I was thrilled when they sent us back home from school. At first I couldn’t wait to get home but that feeling didn’t last long. School had been on for over three months and I was stressed out. The thought of no assignment, no lectures, no presentation, nothing, sounded like heaven to me. And it was at first. Two weeks of lazying around, watching loads of movies, even the house chores were fun.
Until I caught the virus. SIV, Staying Indoors Virus. It wasn’t noticeable at first. The symptoms were minor. It was just missing my roommates, Adama, Tomi and Aisha, those crazy girls. Then the symptoms escalated, I began to miss my other friends, then my lecturers, then finally, I missed lectures.
The virus was spreading in my body, slowing making it’s way to my brain.
The virus was easy to contact so it didn’t take long for it to spread round my other family members. You didn’t have to make physical contact in order to get the virus, all you had to do was stay indoors.
Scientist say that the older you are, the faster the virus spreads inside your body, so as you can guess, my mum was the first to break.
One morning after devotion, she began by allocating house chores to my siblings and I, then the next thing we knew, she was exchanging words with my elder brother
“You don’t have time for your younger brother Joba, all you do is stay in your room and watch film. Give this boy small attention na”
“And you Biyi” my mum said turning to me “how many times have I told you to stop wearing red and black in this house? Do you want to join a cult?”
The surprise on my face reflected on everybody else’s. I had been wearing that red and black top since the beginning of this year and she hadn’t complained about it even once.
“And when was the last time anybody came to my shop to check on me”
“Mummy, you said we shouldn’t leave the house”
“Are you talking back at me?” My mum snapped. After that, it was a thirty minute sermon on how she suffers to keep our family together as a single mum.
I was trying to control the funny feeling inside me. It was a mixture of frustration, anger, boredom and more frustration. I knew it was the virus fighting my sanity and I wasn’t sure how much longer I could hold out.
The next evening, my sisters were arguing about who owned a pink nail polish that had been on the shelve for years, a nail polish I was pretty sure was mine. The next thing I knew, I was screaming at my younger brother
“Peter! Hope you have taken your bath this evening?” The sane part of my brain knew it was none of my business but the virus had taken control now.
Before long, my neighbors had contacted it too.
“Are you sure this boy is even my son? The guy no even resemble me small”
A statement I rolled my eyes to. Mr Okafors son was a splitting image of him. Yesterday, I saw Chinanza, running out of her house, her mum chasing after with a huge stick in her hand. That wasn’t the virus though, it was a normal occurrence on our street.