THE ARIYOS

I had nurtured the dream of being an entertainer from my childhood. Right from when I was five years I always volunteer to be the Master of ceremony for any of my friend’s birthday party. I remembered that I used a boiling ring as microphone for the first birthday I anchored. There was no microphone and I had to improvise. Hardly would there be a week without any birthday party in my street then. We have so many kids around and our parents are not even relenting. An average home has a minimum of five kids then.

             I can never forget the Ariyos. They had so many kids, that they don’t invite other kids when playing football. Their number is enough to form a standard team on both sides and two extra sets. You need to see them when going to church. The only car they had was a Volkswagen beetle commonly called’ ijapa”. To salvage the situation, Mr Ariyo bought ropes so the car can accommodate all. Those that couldn’t make it to the interior of the car were tied to various parts of the car. Some on the roof, some were hooked to the door even some takes a comfortable place in the car trunk. The youngest of them sits on Mr Ariyo’s lap in the driver’s seat while the only girl balances firmly on his shoulder. The twins have their own spot under the seat. Mrs Ariyo obviously sits in front and four others sit on her lap. Even the side mirror is not spared; one of them has a spot there. If you want to explain a refugee situation just use the Ariyos as an illustration. They fit perfectly.

            Meal time for the Ariyos is survival of the fittest. Mrs Ariyo being fully aware of their massive population does not bother to serve in plates. They all eat directly from the pot. The children already have adapted insulated hands. No matter how hot the meal is, they dipped their hands without getting hurt. At times, the struggle becomes intense. I remembered a day when Dauda, the eldest son carried the whole pot of rice in desperation of hunger and started running across the neighbourhood. His hungry siblings spontaneously ran after him in troops. The die is cast. The third world war is imminent. Mrs Ariyo was not left out of the struggle she was also involved in the chase. She chased the boy half naked round the neighbourhood. Hell was let loose when Dauda was eventually caught. His hungry siblings did not spare him at all. He was bruised, bitten and assaulted. The situation is not new to Mr Ariyo he immediately grabbed his tear gas and instantly went to the riot scene. He dispersed the mob and ordered all of them back home.

            There was a time armed robbers raided all houses in my area. To our greatest surprise, the Ariyos were the only household that was not affected. Who will rob the Ariyos? The robbers must have spared their house for fear of being outnumbered. Mr Ariyo has seen their family morning devotion as a lucrative business because he compels every member of his family congregation to drop offering after the devotion. This is Mr Ariyo’s mechanism of retrieving the money the children earns from the menial jobs they do for neighbours. What a world!

            My greatest shock happened one day when I was returning from school and I spotted Mrs Ariyo with protruding belly. Obviously she is pregnant again. That day I was baffled. She delivered some months after to a set of male triplets. I wondered how Mr Ariyo will cope considering the meagre income he receives as a corporal in the Nigerian police force. Even after the triplets saga,his favourite quote still remains "I will not rest on my oars". If I was given the opportunity to name the triplets. According to Yoruba tradition I will just name the triplets after the Yoruba word for suffering (Iya). Iyayemi (suffering suit me), Iyamilekan(my suffering has increased) and Iyatomide  (suffering sought me out) respectively.

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