Chapter 12: The Night of Snoring and Regret
After giving Kwame small sachet water to quench his thirst, I sat on the bed wondering what mistake in life brought me here.
Kwame, meanwhile, was busy chatting like we were in a family meeting.
"Chale, you remember those SHS days? The chop bar near the gate? The way we dey soak kenkey for science class?"
I nodded weakly, my body begging for rest.
Suddenly, he yawned loudly, stretched his legs till his toes nearly touched my TV stand, and said:
"Chale, make we crash small. Tomorrow we go talk plenty."
Before I could say "Amen", the guy had already pulled half my bedsheet over himself and lay down.
On MY bed.
I looked at my life, looked at my wall, and said quietly:
"Samuel, you've survived mosquitoes, broken pipes, tro-tro wahala, dog chase, Auntie Maggie, coal pot — but today, you will sleep on your own floor."
Since the bed was now community property, I took one small pillow, placed it on the floor, and lay down like a disgraced houseboy.
Five minutes later, just as sleep was about to carry me...
The sound started.
It began low:
"Grrrr... grrrrrrr..."
Then grew louder:
"GRRRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHH!!"
Kwame was snoring like a diesel truck trying to climb Aburi mountains.
I covered my head with the pillow.
Still, the sound vibrated through the room like earthquake tremors.
I turned left.
I turned right.
I sat up.
I prayed.
I almost cried.
Nothing worked.
Kwame's snore had different gears:
First gear: Tractor. Second gear: Airplane engine. Final gear: Broken church drum during crusade.
At one point, the snore even sounded like a goat giving birth.
I stared at the ceiling and whispered:
"God, is this how Job felt during his trials? Am I being tested too?"
By 3am, I accepted my fate.
There was no sleeping that night.
Just me, the cockroaches, and the symphony of snore in surround sound.
End of Chapter 12