THE CURE

Joshua lifted his eyes and looked at the black cloud gathering in the sky. A thunder roared in the distant. It was the singing tone of an imminent storm; the storm that would bring the cure.

About 2 weeks ago, a popular preacher had gone into spirit on the altar. For five minutes his mouth moved robotically, his face eclipsed like one from heaven. In his feat of holy ascension he had declared the cure would come. A storm would sweep over mother earth and it would end. Fear not.

The countdown had begun from there and then. Sahara Reporters made the countdown a daily routine. Twitter, Facebook, and Instagram exploded with it. Al-Jeezra, CNN, BBC gave updates. The world waited for the cure.

Today was the day just like the preacher had said, the gusting wind of a storm caressing his face. Let it rain.

The wait for the cure had all began because of a virus. A virus they said could wipe out a country; the whole earth even. Corona, Covid-19 they called it; one that had come like a thief in the night.

Confusion and fear reigned supreme. Coughing and sneezing meant you had it, even shaking of hands became a taboo. '10, 20, 30 dropped dead in the street' were the news that played to the ears. And just like that, everything began to shutdown.

But today, the month of April, it will end, the preacher had said. It was so, because the first droplets began to patter on the rooftop of houses.

It had began to rain.

......

Ping! Ping! Ping!

It was the sound of notification from a smartphone.

Joshua picked it up to see an update from twitter. NCDC had updated with a tweet. Another update on testing, cases, and death in his country. It was now 10000 with the virus. 500 had died from it, and 1000 had recovered.

The cure had not be found. It never came about two months ago like the preacher had said.

What had seemed to be the last hope was dashed when the storm turned out to be a drizzle. In less than 3 minutes, the rain had stopped as quickly as it had begun. The sky had cleared, and the sun had reared out its round head to shine in all glory.

The fear had returned.

In the wake of panic, they had commanded everyone to stay indoors. Lockdown, they called it. No work, no business, no hustle, no travel, no movement. Just stay indoors if you don't want to catch the virus and die, the health minister had warned. In a country where many lived from hand to mouth?

Hunger.

It hit hard. It hit so bad. The outcry from millions had sent the government into frenzy. What if people defied the lockdown? The fear of corona was the beginning of wisdom.

They came up with palliatives; a measly sum of money that was to be shared through BVN. For one, Joshua had waited for his share till eternity, peering closely at every text messages that made his phone ping. Rather, he was rewarded by updates from NCDC. 'Wash Your Hands Regularly', 'Stay Safe', 'Social Distance Is Paramount', 'Stay Indoors', 'Isolate Yourself'. How did NCDC got his number? He wondered...

It was more than 10000 with the virus now in Nigeria. Each state and the capital having a fair share. It seemed the cure was not coming anytime soon.

Lockdown? Nobody cared anymore.

Interstate travel ban? Who cares. Nigerians understood two languages: Hustle and Survival.

A click on the update brought him to the break down of the tweet. NCDC gave updates on each states. Lagos took the lead; it was the first place the virus had been detected. He wasn't bothered; it was the comments under the tweet that interested him the most.

'Follow I follow back', 'Please help me retweet my hustle', 'Scam virus', 'Only ten thousand tested? You people are not serious', 'My shop is located at XYZ, abeg patronize a small girl with a big God', 'Please like my picture first. I am coming back to comment'...

A smile creased on his face.

Nigeria. His country. His love. A place where the people could make the most out of nothing. A place where the hustle continued.

A place where people would continue to live their lives until the cure came.