Eez Positive I Positive! I No Kill Person! (Episode 4)

Shey you see NYSC? That thing issa scam! A federal scam! These people carried me to a glorified village that they call a town, and they expected me to survive there? Just laidat? Hubba, hubba!

I guess one of the major things I had to be grateful for during my service year was the fact that several churches had family houses in the town. Seeing as most of our employers weren’t disposed to giving us accommodation and the local government had no corpers’ lodge, our easiest recourse was to stay in a family house.

Now, the family house I stayed in had quite a number of characters. There were Omolara, Funke, Lolade, Milton, Yems, Danny, Chusky, DD and several others whose names I’ve forgotten. Most of the time, I felt out of place in that house as it was mostly Yoruba people in the house. So whenever they started gisting, I’d be in the dark. When the guys started going on and on about soccer and certain idiot (read: action) movies, I was also out of place. My best friends became my phone and my laptop.

I already had been turning into quite the introvert, what with my inability to connect with people or even see a reason to be bothered with them, let alone work up the energy to step out of the house. Staying in that house compounded it – so much so that my earphones became part of my skin, simply to prevent me from having to have a conversation with anyone in the house.

My silence didn’t go unnoticed, though. Yems kept trying to get me to talk, going out of his way to talk to me, to get me interested in things, to insert himself into the things I was doing. I found his bugging cute. Tiring, yes, but also cute. He soon became the closest thing I had to a friend in that house. So close that he could use my laptop when I wasn’t around and we could converse about certain topics. That freedom extended to most of our belongings too. (Corpers’ life, anyone?) I think that’s the reason why it happened.

Usually, I lock my ARVs in a small compartment at the bottom of my box. Whenever I need to take my meds, I unlock it, take the pills and lock the rest back in there. However, that day, I forgot to lock them in. Heck, I didn’t even put them in the compartment sef. I was running late for work so I hurriedly got them out, took the pills and zipped up the bag. And I was off to work.

When I returned from work, I greeted everyone and went to shower and change my clothes. That done, I went out to the sitting room with my laptop, spread myself out on a mattress there and proceeded to turn my laptop on. Then, I felt someone sit next to me on the mattress. I immediately knew it was Yems. He was the only one who could come that close to me. I turned to smile at him when I noticed him typing very quickly on his phone. A few seconds later, he passed the phone to me. When I saw the message, my heart did a three-step jig.

It read: Dude, I saw your drugs. Why didn’t you tell me?

In my head, I was like: Ah-ahn! Shey this boy dey craze ni? How do I just come out and tell you I’m poz?

I typed back to him: I didn’t think it was news. Besides, it’s my business only.

That done, I returned the phone to him.

That’s how this boy practically dragged me from that bed outside the house. When we were far enough from the house, he started talking about how hurt he was that I couldn’t trust him with that. Talmbout how he didn’t need to find out on his own, that don’t I know that sharing secrets like these is good for the soul, don’t I know God can do anything if we ask as a fellowship… Yada, yada, yada!

When he was done ranting, I quietly told him that I didn’t tell him because I knew his reaction would be exactly what he’d just displayed. And that the rest of the fellowship would be worse. Because I would be turned into an object of pity, a prayer point for them. And that was the last thing I wanted.

When he saw that I was adamant about keeping it away from the rest of the house, especially over the prayer aspect, he quietly agreed. But not before telling me that he’d keep praying for my “perfect and total healing” from God.

Well, he did keep his promise not to tell anyone else – because I’d have known if he did. I’d have sensed it from their behaviour. However, nothing about anyone changed. For that, I was very grateful.

Unfortunately, he also kept his promise about praying for me. Omo Yoruba keeps sending me scriptures to pray with, encouraging text messages, prayer points and the like. He calls every now and then to check up on me. And every time he calls, he ends by telling me that he knows that God will soon perfect my healing.

And all I want to tell him in response is: Eez positive I positive! I nor kill person!

Written by Mitch