw Lira on you, but I had to. Save your sister. After a thousand years, you too will be able to hand it over. Sincerely, Pamilerin.” “Bloody Hell!”