He was relaxed. He sat back and closed his eyes as the taxi cruised towards UNILAG. Life could be beautiful if you know how to go about it.
“Chislow wasn’t born to suffer. Yes, Chislow wasn’t born to struggle. I was born to be great. That is how I will live my life on campus. I can’t wait to get accommodation. I won’t have to see Tara’s face any more,” Chislow told himself.
Just thinking about Tara put a scowl on his face. That girl always made his blood boil with rage. She was the one person, outside of his dad, that he did not have an answer for. One day, yes one day, he will find a lasting solution to this pest of a sister that always bugged his life. Things weren’t always like this. Tara used to be a very loving and compassionate sister, his most beloved partner. He remembered the times when she gave him everything that she got – ice cream, chocolate, toys and so many other things. That was like aeons and aeons of years ago. What could have gone wrong? All of a sudden, Tara changed. She was now constantly on his neck. Go and sweep, go and wash, make your bed, wake up, behave yourself and a thousand and one insignificant things were the only things he heard from her these days. She no longer had any sense of fun. She was no good to society as far as Chislow was concerned. She should consider being a nun. That will certainly fit her. He smiled. Tara as a nun! Not a bad idea, he thought. Why couldn’t she have just remained the way she used to be? They used to play pranks together; they used to have fun on poor unsuspecting victims who never had a clue as to what hit them. How could any one suspect two little kids as innocent as they looked when they were up to any pranks? It just wasn’t possible. He remembered their music lessons at the National Institute of Music. Those were pleasant memories. That was when the pranks were at their height. Mrs. Dojolu, the proprietess of the music institute, till today cannot figure out why her white cat walks with a limp. Old age certainly wasn’t the cause. Tara and her dear brother may never have graduated from the music school had she found out that the then young aspiring musicians had decided to leave the field of music and experiment with medicine and surgery. They wanted to settle the argument, once and for all, that cats’ blood is red and not brown. An old discarded syringe from the trash can was the only surgical instrument that was required. Anaesthesia was not necessary. Poor cat, she did put up a gallant fight! Chislow still has scars to prove it – they had actually tried to wrap up the cat afterwards with some Plaster Of Paris (POP) that Tara had picked up from whoever knows where.
How could Mrs. Adeborahim, a music teacher at the institute, have known that the reason her car refused to start when the mechanic told her that she had bought adulterated fuel was because the two rascals had wanted to fuel her car with mango juice, which they had secretly brought with them from home? It was a little odd that day when Chislow asked for permission to use the restroom right after his sister had also asked for permission to do the same. That was how the ‘unholy allies’ met at the car park beyond the watchful eyes of Mr. Shomzy, the institute’s security man. Two litres of pure unadulterated mango juice went down into the fuel tank of Mrs. Adeborahim’s Peugeot 506 car. That was one car that will never get a doctor’s report that it was deficient in vitamin C.
Aunty Mayowa will never believe any one who tells her that the day her massive 120 kg frame came crashing down the stair case was a day that had been well-planned. The ‘fall’ was a well executed military campaign by the two bored, but fun seeking, duo. Innocently, as they always looked when they are in communion with the devil’s Department for Tricks and Pranks, they sat on the landing of the stair case that leads downstairs. It was a well-timed and planned military operation. D day was her birthday. Her niece and nephew just had to make it fun – at least for themselves, if not for anybody else. She didn’t see the well hidden pair of legs that were targeted at her.
“Aunty Mayowa, happy birthday,” Chislow cooed.
She beamed at him, the folds on her cheeks stretching and bouncing out like a rubber ball that had just been inflated. Thank you she said, as she turned to start descending the steps. She did not see Tara, who had wished her happy birthday earlier on, according to plan. Her mind was on Chislow. She did not feel or see the pair of legs that tripped her. Down the stairs she went sailing, like a squawking duck. She was a sight to behold. Her entire massive frame, up side down! She looked like an undignified ostrich with its legs in the air.
That was around the time Chislow noticed the change in Tara. She never seemed to have gotten over the incident. Chislow could almost swear he saw tears in her eyes when he went to call her down stairs for lunch, later in the day. Why did Tara have to change at such a time when the fun was just starting?
The taxi Chislow was in had just gone past the school gate when Chislow realized that he was already in Unilag.
“Unilag, I am here,” Chislow thought with a smile.
“WELCOME!” Unilag must have echoed to our hero.

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