CHAPTER 7

As soon as we got to the police post, some of the police officers came to see us. I can't say what they had in mind. But I am sure that one of their thoughts was the issue of their police cells been capable of containing us all.

I am sure they really would have liked a big case like this with lots of people to 'wet their palms' but then, they would have preferred a situation of dealing with such a case outside than dealing with it in this manner especially with a set of people who seemed interested in getting all arrested.

Our landlady had said, "them think say we dey fear police station, say them fit intimidate us to give them money abi na beg them make them leave us. Anyway, shey na station them say them want take us come, we don land na..hope say space go dey for all of us..?"

Mr. Obika Istifanus, a.k.a professor oversea was delegated to talk on our behalf and handle the issue of writing the statement at the station. Prof as we often call him was one of our neighbors who had claimed to do part of his higher level education at UK but came back into Naija. He was always fond of hanging glasses on his face, especially hinged on his broad nose. Sometimes, I wonder if he baths with his glasses as well as sleep with them. He is married with a son- Derrick of about five years old.

Prof seem to have the special ability of using heavy weight vocabularies when angry. It seemed as if anger was the stimulant to the grammar department of his brain.

When asked, our landlord said, pointing to prof, "he will speak for us as well as write the statement". Well that was alright by the man with the commanding voice. It would make the job easy. It would be better than asking everyone to write a statement. One would write for all of us. He was getting tired of us. Some of toddlers were crawling up and down the police station. Some children were crying, "mummy, I want to go home".

He wanted this to be done with as fast as possible. He would have dismissed us quickly but he didn't want to look weak or incapable of handling a case of some 'trouble makers' who seemed to jump at the idea of going to the police station. Did they think that the police station was a place of fun or what? Or that the police men were jokers? To make matters worse, one of his officers were assaulted by me.

"Let him write", he motioned and went into his office and to make the whole thing look like a joke, guess who they handed over to prof to take the statement. Officer Adamu. He was not the first choice neither was he the second. In fact, he was not part of the list but he wanted to handle it. He probably felt that since he was directly involved (and assaulted), he was a better witness and would ensure that no line of lie enters the statement. Prof was delighted. He knew what to do. It was fun to him.

" No worry just dey write I go dey dictate am", prof said when officer Adamu handed him a pen. He knew what he was doing.

As soon as the officer was ready, prof started, "I am here to state with all veracity, facts regarding the incident of inhumane and abusive treatment metted out on..."

Adamu was lost. "kai, Oga speak am por English mana"

"I'm doing just that. Before you interrupted me, I was....", that was how he trailed off. We were at one corner laughing quietly. This prof guy na one bad guy. Real baddo. No be say him no sabi speak pidgin English o. He sabi but he just wan knack they guy anyhow. Been a trained lawyer, he knew what he was doing. The Adamu guy was already sweating and looking for who to get to take down the statement but none would. He had pushed some of his colleagues away when he opted to take the statement. He didn't know what was awaiting him. That reminds me of a quote: beware of what you wish for.

The man with the authority after some time peeped his head out of his office and signalled our landlady. Looking at his face, I knew he was laughing too in his office but he tried to conceal it. The whole thing was looking like one papa Ajasco drama like that. And very unlike a typical Nigerian police station where force and intimidation was rampant.

Whatever it was that the two top fellows- my landlady and the police head spoke, I do not know. But when they emerged. They were all smiles. But I noticed something particularly unexpected. The man was checking out my landlady. And before you rush to pour spittle and kerosene on the police chief, you should know that my landlady was one very beautiful woman. Even after giving birth to children (Nkechi, the eldest was around nineteen years old), she still looks beautiful. The thing was she married when she was quiet young. So, I would not really blame the police chief. Moreover, I later learnt that he was a widower. So, anything fit happen.

E fit be love found in a police station. And she was giggling somehow. Mehn..I tire o. We were discharged and left for home. The two Hilux drove us some. So, you see what I was saying. Which police station does that? Arrest people and transport them home after release. And which police head does that? I fear my landlady o. She fit don knock this man brain comot.

As soon as we left, I took out my phone and dialed Evelyn's number. She picked almost immediately.

"Girl, na wetin? Pelzin no fit flash you in peace? You no even gree the phone ring at all"

She laughed, "How are you?", she asked.

"Just came out of a police station"

"Oh my God! Why? What happened? Which police station?"

"One question at a time Eve. Kwalo police station"

"My dad heads that station"

"What?", I almost shouted. I knew her father. It was the police head, Mr. Akunna Peter. " You mean Mr. Akunna"

"Yes"

I just smiled. No wonder I felt that the police head's face reminded me of someone I had seen recently

You are doing a wonderful job

Great job manh.

AvatarMode:
Holymann...Josephdominic...my invitation cards are here for you fella...

Thanks man...ready to grab it with all momentum

present sir,
and pls buy zobo for us all nah

CHAPTER 8

After the call with Evelyn which lasted till we got home, I decided to plug in my phone to a wall socket via my charger to charge. There was light. The battery was down. I don't seem to understand my phone these days. I mean the battery. Ever since, I started fixing it at Bro. Stephen's (one of my neighbor's) place whenever he puts on his generator, I noticed that the battery's power has been getting weak.

I am sure the generator was responsible. I had decided to never plug my phone to get charged by any generator that is acting or planning to act 'kolomental'. You know those types of generators. They have certain attributes. One is they could be so loud that their sound could be heard even beyond Bakassi peninsula. Another is they could be the labour room from which lots of carbon monoxide are brought forth. Smoky things. Such deserve a chimney to be built and attached to the exhaust. Another is such generators are often very 'temperamental' and given to 'anger fits'. They would shoot up the voltage and drop it suddenly without warning. The electric bulbs would get so bright like the sun in a moment and get dim in another. Crazy gens.

I knew that generators especially these types and even the so called healthy versions of small Tiger generators- the popularly called 'I- pass- my- neighbor' can affect one's phone battery. The gist is on the street. You don't need to browse the internet to verify this. And so, I decided that I would not get my phone's battery have any relationship with such generators. But NEPA abi na PHCN or whatever name that might change into would not let honest me stick to that decision.

The NEPA or PHCN or candle bearers (they seem to put our area connected the low current grid, i guess, and few days to month end, they would connect us to the full current grid and then appear with light bill to collect money for full light.) swore that I would break my personal vow to my phone's battery. I been dey form at first o, dey say: "bone, I ain't doing this shii..(referring to charging my battery with those rascals of a generators)" but my 'bone talk' no last. Before I knew what's up, I saw my hand knocking almost forcefully on Bro. Stephen's door. His generator must be one of the noisiest gen that ever liveth. And then the visits continued. Now, look at what I have put myself into..battery gbege.

Anyway, them NEPA guys chose to remember us today, so I plugged in my phone hoping that they won't suddenly look out of their window and 'discover' that we now have light and then send an enemy apprentice to turn it off.

I had to take a bath and as I did, I was letting my mind play again the events of the day but I chose to fast fast forward and jump the moment with Evelyn at the eatery and on our way back. That side needed proper reflection to enjoy the memory. I was already feeling zing for her. I would not waste such sensations in a bathroom. No, a befitting place would do. Moreover, I am one of those 'Flash baffers'. You know Flash right? One of the Marvels Comics characters like Superman, Batman, Green lantern, and more. He is the speed guy. I don't waste time in a bathroom. I just flash in and flash out. As I am rushing in, I am getting ready for my rush out. My quote is the exit begins from the entrance.

As I replayed, I remembered Ngozi's courage and I felt amazed but then I remembered for the first time, how she was looking at me when I was on call with Evelyn. It was a strand look. I have never seen her had that look before. It was a look of anger, another kind of anger. The type a woman feels when her man is giving love attention to another woman.

What?, I thought, I hope I am wrong. I hope what I am thinking is not true. I hope this girl is not crushing on son of man. And like a scientist who has locked himself away in a laboratory working tediously on discovering the key to creating an effective vaccine for a disease, I reached down into the memory card in my brain and went to 'Interactions with Ngozi' file and boom! Its a crush thingy o. What? How was it that I did not know? How? So, this seventeen year gal is crushing on me. Oh boy! May it not be so, I prayed. I just hoped I was wrong.

Enough of that, I thought. I needed to think of other things. My schedule for tomorrow. I needed to make a mental outline of the schedule. More importantly, I needed to go around and submit my CVs and job applications where needed. I had done online job applications too. I was just hoping that something good just happen. I have been really in need of a job for long. I hope I would secure one and end this difficult life that I had been living.

After my bath, I decided to call my younger sis. She was busy blaming me, "you don get girl abi, that's why you forget me na"

"See your big head. You no dey call persin? Na so so flash you sabi Chairlady Flashers Association of Nigeria", I fired back at her jokingly.

"See me o. So na because you manage call me na im you no go gree me rest. OK na...make I surprise you", she said and cut the call.

As I started at my phone screen, he call came in, " Hello...Oga..", she started laughing

"See me see gobe o...you don get credit finally. Wow!!! I'm impressed", I joked

We talked about school- her studies and forth coming exams and them our family. Popsy and Momsy especially. That Momsy has been disturbing Popsy ahead of time for her valentine gift. I just laughed. See this old school Romeo and Juliet.

"If she buys first for him, will it be considered a sin?"

"Abegi..stop that. He ought to buy for her first. Ladies first. Remember?"

"First in receiving abi. Women ehn. You people and this your 'me first' mindset?"

"Before nko"

We talked more and hung up. I needed to sleep. I turned off my light and slept off. Unknown to me, a message had come into my phone while I slept.

XFlame:
present sir,
and pls buy zobo for us all nah

Welcome on board

dimssy:
Great job manh.

Thanks boss...

queenitee:
You are doing a wonderful job

Thanks Queenitee..your comment is really refreshing...

queenitee:
You are doing a wonderful job

Thanks Queenitee..your comment is really refreshing...

Josephdominic:

Thanks man...ready to grab it with all momentum

Yes o..that's the spirit man...

AvatarMode:
Yes o..that's the spirit man...

Yes o.... high spirit man

I Like ur sense of humour. U shaprapra.

sabbiboi:
I Like ur sense of humour. U shaprapra.

Thanks, I'm grateful...

Better read the msg

CHAPTER 9

I woke up tired. My body was aching. My joints especially. Shoulder joint. Knee joint. Arms. And more. My back too. It was as if while I was sleeping, a trailer decided to run over my back.

But that was not all. I was feeling sick. I felt my temperature rise. I felt my head pounding. And my mouth was bitter.

I pulled myself out of my bed and said some prayers. Basically, thanking God for a new day, asking for His forgiveness and asking that He bless my hustles and efforts.

For God's sake, I had walked almost all over submitting my CVs and even going for some jobs interviews. Each of the meaningful interviews I went for would end with this line from the interviewers, "we will call you as soon as we need you". And that was all. Just as it is when a stone is thrown into water. It sinks and stays sinked.

I was tired of trying to live. I was tired of managing and barely affording to take care of myself. I was tired of asking for money. I wanted to have my own money. I wanted to.

It has always been my desire to be financially independent. And that was why after school, I decided to stay back and not go back to the family house to eat 'mama, thank you'.

I know how such works. When you come back, they would welcome you joyfully. Maybe organize a little in- house celebration. Dad could get anyone who cares for an introduction or not to meet me.

He would say, "Meet Desmond, he is my first son. He just graduated from the university" and as usual, I would act so polite and have an handshake with whosever it was respectfully. I knew I would get tired of all his constant introductions. I had seen him do that when I had gotten admission newly and I almost died because of regular handshakes and having to 'respectfully' support my right hand with my left when I shake them elderly folks. If my hands didn't wither then, I doubt if it ever will even if my village chief priest casts 'hand withering' spell on me.

I rose up after prayers and went to brush my teeth. I felt pains in my mouth. I had to boil water to bath and get ready to go out. I needed to. More hustling. I would get rich or die trying. It was my motto and I meant it. Even though I would rest, I never stayed at home during the day except in very few occasions. Most if not all of my neighbors feel I was employed and working somewhere. But I wasn't.

I remembered I had a phone and I began to look for it. Where is this phone now, I thought. And decided to raise up my pillow, low and behold, it was vibrating. A call was coming in. It was my sister.

"Fine gal, how far?"

"Bros, where you keep your phone na? We don dey call you since."

"Ah han, hope all is well?"

"You get any alert from Uncle Felix?"

"Yes, day before yesterday's night"

"You get any last night?"

"Make I check abeg. I no know"

"Anyway, he say he mistakenly transfer N300,000 enter your account"

"Sho! Make I check sharply"

"Call me back when you do ASAP"

I cut the call and checked. Man, it was true. The alert had it all: N300,000. I stared in disbelief. Immediately, a call came in. It was as an unknown number. I picked and said nothing, waiting for whoever called to speak.

"Hello Desmond, it's me Uncle Felix. I've been calling like ages and you have not been picking. Didn't you see the three hundred thousand naira that I mistakenly transferred into your account?", he said angrily.

I knew why he called with a different number. He felt I was intentionally not picking his calls. He felt I had been overcame by greed just like he has always been. He thought I wanted to steal his money. Do away with it.

Look at this guy o. Who does he even think that he is? A better person? If I never knew that greed existed before, meeting Uncle Felix would have introduced me to greed. This man was greed personified. He was so greedy even to his wife. And the poor woman is really seeing it. So tight- fisted. I doubt if he even had space within his hands.

Uncle Felix was a nobody until Dad took him in. He was Dad's younger brother. He stayed with us while we were growing up. He lived under our roof, was fed, clothed, sent to school and even when he got admitted to the university, Dad kept sending him money often for school fees as well as his upkeep. During the holidays, he would come and stay with us.

As God would have it, as soon as he graduated from school, an opportunity opened up for him. He got a contact to a link in China to import ceramic wares- plates especially and mugs and sell. And he became big. So big and wealthy and so big in his head that there are as no room to remember his elder brother- Dad and his family that helped him when he was nobody.

The five thousand naira that he sent to me was the first kobo I had gotten from him since when Adam was a boy. And I pleaded for that for years. He would promise and fail. Stop picking his calls and all that. I was even surprised that he finally sent in money.

He had told me, "I will send something for you to help keep body and soul together"

At first, just as usual, I doubted. Who puts faith in a man that never keeps his words? Who trusts a man that lacks integrity? You wouldn't blame me for not trusting him and expecting him to send the money. I decided to not call him as I used to in the past. I didn't want to waste my airtime on him. I didn't want to waste my hope on him. I didn't want him to feel I was begging or that I would die if he didn't do a thing. I didn't want his pity. I didn't want him to feel important about it. So, I chose not to call.

And after all, guess the what 'the something to keep body and soul together' was. Five thousand naira! 5K. I just hissed. I would have hissed long but hunger would not let me. The hunger had paralyzed my hissing ability and other related abilities. And now, he feels he can talk.

"Uncle, what do you mean?" I asked angrily

"What? Just transfer it back. All of it"

"When I see it, I will. I won't transfer a money that I did not have. Or are you asking me to transfer the 5K you managed to send to me?" I emphasized the 'managed'.

"The three hundred thousand naira that I mistakenly transferred to your account"

"I have seen no such amount"

"Desmond. You are lying and I know it. We both know that you are lying"

I spoke angrily, "I would have cut this call if not that you are my Uncle and I would soon. So, you are now calling me a liar right? Is it that you don't know how our banks mess up sometimes? You put in your ATM card into the machine and it indicates a debited transaction but nothing comes out of the machine. No cash. Have you not? How about a case of paying money into someone's account and it might fail to reflect till about two days later? I am just trying to respect you and it ends here"

I cut the call to pick my younger sister's own. She asked and I told her what was on, the stunt that I pulled. She hailed me and told me to make him suffer a little for his tight fistedness towards us. Just a little suffering and then we would decide on what to do.

His call came in again and again but I ignored them and after my call with younger sis, he called at and I still ignored it. He called again and I picked. He sounded quiet and sober, "Desmond, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it"

"I don't care", I said.

He sighed. "I'm sorry. Please when it reflects, let me know"

I cut the call. He called again. I ignored. He called again and I picked, "What sir?"

"Did you hear what I said?"

"Don't think I am deaf", I said and cut the call. It was game and I was really enjoying it.

queenitee:
Better read the msg

sure..

Update nah!!

CHAPTER 10

Even though I woke up feeling sick, I must confess that at the moment, I feel well. I felt as if fresh blood was flowing through out my system, flooding away any atom of sickness or any disease causing agent(s).

It might seem surprising to you. You might argue if I was even sick at first. If you were presently with me, you would have. And I would not even blame you. The fact was I felt sick but the credit alert in my phone was a powerful medication. I do not know of any powerful drug like a credit alert. I do not know of anything that gives a man joy and makes him behave so nice like a credit alert.

Poverty makes angry folks. You just get angry and stay angry without any reasonable reason. Poverty damages the mind and wrecks the emotions. Most poor, if not all poor people are frustrated folks.

Queuing up in lines to make withdrawals on a ATM, I have observed over time that the people with very small cash are the ones always shouting and fighting for positions on the line. Contending. Controversial. These ones with one thousand or three thousand or at most five thousand naira, are the ones always fronting and causing wahala. Poor men and their wahalas. Always noisy. An empty container, they say, makes the greatest noise. Poor people are always the noisest along ATM queues and even the queues in banking halls.

Poverty is something else. It has a way of making people get negatively crazy. You know some people craze na positive one. Na better craze. You go dey ask yourself, 'when I go begin craze like this?'. Guys, na craze make one guy buy about forty five mil naira porshe car for im gal wey he neva marry o. Say na birthday package. Assurance mata. That guy well at all? E no normal o. Poor man and rich man, all of them dey fit craze. Na just say no be the same craze.

The rich would gently join the queue with his face on his phone without fighting for position or struggling to prove that he came before another. They have this attitudinal traits. Attitude of orderliness is one. The poor are always the hardest people to control.

As money dey change people attitude, na so my own change sharply. My body just behave imself. Order. Sickness just fiam comot. I got cured on the spot courtesy of three hundred naira credit alert. The money wasn't even mine but I loved the feel of always checking my bank account balance and seeing three hundred and two thousand plus.

I got my stuffs and headed out of the house, dressed in an ash trouser and a white shirt with my laptop bag and my documents in it and went to make more photocopies of my CVs and other documents to submit for jobs at different locations. I felt my head was over the clouds and my feet above the ground just because of someone's three hundred thousand naira in my bank account. While on it, my phone vibrated (I usually prefer vibrations to loud rings), I pulled it out. It was a message. I thought my Uncle had sent me a message about his money. But when I opened it, I saw that it was an invitation for a job interview. I immediately called the phone number attached to the text message to confirm. After which I took a bike to the venue.

I was shocked to discover that I was the first to come even though the lady told me that the interviewers had been waiting and that they had interviewed others. I sat waiting and ensured that I was calm. The waiting went on from few minutes to thirty. Then a hour. After which I dialed the number I had called. She did not pick. I tried again, nothing. I asked the receptionist, she acted rude. I was angry but I needed to be in charge, maintain my cool. I just smiled and went back to sit and pulled out a book to read.

Purpose Driven Life by Rick Warren is bae. It is one of the selected best written and impactful one hundred books of the century, I read one time. It was a global best selling book and still is. Individuals,Churches, organizations- business and others, schools, other institution use it in some way to organize around purpose- the reason for the creation and existence of a thing. I continued from where I had stopped and someone felt it was best I don't let what was going on distract me. I managed to do that and I read for up to forty five minutes or so, underlining some keep statements and headings and writing short notes by the sides of the pages. I always stain my books with ink. In fact, this is one of my chief evidence that I had read a book- ink notes and jottings by the sides of the pages.

Afterwards, I checked again, I had spent almost two hours waiting and the most annoying part was the lady that I had called severally and sent text message has not replied or called back. And nobody had walked up to me to tell me anything or give me heads up on what was going on. The receptionist that I had approached had acted all rude. She was a fine looking lady but she was damn rude. Too rude to have such outward beauty.

I rose up again and walked up to her and she acted up again. Same rudeness. I wondered why she was acting in such manner. I couldn't remember ever seeing her face anywhere or offending her at anytime. I went back to sit and tried calling the lady again. She didn't pick. Another text message. No reply. I decided that I was going to see the end of this and act as proper as possible and not let all these stunts make me misbehave. Somehow, I felt I was been tested. That the interview had already began. Where that thought came from, I cannot tell but it had a power to it and I took it serious. Another one hour and still nothing. No call back. No reply to my text messages. No approach from any. No call from the receptionist.

I thought I should talk to her again but decided against that and kept on with my reading. I was now beginning to loose faith in the thought that these were all tests, the delays and all the other things as part of the interview session. But I was not going to pull out at the last minute. More waiting. Another thirty minutes. Then fifteen extra. Making it three hours and forty five minutes of waiting. I had had enough, I thought. Even if I was looking for the visa to heaven, it wouldn't have taken this form. No simple courtesy. I wasn't asking for much. Just simple courtesy. This is damn rude. This is Rudeness incorporated. I had other use for my time. I would have covered much by now in submitting my CVs if I had gone ahead with that. I felt foolish and used and wrong. I was going to crash. Shout. Pull my own stunts. Go kolomental. Go madt! But I quickly decided against them all as the thoughts came.

I stood up and walked up to the receptionist again.

"Ma, I have been waiting for over three hours now. Exactly three hours forty five minutes plus. Please can you tell me what's going on? Is there anyone I can talk with that has answers, please?"

She looked at me as if I just asked for the impossible and replied coldly, "Keep waiting if you want. Or you can go. It depends on you"

Now, this is magnified bullshit. I was boiling but I held myself and walked back to where I was sitting and sat down with my book open. Immediately, my phone vibrated. It was a message.

"You have scaled through. You have successfully passed the interview and are hereby granted the job. Welcome on board Mr. Desmond"

As I read it, it looked like a joke. It was the lady I has been calling. I was shocked and as I raised my face, I met the gaze of the receptionist smiling at me and her thumb up.

"Congratulations Mr. Desmond", she said.

Wow! This was amazing. Such awkward interview. So awkward. What were they even testing for, I asked myself. As I picked up my bag and put my book inside and rose up, a lady walked up to me.

"I am Mrs. Kola. I was the lady you were calling. Congrats again. Please be at the office next tomorrow so we can set things in place for you to resume work on Monday"

I was shocked and excited. My long search for a job has cone to an end, I felt. "Thank you ma. I will do as you said"

CHAPTER 11

I was feeling so happy that as soon as I left the place of interview, which miraculously turned out to be my new place of work, I pulled out my phone and called my kid sister to tell her what had just happened. She was so happy that I knew the next thing that she would do. To shout the news around the house. I had to plead with her to be calm and quiet about it till I get to start working. I wanted the whole process to be complete to the point where I would start working. I was yet to know the pay, the job descriptions, the work schedules- especially close up time each day. But that was not all.

I was scared. Somehow scared. For someone who had laboured and struggled for years to secure a good job, even travelling some distances- some in other states, for interviews and also doing lots of reading and researching in preparations for interviews to just get a job on what seemed like a plater of gold. It was to say the least, mind blowing and kinda scary. Yes, scary.

Now don't get me wrong. I am not a pessimist. I have not 'really' been. I had to add that 'really' because with time, after lots of failed attempts in getting a job, many unfulfilled promises made to me in that regards and all the other related bad stuffs, I began to get pessimistic. It was natural. So natural in Naija. With the massive joblessness and umemployments and the wide spread hardness under this 'broom' government, getting pessimistic was an everything thing. In fact some are now jumping into lagoons as if the economy down there is better.

Handling failure is not easy. It always leaves us with scars. Makes us do some awkward things and feel some awkward feelings. Past failures and disappointments were mine. Fear of how to handle success if it comes was another. All these and more made me wonder at anything that comes that easy. And my people, this job came that easy. For crying out loud, what sort of interview was that? Hope this was not scam? I began to get apprehensive. I needed to relax. To talk to someone that I would feel happy with. Someone that I have a sweet feeling for. Evelyn came to my mind.

I scrolled through my phone a d dialed her number. She didn't pick. I dialed again. Same result. I hoped she would call back ASAP. I went into a restaurant and got my favorite soft drink(apart frpm malt drinks and juices)- Mirinda Pineapple flavour. The thing about this drink is that it seems to have a therapeutic effect on me. If I complain of headache and you are around me, don't panic. Don't start shouting, "somebody, helep meeeee". Don't. Just get me Mirinda Pineapple flavour and in few minutes, I would be so alright. If stomach issue, same thing. Whatever it is. Even when I feel 'malaria-ish', get Mirinda Pineapple flavour and I would be 'cured'.

I sat comfortably at one end of the restaurant to download my drink. A woman walked in. She was thickly dressed in this Christian mothers attire with a heavy weight (probably weighing several tons and kilograms) 'skontolo' on her head. Her high heels were just afflicting the floor with each step. Kors kors!, they spoke to the tiled floor. She paused for some time, surveyed the place and took steps towards me. I was hoping that she was not coming for me. Because I didn't know her from Adam and I was not in the mood to converse with any. I was not in the mood for any company. I just wanted to be with myself and my bottle of Mirinda and calm down. I wanted the anxiety off and out of my system.

She came and before me and after exchanging pleasantries, she began with, "my son, I need your help. I was just came into town to see my son- law buy his phone is not going through and my daughter's own too is not. And I have been calling and waiting since morning but nothing has happened. They have not even called.."

I cut her politely. "What do you want ma?"

"I want to go back where I came from. I am tired of this wicked and disrespectful treatment that I am getting from them. I want to go back. If they didn't want me, they would have said so from the start than to ask me to come and not make any attempt to get me to their place..."

"So, how do we do that. I mean your going back to where you came from?"

"I need money for that"

"OK. How much?"

"Seven thousand. I can manage seven thousand naira. Highest, I will fast through out the journey since that money will not be able to cover for both my transportation and feeding"

"So, how do intend to get the seven thousand?"

"From you na"

Wow! What was that? See this woman o. Na jazz she think say she get? Abi, na 419 she wan play me? I decided to hide my feeling, not letting it show on my face

"How?"

She got angry. I noticed her countenance change. She quickly let the angry look slide. Somehow, she still felt she could use her jazz again. I don't seem to get it. I have met her kind. They feel they must use a kind of authority in doing this thing to instill control over their victim and get them to do their bidding. Moreover, I am sure the babalawo that did the jazz must have told them that the jazz would only work if they act bold in speaking.

"I expect you to help me", she said with a little authority in her voice.

"Ma, I am respecting you and I still want to maintain that. I will give you a suggestion"

She looked interested. Maybe she was expecting to hear something that would help her. I guess so.

"Just leave now or I will raise my voice here and announce that you are a 419ner and a fraudster and the security over there will disgracefully drag you out", I said with coldness in my voice.

" What? What has gotten into you? You mean you would not do as I said?"

Oh boy, see me, see gobe o. This woman dey kolo o.

I stood up and acted as if I wanted to do what I said that I would do, she stood up fast, took her handbag with a big frown on her face and hurried to the door.

hmmm... hope it's not what I'm thinking

eitsei:
hmmm... hope it's not what I'm thinking

What could it be that you are thinking man?

Bro.....watin apen na, we dae wait for u since nd u Neva update us..... Bros u go kill person oo

[quote author=Josephdominic post=69463622]Bro.....watin apen na, we dae wait for u since nd u Neva update us.....
Bros u go kill person oo

This is a honest appeal to the powers that be, biko, Ejo, mbok, please coman update this beautiful story