The Trials Of Uzodimma

A Short Story of Tears, Agony and Despair

 

Technically, he was a Carpenter. Wood and nails were his companions. Sawdust filled the holes of his ears that he never got a chance to pay attention to the noise, the roaring voice of the city. The beasts in his head struggled for prominence as he struck each nail into his masterpieces daily…
Thud! Thud!! Thuddddd!!!
But in Reality, Uzo was a Mad Man. Yes, a lunatic. Schizophrenia would have been the word to describe his medical condition. He was a sight to behold whenever he approached the Cemetery Marketsquare at Aba, a routine he had come to master and would not miss for anything. How did he always know it was noon, the marketwomen wondered.

“Whimper Dimper, I see you Super! Dibia, come let us relate… Osofia, let’s chelate the agglutinins and uncover the cellular microscopic nature of the world’s biosystems… Let’s tell Hitler, that Trump is nothing, that we’d beat up Putin and Kim Jong-Un, and Uzodimma would be World Leader! Hahaha!! ”

He’d then pause for a second or two, as though listening to some alien from Mars, as he stared into space looking for something missing. Then with that Eureka expression on his face, he’d locate his usual spot and begin the day’s ritual. Nails would immediately spring out of his purple knapsack as he sat with confidence in his workshop, with children whose mother’s weren’t watching standing in a circle around the handsome spectacle. Uzodimma would qualify for a world wonder in the hearts of his viewers as he spoke with dexterity the language of the Queen of England, with such fine accent you wouldn’t find easily on the streets of Aba.

Was he always like this? Crazy and nails and all? Definitely not. For not any man was born mad, and even the mad don’t bear mad offspring. Like our people say, “na condition make crayfish bend”…

Wanna know the one thing that led to another… Find out tomorrow on the Trials of Uzodimma!!!

Catchya…