by Ifeanyi Dike Jr

There was my mother and sister who were on the UK Immigration Blacklist for trying desperately to smuggle in ogbono, crayfish and miscellaneous.

Last week, I was a little too generous – I agreed to travel with all of my nuclear family, knowing to full extent how bad a decision this was. But they did desperately need a tour guide, and who better to show them around than someone who has trampled on snakes and scorpions in all its nooks and crannies.

There was my mother and sister who were on the UK Immigration Blacklist for trying desperately to smuggle in ogbono, crayfish and miscellaneous. There was my father who usually cannot suffer fools but had suffered long questioning and detention at Ireland’s immigration. And let’s not forget that I was wrongfully detained for attempting to stroll through with a little inconsequential can of lidocaine that I was lead to believe did wonders for ejaculation – not that anyone was complaining. And who could ever know that it was in the same family as cocaine.

Surely, the immigration officer was perplexed when we emerged at his desk with our travel documents. When he punched our details unto his computer, whatever came up must have been the makings of a communal detention. He strived to catch his breath and gathered strength to contain and sort through all the information he had just been plagued with.

I put on my charm that was of course as reliable as ever and answered his entire questions, confidently as ever. I did same on behalf of the entire family for which they are eternally grateful but refuse to admit or even acknowledge.

There were not going to be any incidents on this trip that required detention or awkward explaining on our next. Long as we were less wayward.

First, we wanted to get the shopping out of the way so I took the Dike’s to Oxford Street. Anyone who has been there knows that the crowd can only compare to that of Balogun market from the late 90’s which most of us only heard about and dreamed of experiencing. People had to hang their bags on their necks for the fear of pickpockets and when the pedestrian traffic was at its high, people were lifted from the ground and they floated through because there was no more leg space on the ground.

I had planned to stroll the earth with my sister alone, looking for stores to squander and consume. But my parents insisted on coming along and we couldn’t say no to them. They are after all, the vessel through which we are in existence today.

We had no phones nor did we have any means of reaching each other in case the need arose but I let them come anyway. So, it was important we stayed together at all times. But –God forbid – Lotanna obeyed simple instructions. Once we reached, my sister twitched excitingly, as if she just had all her Christmases at once or like a one in the midst of a complex partial seizure. She jolted into any store her body possessed her to.

Between Jane Norman, Top Shop and Next, I stopped to indulge in the uniqluo display window for a second and then I looked around to find no one. Everyone had gone to whatever store that pleased them for a second as well.

The first person I found after hours of an emerging heart attack was my sister waddling through the crowd with two brown bags and –thank God – lest she was exposed to the assortment of psychos in London.

I was hoping she was with my parents and she was hoping the same. So basically, we lost our parents just like my mom foresaw.

We went to any old people store we could find until we were so tired, even our thoughts began to hurt. We thought about calling the police and sending in photos but that was the kind of action, reserved only for people with a flair for the dramatics and a passion for paranoia. Instead, we decided to go back to the hotel hoping that they’d somehow find their way back.

As we ran from the train station to the hotel, we sighted an unusual gathering towards the entrance. The walls were plastered with our passport data page with ‘missing’ written boldly on the top of the page.

Imagine our shock knowing well that this was punishment for losing them rather than a genuine attempt at finding us.

‘Tell us everything’ the policeman said ‘just so it goes on record’.

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