He who fights and runs away - lives to fight another day

It was them again. I covered my pillows with my ears as the loud pounding from the speakers began. It was barely 8 am and since I had been up almost all night trying to complete a movie series on my laptop, I was still curled up under the sheets.

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It was what I had to endure each time I visited my mother's house and there was power supply. The group of people that stayed two apartments away would turn up the volume of their speaker or television set, forcing the entire compound to join in whatever they were watching or listening to.

This particular morning, I needed to sleep badly and since my mother was not at home, I decided to go over to that house and knock on their door to ask them to reduce the volume of their music.

It was like pouring water over a duck's back.

I banged on their door for almost 5 minutes when a young woman walked up to tap me.

“They cannot hear you, my sister. You can only return when there is no light and if you don't meet the owner of the house, run for your life. Those boys are troublesome”

“Who are they?” I asked her, leaving their doorstep.

“They are 3 brothers. Nkem, that one owns the house. They call him big boy, then there's Chukwu. That one can never greet somebody, and there's the one they call Tailor. I don't know if he's a tailor” she said quickly before I could ask.

I thanked her and walked back to my mother's apartment. It was a few minutes to 3 pm when the power supply was finally seized. I gratefully rushed back to bed to catch some sleep before my mother returned from the clinic where she worked as a matron and engaged me with cooking activities.

I had barely slept for an hour when the power supply was restored and the loud music began again. This time around, I decided that I was going to get the attention of those brothers, whether it took me hours or not.

I rushed over to their apartment and began banging on both the doors and windows. It didn't take as long as I thought before a light skinned guy opened the door.

“Yes?” He was eyeing me with contempt.

“Can you turn down your music? I've been unable to sleep since morning”

I didn't expect him to hiss and bang the door back in my face.

I stood there stunned for a while, thinking of the next best action to take. Before I could decide, my mother walked into the compound and I had to leave them to attend to her.

The loud music situation did not get any better. Since I had their door slammed in my face, I didn't want to go back to knock at their door. I just wanted an opportunity to meet with them either within the compound or outside so we could have a sensible conversation.

My opportunity came almost 2 weeks later.

I was just returning from the market that fateful afternoon when I saw a tall light skinned man walk out of that apartment. He wasn't the one who slammed the door in my face the last time so I walked up to him.

“Good afternoon” he nodded back in greeting and began to comb his hair using his window as mirror. “Please, I hope you don't mind, I want to talk to you about something” he asked me to go on.

“Please, you guys should reduce the volume of your music when there is light. The loud music makes it almost impossible for other people to do important things for themselves”

The guy took a long look at me then sniggered.

“This small girl, what gave you the audacity to come here and tell us what to do? Leave this place before I lose it with you”

“I don't blame you” I said without thinking, “I blame the person who lent you money to get a fairly used speaker” I started walking away especially since the one I met the last time had opened the door and was asking what was going on.

Wait, na me this pikin dey follow talk? If them born you well come stand here talk to me make I burst your teeth comot”

At that point, I knew there was nothing I could do so I walked to my mother's house as fast as I could. I still heard them ranting even after I had closed the door securely behind me.

I eventually felt bad about the entire incident. I didn't like that I overreacted with my response and had to run away like a coward when I was challenged. I was grateful, however, that I could leave before I was ganged upon by the brothers.

For me, that was not the end. I was still going to speak to the owner of the house whenever I could identify him. Afterall the ancient Greek poet, Homer, said “He who fights and runs away, lives to fight another day”.