Bummi

Becoming a journalist was never part of my plans, dreams, or budget. But here I am today, a certified journalist. Surprised? You shouldn't be; the country had other plans for me.

Originally, I wanted to pursue accounting, which I felt was my true calling. I had always dreamed of studying accounting, especially after all the struggles and hardships I endured in school. From basic education to higher institution, my goal was to feel real money in my hands, whether it was mine or not-at least before it went into the ATM. I wanted to experience the texture of a millionaire's money.

However, when you get a revelation about something in the spiritual realm, never conclude it in the physical world. Why is Dua Lipa's song "Physical" playing in my head right now? Anyway, moving on.

In my dreams, I counted and touched money as an accountant. But was it real? Was it meant to happen? I often feel like everything in my life ends up falling apart, including my dream of becoming an accountant. This crazy country never approved my chosen career.

After burning midnight oil, earning five credits in WAEC, passing NECO, and scoring 278 in JAMB after two sittings to meet the cut-off mark, I finally got admission to Obafemi Awolowo University (OAU).

Let me catch my breath. Whew!

Despite not being an indigene of Osun State, Ile-Ife, I was given "Information Science and Media Studies" instead of accounting. Ridiculous, right?

After waiting at home for two years for my dream course, I had no choice but to move from Ado-Ekiti to Osun. University life was a mix of sweet, sour, and bitter experiences due to the time, expenses, and experiences involved.

My dad, unable to handle family responsibilities, left us for an Edo woman who had returned from Italy, leaving my younger brother, Nifemi, and me with our mother, Mrs. Omolara Ademola. While dad and his new family live happily in Verona, Italy, we have faced hardship here in Nigeria. He hasn't contacted us for ten to fourteen years, completely forgetting about us.

Mom has been our rock ever since he walked out the door. The day I signed out of school, I received a call from Nifemi saying that the "Akande" market, where mom sold vegetables and tomatoes, had been destroyed by a fire. Lives were lost, and our only source of income was gone. It was a bittersweet day.

Mom was devastated. I thank God English was my last paper before graduation. After my exams, I didn't waste time before returning to Ado-Ekiti.

By God's grace, I completed my service and secured a good-paying job in a media company, handling journalism and newscasting, thanks to an old friend and close coursemate, Lola Oluwatobi. We became best friends during our National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) in Plateau, Jos, and now, we both work at the same company.

With this job, I managed to pay off mom's debts, cover our rent, pay Nifemi's school fees, and help mom start a new business. Now, she sells wrappers, laces, hollandaise, aso-oke, hi-target, and various clothing materials.

*********

...Author's Note / Announcement ...

Hello dearest readers!

*"This is only the beginning. The Ayomide legacy is vast, and the threads of the Tapestry of Lives stretch farther than you think. Each book reveals another piece, another heartbeat, another fate intertwined with the last.

And yes, my dear readers, there will be seven books in this journey-seven stories of blood, roses, power, passion, and destiny. We've only touched the surface. The best (and perhaps the most dangerous) is yet to come..."*

Bummi

"As you can see behind me, an accident occurred this morning around 6am on the Ovia river’s bridge. It involved a lorry carrying a load of sand heading towards Benin City, Edo State, and a small black Lexus 350 Rx car traveling towards Ondo State. Eyewitnesses report that the lorry driver lost control while trying to slow down and ended up crashing into the car. Here with me is one of the eyewitnesses."

I turned to the side with my mic. "Good morning, sir. What’s your name, please?"

A bald man dressed in Ankara attire willingly faced me and began speaking in pidgin English. His tribal marks indicated he was from the west.

"My name na Adebisi Suleman."

"Okay Mr. Suleman, can you please briefly describe what happened here this morning?" I had to hold my breath because the man had a very bad mouth odor and an unpleasant cologne, with numerous cavities in his lower teeth.

One thing that almost made me gag was when he leaned towards the mic I held out for him.

Eww, his breath is terrible. I wish I could just give him a toothbrush and toothpaste, but that would seem disrespectful.

"Eh–" He began, and I struggled to hold my breath. "This morning when I was preparing to go to the farm, I heard a loud GBOO!!! It shocked me, so I ran to see what happened. Two cars had collided, like yam and beans. My sister, the lorry driver tried to run when he saw the Lexus passengers were unconscious, but locals held him and handed him to the state CID police. The Lexus passengers were quickly taken to the hospital with severe injuries. I thank God they didn't die."

Okay, that's enough before I run out of oxygen.

I moved the mic away from his mouth and kept a safe distance to avoid catching anything.

"Thank you very much, sir." I faced the camera for my viewers. "As you've heard, my advice is to be very careful and prayerful. Be cautious wherever you go, and if you're driving, ensure you know your controls well. Bummi Ademola, A.B.O TV News."

"Whew!" My bestie, Lola, quickly maneuvered the camera and sighed deeply. "Meh, that was too much, gal."

"Too much for what?" Exhausted from Lola’s antics, we started heading towards our media van. "The only thing that's too much is the frequent accidents on this bridge." I gulped a bottle of water.

Lola looked sad. "Anyway, I feel sorry for the victims. Thank God it's just injuries and no deaths."

Does she even realize what she's saying? Even if it's just injuries, aren't they severe? Won't those people suffer during treatment?

As our van hit the highway, Lola grinned widely at me.

"Babe, how are you?" She put an arm around my shoulders. I knew what she was getting at. "You’re buying lunch today."

I just rolled my eyes, too drained to argue.