KingzleyTLB:
great story....what of Gloria?? and is Austin not too older than chinelo good work

Chinelo is 18 already. Read from chapter One.

CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was a cool Sunday afternoon. Chinelo is alone in the kitchen preparing the family’s meal. Her mother had gone to her town’s women meeting, while her father is hanging out with friends at Mama Alero’s stall some few blocks down the street. By the side of the Well, in the very place reserved for the purpose of washing, were the compound children. Some of them are washing plates for their various families, while some others are keeping them company. The area was rowdy as every single one of the children is trying hard to see that he or she is not the last to leave the backyard. It is a little game they play among themselves. They will all begin at about the same time to wash the dishes. Each concentrating on the utensils from his own household. The first person to finish is automatically the winner, while the last person is mocked. So each time their little game starts, the washing areas around the Well will automatically become rowdy; as siblings will all begin to work together as a team in order to finish first. Some teams will go as far as inviting their friends from other compounds to come wash with them. In their game, players do not like washing pots. Pots are considered to be time consuming, especially when one had to have them scrubbed properly in order to remove the burnt content left therein. So each time the players brings out their dishes for washing, it is almost customary to see them throwing taunts at the one with the highest number of pots to be washed. And in very rare cases where the one with the highest numbers of pots comes out first, it makes it all the more entertaining; as such will brag that he is so good at what he does that even having the highest number of pots did not stop him from coming first. The climax of the whole event is the celebrations that follows after every win. The celebratory song is always composed on the spot. The songs, by necessity, only exalts the winner by stating the difficult situations he had to overcome to emerge victorious, while at the same time mocks the losers.
Chinelo was watching it all. She is delighted that her younger brother Chiagozie won with the help of Ebuka. Jide is crying foul. He stated that Chiagozie is not to be considered the rightful winner because he had his elder brother’s assistance. Chiagozie mocked him by bringing out his tongue at him. He reminded him of previous times which he had won through the help of Bunmi or even Tobi his friend from the next compound. Jide is such a bad loser. He will never admit to have been beaten fairly. He loves complaining and apportioning blames when things are not going his way.

***

Austin had passed by the well three times within the space of fifteen minutes. Going back and forth as if to be looking for something of his. The first two times he initially passed, Chinelo did not see him as she was busy with the pot of soup cooking on the stove. On the last time, she was facing the activities taking place around the washing area. She was laughing at the little jokes from the children. Some of them even brought their childish complaints to her to pass judgments on. She clearly seems delighted by the whole thing. Austin observed how free the children are with her. He could not help but fall even deeper in love for her. He wanted to make his earnest expression of it to her but his guts seems to be failing him. Three times he had attempted, and three times he had failed. Austin was sincerely afraid of the resulting effect of his intended action. He was even more confused as to how Chinelo will react to it all. Austin had rehearsed in his room on how to approach her, what to say, how to say it and when to leave. He knows that either of these could be the most likely outcome. Chinelo could both accept his proposal and come a bit closer or she could harshly reject his proposal and run far away from him; and even possibly report his advances to her father. Austin was just too afraid to gamble it.
Austin made up his mind to attempt it the fourth and final time. His time, he was determined to succeed. He was going to walk up to her and tell her exactly what he felt irrespective of how it may sound or even how she may feel about it all. After all, he is a man and men are not expected to hide their feelings. So he took a look at the mirror to ascertain his looks one last time. On the mirror, he determined what facial expression was most suitable for the situation. He settled for a straight-to-the-point face. Not looking too serious, as well as, not looking too causal. The straightened up his shirt collar and readjusted his trouser one last time. Then he open the door and went out towards the kitchen

***

The area around the well was now peaceful and quiet as the children have all gone inside their respective rooms after their little game. The washing area, as expected, was littered with used detergent sachets and food particles not properly flushed away into the gutter. The entire area was disgustingly marshy and quite slippery. It will remain so until the following day when the woman contracted by the compound comes to wash it all away.
Austin was glad to find Chinelo still there. She was turning the garri in the garri bowl with the turning stick. She was looking quite busy.
“Chinelo!” Austin called in a voice that made his heart skip.
“Hmmm” Chinelo breathe out her answer as she turned to face him.
Austin immediately felt disorientated as Chinelo looked him dead straight in the eyes as if to read out his thoughts.
“When was the last time NEPA restored power?” Austin asked. In trying to avoid looking and sounding stupid, Austin deviated from his intended mission. Though he managed to maintain a straight face, his eyes blinked multiple times as he asked the question. Her gaze had seemed fierce and disorienting to Austin.
“Late in the morning. At about 11:03am” replied Chinelo.
She then turned back to continue turning her garri before it gets too cold for effective turning. Austin stood by the edge of the kitchen with his arms akimbo. He exhaled and wondered aloud the pathetic state of the nation’s power sector. Then he began walking rather slowly towards the backyard for the fourth time. He wondered what have become of his guts and what was so unsettling about Chinelo that makes confessing his love for her such a difficult task. He stayed at the backyard for a few moments to idle away the hour. He then turned back and proceeded for his room where he is to go lick his wounds.
“Chi! What are you cooking? I will eat o!” Austin causally called after Chinelo as he passed by the area around the well overlooking the kitchen.
Chinelo turned her neck to look at him. She gave out a very warm smile as she replied “No problem”.

***

Chinelo had actually hastily turned back to what she was doing just to conceal the disappointments that were about showing up on her face. She did not want Austin to see them. She had observed for about two days now, how Austin had been roaming around areas she happens to be present in. And each time, he always appears to be disturbed about something. Like something he is finding difficult to make up his mind on. As a very sensitive woman, Chinelo had observed from the side of her eyes how he looks at her. She has also observed his many back and forth movements. She had equally noticed that Austin seems to have something very pressing to say to her but knows not how to go about it. She felt as a woman, it is very lady-like to be subtle in making a man feel at ease. She felt like a midwife on a mission to deliver the most darling words she wishes to hear. With a mischievous grin on her face, she proceeded to work.

***

Austin was lying on his back to the mattress. He is gazing at the ceiling; lost in the thoughts on what has befallen him. The knock on the door brought him back to reality. He agilely stood up by raising both legs skywards, then throwing them down in a single fluid movement as his upper body raises. He went straight to the door after making a couple of adjustments on his collar, he raised his shirt to have it sit properly on his body and wipe out the frustration from his eyes with the back of his hands. The knock had only come once; an indication that the person behind the door is not in a hurry to come in or had both hands engaged to attempt another knock.
When Austin finally opened the door, he was shocked to find Chinelo standing there with a tray in hand. On the tray were set two stainless bowl-like plates. One happen to be bigger than the other and will presumably contain the garri, while the smaller one contains the soup. She gave off an even more heart-melting smile, knowing too well now, how her presence have been manipulating and dictating Austin’s character. She excused herself; for which Austin had to step out of the way for her to pass into the room. He was still too shock to utter a word. She slide off her slippers at the doorpost and went inside the room. Chinelo set the tray on the ground; for Austin had no table or even a side stool in his room. She took out the dishes one after the other and placed them nicely on the ground to the side of the mattress. She then picked up her tray and made for the door.
“But I was only being playful.” Austin had managed to sheepishly say, as she was trying to maneuver her feet back into her slippers at the door.
“...And I was only being playful too” Chinelo replied back in a manner that was jovial but at the same time clearly says ‘Don’t be silly’.
Austin not knowing what next to say, repeatedly thanked her for her kind gesture. Chinelo then turned to leave. She had almost made it off Austin’s paved veranda when, almost like a light bulb, Austin felt the need of asking her after her studies.
“How is your studies? I hope things are not being made unnecessarily difficult back in school?” he asked
Chinelo immediately turned towards Austin still standing by the door. Relinquishing the moment to having a little chitchat with him, she had her tray pressed against her bosom –covering from her chest down to her upper waistline. She held it in place by having both arms around it in crossed direction, as if to give a hug. Consciously aware of her quite unsettling disposition towards Austin in context to what she sincerely feels in her heart, she shyingly looked downwards. With her head slightly bent over, she drew patterns on the ground with her leg.
“My studies are all going well. I thank God for bringing us this far. With his grace, by July, I would be through with anything that has to do with secondary school. I can’t wait to start being a proper big girl.” Chinelo replied.
Austin’s veranda was paved by the previous occupant of his room. About two and a half meters from both sides of his door was erected a dwarf bracket-shaped brick wall opposing each other. The brick wall was primarily aimed at demarcating one’s veranda from that of his next door neighbor. This is to ensure that no one trespasses on the other. But the brick wall have become multifunctional. It could either serve as worktop or as a seat depending on the need at that time. Austin had himself sit across the left wall. He had his right leg on the cemented floor to support his body weight while his left leg dangles freely over on the other side.
Austin and Chinelo chatted about a few things -mostly irrelevant things. Both were tactful in how they approached issues. Carefully avoiding topics that could possibly trigger emotional sentiments. None wanted to give off the impression of desperation.
Their chats was going smoothly when suddenly Chinelo had the voice of her father from the entrance to the main building. She turned to take off. As she was about dashing off towards the kitchen, she felt a firm grip on her arms. She turned only to find Austin a few inches from her face. His eyes were looking directly into hers. She could see the passion that lies therein. She could feel the sincerity in his touch. Above all, she could hear the love in his voice as he opened his mouth to whisper these few words into her ears.
“I love you Chinelo and I want you to be mine”. Austin had said
These words sounded like a distant echo in her head. These were exactly the words she was dying to hear. She looked at Austin deep into the eyes, then the lips of his mouth, and back again at his eyes. Chinelo blinked her eyes as if to remind herself where she was, she bite her lower lips, looked down and turned away. She then forcefully jerked her arms off his grip, as she runs away for the kitchen.
Austin was rooted in his position as he watched her go. Everything had happened in a flash. He wasn’t too sure if she had heard his last few words. He shrugged, turned back and went inside his room; for there was some serious feasting to be done.

Austeeenxx:
Wow! Just wow! This is good stuff. Come and continue, OP.

I dey come Sir. thanks for the comment and compliment of the season.

girlhaley:
This Umuagu people are just beast, savages and very wicked people


Imagine, killing women and children... I'm sure if Uloma hasn't delivered already they'd remove the baby from her tummy
They will not succeed in this their bloody conquest... The gods must revenge oh
Please don't let anything happen to Obike
And the lil boy with the baby... I'm on my knees, nothing should happen to them


This is an amazing piece Adekunle0000
Keep up the good work
Expecting more updates

Thank you very much. I appreciate your priceless comment. Will definitely be hitting you with more interesting updates. thanks again.

CHAPTER TEN
Francis is in one of the two compound toilets. He unbuckled his belt and slide down his trouser together with his inner Tommy Hilfiger boxers to his knee. He already had a burning cigarette on his lips. He climb onto the short pavement on which the latrine’s ceramic bowl was cemented on. He had his two legs slightly spread apart and the lower end of his shirt folded up under his left armpit –the very hand with which he used to support the cigarette on his lips.Then he squatted down to pass out excreta.
The latrine is his favorite place to smoke. He enjoys the relative peace that the facility offers. He as well loves the cool breeze that comes in through the base of the toilet door directly onto his anus. He enjoys the feel of the playful tease by the breeze on the pubic hair around his anal region. Francis doesn't mind the stench from his feces. He in fact likes the odour he gets when the stench from his feces blend with the smoke from his cigarette. Francis literarily gauges his state of health by mean of the severity of the foul lingering smell that comes from his excreta. The latrine as well offers him the sanctuary to ruminate on past events; evaluating where he had made mistakes and where he needed to work more on. He would soliloquize each event one at a time; bursting out into hysterically laughter at intervals. He even calls out on the names of the persons involved. Fellow tenants finds it all very hilarious. Some even gossips that he communes with his ancestors when inside the toilet.
Francis have been feeling very proud of himself for having resisted another temptation to cheat on his beloved wife who is with their children in the village. He had attribute his feat not to his making, but to the fervent prayers of his wife. His wife has never for once seized to pray for him. She will compassionately plead with God to please show her husband mercy and open his eyes to see the futility of the path he has chosen for himself. She will advise, persuade and cajole him to give up his habits, all to no fruitation. Francis, like most men do, will pretend not to be in the least bothered about it all but within himself, he knows the truth of what his beloved wife is always saying. He had in time past promised to give up on his habits but it keeps drawing him back. Smoking and heavy drinking are both habits Francis will give anything in the world just to put an end to. For these habits, he had been exploited, beaten up, abused, seduced and trampled upon. He prays and wishes in his hearts that none of his children takes after him.
Francis retracted his knee as his buttocks raises. He then reached deep into his trousers’ pocket –still anchored at his knees- to retrieve the packet of cigarette he had in there. He needed to replace the current one which is almost burning out. He got the packet in hand, then turned to take a cursory look at his excreta. He did not like how it looks. It's texture was lighter than normal and far too greyish. So Francis on the spot prescribed for himself a few shots of Mama Alero’s traditional medical herbal mixture (Agbo jedi-jedi). He removed the almost burnt out cigarette from his mouth and replaced it with a fresh one. Then he joined the burning end of the former against the end of the later to ignite it. He draw on the cigarette spontaneously to have it burn better. Well aware of the sustained complaints against it, Francis offhandedly dropped the burnt out cigarette on the toilet floor. Then he squatted back down again to continue defecating.

***

Chinole seems to be enjoying it all. She is enjoying the attentions she is getting from Austin, but most of all, she enjoys the effects she is having on him. She had forced herself to do away with the thoughts that Austin is being romantically attracted to her when he had not even voiced it out. She was forcing herself not to attach too much meaning into an innocent gesture which could have been intended to be a prank gone wrong.
What Chinelo wasn’t sincere enough to own up is that all what she hoped to be false are actually what she prays and dearly wishes to be true. She wish that his gesture at the Well wasn’t innocent. She wish he wasn’t play acting to be transfixed. And of course, she most wish that Austin develops a feeling for her.
Chinelo fears she was becoming too romantically obsessed about Austin; a feeling she strongly wish no one should know about. Not just for the fear of her father and how he is most likely to react, but for the sake of feminine pride. She will stay by their window which happens to be directly opposite Austin’s door to monitor his movements.
She as well become repeatedly conscious of her looks, especially if Austin is around. She particularly disliked what she felt to be the quite diminishing look of appearing in her ill-fitting school uniform. Chinelo will tactfully avoid having Austin see her when on her uniforms. But this could be particularly difficult, most especially when Austin is on night duty shift. Austin duty shifts affords him the opportunity to get to see how and when every compound kid prepare for school. The degraded looks her school uniforms gives off about her troubles her a lot. She only just wish the days will roll off faster to June when she will no longer be duty-bound to put on these degrading uniforms. As far as Chinelo was consigned, she is a big girl.
Chinelo wants Austin to see her as grown up; with the impression that she is free from controlling parental influence. But she wants to go it subtly, so as not to give off the very wrong signal. Chinelo was becoming increasingly conscious of her looks and mannerism around the opposite gender. She began –though clandestinely- to get makeup kits and beauty enhancers form money off her piggy bank. “If I have gotten Austin attracted, then I shall keep him rooted by making him salivate for me” she had thought to herself.

***

Living at the toilet-end in a public compound is an experience whose who have done so would not want to relive. The toilet-end is the most difficult and unsettling part in a public compound. This is the spot closest to the latrine. Most home seekers often avoid it because of the many problems associated with it. Because of it close proximity with the latrine, a lot of the resulting effects of the abuses on the facility is first experienced by those who live closest to it. Many of these abuses are intentional. They are driven with the sole intent of having to further unsettle and inconvenience those who lives closest to it. These tenants are the ones who endures the horrifying sights and foul smells of an abused public latrine. It is in fact a common joke that "before the effects from the abuses begins to affect tenants further down the line, the tenants closest to it must be long dead".
Aunty Alice lives precisely on that spot. Her room is the first room on the boys’ quarters when one starts counting from the inside out. Directly in front her room is the compound's toilets. They are only separated by a space of about five meters. To the left of her room further in; was dug the compound’s soakaway. When full, the soakaway overflows it's waste matter allover; making a very disgusting mess in front of her room. At that point, Aunty Alice will literarily quarrel with almost every man in the compound just to get them to hasten up the process of getting a dislodgement. Many of the other housewives will gossip and mock her that she is only showing interest because it disturbs her the most. Some of them even go to the length of encouraging the spouses to withhold payment a little while longer than necessary by pointing out to other people who are yet to pay.
Majority of the compound women do not defecate directly on the pit latrine. Fearing for their health, they prefer using a small five litter plastic pails. When done, they will have the feces flushed off in the latrine. This practice is common in the neighborhood, especially in compounds that uses similar toileting system. It is regard as normal for a woman to head for the bathroom with these –sometimes colorful and quite artistic- pails to defecate. Sometimes, the practice takes on its head when there are persons occupying either of the two toilets at about the same time the women wants to make a flush. These women who might not be patient enough to wait, will simply drop off their pail of feces by the side of the toilet; very close to aunty Alice entrance. They will leave hoping to return when the latrine is free to make proper flush. ....and so will the shit-bucket stay for days on end in that same position until Aunty Alice will have them (both package and content) all thrown away. Sometimes, especially towards late in the evening, some of these women –mostly out of sheer wickedness- will prefer defecating directly on the bathroom floor and flush it off with water into the gutter behind.
For some of the women who cann't afford a plastic pail, a synthetic nylon bag is the next best thing. The problems associated with the nylon bag method is that each bag can only be used once and it has the propensity of getting the sewage pipe blocked. This practice is mostly common with people who lives very close to a flowing body of water like rivers, stream, canals or anything of that sort. The preferred method of disposal is by conveniently flinging the feces containing nylon overhead, out into the body of flowing water. This style is called “shot-put”. A name derived from a similar athletic sport of shot-put.
Aunty Alice will always complain that those who lives further down the passageway, away from the latrine, are the very people that abuses the facility. These tenants are those who put less effort toward it's maintenance. She hates it most when parents make their children defecate around the vicinity of the toilet. She will insist that it is either you go inside the toilet or you go defecate inside your living room. And they sure do defecate inside their living rooms. This practice is most common in areas that are not too safe at night. Tenants will prefer to relief themselves inside their living room instead of taking the risk of going outside to make use of the toilet at night.

***

Francis satisfied his stooling, proceeded to take a cup of water from the toilet bucket he had earlier filled with water for the purpose of flushing his excreta. He washed his anus clean with it. He dried his hands on his folded trouser still anchored on his knee. He removed the burning out cigarette he had on his lips and like the others, threw it on the toilet floor. He then straightened up, standing erect over his feces. He pulled up his boxers first and then his trousers. He buttoned up the single button on his trouser in place but left his belt unbuckled. Then he climb down from the pavement and gave a one last review of his feces before proceeding to flush it off with the water from the toilet bucket. Unfortunately, the water was not enough to flush it off properly for there were still droplet of feces left behind. Francis did not give it much of a thought.
He proceeded to unlock the door and step out. When outside, he noticed Aunty Alice sitting on a wooden bar stool. She was looking outside to the main street beyond. Francis greeted her. But Aunty Alice, a spinster in her mid-thirties, is always very critical of greetings especially the ones coming from tenants who just finished using the toilet. She had come to understand that these greetings are just smokescreens to conceal their guilt. Francis still standing by the toilet door, took out his packet of cigarette together with the lighter inside the packet and light himself one more stick. He took a deep draw and blew the smoke far out into the air. Without giving much of a passing look at Aunty Alice, he walked out through the Boy’s quarters exist while buckling on his belt as he went. And off to Mama Alero’s place for some jedi-jedi.

***

Aunty Alice went inside the toilet to inspect the facility. She had become the unofficial janitor of the compound’s toilet. A job she had taken for herself as a result of the close proximity between her living room and the facility. She was disgusted at what she saw. The toilet floor was flooded with water and as well, littered with burnt out cigarette filters. On the ceramic bowl were droplet of feces clearly suggesting insufficient water. She quickly ran out. Not able to bear the sight any further, she closed the door behind her. And so began a long session of complaining, cursing and quarrelling; which lasted well into the night.

skubido:
Tanks for the update.


Happy Xmas to u all

Merry Christmas to you too

FredrickPablo:
Considering that I'm a person deeply enthralled with the profound rarity of the Igbo cultural heritage & will always unapologetically revere the sanctity of its history; this story though not in the same literary pedestal with the classic 'Things Fall Apart' still rekindles the same philosophical nostalgia in me that leaves me questioning the phenomenon of reincarnation as I'm literally thrown into a mental reverie that can only be best described by those who were physically here when the route beyond the breadfruit tree was always an access road.

The awesome descriptive panache of the OP is a laudable expression of literary greatness with original African uniqueness.

I hope to continue following this story with undivided attention.

OP you're very much appreciated.....Keep it on!

Blood of Jesus!!! You have just killed me!!! please shift let me just die!!! #laughing I am totally speechless!!! THANK YOU VERY MUCH AND MAY GOD BLESS YOU. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU.

CHAPTER NINE
Chinelo had the family clothes piled high a couple of meters away from the compound’s Well. She had five empty buckets orderly arranged to the side of the stacked clothes. She intend to have them filled with water. She hopes to wash the clothes once she is through with washing the dishes. She had earlier cleaned the room; having everything placed in their proper positions. She needed to get everything done on time before Mama and Ngozi her younger sister both returns from the market. She also hoped that NEPA will be reliable enough to restore power so she can watch her favorite TV shows.
She finished washing the dishes, got the droplets of water drained out of them and then took them inside to have them neatly arranged in their proper place. Getting the plates and spoons sorted out for proper placement took her quite some time. When she was done, she proceeded out to the backyard to commence the washing of the stacked clothes. To her surprise, she found all five initially empty buckets all filled to the brim with water. Strangely enough, the only people at the Well as at when she went inside was Jide, Mama Nonye and Aunty Happiness –one of the girls who lives in Gloria’s room. She could bet that none of these three persons would have done that for her. For Jide, he is just too lazy to be meaningfully helpful to others. For Aunty Happiness and Mama Nonye, they both already have too much on their plate to be bothered about someone else’s problem. To satisfy her curiosity, she proceeded to ask Mama Nonye who will be serious enough to give her a straight answer on who had helped her to fill up her bucket.
“Mama Nonye, please did you see the person that filled up these five buckets with water?” she asked.
“My dear, I hardly take note of anything going on around me anytime I bend down to wash.” Mama Nonye replied.
But after a few moments, she added “I think I saw Austin come to the well at about the time you took those dishes inside.”
“You mean Brother Austin?” Chinelo asked in a voice that sounded astonished.
“Yes Brother Austin!”

Austin entered his room. He dried his wet feet on the foot mat by the door. In his hands were the stainless plate and spoon he had gone to the Well to have rinsed. But his ultimate intention had not been to have his plate rinsed; for he had more than enough water in his room to get that done. Austin had for some time picked up interest in Chinelo. Chinelo had been a young girl of fourteen when Austin parked into the compound, but she had so rapidly developed into a very respectable confident woman. Her curves have all well shapened up. She was just breathtakingly beautiful. Her beauty was not what had attracted his attentions though. It was her calm maturity in the face of pressure that did. Austin have observed with disguised interest her repeated attempts at managing her family issues without resulting to the assistance of a third party. She had been doing marvelously well in helping her siblings manage the grief of having such an embarrassing father. In fact, a lot of neighbors, both within and outside the compound, finds it so hard to believe that quiet Chinelo is the daughter of quarrelsome Beatrice and her drunkard husband Mazi Okoro. Chinelo is at peace with almost everyone, not minding whether one has quarrels with her parents or not.
Chinelo had brilliantly taken over the emotional and spiritual responsibility of her parents towards her siblings without having both parents feeling displaced. She will counsel them and guide them through their individual challenges. It was her who Ngozi can comfortably talk to about her intimate affairs. It was her that Ebuka can comfortably tell which school girl he is crushing on. It is also her that Chiagozie calls mommy. She was in fact the role model of her siblings, as well as to many other compound kids. They all love her just as she loves them in return. She is also very homely and goes about doing house chores without uttering any word in complaints.
Chinelo carries her hair in low cuts as a result of academic restrictions, but she will be graduating at the end of the current academic year, after which such restrictions will no longer be binding on her. Her low cut hairstyle fits her perfectly well. Austin will always steal glances at her whenever she is washing at the backyard; sometimes in absolute silence and at other times, in melodious tenor tones. Austin loves it when she sings. The tingling sounds of her voice have this strange soothing effect on Austin which he finds absolutely difficult to explain.
Austin had made up his mind that he needs a girl like Chinelo in his life to help him stay focus. He needs a girl who will encourage him when the chips are down. And being the lone child of his mother, he needs a girl with the prospects of possibly becoming his wife. He was going to do it slowly and steadily; one step at a time. Step one: is to get her attention.

Chinelo’s mind was seriously roving, as she was trying to make sense out of what the gesture was all about. “Is it an innocent gift or a Trojan horse?” she wondered. She had never had that much in terms of relationship with the opposite gender. Her only contact -though not intimate- with them (boys) is the innocent classroom chats she usually have with her class boys. These chats were innocent and unpretentious, with no strings attached. She had noticed but without paying much heed to the catcalls made by her street boys anytime she is walking down the street. One of the street boys named Musa is particularly fond of these catcalls and each time, she tries as much as possible to ignore him. Musa doesn’t like to be ignored. He will rush up to her from behind and hold her by her wrist, to which she will struggle herself loose. This attitude usually pissed him off and he will resort to insulting her and her parents. He will mockingly point to the last portion of the gutter her father last fell. Chinelo will not reply him but will continue on her way but within her, those words really hurts. These different encounters helped to build her perception of men.


Barbing saloons, bet shops and local bars are the best places for one to socialize in the neighborhood. Most of the young men of the neighborhood prefers to hang out in any of these three places. While some only come around in the evening after returning from work, the jobless ones –they call themselves by the fancy name of “Homeboys”- will in the morning, at about the time others are preparing for work, take their bath and put on their best cloths as if they have somewhere important to go. These homeboys only end up in one of the three earlier mentioned places. The homeys always seems to know everyone in the area and everybody knows them. The homeboys are always the first know when there is a new babe or chick (Slang for girl) in the neighborhood. A new babe in the neighborhood simply means a new target practice. They will almost immediately begin marshalling out plans on how to get the new chick. The primary goal is to get her laid. The price is a slap on the back of the shoulders as if to say “well-done” and some form of reverence when one is being talked about. The laid chick will then be passed on, from one guy to the next, until they've all had their fill. It is all a game. For every neighborhood babe taken, three points is awarded. The guy with the highest number of accumulated points, tops the league. Although there might not be any formal board responsible for keeping the scores, the guys just consciously seems to know who the best among them is. They know who used to be the best and those giving the leaders a run for their money.


Chinelo’s perception of men is not in the least negative and as well, not overly positive. In spite of having a father that embarrasses the family, there are still good men like Baba Jide; who almost everybody likes. Despite having to share a street with a rude boy like Musa, she still had street boys who will make way for her to pass. One of such time was when she had returned from church ahead of her siblings. The street boys were spending their afternoon playing soccer on the street. They literally stopped kicking the ball around and patiently waited for her to pass before resuming play. The gesture was quite pleasant as well as a little embarrassing. They all had their eyes on her. Walking the few steps off their pitch was in fact the longest walk she had ever made.
Chinelo likes Austin who she refers to as Brother Austin as a mark of respect. Austin is a simple minded soul who is never interested in other people’s business. A character that is very rare in a public compound. He is not ultra-religious and stoic like Brother Fidelis and he is as well not loose and carefree as Oga Francis. He follows the middle course in his quest for uprightness. Austin is very responsible and very hardworking indeed.
Chinelo felt like “having Brother Austin as my first boyfriend would not be such a bad idea; after all he is cute and responsible. But first, he has to ask for it and after he does, I will make him sweat…. I mean real sweat”

Austin avoided Chinelo for the whole of that day and unto the next day. He wanted the effect of his gesture to linger on for a little while. He felt that the effect of a gesture automatically ends whenever the receiver has been able to express his/her gratitude to the giver. He knows Chinelo will be feeling disturbed for not been able to thank him yet, but that was just exactly what he wanted and hoped to achieve.
Austin successfully avoided her when he went to take his bath at the bathroom, when he was having his teeth brushed, and when he had a cobbler polished his shoes. Now he is full dressed and is set to hit the road. He had been avoiding the entrance into the main building like a plague for fear of encountering Chinelo. He prefers the second entrance that leads directly into the boy’s quarters.
He had almost made it out of the compound when heard someone call his name from behind. He turned only to find Chinelo coming out through the main entrance door with a smile that made every single strand of hair on his body rise. His palms suddenly went moist and his eyes were transfixed on her. In his head, it all seems like a goddess emerging from the gate of heaven. It all felt like he was in a trance. He just couldn’t speak; for he was too dumbfounded to do so. Chinelo spook first and her words seems to draw him back away from his dreamlike world into reality.
“Brother Austin, I know it was you that did it. Thank you very much.” She said as she turns to hurry back inside for fear of her father getting to meet them together. Austin was still too dumb to give a proper reply. He would have loved to feign ignorant of what it is she was talking about, but couldn’t help himself to it. He just gave out a smile and continued to watch as Chinelo disappeared back into the darkness of the passage; after which, he realized that his mouth were opened and that there is a shift he has to go relieve. He turned and off to work he went; with a childish excitement in his heart.

tahir01:
OP! Hope you have not forgotten us.

Not in any way. I'm a little tight for now. But I promise to start hitting you harder than you can keep up with. Thanks for your priceless followership. Merry Christmas.

CHAPTER EIGHT
Nkechi is lying still on her bed. She had earlier phoned in to report that she wasn't feeling well and will therefore not be able to make it to work. She boss obliged her owing more to the fact that Nkechi rarely missed work. Her roommates had enquired to know what the problem was but she lied to them that it was just a minor headache that will pass. Nkechi knows what she is suffering is more of heartache than headache, and this will most certainly live with her for the rest of her life. The reality of what had befallen her was beginning to become clearer by each passing moment. She had set out on a hunt only to turn out to be the hunted. She felt herself to be as useless as what has been chewed up and spat out to the trash; for where it rightfully belongs.

Nkechi is the third child in a family of eight girls and no boys. Her father never liked the fact that they are all girls even though he rarely says it to their faces. He believes his personal chi had not been fair to him. He had once spoken harshly to the mom in the privacy of their room stating that “he was ready to sacrifice the life of these worthless girls just for the cry of a baby boy in his compound”. Nkechi was standing by the door when her father made the remark about them. That night was the most troubling for Nkechi. She cried herself to sleep but those words were forever written in heart. Nkechi cannot remember when any one of her sisters have had the chance to sit on their father’s lap or being playfully thrown in the air like other fathers did to their girls. It has, in fact, never happened. Their father celebrates his successes with his brothers. His happiest moments are spent with his friends. He only brings home his misfortunes and dissipates his anger on them girls. Whenever he is around, no form of chatting and giggling is allowed. They will all run into their room and pretend to be asleep. Whenever they do any wrong, he will scold them very harshly calling them ‘good for nothing’. Though he tries to provide for his family, but he more or less does so for fear of what people will say about him.
Her father had always being under stained pressure from his brothers that he take for himself a second wife but he had always pushed the issue aside stating that his financial status is not stable enough for him to do so. His brothers even offered to take up whatever expenses getting a new wife will incur but her father continually puts up resistance.
One day, he came home with tears standing in his eyes. Her mother inquired to know what the problem was about. Her father narrated to them how a boy not older than his daughter Nkechi had used his bicycle to spatter water on him. And when he tried to bring the boy’s attention to it, he told him off by telling him to "get away or better still do you worst". He felt bad and wished if only any of his children had been a male, he would have send him to deal with the boy mercilessly. That day, he placed the blame on Osebuluwa, his personal chi, their mother and on them –the girls. The pressure was too much on her mom that she had to plead with him in private on the need to get a second wife for himself. She stated that both her and her children will live happily with whosoever he picks as second wife. For her, his happiness is what is paramount in her life. She had said these things as hot tears streaming down her eyes. Her husband appreciated his wife effort to see that he is happy but conspicuously refused her request. He stated that that was not the best option as it will only bring further destruction to his family. Being one who grew up in a polygamous family, he totally dislike such a family setup. He told his wife that he plans not to marry off one of the girls. The appointed girl will stay back in his compound and bear children that will bear his name and carry on with his legacies. According to Igbo customs, this practice is absolutely normal. The decision greatly alarmed their mother who, though was well aware that such a tradition exists, never knew that her husband was thinking in that direction.
Nkechi grew up thinking it was perfectly normal as a woman to do everything possible to gain general acceptance among men and society. She had thought being a woman, your dignity starts and ends, more or less, on the man to your side. A woman even with an irresponsible man to her side is always first considered ahead of more successful single ladies. Women were not allowed to attend the meeting of kinsmen. They do not partake in the sharing of their father’s wealth. Their role in life is generally considered to be complimentary to that of their male counterparts.
Being the one among all her sisters to have a bit of a masculine orientation, her father secretly earmarked her as the best candidate to carry on the legacy of preserving his name. Her mother was aware of his plan but she was not in support. She intimated her children on their father’s plan for them and all hell broke loose.

Jide almost overnight transformed from being the compound's clown to becoming the compound's hero. The NEPA officials had enquired about the identity of the boy who stole from them. Their enquires were met with the same answer “I don’t know!”. They had left in frustration without bothering to climb the electric pole a second time for the superstitious fear of what could befall them this time. On his return, the compound women enquired –though more for gossip sake- how he had fared. Jide dished out to them various ego-massaging stories of his sojourn. Many of his stories were greatly exaggerated. Like when he told Iyawo Akeem that he ran ten kilometers to evade capture without even knowing what running ten kilometers entails.
He walked around the compound as if to have spring under his heels. And when electricity was finally restored, instead of the usual shout of "UP NEPA!", those who knew about Jide’s action of the afternoon shouted "UP JIDE!". Jide enjoyed it all. Even Aunty Gloria his secret crush gave him a very warm embrace when she learnt of what he did. Little children his age immediately nicknamed him “Jide the terminator”.
That evening, those tenants who were yet to pay their NEPA bills were almost sliced in two equal halves by the harsh lips of Lolo Beatrice. Their grace period has elapsed.

Nkechi and her sisters all deserted their father’s compound for their mother’s village from where they all went their different ways. Nkechi ran the farthest. While others had sought refuge within the eastern axis of the country, Nkechi set out for Lagos. She was determined to make it big in order to spite her father for not believing in them. But she was even more determined at getting back at the male folks, for they manipulated society and bestowed on themselves power and influence.
She met Gloria at the motor park who later introduced her to the other three girls. They all contributed equal amount in order to secure an apartment for themselves. Going about securing an apartment in Lagos was quite difficult than they expected it to be. No Landlord was willing to offer his house to a group of five girls who are not even blood sisters. The story was almost exactly the same from one Landlord to the next. Nkechi continued to observe with disgust how society have made it difficult for ladies who have set out to survive on their own. Luck eventually shined on them when someone directed them to Baba Jide. Baba Jide took them to the Landlord and introduced them as his children. And just like that, they secure a room on the boy’s quarters in his compound. They were asked to pay for two years; which they did. Then they were told to pay for Agent and Agreement Fees. The girls were taken aback. As newcomers in the state, it has not occurred to them that such was the practice down here. Nkechi was the one that spoke first.
“But Oga Landlord, there is no agent involved. We did not seek the service of any. And do we have to pay a fee for just reaching an agreement with you?” Nkechi queried.
The landlord was not happy with the question, but for the fact that Baba Jide had introduced them as his children he would not speak to them harshly. Baba Jide and the Landlord both have mutual respect for each other. Baba Jide seeing that the facial expression of the Landlord has changed offered to explain to the girls instead; that such is considered norm in Lagos state. He, as well, explained to the Landlord that all five girls are new to the state.
The girls pleaded to be allowed to return the next day with both the Agent and Agreement Fees for they had not anticipated the extra charges. The Landlord obliged them but stated that he will not issue a receipt to them until everything is properly settled. And if for any reason they were unable to come up with the money for the extra charges, they can come and take back the money already paid. They thanked him and left with Baba Jide for the room.
Most of the girls, especially Nkechi, were no longer having much left on them. So the money for the extra charges could not be shared equally but based on what one could afford. All the girls contributed. Gloria contributed the largest amount. The following day. They were all prepared to go and see the Landlord to effect payment. But Gloria convinced them that it was no longer necessary that they all go together since the Landlord had seen them all the previous day. She suggested that the other girls stay behind and try to make the room more livable while only her goes on to see the Landlord. The other ladies considered it a very good idea. So they all stayed back to wash the room clean and decorate it.
When she returned, Nkechi observed that it was Gloria’s full name that was on the receipt. She had wanted to raise alarm but decided against it for it was far too early to start suspecting each other. And so she allowed the sleeping dog to lie. The girls have ever since lived like sisters. Whenever there are challenges, they all face it trusting on the solidarity of each other. Aside a few times Gloria would want to give off the impression that she is the legal owner of the room, which the girls conveniently laugh off and considers childish, they live in relative peace.

CHAPTER SEVEN
The epileptic state of power distribution in the country has always and always will be a cause for consign if nothing urgent is done about it. One of the surest way to begin a quarrel in the compound is by bringing up the issue of the electricity bill. It is one issue that always gets people feeling cheated. This issue have never for once being amiably settled. To make matters worse, it is the most frequently reoccurring issue. It is guaranteed to reoccur on the least twelve time in a year judging by the number of times the electricity bill is meant to come. When it is not a problem of points sharing, it could be the problem of late or delayed payment. When it is not a problem of accumulated debts, it could be the problem of crazy billing –outrageous billing. But no matter how one goes about solving electricity issues, it never stays solved. Solving electricity issues literary means leaving the customers with all the disadvantages. For a private consumer, this could be understandable and probably bearable, but for public consumers like in the case of a one hundred and fifty (150) tenant compound, it is whole lot different. Divergent views will be considered: everybody will want to be heard and some will even go as much as to try to force their opinions down the throat of others. And many of these views may not air on the side of patience and endurance like in the case of a private user.
The acronym NEPA stands for National Electricity Power Authority. It used to be a public utility company responsible for ensuring and regulating the effective generation and distribution of power in the country; a task –based on common knowledge- they failed completely in. The parastatal just like with many other government parastatal was plagued by mismanagement, corruption, embezzlement, mediocrity, tribalism and nepotism. Based on her gross inefficiency, various governmental regimes have sorted different ways of sanitizing the system. The last of which was the privatization of the agency. NEPA was auctioned off into various concessions but her inefficiency also went with her to her new private owners. The concessions all changed the name –probably believing her inefficiency was in the name. They mostly took up names based upon their area of operations but this did not stop the general public from still referring to them with the former nomenclature of NEPA. The EEDC –Eko Electricity Distribution Company- is the electricity company that oversees power distribution within Lagos and its environment.

Jide is standing outside with Ebuka. In a few moment, his fears will be confirmed. Jide, like other children his age, hates seeing the compound electricity supply get disconnected. Not minding the pathetic state of the nation’s power distribution, for him, he prefers his compound being connected to the grid. For once one is connected and there is no power supply, the situation is bearable, considering that whenever power gets finally restored, he is sure to get it. But with a disconnection, the situation is entirely hopeless and will remain so until a reconnection is done. The inefficiency associated with NEPA have made the reconnection exercise an exercise no one will want to engage twice in. Jide suspects the compound, just as it always does, has defaulted in their payment of the current electricity bill. All that was needed was for Lolo Beatrice –the custodian of the electricity bill- to come out with it so that the NEPA official can determine how much is owed and the correct line of action. Jide knows it will be a miracle if his compound escapes this one. That miracle can only be made possible by mean of a bribe but nobody have any to give. Anyone probably willing to redeem the compound is sure to do so from his own pocket for it will never be refunded.
At this point, strong anger was already building up on the inside of him. It was about time he teaches these NEPA people some very bitter lesson. He had heard tales of streets that have collectively confronted NEPA officials, beating them up mercilessly, seizing their equipment and vandalizing their vehicles. These streets by their action succeeded in instilling fear into the entire NEPA staffs who will not dare go to such streets for disconnections duties. Jide had always wished his street will take up such a hard stand against these NEPA staffs but such a wish is considered farfetched as no one is willing to risk a possible jail sentence for something that is not exclusively his business. This disposition have made Jide to look down on the older boys in his area as chicken livered, pant-wetting mommy’s boys. What the many street boys could not do for the street, Jide was very determined to do for his compound. For him, he must teach every NEPA staff to fear his compound.

Two NEPA staffs were assigned on Jide’s street. The first one who seems to be the boss was a short dark Yoruba man probably from Ibadan judging by the severity of his facial marks. He was wearing blue overall which had its back inscribed the initials EEDC for Eko Electricity Distribution Company. He was standing at the front of the main entrance. He had his right hand against the post. On his left hand, he was carrying what seems like a register. At the back of his ear hangs a blue pen. He bellowed into the passage of the main building in an effort to announce his presence in expectation that whosoever is responsible with the task of attending to NEPA officials will come out and attend to him.
Further out, the younger of the two also a Yoruba on whose nametag is written ‘AREMU’, was adjusting the ladder to have it properly lean against the electric pole. He was also wearing exactly the same kind of clothing like his boss. He had on him the safety harness and around his waist is a brown leather belt on which the various tools needed to effectively carry out his tasks up on the pole were attached. He was tall, dark and slender and as well, had an innocent boyish look to his face. About eight meters to where he had the ladder set, his boss had placed quite large a bundle of seized disconnected wires. Each of these wires were rolled up and a duct tape placed on it, this is to properly identify each from the other. On the duct tapes were written addresses from where the wire was disconnected from.
“Ejor Oga mi, shey them never come outside ni?” Aremu asked his boss in a heavily accented combination of both the Yoruba and Pigin English. Combining Yoruba and English languages seems the unofficial lingo of the staffs that works with electricity companies in Yoruba land.
“I am yet to see anybody o!” his boss replied with a hint of frustration in his voice. With the intensity of the sun and the number of houses yet to cover, one cannot help being frustratingly annoyed when there is a delay in gaining attention. But for customers, anything to spite NEPA officials is encouraged. Getting their pound of flesh against NEPA staffs is sometimes the first thing on the mind of some customers. An intentional delay for a few moments is most likely the only fair as well as legal advantage a customer can ever get against NEPA.
“Oga mi, if they are not forthcoming, then let us disconnect them. Abi they want us to remain here doing nothing ni?” Aremu asked already feeling irritated.
The boss left the doorpost he was standing at to attend to people from the neighboring compounds who happens to share the same electric pole with Jide’s compound as they start trickling in one after the other. It was at this point that Lolo Beatrice came out with the electricity bill. Her eyes looked red and swollen. If not for the rumpling of her wrapper and the roughness of her hair, one would have mistook her for someone who had been shedding tears but hurriedly had to dry her eyes in order to have her sorrow concealed from prying eyes.
“Madam, shey you people did not hear my voice when I was shouting for the bill ni? If we disconnect you now, you will say NEPA people are too wicked? Abi you think this is the only job we have to do all day ni?” The boss inquired from Lolo Beatrice.
“I was trying to remember where I kept the bill and that was what took my time. I am sorry” pleaded Lolo Beatrice.
It is common knowledge that being polite with NEPA staffs on disconnection duties can have a positive effect on the bribe one is to pay. A polite customer could possibly pay less in bribe compared to a rude customer. With NEPA, though illegal, bribing is considered to be a very integral part of the system. The official cost of getting reconnected is two thousand naira (#2000) for the common single phase line. But one could be expected to pay between one thousand (#1000) and one thousand five hundred naira (#1500) in bribe depending on the amount being owed. This will spare the customer the ordeal of staying a few days in hopeless blackout, while giving him a few more days in grace to effect payment. Customers most often prefers the bribe option. Well…who will blame them? Making ends meet in an already messed up economy is one hell of a task.
Lolo Beatrice handed over the bill to the NEPA official and looked away, pretending not to know that the compound have not effect its payment. The NEPA official collected the bill from her and placed it under, in line with other bills as they come, examining them one after the other.
“no 53, here is your bill. I have recorded it on my register.” the Boss said as he hands over the bill to Mama Ejima who is representing that compound.
“no 57, you made part payment. But the problem is that the amount paid is not up to the official 70% current bill charge you are supposed to pay. We are supposed to get you disconnected but because you bothered to pay something, we will spare you. Next time you may not be this lucky.” Said the Boss who is now having a stern look on his face. He registered it on his book and then handed it over to the person representing no 57. Brother Ade who is representing no 57 collected the bill. He thanked him for his consideration by prostrating with his two hands to the ground. “Oga mi!” he hailed, only to sneer back at him three meters off his face.
“no 59, you have not paid even a dime of your current electricity charge and your arrears is well over twenty thousand naira (#20,000). We shall have you disconnected.” said the boss feigning annoyance. He handed the bill over after having entered it on his register. The last bill he was having in his hands is that of no 55 –Jide’s compound. He carefully examined the bill while licking his lips in the process. It is bills like these –that of no 59 and no 55- that they like coming across. With these kind of bills, there are only but two possible outcomes. It is either you pay a bribe and stay connected or you don’t pay and get disconnected. The bribe one has to pay have no official backings. It starts and ends with the team assigned to your street. For the team on Jide’s street, one does not put food on the table by playing nice.
“no 55!” called the boss.
“Sir!” answered Lolo Beatrice in a very nice voice. She looks straight at the boss as he speak, trying to establish eye contact with the sole intention of having him intimidated so she can manipulate him to her own wish. But the boss being someone with a lot of experience in customer’s antics, he deliberately avoided eye contact.
“You people have not even paid a kobo on your current charge and your arrears are way too huge. Is there ever a time no 55 will be devoid of debt? Well….we are going to disconnect you.” Said the boss. And so it began the compulsory pleading session that comes right before the bribe negotiating session. The entire process terminates with the final payment of bribe.
“Aremu, disconnect no 55 and no 59.” Instructed the boss. With this instruction, pleading intensifies and negotiations starts wearing the look of seriousness.

Jide who was patiently watching it all, had intensive anger boiling on the inside of him. He distastes NEPA officials and the way they arrogantly go about their business. For him, people were simply just attaching too much importance to them and the epileptic service they render. He had watched on the sideline how Lolo Beatrice has been following the boss around pleading for the compound to be spared and at the same time promising to pay up but with each plea, the boss puffs up in arrogance. Jide felt like giving him a very hard punch on his face. His tribal marks and dark skin color in collaboration with his mindless arrogance presented the image of the devil to Jide. He hated devils and this devil must be taught a bitter lesson.

“Madam, can you please stop following me about? If you want us not to get your wire disconnected, then go and bring the sum of one thousand five hundred naira (#1500). I would have told you to bring two thousand naira (#2000) considering the amount you people are owing but because I am a God-fearing man that is why I told you to bring a thousand, five hundred naira.” The boss said as he tries to shake off himself from Lolo Beatrice ominous presence.
The boss walked towards the position of the leaning ladder as Aremu prepares himself to get up the ladder. Aremu puts on his red rubber gloves and adjusted the safety harness round his waist. Then up the ladder he ascended. The boss took his place at the foot of the ladder. He had his right leg placed at the first step of the ladder while his left leg maintained its position on the ground. His two hands were both on either of the ladder’s rail. The boss position at the foot of the ladder is a precautionary measure in ensuring that the ladder is safely anchored to the ground as Aremu carries out his task at the top.
“Aremu, fi no59 si ile. Won ti mu owo wa.” Instructs the boss from down below in Yoruba language.
Aremu looked down at his boss who gave him a sign that says only no55 will be disconnected as the person representing no59 has complied with the bride he was asked to pay. The system of communication between NEPA staffs when the issue of bribe is being discourse traditionally becomes part Yoruba and part sign language. This is to effectively confuse anyone who is nosy enough not to mind their own business.

Jide had timed his move to coincide at exactly the time both NEPA staffs will be having their hands full. With the first one up the ladder and the second one helping to hold the ladder in place, the time to act was ripe. Jide made for the bundle of wires laying on the ground. He grabbed two sizeable ones and ran off into the compound passing through the entrance that leads directly into the boy’s quarters and then he disappeared.

Aremu had just hooked on his safety harness by having it around the electric pole and back onto its place on his waist when the shout of “Ole! Ole!!” (Yoruba for Thief! Thief!!) startled him. He at once recognized the voice to be that of his boss form down below. He looked down to see his boss agitating violently while pointing towards the entrance to the boy’s quarters of the compound he is about to disconnect. He boss not knowing whether to let go of the ladder and run after the thief or to first get his colleague safely on the ground and deal with the theft later. His indecision was now taking a toll on the ladder which was now vibrating violently in rhythm to his agitated boss. But strangely enough, Aremu observed that nobody was even making any attempt to go after the thief and possibly recover what has been stolen. They all seems in the least undisturbed by the agitation of his boss. Aremu fearing for his own safety unhooked his safety harness and started to descend from the ladder. His priority now is to recover the stolen wires because every delay decreases the chance of having the thief apprehended.
“Ah Oga mi! Please hold the ladder tight o!” Aremu pleaded as he descends
His boss was too agitated to hear his plea. All that was utmost on his mind was getting that thief. He is well aware that he is to be held responsible for any missing wire. He could be penalized for being careless with public property. Being a family man with five kids to cater for, any threat against his pay check is most likely to be taken seriously.

Lolo Beatrice who was watching it all, couldn’t help but feel admiration for the thief but she did not show it on her face. She felt like jumping for joy but decided against it for fear of being label an accomplice. So she witnessed it all with an indifference look on her face. Without being asked, she made it clear to everyone around and interested to know that the thief is not a member of the compound and that even though he ran into it, one can easily link up with the other streets by passing through the backyard. Lolo Beatrice as well as others retired to their respective compounds leaving the NEPA officials to deal with their problem themselves.

CHAPTER SIX
It been two weeks since Mazi Okoro promised his wife the start-up money for her business. Mazi Okoro made the promise with the intention of not keeping it. He was compelled to make it in order to get off her hook that fateful morning. He had ever since been careful in avoiding his wife. He will come in when he knows she will be exhausted from the day’s labor and in no mode to make trouble and will ensure that he is out before she wakes. Whenever she is still awake –which he gets to know by means of interrogating the children with the armless question of “where is your mother?”-, he will linger for longer around the compound. And if he makes it to the room for whatever reason, he makes sure he stays close enough to the exit should in case of any eventuality.


Lolo Beatrice loves her husband so dearly. She loves his jokes and his handsomeness. She will often laugh out more to the astonishment of her children when she remembers some of their father’s jokes. When they were both much younger –before the birth of their children, Mazi Okoro used to take her out to exotic places. He will buy her nice things and sing to melodious folk songs. Mazi Okoro was every young girl’s dream. He rocks an afro hairstyle, had a pointed nose, gap teeth and hairy chest which he always flaunts back in the days when he puts on his grey blazers.
Long before Mazi Okoro came knocking in her father’s compound back in the village, Lolo Beatrice had a boyfriend named Somuadina. Somu -as he was fondly called back then- was a very shy guy. He was the only child of his parents and had a mother who was most willing to do everything for him. Being a lone child, Somu was well taken care of. He looked more robust and better dressed than ever other guy his age. Young girls her age likes flocking around Somu because when with him, they may get a chance to eat things like Nasco biscuits –which was foreign to them village girls, eggs –which they never get a chance to have a whole all to themselves, and suya –which was most likened to be a meal for the gods. It was not unnatural for Lolo Beatrice to be attracted to such a guy. But because Sumo had all the better looking girls running rings around him, she had to make due with admiring him from a distance. Most of the girls –especially Ebere who is now married with four grown up children- always had Somu’s name on their lips. Among the girls, no discussion is complete without an issue about Somu. On their way to the stream, Somu is being discussed. On their way to and from school, Somu is the topic. He in fact became the most popular boy in the village. Whichever girl Somu gives his attention to blushes in excitement. For girls who could not wait in line for his attention and were not willing to do anything extraordinary for it, their only chance of getting loved was the willingness to try out other guys. But still Sumo was the standard of measuring their guy’s class. Some of these girl will literarily break up with their boyfriend if they find him unwilling to measure up. Guys were under pressure from their girlfriends to work harder in order to meet up or risk losing them. They will fetch firewood to sell, they will hunt squirrels and other games to sell, and they will tap palm wine and cut down palm fruits to sell. With the money, they will buy Bongo trousers and Apola shoes. But it was all still not enough. Somu never needed to do none of these degrading jobs to stay on. His parents simply would not let him lack. Some of the village boys disliked Somu, while some others simply envy him and wished to be in his shoes.
Lolo Beatrice’s chance with Somuadina came unplanned. On the fateful day, she had gone alone to the stream to fetch a pail of water when she saw Somu coming in behind her also alone. She was shocked that she couldn’t even say a word of greeting to him. She just concentrated on fetching her water while hoping to get out of there as fast as her legs can carry her. She dropped the story book she had been reading along the way on one of the exposed roots of the Iroko tree which was planted next to the stream. Then she took her iron pail to the stream, dip her feet in the water and went to the head of the streambed to get the water from that section. She struggled to lift the bucket full of water to her head alone without bothering to call for help from the only person present which happens to Somuadina. She left the stream without taking a second look at Somu who was now standing on one of the exposed roots of the Iroko tree. When she got home, reflecting on the event at the stream, she wondered why she had reacted the way she did. “Here was the Somuadina she had always been daydreaming about; the very same Somuadina that all the village girls had on their lips and all she could do was to run away?” she wondered. She considered herself stupid for allowing this golden chance she had of letting Somu know her better pass. What a daft thing to do. She resigned to keep the encounter secret, for she knows if she should tell her best friend Ndidi of it, Ndidi will insult her to high heavens for being so foolish.
On the evening of that same fateful day. There was a knock on the door. Lolo Beatrice being the youngest of all her siblings and the one sitting closest to the door stood up to answer it. When she opened the door, she was shocked at who was standing there. She was so dazed as if she had seen an apparition. Somu seeing that she was surprised and probably lost greeted her back to consciousness. She did not reply more as a result of not knowing what to say. Somuadina looked beyond her into the room. He greeted her father who was sitting on the single sitter armchair and her mom who was sitting next to him. They both replied his greetings and in turn enquired about his parents to which he replied “They are fine. Thank you”. Her mom then motioned for him to come inside. Lolo Beatrice stood aside as Somu walked in. in his hands was the story book she was reading on her way to the stream. He told her parents that he had only come to return it because she forgot it at the root of the Iroko tree. They both thanked him and scorned Lolo Beatrice for always being too careless with things. But Lolo Beatrice was not paying attention to it all. Her mind was racing fast thinking of something nice to say to him. She couldn’t come up with something other than the very polite “bye” she said to him as he was about leaving. Lolo Beatrice closed the door after him and went straight to her room in excitement that the might Somuadina came to her house. That visit was the starting point of their affair.
Their relationship –if it were to go by such nomenclature- never blossomed as Lolo Beatrice had expected. Maybe she had expected too or probably Somuadina wasn’t showing much consign about it all. It all felt like nothing really was happening. Somu would not touch her, he would talk to her passively and only need be, does not even know her birthday, no sweet talks and his sense of humor was virtually non-existent. She will often wonder what all the fuss about Somuadina had all been about; for she was not seeing anything to have warranted such. Probably Somu was too naïve and innocent to understand what a woman wants. “Who would have even blamed him?” she will always wonder. Here is a boy who have always had everything done for him; to the extent that even maintaining an eye contact with the opposite gender was so difficult a task. Somuadina cannot start a conversation and knows nothing on how to keep one. He prefers staying largely silent all through a conversation. Apart from nodding his head at intervals mostly in affirmation, he contributes absolutely nothing meaningful to spice up any conversation. In fact, Somu was simply a boring character any vibrant young girl would want to be with. Whatsoever her principal reason was, Lolo Beatrice had her mind made to stop being romantically attached to Somu. She resigned within herself to now see him as just a friend: after all, there was no formal wooing, no first date or any date for that matter, no first kiss, and hardly any memorable moment to cherish about. So why a formal breakup? She had asked herself.
The girls were on their way from school when Ebere broke the news of a guy who just returned to the village from Lagos. To these young village girls, Lagos was considered to be out of this world. The city of Lagos was likened to the moon. It was out of reach, and just as it takes only astronauts to go to the moon, Lagos was seen to be reserved solely for the rich and powerful. Ebere announced to the girls that the guy was donning a hairstyle that is as tall as when one carries firewood on his head –referring to Mazi Okoro’s Afro hairstyle. And that his coat –referring to Mazi Okoro’s Blazers- was like that of the parish priest; only that he wore his on a tee-shirt unlike the parish priest that always wears his own on a long sleeve shirt. Ebere described the guy to be handsome, gaped teeth with a pointed nose.
Mazi Okoro was the best seducer she ever came across. He was really good with words and knows perfectly how to manipulate her with them. No matter how tough a resistance she puts up, her darling husband knows exactly how to get through it. She is always hapless in the face of his soothing words. She will sometimes shed hot tears in secrecy, wondering what have become of the man that swept her off her feet. Lolo Beatrice sincerely misses that man. She misses the old Mazi Okoro and desperately wants him back.
Lolo Beatrice had attributed her current predicament to be the handy work of her enemies who were jealous that she was always having the best men for herself. Now her husband no longer cares about her welfare or even that of his kids. He will spend whatever little money he makes on drinking beer. And when he is drunk, he will entertain the entire street by staggering into the gutter: an embarrassment the family has been finding most difficult to manage. She now have to fend for herself and for her four children from her petty groundnut business. She now frequents prayer houses. Roving from one prayer house to the next in search for a spiritual solution to her problem. She had in the past tried to talk him to reason but all her attempts always ends in futility.
“Mommy, NEPA people are here with their ladder for disconnection.” Chiagozie announced to cut her off her deep thought.
“Where are they?” she tiredly asked
“They are outside the compound and they are asking after the current bill”
Lolo Beatrice struggled to get herself off the bed. When she eventually did, she went straight to the wardrobe and on that very same blazers (which is own old fashioned and worn out) Mazi Okoro wore when they first met, she search out the current electricity bill. With the electricity bill in hand, she went out to meet with the NEPA officials.

CHAPTER FIVE
Gloria had just settled down to take her bath. Her wrapper was hanged on the hanging nail and her scooper floating gently on the pail full of bathwater. Her soap-dish was placed on the floor to the right of the bathroom wall. She had her already wetted sponge and a bar of soap in her hands which she scrubbed together to make soapy froths. As she was about pouring overhead the first scoop of water, she noticed a movement on the bathroom door. It seems to her that someone had been peeping in on her through the holes on the door. The bathroom door is made out of disused zinc roofing sheets and some dying woods. On the zinc sheets are holes testifying to its pervious encounter with nails.
Gloria immediately screamed at the top of her voice as she reached for her wrapper to cover her unclothedness. At that point, there was footstep outside of someone that seems to be running away towards the main building. Gloria tied her wrapper, unhooked the door open and came out. She was totally bewildered to find the area completely deserted. She walked towards the direction the sound of the running footstep had come from; only to find that the passage of the main building is equally empty. She then walked towards the boy’s quarters where she found Austin brushing his Jeans trousers.
“Did you see anyone pass through here?” she asked Austin.
Austin stood up to checkout who was talking to him. He saw Gloria standing with her wrapper tied around chest, her face was partially soaped and her hands wet down to the elbows. Austin smiled, bent down and continued his brushing without any attempt at answering her question.
“Is it not you that I am talking to or are you deaf?”
Austin still will not reply, ignoring her completely. He began whistling to a gyration song he had been playing in his mind. This was to further drive home the point he was trying to make. After standing for a few more moments, she turned away for the bathroom cursing the person that had peeped on her.

Jide is laying on the bed. His heart is beating fast. He had just narrowly escaped being catch peeping on Aunty Gloria. Gloria had always been Jide’s adult crush. He frequently fantasizes about her full breast and her sumptuous hips that effortlessly moves from side to side. He had even tried to make up in his head what she would look like behind her cloths. On this mental picture, he will jerk himself to ecstasy. The urge for hedonistic satisfactions backed by curiosity had led him into peeping on female tenants. Jide does this to both young and older women so long as they make you of the bathroom. He even have his favorite peephole. Before embarking on the act, he will first make sure that no one is in and around the vicinity-including the kitchen, the backyard, the passage of the main building, and along the verandas of the boy’s quarters. He prefer carrying out his acts barefooted in order to avoid noise. He had at one time almost gotten himself caught red-handedly by Lolo Beatrice who was on her way to the kitchen. Lolo Beatrice on the fateful day had so much on her mind, she hereby couldn’t give a meaningful interpretation to what she really saw. Jide in his usual position -bent from waist down, his head raised up and his eyes trying to adjust to the act inside- immediately pretended to be looking for something of his that fell in that area. Lolo absentmindedly continued on her way to the kitchen. And that was the closest he had come to being caught. He will always pride himself to be the compound’s equivalent of James Bond –a British spy agent film character that is always evasive of his enemies- who can never be caught on his own game. Jide has an extensive collection of pornographic films and magazines which he keeps in a very secret place he alone knows about. When Baba Jide is not at home and Bunmi is off to assist Mama Jide at the shop, Jide will gather all he boys his age and some below his age inside their room and the will watch these X-rated films together. They will cheer their favorite porn stars, fast-forward scenes they don’t like, mock and banter themselves when any develops an uncontrolled erection. Jide particular favorite porn star is Miss Maserati. He loves her because of supersized boobs. He even follows her on social media trying to keep updated on her latest work. And whenever he goes out for new materials, films with scenes that features her are always his first pick. Almost every parent in the compound warns their wards against associating with Jide but each time they go out to toil for the day, the boys will all run off to Jide like iron fillings attracted by a magnet.

Gloria secretly crushes on Austin. She had grown repeatedly frustrated by his lack of attention for her. Austin is a fine young man of marriageable age and more importantly, he possesses the three most essential commodities ever ghetto girl seems to fancy. First, he has a room to himself to guarantee them shelter and consequently their privacy. Secondly, he has an eight inches mattress to take care of their comfort. And lastly, he has a well-mount plasma television and a complimenting Home Theater stereo set for their entertainment. The issue of moral standing only comes after all the above stated criteria have been met.
Gloria finished her bathe. She tied her wrapper around her chest and then unlock the bathroom door. As she came out, she accosted Iyawo Akeem going to the kitchen. Gloria and Iyawo Akeem are both not on talking terms. A surreptitious battle of supremacy seems to be going on between them even though they are both about the same age. Gloria have always felt Iyawo Akeem is of a far too lower standard and very undeserving of Akeem. She had not been able to get over the fact that an outsider came into the compound to snatch for herself an eligible bachelor while compound girls are still single. Other spinsters earlier shared the same pattern of thought with Gloria on the issue of Iyawo Akeem but have long gotten over it. Iyawo Akeem by means of her silence and stone-cold indifference was able to ignore their many repugnant innuendos. Sometimes she will mockingly laugh at them as “mistresses only good for bed warming and not marriage”. This statement always hurt Gloria the most and only help to deepen her hate for Iyawo Akeem. Gloria will console herself by firing back at Iyawo Akeem that she “prefers remaining a mistress for life than pinning down a man with the very lethal combination of an unplanned pregnancy and fetishism”. Gloria will always complain whenever it is Iyawo Akeem’s turn to wash the toilets that she does not wash it well and Iyawo Akeem will do likewise when it is Gloria’s turn. Akeem and other men in the compound have in the past tried to mediate peace between them all to no avail.
Gloria continued to her room. When she passed by Austin, she gave out a long scornful hiss. Austin pretend no to notice as he continues brushing on his jeans. Gloria went inside her room, got dressed and off to church she went for choir practice.


Francis stood by his door with key in hand. His head is slightly bent over. He has the keys brought to his face as he strain his eyes to sort out from the bunch of keys the specific key that is to unlock the door. For Francis, even the basic act of searching out a key could be very demanding. When he finally located it, he bent even further to locate the keyhole. By mean of feeling with his hands he was able to locate the keyhole sooner than expected. The passage of the main building is always dark most of the time even during the day. It is only lightened up when there is power supply. Francis unlocked the door, went inside and left the door ajar. He made for the side stool on which he dropped his phone and emptied the content of his pocket on it. He then laid on his bed facing up and slept off.
The knock on the door woke Francis up. He had initially wondered if the knock was from his door or from elsewhere down the passageway. Until he heard I again; this more clearly. He looked up to find his fan rotating; an indication that NEPA had restored power. The he checked wall clock to realize he has slept for about 30minutes already. He was just too tired to answer the door so he told whoever I was to please come in without leaving the bed. The door opened a bit further inward and Nkechi stepped in. she was wearing a black flowing skirt that was as long as her knee and a white armless top. Nkechi is one of the four girls that are Gloria’s roommates. She is very jovial and easygoing. She is loved by almost everyone. Children seems to love her most because she occasionally buys them biscuits and sweets.
“Oga Yellow, why are you sleeping by this time of the day?” asked Nkechi in a voice with a note of consigned.
“I am just tired” replied Francis who is indifferent when referred to as Oga Yellow by co-tenants.
“Hope it is not malaria fever? Because tiredness is one of its symptoms.”
“No I don’t think so. I always drink herbs to that effect. His tiredness is as a result of excessive stress”
“Ok o!” Nkechi replied resignedly.
“Yeah!”
“Oga Yellow, did you remember to buy the film we spoke about the last time?” Nkechi further asked.
“You mean Game of Thrones?”
“Yes! But the season three of it.”
“Yes! I bought it together with some other films.”
“Which other film did you buy?” Nkechi asked excitedly as she was now standing by the side of Francis bed with her hands akimbo. She posture seems to further accentuate her breast.
Francis had his sight fixed on her breast. He had never been happier of his kind of eyesight until moment like this one when it difficult for one to determined where he is looking at because of the constant shifting of his eyeballs. His sexuality was already getting the signal very loud and very clear.
“Some Filipino telemundos; about four of them and two Indian movies. You can check them out. They are all on the television cabinet” Francis replied.
Nkechi eagerly strolled towards the cabinet that carries the television. She bend down with her buttock in the direction of the bed. She opened the cabinet and began to sort through the films in it.
Francis has not meet a woman since his wife left with their kids for the village. He has always been a faithful husband to his wife. Nkechi is an attractive girl. She has a moderate sized breast and some very ample bum. She is about 5.8 inches tall and possesses a very charming smile. When she laughs, it seems to radiate from deep down her soul. She lives her life not bothered about what negative perception people may nurse against.
Francis heart is beating fast. Every part of his body seems alert. There is absolutely no time to think now. He knows that what he is about to do is wrong and he will regret it soon. But he just couldn’t bring himself to stop. The urge was too great and overpowering like a volcano that is about to erupt. His penis was now achingly erect. He had sweat on his forehead and neck even as the ceiling fan blows at its highest. Precipitation condensed around his nasal cavity making his entire nasal region sweaty.
Francis stood up and tried to make for the door but his legs simply would not move in that direction. He walked almost without an after-thought towards the television cabinet where Nkechi is sorting out films bent down. He stopped directly behind her. He stood every close enough to have his erection brush against her buttocks. Francis rocked his waist from side to side while keeping his erection firmly between both ass cheeks. Nkechi pretended not to notice the activities directly behind her. Things were going exactly as planned. It was all she had wanted for a long time. After a few moment, Francis pulled back, went straight to the door and bolted it shot. He then returned to Nkechi who is already standing erect now. Francis reached out to cup her breast with his right hand but she gently maneuvered herself out of that attempt. She give off a look of utter confusion. Feigning ignorance, she asked Francis “Oga Yellow, what is all this about?” But the sound of her voice seems to betray the expression on her face. She kind of breath out the question for the sound came out almost as a whisper. Francis ignored her enquiry as he reached out for her breast the second time. This time there was no resistance as his right hand cupped her right breast. He fondles it gently. It was soft and filled his palms with no space to spare. He wondered how something this soft could maintain a perfectly round standing position. Francis then bent slightly forward towards her neck as Nkechi stylishly looked away to the other side in order to give him unrestrained access to the left side of her neck. He gently hissed the soft tissue of her neck, working his way by means of his lips in collaboration with his tongue from the base for the neck to its summit. This act was met by a shivering reaction from Nkechi who had resigned to a hush and was enjoying the game while it lasts. Francis -being a married man- had from experience perfectly understood the complicated sexuality of a woman. He is aware that to satisfy a woman and probably make her beg for more, a man must be ready to painstakingly start slow, then gently build up on his momentum as the game progresses on. He likens a woman to a car. For Francis, it is wrong to just put the key in the ignition and drive it off without first taking the time to fire-up the car and getting it into the mode to acceleration. Francis left hand went behind her back; round her waist to draw her even closer. His right hand left her breast as it traces its way through the soft curves of her body passing her full hips to her buttocks. He grabbed her right ass cheek in a firm jerking grip. Nkechi groaned in what seems like a mixture of pain and excitement. She suddenly pushed him softly away in a manner that clearly says “come and get me….if you can”. As she turned to make for the door, Francis grabbed her by her arms, swiftly swing her around and drew her pressingly close to himself. At that point, by her act, there was no longer doubt in her mind as to Francis consciousness in what he is doing. Without warning, he began to undo her buttons to expose her black bra. As if to give approval, Nkechi unhooked and zipped down her skirt from behind. She let go as the skirt fall right down to the ground. She was wearing a pink lace panties. Francis without hesitation slide his hand into her panties down to the folds of her vagina from where he began to playfully tease her. His left hand went round her back to steady her. Nkechi had her eyes tightly shot, head thrown aback and her back arched in a way that brought her chest forward. She held with both hands Francis’ right hand, a little above the wrist, as she quivers rhythmically to the magic of Francis’ fingers. As the pleasure increases, she unconsciously grabbed Francis by his shirt with one hand while the other still maintained its position on Francis’s wrist as if for reassurance against the fun going off abruptly. She opened her mouth wide but strangely enough, no sound came out of it. When her eyes opened, the eyeballs were nowhere to be found. It as if they had both rolled up into her head in a prefect show of ecstasy. Francis repeatedly work his trigger finger on her clitoris the very same way a policeman will work the trigger of his gun when threatened. With each movement, a shot of shocking wave ripples down her spine. Francis then slide both his index finger and the middle finger into her already moist vagina, with his palm maintaining a steady vibration on her clitoris. She immediately lost every sense of self-awareness as she moans loud –louder than what she would have wanted. Her knee seems to want to give way. Her leg just could no longer support the weight of her body. Francis was the master of the game, for she was now soakingly wet. He pleasured her the way a guitarist manipulates the guitar strings to give off tingling melodies.
Francis could no longer support her with his arms as her body’s trembling movement continues to grow in ferocity to the sustained wave of pleasure from his magic fingers. In one single motion, Francis slide down her panties and with the other hand he unhook her bra. Her breasts fell out eagerly as if to protest being restrained for too long. They were both of a perfect size. Each nipple was pointing in the opposite direction. It was indeed a beauty to behold. Francis led her to the bed and made her lay on her back. He then began undoing the buttons on his already rumpled-up shirt to reveal his hairy almost blood red chest. Black spots dotted his chest at random. He then began to unbuckle his belt. Nkechi who still lying on the bed still had her eyes tightly shot. She was very expectant. For as far as she is concerned, Francis was already a fish in the boat -her boat; to be manipulated at will. To be milked off whatever juice he still has in him. Though an alcoholic, Francis has two buses on the road that when there are no complains of a breakdown, brings returns for him. He had at one time contemplated driving one of the buses himself but Baba Jide advised him against it considering his lifestyle. By Nkechi estimation, Francis is financially responsible. After all there is a guaranteed means of steady income, all that is needed was someone to help control the inflow of cash to him. And that is what she had set out to achieved. Her plans is completely selfish as she gave no after-thought of what will become the plight of his family in the village if she succeeds in ripping him off the little his alcoholism will spare him. “Well…who cares? I have my own needs after all”, a line she had always used to support her conviction.
Francis removed the belt from the belt holders on his trouser and made for the single button that holds the trouser in place. He stopped abruptly as if something had hit him from behind. Then he took a step backwards, turned around and went for the door. He unbolted it open and went outside never to be seen again.

CHAPTER FOUR
The ghetto is a place of contrast. The melting pot of many cultures, characters and lifestyles. It is an environment where every tribe irrespective of both cultural and linguistic barriers lives side by side as neighbors and as strangers, as friends and as enemies, as allies and as adversaries. The ghetto is heavily saturated with people that the actual number of inhabitants have been estimated to be about one third of the total population figure of the entire state. It is purely residential. Very little people actually make ends meet working herein. The ghetto is not planned. Shanties and never-to-be completed buildings dots its landscape. Drainage systems are always blocked -and very often spilled into the streets- as very many compounds connects their sewer directly to them. Like disease, the crime rate in the ghetto is way off the chart as next door to a dutiful security agent lives a hardened criminal or next door to a virtuous mother and her growing daughters lives prostitutes and whoremongers. It is a place where innocent school girls shares the same passageway with pedophiles. There is in fact a constant struggle between the forces of good and the forces of evil; one trying to cancel out the other.
It is Saturday morning. The loud knock on the door woke Austin up. As he stood up to check who the person is, a voice came calling.
“Austin, please come out. We are having a compound meeting now and every male occupant of this compound is expected to attend.” The voice said
Austin at once recognized the voice to be that of Baba Jide the caretaker.
“Please come and join us now as we are almost about to start” the voice called again as Baba Jide continued down to the next door on the boys quarters.
As a young man, Austin aspires to own a bus. He had always have eyes for the transport business. He conceives of it to be a business venture where one who is diligent and discipline enough to wade off distractions could actually make it big. He had at one time meticulously calculated what he believes should be the expected daily income of a bus driver after subtracting possible expenses to be incurred, Austin felt that what is left will most certainly make for a decent living for a man with a family of five. Based on personal verifications, he came to discover that the greatest problem to a bus driver is a dishonest conductor. Conductors are notorious for shortchanging their drivers. They will bring up whatever excuses they can muster as to why the proceeds from a trip is small. And when directly confronted with the question of why the proceeds are meager, they will most likely raise their voice in lamentation as to the numerous spots to which they are expected to pay tolls. Though the touts-area boys- that have almost literarily taken over the roads and the policemen who are indiscriminately erecting roadblocks may not be the best of friends to transporters, but the whole problem does not rest solely with them. At the end of a day’s work, conductors are usually stripped naked for searching. But this has proven abortive as conductors are known to have agents at various bus stops. They pass money to these agents during a trip for safekeeping after which they collect at the end of the day’s tolling. These agents are in many cases relatives and lovers. It is common knowledge that some conductors are known to hide considerably large wedge of naira notes –especially higher denomination notes- deep inside their anus. They will wrap the money around latex gotten from cheap condoms; with the lubricant, this will allow for easy insertion.
Austin spent the entire week working really hard. He had hoped for an event-free weekend. He planned to spend the day indoor in order to recoup lost energy. But not attending the compound meeting, he considers it an irresponsible way to behave. He put on a long polo and a knee-length jeans short. He then proceeded out of the room. The older men were standing in groups of threes and fours. Austin joined them to trade banter at each other. The meeting is yet to start as they all await the arrival of Baba Jide who is yet to return from going round.
“You no longer come tom shop to buy spare parts again.” Mazi Okoro said to Akeem.
“Oga Okoro, you don’t sell Belgium parts” replied Akeem “the air pump I bought from you the last time was Taiwan. You persuaded me to take it, promising that it would do the job but the following day the customer came back to quarrel with me for using a substandard parts on his vehicle. He want even demanding a refund. It took the intervention of my neighbors before he agreed to see reason.”
“Well, that is not necessarily all my fault. The amount you came along with was below the cost of a Belgian standard air pump and that was why I gave you the next best thing.”
“Oga Okoro, that is not how to do business. When you don’t have something, you state it in clear terms so that one can go elsewhere. You nearly cost me a customer” protested Akeem.
“No vex!” pleaded Mazi Okoro “but please come back. I will treat you well this time.”
“Have you forgotten that my son Chiagozie is the one that is to marry your daughter Nabila? We are in-laws already.” Mazi Okoro jokingly added. Very one busted out into a hearty laughter and the case was settled.

Akeem was still an apprentice in an auto mechanic workshop owned by Oga Usman when he got Biola pregnant. Biola –later address as Iyawo Akeem (Akeem’s wife) - used to hawk bread for mother after school. On her ways to school, she will branch off at Akeem’s place where she will stay until closing hours helping him with all the domestic chores-sweeping, washing and cooking when there is actually something to cook. The room which was owned by Akeem had two other boys living in. they both liked Biola most especially for her hard work and homeliness. They will sometimes jokes with her that if their friend Akeem ends up not marrying her, then they will have to take him to the Osun River deity for some sever spiritual cleansing. This joke have a way of lightening up Biola. She will give a shy smile facing downwards and jokingly tell them off.
Eventually Biola become pregnant with Nabila and the boys moved out in order to enable Akeem settle down to proper family life. Six months after the birth of Nabila, Akeem done with his apprenticeship, gained freedom. In order to make up for his inability to throw a party in celebration of Nabila’s birth, Akeem pulled out all the stunts to celebrate his freedom. He even borrowed from friends: many of whom were very willing to lend him considering his good nature. At the Freedom Party, there was a lot to eat and drink and make merry. Biola paraded herself as Mrs Akeem the First -considering his Islamic faith permits him up to four wives-even when there are absolutely no legal or customary backing to warrant the title.

Everywhere suddenly went quiet as Baba Jide joined the gathering. Brother Fidelis was signaled to say the opening payers.
“Father; in Jesus name!” bellowed Brother Fidelis as he raised his voice in prayers.
“Amen!” replied the crowd of which Mazi Okoro’s voice was highly distinguishable; for it was the loudest and most sustained of the “amen’s”. Mazi Okoro was already on his knees, his eyes tightly closed and his hands spread overhead in a perfect show of reverence to God.
“Lord and my God. The Creator of the Heavens and the Earth. The One that was, that is, and is to come. The I am that I am. The Mighty One of Israel. The Ancient of Days. The Omnipotent and Omniscience God. Lord, we commit this meeting we are about to start into your able hands. We are asking that you should come and take absolute control of this gathering and that at the end we may find course to glorify your name. Blessed Redeemer, we are asking that you judge us by the content of our hearts and forgive us our shortcomings and may all that we shall say be by our divine guidance and not by the inspiration of local gin and snuff-powdered tobacco. For in Jesus name we have prayed”
“Amen!” chorused the crowd expect Mazi Okoro whose loud voice was noticeably missing.
Mazi Okoro refused to partake in the last amen because he felt the last sentences of the prayers was directly aimed at him. But he knew better than to raise an objection about brother fidelis’ prayer because sure knows that the resistance will be swift. He made his displeasure known by the expression on his face as he dusted off his knees whitened with dust from kneeling down. Austin who was standing opposite him-just as well as others who got the joke-had to bite his lower lip in order to suppress the urge of bursting out in laughter.
“Good morning gentlemen” said Baba Jide who doubles both as the Caretaker and as the statutory Chairman.
“I hope every family in this compound is represented.” He further added as he came to discover that Francis (Baba Oyibo) is not present.

Francis is more commonly known as “Yellow” because of his pepper-red complexion. He is an albino. The color of his hair is a combination of light yellow and patches of darker hair to the rear end of the head. He eyes are colored pink and somewhat robotic that the eyeballs maintain a constant oscillation; shifting from left to right and back again. Francis is photophobic. He shuns and can easily get disorientated by the present of a strong light. He is in his mid-forties, married and with children; all of whom inherited the defect-necessitating him being referred to as Baba Oyibo. In the neighborhood, it is common place for one to be identify by the name of their children or spouse and in very many cases, by their current situation however negative and cruel sounding it may seems. Without much ado, one can comfortably address a cripple as Mr. Cripple, a beggar as Mr. Beggar or a blind man as Mr. Blind man. Francis had all of his children together with his wife sent back to the village while he stayed back in the city when the economic condition became so unbearable. In spite of his predicaments, Francis still maintains his good sense of humor when sober. But he could become excessively aggressive and very hostile when intoxicated. Those who know him well have all learned to ignore his provocative behaviors anytime they notice he is drunk. Outside being a habitual drunk, Francis is also a chain-smoker. Most of his friends will often cajole him that his eyesight is only good for lighting cigarettes. Francis will smoke anywhere and at about any time. But he particularly enjoys smoking in the latrine. He will stay for hours on end, smoking one cigarette after the other. Not have a lighter or matchbox or probably forgetting to come along with one will not in any way be an impediment to his smoking expedition. Only that is needed is just one burning stick of cigarettes and the rest will be properly taken care of. Fellow tenants will always complain at how he litters the toilet floor with burnt-out cigarette sticks and making a complete mess of the facility but all complaints seems to fall on deaf ears. It in fact seems to be that he tries to outdo previous efforts with far more ambitious ones owing to the intensity of the complaints. Francis –a regular at Mama Alero’s place- when drunk, lives in the world of his own fantasy. He will brag at how he was in the Congo’s for peace-keeping or how he served with distinction in Liberia as part of the ECOMOG troops or even how he has repeatedly ignored the plea of the current administration requesting his help in fighting the Boko Haram insurgency. Francis in one of his many tales once claimed he singlehandedly prevented the rebels from taking over Monrovia. And as evident for his gallant expeditions, Francis will raise is trousers by folding it up to his knee to reveal a scar on his shin –front of his lower left leg- claiming it is a gunshot wound that narrowly missed the shin bone. But neighbors knows that the wound was as a result of a fight he had with a stranger at the motor pack. Francis drunk as he was, looked for trouble and the stranger did not fail to give him double.

The meeting was almost at it closure when Francis staggered through the passage door with a cigarette nestled between his fingers.
“So you people are holding a meeting and nobody cared to inform me about it? Well… I guess it is either the meeting does not consigned me or I am by far too impoverished to be considered important or even both. Nobody informs me anything anymore because I am a poor man now.” Protested Francis to the crowd.
“But Baba Jide went round to inform….”
“Shut up your dirty mouth” shouted Francis as he shut Akeem up in the middle of his sentence.
“So, of all the men here, it is you this small boy that have the effrontery to challenge me?” he continued “where were you in 1987 when rebels were ceaselessly assaulting Monrovia? Charles Taylor and I used to know each other. We both fought against each other on Bomi hills as well as on the streets of Monrovia. I Colonel Francis Egemba fcc, gcf. ots. Sector commandant of the dreaded ECOMOG Warriors, taught him the little he knows about guerrilla warfare and he never fail to heed to my warnings. Do you know who Charles Taylor is? Small boy answer me. Do you know him? Or is it because you forced your way on a secondary school student and got her pregnant in the process?”
Baba Jide sensing that the most likely conclusion of this confrontation will do nobody any good quickly stepped in. he motioned to Akeem to remain silent by placing one of his fingers across his lips, the universal sign for “be quiet”. Akeem angered by Francis’ remark simply had to swallow his reply more out of respect for the Caretaker. Well… such a pathological drunk should not be dignified further with a reply.
“Colonel Francis Egemba.” Baba Jide called after Francis who was still vibrating under the rage of being challenged by someone who he considered to be a minor. Baba Jide always uses the military rank of Colonel to soothe Francis in order to have reason along with him. When Francis is addressed that way-especially in the martial way Baba Jide does it, he gives out a smile and nod in affirmation. Even when little children hails him by that rank, he pats them on the head and in some cases calls for biscuits or sweets to be shared to them all. The effect of calling him a colonel is almost instantaneous. He will raise his shoulders high, chest out, look straight ahead and walk as if he is walking on air. He greatly enjoys being called be that which he claims was his last military rank before retirement.
“I actually went round myself to inform everybody of this meeting. I knocked on your door but it was not answered. Probably I did not knock loud enough.” Said Baba Jide as he absolves the blame himself for the sake of peace.
Francis took a long draw on his cigarette and blew off the smoke to the left side of his face, twisting his lips and bending his mouth to the intended direction. He then looked towards the ground as if in a deep contemplation while still wearing his stern war-face. He like the attentions he was getting now. The smoke from Francis’ cigarette was inconveniencing Brother Fidelis. He moved away from his position to where the Chairman was standing -blocking his nose with hands as he walked over. Francis gave off a scornful look after him and murmured some inaudible but most certainly distasteful words to himself, then he took another draw from his cigarette.
The meeting ended without any more serious argument, which is quite rare for compound with this number of occupants.

CHAPTER THREE
The table looks set. Finely sliced onions, freshly grinded tomatoes, well-beaten eggs, chopped vegetables, a small pilled yam tuber, and other essential condiments were placed orderly on it. Loud sizzling sounds and delicious aroma filled the air as the beaten egg is added to the boiling mix of spiced vegetable oil and onion. This is the typical way Brother Fidelis cooks his food.
Brother Fidelis is what many co-tenants regarded to be a senior bachelor. He does not keep girlfriends and he do not have a fiancée. Whenever he has female visitors, it is always female church members and they are always accompanied by a brother. In absence of any brother, they come in pairs- which for Brother Fidelis effectively remove any possible temptation of committing a “sin of the flesh”. Brother Fidelis is a “fervent worker in the Lord’s vineyard”- as he tells anyone willing to her. He does not drink alcohol or engage in smoking and loathed anyone who does. For him, engaging in these things is against God’s purpose for mankind. At every compound meeting, Brother Fidelis will always insist they start off with prays. “Prayer is the Master’s key” he will say to those who grumbles about the time to be wasted by such an engagement. In further accentuation of his puritanical nature, Brother Fidelis is a very strict disciplinarian who always lament about what he considers “the continuous fall of the world’s moral standard”. In the entire compound, he is the only one with the guts to spank and in some cases severely discipline a child for wrong doing in the presence of their parents. Parents in fact inveigles their children into proper conduct by threatening to report their misdeed to Brother Fidelis. This threat at all times invokes fear in their wards that many of them simply breakdown in tears pleading for forgiveness and promising never to do any wrong again. The easiest ways to get an early morning spank from Brother Fidelis is by forgetting to salute him or any other elder for that matter in the morning. Brother Fidelis will always argue that according to African costumes and traditions, salutation is the debt every child owes his elder. Salutations imbibes the spirit of responsibility in the child and serves as testament that a child was properly brought up. A child that salutes his elders easily accrue favors from them. Salutation as a matter of principle is the very first perimeter upon which a child is judge. Even adults that do not salutes elders are never spoken well of. Many people regards such an adult with disdain.
In the twenty-six (26) room compound, Brother Fidelis is adjudged to have the best room. His room is considered the most beautiful as well as the most organized of all the rooms in the entire compound even though it consist of one wall mounted plasma television, one home-theatre stereo set, one eight inches mattress placed directly on the carpeted floor in one end of the room, one medium size standing refrigerator and many fancy light of different shapes and colors- the lights gives out spectacular light shows that greatly improve the vivacious ambiance in the room. The children of the compound enjoys observing from behind Brother Fidelis’ window how the lights flickers into their different colors. Some intrusively inquisitive co-tenants envious of his apartment will most readily liken it to a disco dancehall. A typical Sunday morning for Brother Fidelis starts off with gospel songs by Jim Reeves and Donnie McClurkin blasting off his stereo. It could as well be said that Brother Fidelis owns the largest copy of the Bible in all of the compound. His Bible comes with a leather jacket that acts as dust cover. The leather jacket has a handle from with he carries it like a briefcase. Brother Fide as he is fondly called by those who admire him is also a very good dresser. Though he rarely put on jeans trousers- which some neighbors on their own accord attributed to be against his church doctrine- but he is always on properly starched and well-ironed clothes at all times. His dressing is always modest and never ostentatious.
Brother Fidelis is particularly fond of eighty years old Nonye. He would buy her sweets and biscuits whenever she cries. He even made it a point of duty to always get her something nice whenever it is her birthday. No one outside her parents dares to touch Nonye whenever Brother Fidelis is around. When he is around, Nonye can get away with almost anything and whenever she feels threatened, she runs to Brother Fidelis for protection. Nonye even ascribed to herself some sort of celebrity status. She was the toast of young girls her age who envies Brother Fidelis fondness for her. Some mothers will openly complain of Brother Fidelis preferential treatment of Nonye; saying it is against Christian ethics for one to do so but they will secretly nurse wishes that their daughters be in Nonye’s shoe.
Brother Fidelis is an excellent cook. Before he starts cooking, he will painstakingly arrange all the ingredients he is to use in an orderly manner. He will neatly slice the onions, pepper and other sliceable and neatly put each condiment in their individual plate. His cooking pots are always the neatest; one could even mistake them as new. Whenever Brother Fidelis is cooking, the atmospheric condition in the kitchen changes instantly.
“Brother Fidelis, have you started again?” Iyawo Akeem jokingly asked
“What have I done this time?” Brother Fidelis replied giving off a knowingly laughter
“We will not run away from the compound because of your cooking” she said emphatically stressing on the cooking
“I never said anyone should run and besides there is nothing to run for.” Answered Brother Fidelis as he continued to stir his pot.
“Ok o!” submitted Iyawo Akeem. She continued on her way to the back of the compound to retrieve her dried cloths. Iyawo Akeem is widely appreciated for her great sense of humor. She is good at cracking jokes and she as well perfectly knows how to sustain a conversation without wearing out the audience.
“Brother Fidelis, eye wey see go chop o!” shouted Jide as he makes to the kitchen through the passage of the main building which directly opposite the kitchen.
Jide the fourteen years old son of the caretaker is regarded by neighbors to be the compound clown. Jide is never serious with anything. He will always make jokes out of very serious matters. His stock in trade is mimicking people behind their back. He will make a show of how people walk, talk and act under any particular situation. Even at school, Jide will never answer any question in class but will entertain the class by mocking those who attempted but did not answer correctly. He will refer to them as ITKs (I too know) just as he would mimic the rebuking reaction of the teacher. Jide’s unserious attitude had at one time nearly costed him his younger sister Bunmi. Bunmi was choking on her food when Jide was called upon to go fetch her a cup of drinking water. Jide felt that his younger sister was only playacting in order to have him go and get her water. So he continued to ignore her repeated plea for water. It took a resounding slap from Aunty Gloria to bring Jide back to his senses and he ran off to get the water.
“Brother Fidelis, it is said in the bible that ‘thou shall be thy brother’s keeper’.” said Jide as he tries to play smart.
Brother Fidelis getting his drift immediately replied “not in all cases.”
“But Jesus said we should all love our neighbors just as we love ourselves.” Jide continued; trying hard to persuade Brother Fidelis in order to partake in his meal. It is commonplace to see co-tenants indicate interest in their fellow tenant’s meal. Sometimes they go as far as dishing the food themselves; though that depends on the level of familiarity that exist between them.
“Backup your claim by quoting a chapter of the Bible that supports it and I will make sure you have some of my food.” said Brother Fidelis.
Jide went dumb. His instinct told him to immediately use his smart phone to google out the answer. As he attempted to reach for his phone, it occurred to him that his internet data bundle expired two days ago and he has not been financially buoyant enough to subscribe to a new one. He bite his lower lip in frustration as he tries to think out another way to savage the situation.
Jide and Bunmi are the only children begotten by Iya Jide –a Christian- for her current husband Baba Jide –a Muslim. Iya Jide have been previously married to two other men. Her first sojourn in marriage started with a man named Kola. Kola she will always say is a woman beater who cares less about her welfare. Their union was blessed with five children. Of all the five children, only the last born Abbas Kola Jr keeps a close contact with his mum. The marriage ended without much of an incident; just the woman waking up one morning and decided she had taken enough to continue in the marriage. She packed out of her matrimonial home and so did her rights as Kola’s wife packed out with her. Her second marriage was with a man named Jamiu. Jamiu was he kind of man Iya Jide had always dreamt about. He was tall, cosmetically light skinned with a pointy nose that sits graciously on the face, broad shouldered and a deep baritone voice. Jamiu was very social. He possesses an aura that seems to liven-up any place he went. A Lothario, Jamiu knows how to almost effortlessly win a woman’s heart. And they-women- simply fall for him. He as well has a beautiful set of ivory white teeth and a dimple on both side of his cheek. He will show if off through his most disarming smile that never fails to loosen even the most reserved of women. Jamiu‘s wardrobe is filled with Ankara of different colours and styles. This is a testament to his proficiency as a partygoer. Iya Jide’s marriage to Jamiu only lasted for one year and some few months before both went their separate ways. Baba Jide, her current husband is a quiet easygoing man. He tries his best to avoid troubles and will always preach peace and tolerance when confronted with one. He is highly respected both within the compound and outside it. As caretaker, he will always plead on behalf of tenants who defaults on their rent. Baba Jide –a devoted Muslim- is very accommodating. He adopts an open-hand policy to life. He never quarrels and will hardly engage one in an argument; even on something he knows too well. During Salah festivities, Baba Jide will ensure that his wife shares food and drinks to every member of the compound and even beyond. Jide will always grumble at how his father will insist on sharing almost all of the meat from the single ram the slaughtered leaving them with next to nothing.
“Is there anything you would want me to do for you Brother Fidelis” asked Jide, trying to divert attention from the question earlier asked.
“Nothing I can remember for now” Brother Fidelis replied absentmindedly as he pours the peeled sliced yams into the hot oil on the stove to begin frying. Fried yams and egg is not a delicacy Jide knows too well. It is in fact rarely eaten in their house. A typical morning begins with Baba Jide handing out the sum of one hundred naira (#100) to Bunmi as money for breakfast and to Jide, the sum of one hundred and fifty naira (#150) before leaving for work. Jide will take a plate and cross over to the other side of the road –sometimes barefooted; that depends on the intensity of the urge for food at that particular time- to buy food form Iya Bola who runs a food canteen. He will carefully pinchpenny his breakfast on a budget of one hundred naira (#100) while he reserves the balance of fifty naira (#50); which is to be spent later in school. Jide has always been envious of Brother Fidelis, not for what he termed his archaic lifestyle but for the exquisite meals he cooks and eat.
Brother Fidelis had just finished frying the first set of yams when the shout of “UP NEPA!!!” rendered the air. He immediately dropped the spoon and the hand-towel he was holding in both hands and ran off for his room. He needed to plug-in his phone which was already on the last bar. Aware that he wasn’t going to spend much time inside, he did not bother asking anyone to look after his food to prevent it from burning. Jide, who in the course of celebrating his “UP NEPA!” ran towards the toilet area quickly noticed that Brother Fidelis had gone inside and Iyawo Akeem is too far behind the backyard to notice any activity going on in the kitchen. His instinct told him that the time to act is now. He immediately strode towards the main building to ascertain that no one is coming from that axis. He as well walked further towards the backyard to double check on Iyawo Akeem. She was too busy gathering and arranging her cloths. He then tiptoed to the kitchen, took out in a single movement three (3) pieces of hot fried yams and all at once shoveled it all into his breast pocket. He bent over in order to prevent the heat from the yams from burning his skin. He then took another piece, but this time it went straight to his mouth. The yam was too hot to be chewed at that point so he held it in place using his frontal teeth while he carefully prevented his lips from making contact. Jide then attempted making a go at the already fried eggs but his criminal instinct told him that there was no room for that and there is absolutely no time to create that room for it now. So he had to make due of what he is already having. He immediately walked out of the kitchen towards the boy’s quarters. He walked slightly bent forward with his back hunched. He used his left hand to hold his shirt forward in order to prevent his breast pocket from touching his skin, while his right hand was used to support the yam in his month being held-on by his teeth. And off to school he went as he had earlier persuaded Bunmi to take his school bag along with her. This was the tactics if he is to escape being punished for late coming.

CHAPTER TWO
Mazi Okoro picked up his bucket and poured the last bail of water over his head. He took of his towel, dried his face with it and then tied it around his waist. He squeeze his sponge to remove the excess water. He then placed it accordingly in his soap dish. He placed the soap dish inside the empty bucket. Then he picked up the bucket by its handle and unlock the bathroom door. Mazi Okoro stepped outside. He ignored everybody who was standing in waiting –most of whom were already wearing long faces. He walked straightfaced to his room. Behind him, Jide the caretaker fourteen years old son mimicked his movement and gesticulated his mannerism. The act amused everyone around and they burst out laughing.
“Papa Ngozi, good morning” greeted Lolo Beatrice as her husband stepped into the room.
Lolo Beatrice was laying on her side on the 12 inches family size mattress she shares with her husband. Her head was raised and rested on her left shoulder while her right hand was nestled between her thighs. She had her Nigerian wax wrapper tied around her chest. Expect for the wrapper, she was obviously naked underneath. She likes sleeping that way. Her four children had to make due with laying on the mat. Mazi Okoro who was still whistling, paused, answered his wife and continued again. Sensing what is to follow this unusual morning greeting, Mazi Okoro hurriedly dressed up while trying to as much as possible look as ease.
“Papa Ngozi, do you remember that my friend that I told you about that buys crayfish from Cameroon to sell in Nigeria? Lolo Beatrice asked
Mazi Okoro ignored the question and continued whistling but on a lower note.
“Is it not you that I am talking to?” Lolo Beatrice interpolated
“What happened to her? Please Mama Ngozi just go straight to the point. I am almost late for work” replied Mazi Okoro.
“But you pretended not to be hearing me” she said.
“Madam, I listen with my ears and not with my mouth.” He replied.
Trying so hard to suppress the anger building up inside her. Lolo Beatrice stood up from the bed and walked towards the wardrobe, carefully picking her way through in order to avoid stepping on Chiagozie and Ebuka, both of whom were still sleeping on the mat. When she got to the wardrobe, she loosen her wrapper and retied it again; this time, more firmly around her chest. Standing directly behind him, she placed her heavy left hand on her husband’s shoulder as he work on the buckle of his belt. She slowly moved her right hand up and down his arm, stroking the hairs that covers almost the entire length. Then she began to speak again.
“Papa Ngozi that my friend have promised to introduce me to the business whenever I am ready” Lolo Beatrice said “she told me that the business has very little risk and that I can be guaranteed to make a sizable profit if I play by the rules of the business”.
Mazi Okoro now feeling tensed by his wife’s closeness knows he has to play nice if he is to beginning the morning on a good note. He stop whistling, kept quiet and avoided eye contact while he search out his shirt form the wardrobe.
“She even said that a lady she once introduced to the business less than six months age is now doing very well on her own. According to her, anyone with a good capital and a little coaching will do well in the business”
“So what do you expect of me?” asked Mazi Okoro trying very much to conceal the anxiety in his voice.
“She said I will need the sum of one hundred thousand naira (#100,000) only to start up with; after which I can invest more if I so wish” Lolo Beatrice said as she pressed her blossom against her husband’s back. Brushing her breast against the skin of his back. Then almost subconsciously she began to search out for any grey hair at the back of her husband’s head, plucking it out anytime she finds any. She will then pat his black curly hair as if to smoothen it.
Mazi Okoro asked “How much have you been able to come up with?” as he continued to play along nicely.
“I have only been able to come up with twenty thousand naira (#20,000). You are aware of the difficult situation of things in the country right now. My small groundnut business is no longer flourishing as it used to ever since those two other women down the street started their own groundnut business. They have been messing up the business by undermining price. They don’t even know how to fry groundnut well” Lolo Beatrice said with scorn.
“You mean you have only been able to come up with just twenty thousand naira (#20,000) for a business of one hundred thousand naira?” Mazi Okoro asked in a voice that seems to be slightly agitated.
Taken aback by her husband’s question, Lolo Beatrice asked “what do you mean by that question Papa Ngozi?
Observing the change in his tone of voice, Mazi Okoro cleared his throat, pressed both lips against each other and remained silent; suppressing the urge to resume his whistling with his powerful wife still breathing down his neck. He located his favorite brown short sleeve shirt, removed it from its hanger and began putting on. He maneuvered the shirt on by stretching out his arms overhead one after the other into the shirt sleeves, adjusted it in order to have it sit properly on his body. His wife helped him adjust the collar orderly while he buttons up. Lolo continued to state the reason for her inability to come up with something tangible but Mazi Okoro was not listening. All he wanted now was to get the hell out without any incident.
Chinelo was returning from the kitchen at the back of the compound when she heard the voice of her mother speaking from inside the room. Chinelo is a brilliant young woman. She is mature way beyond her age. She carries herself with grace and have won for herself the respect and admiration of her peers and those beyond her age grade. The older likes her because she is respectful and well-mannered while the younger likes her because she is compassionate and caring. Chinelo have over the years been disturbed by her parent persistent quarrels. She had once confided in her Sunday teacher Pastor Ruben that she intend taking herself and her siblings out of the house to an unknown destination from where she hoped to begin a new life far away from the embarrassing quarrels of her parents. Pastor Ruben advised her against such a move- that considering her young age and gender, it will be dangerous to survive in a situation like that. When Chinelo was much younger, she had embarked on a hunger strike at protest against her parent’s quarrels. Both parents panicked when they see how definite their daughter was in staving herself to death if they continued in their disgraceful quarrels. Mazi Okoro and Lolo Beatrice both tried to persuade, cajole and compel her; all to no avail. She refused both food and medicine. Her parents both had to beg and pledge never to be hostile to each other again. Though Lolo Beatrice was sincere and hoped to keep her side of the bargain, Mazi Okoro saw it all as means to an end; which is to make her daughter eat and consequently keep her alive. He had viewed the whole event as a conspiracy between mother and daughter to have things go their way. Chinelo have in many cases endured taunts from co-tenants who makes jokes out of her parent’s quarrels. Jide is the most notorious in this category of people. Whenever such a quarrel begins, it is usually accompanied by a ferocious shouting match between both parents and sometimes blows are exchanged. Chinelo will observe in revulsion how her nosy neighbors will continually loiter around her veranda trying to snoop in on what the quarrel was all about. Chinelo knows her dad could at times be mischievous but she is also aware of her mom’s stubbornness. After eighteen years as a child in the family, she has come to know when trouble is brewing. She knows it is impossible to stop her mom must especially when she thinks she is within her rights but she can only save the situation by making her dad walk away. She had in many cases mediated peace between them; but dad’s alcoholism and mom’s domineering tendencies makes the task a very difficult one.
“Daddy, it is 6:40am already. You are running late” Chinelo said as she stepped inside the room.
“Thank you Chi. I am almost through” said Mazi Okoro. Mazi Okoro likes addressing his eldest daughter by her pet name “Chi”. Chi is the first three latters of her name. He habitually calls her “Chi” especially in relation to a good deed and Chinelo loves it when dad calls her by her pet name. Lolo Beatrice is not happy at her daughter’s attempt to draw off attention from the issue been discussed. She immediately instruct her to go warm the food and prepare her siblings for school. Mazi Okoro sensing his daughter intentions seized upon the window created by her.
“When are you expected to begin your exams?” Mazi Okoro further asked
“In two weeks’ time. Revision is expected to start next week” answered Chinelo
“How well are you preparing?” Mazi Okoro asked; trying to establish a long conversation in order to retain his daughter’s presence. He is conscious that his daughter’s continued presence is the only antidote to his wife’s troublesomeness this morning.
“Well… I am trying my best. I just hope it will be good enough”
“I expect you to come out in flying colors. How about Mr. Wale your mathematics teacher?”
“He is fine. He always sends his regards.”
“That’s good. I have heard he is the most hated teacher by the students because of his strictness.”
“Yes dad. Mr. Wale is just too strict and he is very skilled with the cane”
“Yeah” exclaimed Mazi Okoro “that is exactly what children of this generation needs. They all need to be severely disciplined because all they know and care about is boyfriends and girlfriends. I like Mr. Wale’s discipline and that is why I made him my friend so he can keep an extra eye on both you and your younger sister Ngozi over there in school”
At that point, both Ebuka and Chiagozie woke up. They both greeted their parents as Ngozi came inside to announce to both of them that their bath water is ready. Ebuka stood up from the mat. He yawns, stretching himself with both hands spread out wide overhead. He answered a few questions from dad as regards his preparedness for the forthcoming exams. He then proceeded outside to urinate. Chiagozie who is the younger of the two boys was instructed by Ngozi to get up and roll up the mat. He too was interviewed by dad as he off his cloths. He was then led out by Ngozi who will supervise him as he takes his bath.
Mazi Okoro who is not a father to care so much about his children’s welfare only needed every form of conversation in order to continually hot his wife out. A visibly angry Lolo Beatrice sensing the game her husband was trying to play, went and stood by the door with her big right hand to the door post while she rested the left hand on her left hip. Her face is reddened with anger. Mazi Okoro seeing his wife reaction, gave out a little knowingly laughter.
“My beautiful Lolo! Agu Nwanyi! The beloved mother of my children!” called Mazi Okoro as he tries to soften her demeanor through his most infectious smile.
“Mchteeeeu” Lolo Beatrice gave a long hiss as she looked away
At that point, Maxi Okoro knew that the only possible nonviolent way out is through sweet talks and making promises which he has no intention of keeping.
“My Lolo, I have heard all that you said. We do not need to fight over this issue.” Said Mazi Okoro “Okey Abiriba, my neighbor at the shop is still owing me some money from the Brainbox I sold to him last week. Ejike Nwa Aguleri is also owing me some money which he promised to pay this morning when I come to the shop. I will as well ask my very good friend Maduka to lend me some money. I know he will oblige me. With what I will be able to raise, added to the twenty thousand naira (#20,000) you said you have, we will have something decent for you to start with.”
Lolo Beatrice lend back against the door, she folded her arms under her breast and looked away pretending not to be interested in what her husband was saying. Mazi Okoro reached out to touch her by her cheek but she moved her head to avoid his touch. Seeing his wife is defiant, he decided to make promise to provide her with the balance before the week runs out. Lolo Beatrice made her husband swear that he will keep his promise. Mazi Okoro immediately obliged her in order to get off her hook for he was already running late. She brightened up and left the doorpost. Mazi Okoro left the house with a grim on his face. In his heart, he has beaten her to this one.

Maxi Okoro is quite a unique character that outside his gaming skills, he is also famous for his habitual sniffing of snuff (powdered tobacco). His snuffbox is as much a priced possession to him as a rough diamond is to a prospector. Mama Alero–a widow who lives few blocks off the bus stop that service the neighborhood – is his favorite customer. She is popular around the neighborhood for the potency of her snuff. Mama Alero, though in her mid-forties, still possesses every single trace that points to a fading fact that she was once a beauty to behold in her youth. She has the shape of an hour-glass with full hips that perfectly supports her massive buttocks. Her male customers never seizes to make jokes out of her buttocks and some of them –regulars- comes for her snuff as much as they come for the exotic sight her buttocks offers them. Whenever she is a friendlier mood–which in most cases is determined by how brick business is- , she flaunts her assets by dangling it all around as she goes about attending to their various needs. Her local gin is -according to local connoisseurs- the best distilled around the area.

Mazi Okoro is always his chatty self whenever he has his snuffbox in his hands. He will dry his palms on his trousers and then hit the top lid of the snuffbox with his thumb repeatedly in order to have the content settle at the bottom just to prevent it from spilling. He will put his middle finger in his nose as if to search out for debris from last snuffing session; which are not always there. He will then pour himself a sizeable portion which he will pat with his middle finger to ensure even distribution across his palm. Before scooping the first chunk to his nostril, Mazi Okoro will almost subconsciously engage into what seems to be a deep personal contemplation when alone. But when in company of others, he will laugh out heartily at even the most trivial of jokes.

Mazi Okoro is so overly protective of his daughters Chinelo (18) and Ngozi (16). He seems to have a special distrust for almost all the young men in the compound. He will always eye them the way a predator will eye a daring prey. Mazi Okoro will not allow a male to come within five feet of his daughters; even when it’s with good intentions. He will bark at such a male, warning him to stay clear and will instruct the female child present to go inside the room right away. And when he is not in too good a mode, such instructions are usually accompanied with a resounding slap. Mazi Okoro will always say “a young man and a girl are like yam and goat. They should never be left together”.
Just like expected, Gloria finished first and Austin went in after her. He immediately noticed that Gloria has forgotten her bra on the nail he is to hang his towel. Austin called after her but she ignored his calls and continued to her room which is a room after Austin’s in the boy’s quarters. Austin removed the bra from the nail and hanged it over the lintel; directly above the bathroom door. Then he resumed his bath.

The structure that accommodates the compound bathroom is a crude fabrication of stone and wood. This structure is sited at the back of the main building. It also accommodates the compound’s two pit latrine and kitchen, both of which are on either side of the bathroom. The bathrooms as well as the toilets and kitchen have no ceiling board fittings to help cushion the effect of the heat from the burning sun overhead. It could be very hot and uncomfortable when one wishes to use it during a sunny day. It also lack every form of electrical fittings. No light bulbs and no switches. Tenants have to rely on the ray of the morning sunlight to bathe during the day and on their torches for light during sundown. The bathroom door is made out of old, almost rusted, disused zinc roofing sheets. On it are holes at random intervals; a testament to previous engagements with nails.

Gloria came back to retrieve her bra when she discovered inside her room that she did not come along with it. Austin at that point gave out a cheeky mocking laugher. Gloria equally responded in kind with a long hiss.

Gloria is a spinster in her mid-thirties. She works as a salesgirl in a beer parlor and still finds time for her own “runs” whenever her financial conditions dictates so. Gloria is a very sassy and arrogant person. She will never say a word of greeting to anybody no matter who that person may be. She considers herself not to be of the same socio-economic class with other co-tenants. Whatever time she had left after work and while not attending to personal runs, she spends in church. Her frequent churchgoing have only further accentuates the negative perceptions most neighbors nurses about her. Many considers her a bible-hugging hypocrite who will always beam her searchlight on other people’s deficiencies in order to cover up her own inadequacies. But Gloria feels she is of a higher moral standard than any of the other ladies in the compound. This attitude has led to confrontations from time to time between her and the other girls. Gloria who by herself is long due for marriage, will frequently gossip that bad characters exhibited by the other girls is responsible for their lack of suitors. And when asked why she is yet to marriage, she will reply in a rather blithely that “I’m just twenty-one. I will be twenty-two next year. Anyway I am still trying to build up a career before I get married”.

Done with his bath, Austin left Mazi Okoro still in the other bathroom whistling to Oliver D’ Coque’s Opportunity tune. At that point, a considerable line of people waiting to use either the latrine or bathroom was building up. Some of them were already grumbling protestations against Mazi Okoro continued stay in the first bathroom. But none of them will dare make their protest loud enough for fear of the consequence.

Mazi Okoro’s wife popularly known as Lolo Beatrice both within the compound and beyond is a tall, powerful, stocky woman. It is gossiped among co-tenants that she is so strong that her husband dare not challenge her wish for fear of been beaten. Lolo Beatrice is a no nonsense woman who will never get away with offending her. In her town women’s meeting, no one dares cross her part. It was because of her strength and imposing physical presence that she was unanimously elected as the provost of the gathering. She once threw a woman (Mrs Moraine Ejike) to the ground; beating her silly until the other women came to her rescue. Mrs Ejike is one of the new members who joined the women meeting. Her husband is wealth and they are both newly wedded couple. She is one of the very few who drives cars to meeting. It has been previously agreed by the general house that latecomers are to pay the sum of #200 naira as fine for coming late. Lolo Beatrice was put in charge of collecting this money. On that fateful day. Mrs Moraine Ejike was about 30 minutes late. As she was about entering the meeting venue, she was accosted by Lolo Beatrice who demanded the sum of #200 naira as fine for her lateness. Mrs Ejike angered by Lolo Beatrice audacity, gave her a condescending look, hissed and then continued on her way to her sit. As she pass by Lolo Beatrice, she grabbed her by her hair extensions and pulled her back to herself. Before Mrs Ejike could say “jack”, she already had her back to the ground. Lolo Beatrice was on top of her, pulling and drawing on her hair extensions, and hitting her head on the ground in the process. It took the effort of other women to rescue Mrs Ejike from Lolo Beatrice’s claws. She indeed became a tiger from that day onwards as other women began referring to her as “Lolo Agu (Tiger Lady)” behind her back to differentiate her from the other Lolo’s. Outside her trouble making abilities, Lolo Beatrice is also a dutiful mother to her four children. She caters for her family through her pretty groundnut business. Her husband Mazi Okoro will spend whatever little money he makes from his spare parts business on beer and local gin (kiaye kiaye). Lolo Beatrice will normally search her husband pocket for what is left from is drinking session, and when Mazi Okoro is sober enough to resist, it will lead to serious argument and possibly fights. Lolo Beatrice is also aware of her husband’s dubious tendencies. She will scold and castigate him inside the house, but will always come to his defense whenever issues leads to confrontations. On one instance, Mazi Okoro squandered the money contributed by fellow tenants for the dislodgment of the compound’s sewer. Lolo Beatrice on that fateful day stood guard against her door and dared anybody to come and knock on it. She put on her grey camouflaged combat pant, an extra-large polo shirt with a slacked neck and a red bandanna tied around her head. She stood akimbo and her breast juggles in rhythm to the vibration of her body. No one dare came asking after the money.

Austin enters his room and hurriedly got dressed. The time on his wrist watch says 6:15am. He is already 15minutes behind time. He needed to hit the road at about 6:00am if he is to beat the early morning traffic. Austin works as a private surveillance personnel for one of the pharmaceutical firms in Lagos. He is expected to relieve the night shift at 7:00am. Anything later than that could result in a possible query from his superiors. Austin went outside the room. He carefully scanned the veranda for anything too valuable to be left outside. He could not find anything other than his slippers. He took them inside, came out and lock his door. He then strode his way out of the compound, bouncing from side to side with his shoulder hanged as he walk.

“Austin! Austin!!” Lolo Beatrice shouted from inside her room.

Austin turned and saw her opening her netted door.

“Austin, NEPA people have brought the electricity bill for this month. My husband have divided it accordingly and have pasted it directly below the electric meter. You are to pay #850 naira for three points.” She said as she stepped out.

“Ok ma. I will pay mine before the week runs out.” Austin said, trying as much as possible to avoid a long conversation.

“Please do pay up fast to avoid disconnection. You know how these NEPA people behaves.” Lolo Beatrice pleaded.
“Yes I do” said Austin as he turned and continue on his way.

This is a true life story of Love.

To the cherished memories of Late Ijeoma and Late Allwell. Continue to sleep on in love. We will never stop telling your story.


CHAPTER ONE


Austin woke up. The wristwatch laying to the side of his eight inches mattress told him the time is 5:40am. He immediately stood up and hurriedly picked up his bathing bucket, his soap dish and the fetcher –an essential commodity to those who lives in his compound. He tied his towel over his Calvin Klein boxers in an effort to conceal his bulged morning erection. He placed his bathing sponge around his neck and then headed out for the bathroom.

Austin lives in a twenty-six room house. The house is an old bungalow situated in an economically depressed neighborhood notorious for petty crimes and juvenile delinquencies. The ghetto is located somewhere within Lagos. The rooms in Austin’s house were designed to face each other. Eighteen rooms makes up the main building with each opposing roll consisting of nine rooms each. The compound also has an eight room boy’s quarters adjacent to the main building. The compound has two toilets, two bathroom and a communal kitchen. The Well was dug approximately three meters from the kitchen and about four meters to the side of the partially paved gutter. The gutter runs from behind the house connecting the bathrooms and kitchen; channeling both to the bigger gutter outside the house.

Austin got to the bathroom to find one of them already occupied. He quickly placed his soap dish by the door post inside the empty bathroom and hangs his sponge on the nail meant specifically for that purpose. He then rushed down to the well to fetch his bathwater. At the well, he noticed one of his neighbor Gloria brushing her teeth by the gutter. Her wrapper was tied around her chest covering her bra, with the knot tied and secured under her left armpit. She was slightly bent over. Her legs were both slightly apart in order to prevent slashes of water resulting from her brushing from touching her. She was holding a cup of water to her left hand while she brushed with her right. She had already fetched her bathwater which she left to the side of the Well. On seeing Austin, she rushed up her brushing. Then carried her bucket of water to the empty bathroom. She removed all of Austin’s belongings to the side of the bathroom and went inside to take her bath without saying a word to Austin.

Austin is four years old as an occupant of the compound. He is used to the many characters exhibited by other co-tenants. Austin by his long stay in the compound have come to the realization that it is by far safer and cost effective to ignore trivial provocations as they come. He had always considered his stay in the compound as a preparatory ground for a yet more prosperous future still to come. Austin finished fetching his water. He carried it off to the first bathroom. Then leaned by the kitchen wall to patiently wait for occupants of either of the two bathrooms.

Mazi Okoro is the occupant of the first bathroom. He lives with his wife and their four children in the fourth room of the main house. He has a slender structure that many attributes more to economic hardship than nature. He is very hairy. Black curly hairs covers his chest, arms and legs. On his face, he always seems to wear this mischievous grin that tends to tell the onlooker that he is onto something silly.

Mazi Okoro is a famous early riser. It is often gossiped among tenants that Mazi Okoro is afraid of his fat wife and that is why he is always up early to run off to work in order to avoid her consuming wrath. He is also notorious for spending too much time in the bathroom. He will whistle from one highlife tune to the next with his particular favorite being the “Oriental Brothers’ Ofe Owerri”.
Mazi Okoro is an illiterate spare parts dealer who has no problem at all swindling unsuspecting costumers. He is known for his crafty and deceitful nature. Though he as a matter of fact considers himself an intellectually gifted Mbaise man. He will often tell his friends over a bottle of beer that “passe six is not passe sense”. He will brag at how he can easily beat university graduates in the contest of common sense.

One of such instance was when he defeated Dede Cosmas Nnabike to a game of draught. De Nnabike is considered an educated man by his peers. He has a Grade two teachers certificate which he never fails to refer to in any discussion not minding the subject matter. He came to have a near perfect command of the English language when he worked as a foreman in a British haulage company back in the 60’s. De Nnabike will boast that during his days at the Teacher Training Collage (TTC), he always come first in class and that his white tutor had to give him the one and only German made bicycle he had as price for excellence. The game between Mazi Okoro and Dede Nnabike was like a game of two wrestlers; one trying to throw the other to the ground.

“Mazi Okoro, I will teach you a lesson you will never forget in your earthly existence” boasted De Nnabike

“Ta! Get away!” Mazi Okoro rebuked. His eyes was glued to the game board and his fingers making movements that suggests he is carefully calculating his next move.

“Haven’t I told you that I paid my way through TTC with winnings I made from playing draught? Or do you think it is easy to have a Grade Two Certificate back in the 60’s?” Dede Nnabike asked as he continued his boast.

Many spectators surrounded the players who sat across a wooden bench facing each other with the draught board set upon their thighs. They all had their eyes fixed on the game board while they continually poured cheers on their favorite player…. yet no one foresaw what was to come. Mazi Okoro had just hatched a perfect game plan. He dared Dede Nnabike to make his next move. Dede Nnabike brushed off his threat by the wave of his left hand. As soon as he moved one of his playing seed, everywhere went aglow as the spectators erupted in a load cheer of astonishment. On the board, it was now glaring for all to see that Mazi Okoro has been very clever with his moves. He was now on the verge of making good his threat. Mazi Okoro picked up his winning seed with which he crisscross the draught board, picking up Dede Nnabike’s playing seeds at random. As he pick each seed, he gives out a scornful laugh accompanied by a very hilarious gesture that ended up throwing most of the spectators off their feet in laugher. Dede Cosmas Nnabike seeing that he has been defeated, placed both hands on his head. He gently stood up and quietly walked away. Mazi Okoro had the day.

Uloma watched, surprisingly fearlessly, as the two zombie like creatures cornered her in their gradually approach, ever closer to where she lies. The muscular one was moving eastward towards her head, while the other moved southwards where her legs were spread out. Her stomach was still protruded. The severed umbilical cord still lying awkwardly on the ground, and yet snaked into her vagina. Her inner thighs still had on them congealed blood and other dried up birth matters; sufficient evidence that they had been a delivery. But very strangely, there was no baby around or anywhere within the reach of sight.

Uloma caught the smaller man’s eyes as they narrowed in disgust. His shoulders slightly shrank in repulsion. The sight below her was evidently discomforting to him as the flies have just refused to stay out. She felt some form of satisfaction that she was at least having an effect on her adversaries.

The muscular man was a little more conscious. The smaller man had told him by means of an eye signal that there had been a birth but no babies. This could only mean one thing. Someone or something must have been here before them. It is definitely not a wild animal because such would not take just the baby and spare the mother; leaving her with absolutely no form of injuries. Now, the men were even more alert. Some things are obviously not adding up.

Repulsed by her sight, the smaller man turned his back against her towards the bush in search of traces of what is left of who had been here before them. He expertly looked at the ground, but unfortunately, grasses do not keep footprints. soon the muscular man was standing by her side. He placed his rights foot on the stones Aniebolam had used to sever her umbilical cord. Beyond his hairy legs, Uloma could see the smaller man walking gradually towards the taller elephant grasses; there, Aniebolam is hiding with her baby…. her very first child.

Tears blurred out her sights as she prayed to the gods to please take her but spare the life of the child which they themselves had blessed her with.

“How much is too much to pay for the death of one maiden?” Uloma in teary eyes asked the man standing over her.

She could sense the hate behind his eyes. He was obviously not hesitating in taking her life. He is only psychologically tormenting her with the inevitability of her death; one way to have a soothing revenge on an Ugwunato female who have for a very long time always regarded them with disdain.

“For one maiden, you have killed three of our people including my best friend. For one maiden, more women will die. For one maiden, innocent children whose only crime was the accident of birth will also die....I ask you again, how much is too much to pay for one maiden?”

Uloma inasmuch as she fears for her own life, fears even more for the life of her baby. She was now raising her voice in order to dissuade the smaller man from any further search. It evidently worked as the man began to retreat away from the elephant glasses, back towards his colleagues. But unfortunately, that was the time her baby choose to announce his arrival into this wicked evil world. That was when he innocently decided to let out a cry.

Fearing that they have been cornered and possibly surrounded. The men panicked. The smaller man immediately turned around. And he draw out his machete, gallantly balancing himself in readiness for a fight. The muscular one without a second thought, raised his machete high above his head, and then it came down in a severe blow to the shout of “Ozoemenaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” from Uloma.

Uloma heard her baby’s cry and it touched her soul like it will for many mothers. She saw the men react. She saw the machete raised. But she, of course, did not see how the machete separated her head from the rest of her body, neither did she witness how her life-force forcefully pushed out the placenta. Everywhere went black before she had time to react. Her last words “Ozoemena” means that “such should never happen again”.

Ogbuefi Oforbike is sitting on a small stool in a parallel row of two. Each of the rows had four men. They are sitting opposite each other in communion. In their midst, sitting on the ground, is the rainmaker with his two dwarf apprentices helping to keep his hands up. The rainmaker has evidently been doing an effective job for the better part of two hours. He has kept the weather on a standstill. Even though there are the obvious signs of rain, but quite strangely, not a single rain droplet has touched the earth.

The act of rainmaking making is known to take an enormous toll on the physical health of its practitioners. Most especially when such is working against the seasons. One whose arm is not strong in medicine, stands the risk of sustaining, through inexplicable means, bodily injuries or even death when he tries to conjure up a rain during dry seasons or to stop one during the rainy seasons.

Ogbuefi Oforbike is lost in his own thoughts. He is a veteran of many wars. Many of which they had returned triumphant. It is not how to fight that bothers him, either is it the blood that is to be spilled. He had seen so much blood in his lifetime to be cowed by even more blood. He had seen towns raided, men murdered in their bed, innocent children slaughtered, defenseless girls raped, pregnant women disemboweled and their unborn babies brought out; only to end up smashing their heads against a tree. It is all common in wars. So he is no longer unnerved by them. But what troubles him now is the seeming sequential pattern many of these conflicts seems to follow. A pattern of which its accuracy had left him stunningly speechless.

Conflicts in primitive African society have, quite strangely, being all about proving a point. A point of which is most of the time obscured. These primitive conflicts have always had little or nothing to do with land. They are barely about the desperate need for food or even shelter. It is never about the ownership of a stream or any other fresh water source for that matter. These conflict had never in itself been about subjugating a people for expected material gains or political advantages. These conflicts have simply arose from the dire need to satisfy the spiritual.

Man, as a possessive being, can have all he wants or needs in stock. He can have a big barn to stock up his yams. He can have a big coop to stock up his chickens. He can improve his shed to stuck up his goats and cows. He can as well grow his family or hire labor in order to have more farm hands. All these he can do; but he cannot in anyway have his stock of his fellow man.

In the spiritual realm, it is believed that sacrifices are valued on the order of rarity. The blood of a sacrificial cock is certainly not as valued as that of a goat. This could, as well, be because it may quite naturally require more to offer the later than the former. Likewise is the blood of a sacrificial goat not as valuable as that of a cow. The highest of all sacrifices is the human sacrifice which, of course in itself, has its own rankings.

The Clan can easily bring forth yams for sacrifice when the “spirits” demands for them. She can easily bring forth cocks and goats and cows, when the “spirits” demands for these. One man can conveniently walk up to his yam barn or chicken coop or goat shed, and selflessly donate any of these on behalf of the clan. But very unfortunately, such is not the case when the “spirits” demands for a human sacrifice.

No one has a stock of humans anywhere to present forth as sacrifice. Voluntary self-sacrifice are at many times considered inconceivable. For it is strictly a taboo to spill the blood of a “nwadiala” (son of the soil). This eventually leads to a dilemma; a pandemic search for a human being. This is so because on occasions, the continuous existence of these primitive societies are meant to be believed is hinged on these sacrifices.

Suffice it to say that this is the principal offshoot of the “osu caste system” in Igboland: the dire need to have a reservoir or stock of humans to be used for sacrifices when the spirits wants one.

Ogbuefi Oforbike had proposed to “Ndichies” (the Council of Elders) prior to the attack that “Since Ugwunato had remained adamant in owning up to her mistake and paying the necessary reparations, it is only nice that we return back the favor”.

Scratching his moustache, allowing for the pause to add weight to what he was about to propose.

“Let us launch a surprise attack on them swine, capture as many as we need, forcefully bring them down here and dedicate their pathetic lives to the gods” he had said in strongly mouthed word. Pushing the air to his side with his clenched right fist.

The elders had accepted his proposal with warmth. Many of them nodding their head in agreement. Some even went on to ask their colleague why they hadn't thought of it first.
Soon, the much anticipated smoke signal from the forward detachment began to rise in the sky. It was evidently coming from a few miles towards Ugwunato. The warriors knew at once that the moment of truth was here.

Ogbuefi Oforbike raised to his foot with lightning speed. He took a few springy steps forward and then backward again to where he had stood. It is a manly dance that exhumes confidence. Some of the warriors abruptly broke into a run. Running a few pace forward in masculine panache, swinging around in one fluidly movement, and then returning back to their position; raising their machetes and slashing at imaginary enemies. Muscular ones had their chest muscles vibrate in rhythm to the fire that burns in their hearts.

The warriors are all fired up. They are indeed not smiling. There was absolutely nothing to smile about when the task ahead is about life and death. They are to kill without mercy. They are to kill for vengeance sake. They shall kill for glory sake. Men, women, children and all who deserve to die must die!

The question is do these people, women and children alike, really deserve to die? Are they co-conspirators or just helpless passengers in a vehicle that they have no control of? It was now indeed too late to consider all of these. The warriors of Umuagu have blood in their eyes….and there is nothing, absolutely nothing, even the gods themselves could do; other than to sit aside and, perhaps, watch!

CHAPTER FIVE


The final preparations are in top gear. The warriors are adjusting their body armor. some are expertly examining the readiness of their weapon. Machete blows are slashed at imaginary enemies in diting effort to gauge the strength of the arms. Daring warriors had their mate hit them murderous blows from their machete in a mock show of the efficacy of their “Odéshi”. Talismans and bracelets are being sprinkled wet with water to reawaken the spirit in them in readiness to the task that lies ahead.

Each man was dancing to the ceremonial song that plays in his own head. Some were totally enveloped in the euphoria surrounding them and also within them. Some, of course, were having a quiet, secluded moment all to themselves. These ones are engaged in some sort of soul searching; making peace with themselves and their personal chi. For no matter the level of preparations and the element of surprise involved, one can never tell the most likely outcome of a battle. It is on its own a dicey situation of life and death.

In the makeshift command post further outback, thick white smoke were in slow motion coming out of a small earthen pot. The pot had palm fronds tied around its neck. Holding the pot suspended in the air is a scantily dressed man. He was otherwise naked apart from the leaves that covers his penial region. On his lips were also palm fronds; sealing it tight. His left eyes were ringed with white chalk. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, he had two dwarf apprentices to his sides. They are helping to hold his hand steady in the air. The earthen pot must not fall neither should his hands come down until the appointed hour.

The name of the man is Akrika and he is the greatest rainmaker in all of Umuagu. Outside his spiritual calling, he has a regular job as a butcher. When in his elements, one will find it difficult to believe it is the same Akrika that is always jovial and easy going to customers who comes to his stall to buy meat at the Nkor market.

Before the Caucasians came to make a mocking mess of the entire system by erroneously classifying them all as witch doctors, there was indeed specializations. Every native African society had her own rainmaker. He is more like the native meteorologist. Societies as well had their herbalists. These ones are known for their vast knowledge of the various pharmaceutical remedies contained in the many herbs and roots of the forest. It is a known fact that Africans were already treating “Ibá” (Malaria) long before the Westerns discovered quinine. Medically speaking, African societies had experienced midwives who helped women deliver their babies, native orthopedics where bones are reset and, of necessity, home for lepers.

African societies also have the various custodians to the different groves and shrines, as it is uncommon for a society to have only one “Ajá ala” or “Ajá ani” (venerated spirit). These custodians are usually the medium by which the immortal communicates with the mortals. Custodians are there strictly for religious matters. But it is equally important to state herein that it is almost difficult to divorce the conventional running of a primitive African society from her spirituality. The African fervently upholds the belief that the physical is being controlled or directed in the realm of the spiritual. This idealistic outlook to reality is obviously the single biggest factor that influences her Iwù, Omenani and Odinani (laws, customs and traditions)

Sitting among this eminent class of men is Ogbuefi Oforbike. When judging by the greyness of hair and the wrinkles of the face, Ogbuefi Oforbike is evidently the youngest. But when judging by wealth and accomplishments, he is indeed among the top three. Ogbuefi Oforbike is a very blessed farmer. He owns one of the biggest yam barn in the whole of Umuagu. It is commonly said, though greatly exaggerated, that Ogbuefi Oforbike own enough yams to keep Umuagu well-fed for two planting seasons.

Ogbuefi Oforbike is only a wife away from attaining the Ijele title. The Ijele title is the biggest title in the land. It has been decades since the last Ijele died. There have never been a time in recallable history when the town had more than one Ijele in a lifetime. The Ijele title is a title that comes with so much responsibilities. Too many dos, as well as too many don’ts. There is a tremendous requirement for moral uprightness, spiritual stamina and financial muscles involved in undertaking such a title. The communal “Ofor” is essentially handed over to the holder in an elaborate ceremony such that the community have never experienced the likes of.

With the communal “Ofor” in his hands, the holder is never expected to tell lies. He must always say the truth at all times, even to the pain of death. It is commonly believed that the Ijele is indestructible by mere mortals, and so therefore, should not fear for his own life once he is on the path of truth. This necessitated the native sayings that “life is in the truth”, because the Ijele seizes to live the very day he tells a lie. The Ijele must have nothing to do or eat anything from a menstruating woman, neither should he be engaged in any task that will take away his two legs from standing on the ground. Ijeles do not tap palm wine nor cut down palm fruits. This is indeed “omenani”.

“Omenani” should not be confused with “Odinani”. while “omenani” loosely translates to “how we do it”, “odinani” means “it is in the land”. Omenani is the encompassing customary norms that is uniquely Igbo. It is not subjected to change. There could quite understandably be slight modifications from place to place, but the central theme is never ever to be changed. Perfect examples, is the presentation of kolanut to a guest as a sign of your warm hospitality and, of course, the payment of the bride price for a maiden to be considered legitimately your wife.

“Odinani” on the other hand is unique to a particular geographical space within the confederated Igbo nation. “Odinani” changes from one locate to the next one. What is “Odinani” in one clan, may not necessarily be “Odinani” in the neighboring clan. An example is the sacrilegious killing of pythons or the forbidden eating of snails.

FIRST, I MUST APOLOGIZE TO MY READERS FOR THE DELAYED UPDATE. I WAS BUSY MARKING EXAM SCRIPTS FOR THE JUST CONCLUDED FIRST TERM EXAMS. MY STUDENTS ALL SCORED As #laughing




Obike is running in the bushes. He is running so hard; as hard as his legs can possibly carry him. For love sake, he runs. He prayed to the gods to please save the love of his life. Tears came down his eyes as he runs. Not bothering to wipe them off, he descended in self blame. He blamed himself for all that it is Uloma is currently going through. He blamed himself for not for not taking charge of the situation. He blamed himself for not insisting that she remains at home. In his heart, Obike knows Uloma not going to the stream, will not in any way make him go in her stead. It does not look dignifying for a man to go fetch water for his woman, however her condition.

Machismo is a trend among the male folks in Ugwunato. A man, at no point, should be perceived weak. An expressed show of love, gratitude and affection, especially to the opposite sex, could be considered quite demeaning. A man must always be in control of his woman (or women, however the case may be) even if it leans very much towards outright arrogance. In as much as they considers the female folks a partner in social engineering, they still do not see them as equals.

Men who pounds yams for their wives, sweep the compound and do other domestic chores are often talked lowly of behind their back. Even the female folks are very conscious of this disparity that exists between the genders. Some wives goes as far as barring their husband or grown-up sons from visiting their kitchens. It is considered an affront to feminine dignity for a husband to go help himself at the soup of his wife while she is around. In such cases where the wife is not around, the husband can instruct any female around to do so for him on her behalf.

Men, who may probably out of arrogance or sheer disregard for their spouse, visit the soup pot of their wife, in effects insults their own masculine pride. Such men are often lowly regarded by their wives, even if she may not be able to voice it out. In order not to put each other in a difficult situation,a wife with prior knowledge that she may not be home early enough to prepare and serve her husband his meal, does have them prepared and dished out before going out. This, in effect, saves the husband from having to go to the soup pot or consequently staying hungry.

It is in fact common knowledge that wives uses this opening to, in effect, protest against certain dissatisfactions within the home. An unhappy wife would intentionally delay her husband’s meal, knowing well enough that he would not dare go near her soup pot. To carry out these devious acts, the wives first rid the entire compound of all females by either engaging them on demanding chores or sending them away on far errands or even outrightly instructing them not to go near her soup pot for whatever reason. Such little acts like this brings about some form of equity into the family justice system.

Ironically, it is considered virtuous that a woman attempts tasks that are societally considered to be male oriented. But it is virtually not the same, when a man does the same to the feminine oriented tasks. He is in fact jeered and booed and is regarded as an “Efulefu”; one who has evidently lost his bearing in life.

Splitting firewood, hunting games, farming yams, mending fences, owning yam barns, climbing palm trees, tapping palm wine, wrestling and defending the clan are all masculine oriented duties and responsibilities. It is always applauded when a woman engages herself in all of these, except strangely of course, for such tasks like the climbing of palm trees and tapping palm wine.

It is societally considered to be indecent for a woman to climb the palm trees, either to cut down a ripen fruit or to tap palm wine. Local sayings almost comically but quite graphically puts it that “when a woman climbs a palm tree with two rippened fruits, one is tempted to see four when she gets up there”. For the native folks, Olisá bí ñgwé (Supreme Being) had naturally adapted the different genders to suit their assigned tasks and responsibilities; all to the smooth sailing of humanity.

Obike bite his lower lips in a show of summoned courage. “Stop acting like a woman” he muttered to himself. “Now isn’t the time to start shedding tears like a young widow. Obike! Now is the time to man up and confront difficulties like real men do”.

Soon, his excellent woodscraftman's instinct drew his attention a certain portions of slashed vegetation. Shrubs and leaves scattered the area. The cuts were so neat to be considered just a mere random act of a wild animal; hereby suggesting machete aided cuts. It was clear evidence of a recent human presence.

Obike stopped dead on his track. He dried his reddened teary eyes. Then he carefully began to study the vegetation, as his head charts the course of what it is that lies ahead. With a satisfied stare about his eyes, he hit his chest twice with his free left hand. Reassuring himself of his indomitability. He went on his way; following in the path created by the falling vegetation.


It is now a little to fifteen minutes since her delivery and the placenta is still not out. Uloma is fully awake and conscious, but strangely, not yet reenergized. With the cord connecting her to her baby severed, it just lie awkwardly on the grasses. The stones were simply pushed aside in order to create more arms space.

Aniebolam sat still on the glasses adjacent to the lying woman. His leg were folded slightly underneath his buttocks in a yoga pose. His elbows rested on his thighs as his palms both formed a fists under his jaw, to carry the weight of his head. He focused his sight on the gently sleeping baby. The baby had strangely not made any sound since birth, but one could tell that the baby is very much alive as there were obvious respiratory signs. Aniebolam could not bear to look beyond the baby’s face to the discomforting sight below the woman. It was quite unnerving seeing how the severed umbilical cord, tied at one end, snakes away into the woman’s vagina.

Soon, there was noise. It was clearly the noise of approaching footsteps. As the footsteps approached even closer, one could not mistake the swooshing sounds of slashing blade against the vegetation. Uloma quickly motioned to Aniebolam by means of a hand signal to come carry her baby away into hiding. Her eyes were greatly alert. One could as well sense the heightened panic in them. Aniebolam too was scared.

Uloma had her right index finger placed across his lips in the universal sign that clearly states “No Noise” as Aniebolam approached her for the baby. He could not help but notice the motherly reluctance in handing over her child to him. But unfortunately, she had to do so if she ever wants her baby to have a chance at life.

Uloma summoned some inner strength to carry the baby with the care of a mother to her face. She looked the baby very closely in the face, trying desperately to take in some of his facial features. Then she gave him a very passionate kiss on the cheek, after which she motioned to Aniebolam to take him off her hands. Those hands were just too reluctant but they eventually had to slowly let go. Hot tears came down the side of her eyes and disappeared into the thick of her hair as she watched Aniebolam gently advanced away from her, with her baby, towards the taller elephant grasses. The moment of true is about to be unfolded before her very eyes, and she was indeed having that strange feeling that she may not get out of it alive The tears just continued to flow effortlessly.


The men advanced into what obviously was a clearing of shorter lush green grasses. Lying in front of them is JACKPOT!

skubido:
Hmmmmm,


OP tanks for the update

the pleasure is mine.

crossfm:
Gr8 work.

thank you so much. I appreciate.

tahir01:
Thanks for the update.

Thanks for staying put.

What Aniebolam saw as he approached the screaming woman left him feeling as if his heads were about to explode. His face went grey in overwhelming disgust that he had to cover his eyes with his hands. He did not know when his catapult fell off his hands.

As a boy of 11 years, he is very much aware that there exist visible anatomical differences between him and the female folks. While swimming at the village stream with the other children, he had intuitively come to discover that while boys like him had a rat shaped penis sticking out over a dangling testicles, the girls had a folded patch of skin that seems to vanish inwardly into nothingness.

Staring at him in the face is the discomforting sight of a matured woman’s vagina. Only this time, there were no tolerable sight of folded skin but rather, a gapping eight centimeters hole showcasing all of the pinkish interior of the vaginal passage. The hole was wide enough to sufficiently accommodate a large sized bush rat.

Encircling the entrance like palm fronds circling the entrance to a shrine, are thick black curly hairs. They covered the entire region. Starting sparingly from the base of the abdomen, increasing in concentration slightly above the clitoris and then, thinning out downwards into the anus. The entire region was wet as some of the hairs still had the droplets of water attached to them. Her inner thighs had in the obvious green veins crisscrossing all over; a quiet evidence of strain.

In all of the hilly communities, it is considered to be bad manners for growing girls to sit with their legs open. But it is ironically not the same for the older woman. It is believed that the grown woman should already be in the know. This therefore necessitated the adage which states that “one does not tell an old woman to close her legs because you never can tell if she takes in fresh air through it.”

The screaming continue to grow in ferocity. It greatly scared Aniebolam. His legs and shoulders were shivering quite violently to the high pitched voice. Out of curiosity, Aniebolam slightly parted his palms sideways in order to take a peep at the screaming woman. What met his sights scared him even further.

The eight centimeters dilation was now a few centimeters more than that. Sticking out from the vaginal passage is the head of a baby. The head was slightly out of shape and the face was drenched in a liquid mixture of blood and mucus. The woman had her leg legs spread upwardly apart, with her knees pointedly skywards.

In spite of the cold forest climate, the woman was sweating profusely. Sweat drops formed stylised beads on her forehead and chest. some of those on her chest rolled over down her shoulder blade to wet the earth beneath. Her neck were equally shiny with sweat, some of which collected themselves in the dimple at the base of the neck.

As she screams, the upper part of her body rises and falls in rhythm. Her eyes were shot tight. Her fist were clenched hard. Her back arched, neck strained and her stomach stiffened as she screams and groans in sever pains. In pains, she desperately applies the necessary pressure to make a delivery. After each applied pressure, comes a slight release, a grubbing intake of breath and then, another push.

Aniebolam rooted to his position, helplessly watch as the screaming woman brings forth life. Immobilized by fright, Aniebolam watch as the life inches ever closer to the waiting world; the waiting evil world. The head, and then the neck. Soon the shoulders became visible, and then the chest. After the hands left the restraining compartment of the virginal passage, it did not take too long a time for the new life to drop to the ground.

It was indeed quite a reassuring fall; such a rosy welcome for the newest visitor to the world. The landing made a sloppy sound similar to sound made when the entrails of a disemboweled goat is dropped into a metal pot for cleaning. The soft green grass obviously cushioned the fall.

Lying on the lush green grass still attached to the mother is a new life. Covered in blood and mucus. Eyes closed and body clutched together almost to a ball. Not moving and obviously indifference to the world. No sounds whatsoever.

It took quite a while for Aniebolam to regain consciousness; enough to notice that the entire forest has descended into a total silence. No wind, no rassling leaves, and of course, no more screams. When he finally looked up at the woman, tracing his sight from the life on the ground through the umbilical cord to the vagina, up through to her still bulged stomach, then to her bosom and finally to her face. He at once knew the face. It was a face almost every child in Ugwunato can tell. It was a familiar face.

Woman was looking dead straight into his eyes as they both locked eyes. Her sharp gaze greatly threw him off balance with fear but he could strangely not move his legs. His palms were still covering his face but he was totally oblivious that they were even there. Somehow she had found her way behind his palms to look into his eyes. Her eyes were alert, regaining its initial intensity of gaze prior to the labor pains. The worst had happened and her fears overcome.

Even though her eyes were alert, her face still had that weak countenance of a woman who had just passed through the valley of the shadow of labor pains. Her sharp gaze were desperately probing to Aniebolam. She was making effort to know the person behind the covered face. Was it real or just the fiddle imaginations of her own head?

“Who are you?” Uloma asked in a voice that was barely audible.

Aniebolam still to shocked to answer, merely began to bring down his hands gradually. First, his forehead became visible as his hands slowly slide down his face. Then his eyes came into full view, followed by his chin and then the entire face as his hands fell effortlessly downwards.
Uloma on seeing who it was, closed her eyes and relapsed into a sleep. She was indeed very exhausted.


The wind was playing a trick on the men. Back and forth they have been moving around the forest in their desperate search for the screaming woman. Growing increasingly frustrated over their inability to locate the woman through the sound wave of her voice, their initial ice-cold calmness was now giving way to paranoia. With their machetes, they recklessly slashed through anything that stands in their way. Shrubs and foliage, significance and negligible, were all not spared.

Abruptly, the wind stopped. As if it was a carefully planned deal, the screaming stopped too. The sharpness of the stoppage had the two men looking at each other in contemplative stare. Their eyes seems to ask questions like “What indeed could have befallen her?” “Has it succeeded in finally taking her life?” “Why did the screaming stop?”

The smaller of the two men, by his countenance believes the worst must have happened to her judging by the abruptness by which the screaming stopped. For him, there was absolutely no point in continuing the search for her. She must be dead, probably eaten by a wild animal which, of course, are plentiful in this part. His reluctant eyes clearly told the second man that it is about time they abort the fruitless search and return back to their assigned duty post.

But the bigger and more muscular man was not one to fall for such a lazy insinuation, until he can confirm with his two eyes what indeed had befallen the woman. He most certainly do not care any less about her or whatever befalls her, but his strict sense of duty compels him to see everything to it’s conclusive end. He will not make the mistake of assuming. Assumption could put the entire operation at risk; not to talk of the possible human cost on their own side.

His ferocious gaze clearly got the message across to his partner who reluctantly adjusted himself and fall back in line as they continued their search. Transferring their aggression on the shrubs and foliage around. With the aid of their machetes, they cut them down. Such was the attitude of men itching for a fight but still not getting any.


Obike with firm agility descended down the gorge into the flowing stream. The stream holds a lot of memories for Obike. It was here that he said his first word to Uloma. It was here that they shared their very first kiss and it was here that they usually hang out.

Obike is the last of five boys in an all boys family. Their mother is the only female in the family. If their mother could have her way, she would have converted them all into girls especially Obike, She will assigned them chores that they themselves considers to be feminine. They wanted chores that are male-oriented like chopping of firewood, cutting of palm fruit and mending of the compound fence. But mama do not see anything wrong in sending them to go wash the dishes, slice vegetables, peal yams and stir the soup pot.

For them boys, their saving grace came in the form of Uloma. Uloma was like Mama's adopted daughter. They do almost everything together that people even tend to forget that Mama wasn't her biological mother. Uloma helped Mama with those feminine chores, giving the boys ample chance to invest their muscles on other things like wrestling among themselves. For the bigger boys, chasing after the village girls occupied those times.

The other boys seems not to take notice of Uloma or had probably thought that she wasn't playing within their league. Only Obike had kind of find her attractive. He was a very shy guy and could hardly complete two sentences to a woman: meeting their eyes was considered a totally unthinkable thing to do.

Outside Mama’s knowledge or probably owing to her very matured discretion, the two soon clicked and started seeing each other. Their preferred location was the village stream. The other brothers watched in awesome wonder how their little brother transformed from being a reluctant stream goer to an highly devoted Water boy. These good old days really brings laughter to his mouth whenever he recalls them.

But today there are absolutely no room for a laugh. Obike had quite strangely, find the stream completely deserted. He probed further inward in the direction of the male section and equally found no one there. He was about leaving when his mind told him to take a little peep at the female section of the stream. It was of course a very dishonorable thing to do, especially when one is caught in the act. But quite unfortunately, all manner of decency will definitely fly off the window when the life and safety of a mother and the unborn child she carries is in the equation.

Without giving it much of a thought, Obike simply went the other way in the direction of the female section; threading softly in order not to attract attention to his presence. Further and further, he went and very strangely, not meeting or seeing anyone. His sense of caution was now greatly heightened. His eyes were in details picking everything around him as his head make haste to interpret them.

Soon, his eyes picked out, on the sands of the stream bank, what evidently is a sign of struggle. But he continued to probe even further inward; fearing for what he is about to discover. Branching off into the corner, the very place that sheds off the women section from the view of the rest of the stream. Here, Obike's fears were confirmed.

Lying dead, facedown with their bodies half submerged in the stream, is the body of three females. One was obviously a matured woman, while the other two were adolescent girls. Obike instinctively draw out machete and proceeded to flip over the matured body. Staring him in the face was the dead yet unclosed eyes of Akunna, his wife’s best friend.


It’s been about ten minutes since Uloma made her delivery. And yet the placenta is still not out. She open her eyes to find a friendly faced boy sitting cross-legged on the ground to her side. Her eyes seems to pick what evidently was a smile from his young, innocent face. Lying directly on her bosom was what had initially seemed to her to be a light rock. But on further examination, she came to identify it as her newly born baby. Almost subconsciously, her right hand went around the fragile frame of her baby in a motherly curdle.

While she was asleep, Aniebolam had shaky-handedly brought the infant to rest on her bosom with the cord still attached between them. Strangely, the baby wasn’t crying or moving, but Uloma was still too weak to take note. Her consciousness were still fleeting; coming and going like the waves that assaults the seashore.

Aniebolam is sitting cross-legged on the grasses. He was lost in his curious study of the child's facial features when the words from Uloma hit him.

“Cut….it….” she said weakly, in a voice slightly above a whisper. Her eyes were dull and her gaze looked distant.

Aniebolam at once understood what she had said and the request she had made. He had regained some level of composure not to be frightened by the awkward sight of seeing one human biologically attached by means of a cord to another human. Quite ironically, the onus of severing that physiological bond now falls on him.

He closed his eyes and silently promised not to let himself down. He was going to maintain his composure and go about it in the very same fashion in which he had disemboweled him many hunted games. He stood up, dusted his buttocks and palms clean and then went off, towards the tall grasses.

There are no sharp-edged metal around. So he had to improvise. Aniebolam came back, bringing with him two sizable stones and a few strands of palm fronds which he had plucked from a dwarf Palm tree. He then proceeded to tie the umbilical cord on two different potions. Leaving a gap of about seven inches between the two tied potions. With the baby and mother still in their position, Aniebolam then balanced the cord on top of the much bigger stone.

With the other stone in his hand, Aniebolam repeatedly hit on the cord; pounding it hard until it breaks. Neither the mother nor child seems to have taken any notice.

CHAPTER FOUR
The entire compound is made up of four thatched huts. It is protected by a bamboo and raffia fence. The hut closest to the main entrance is the biggest and of necessity, the abode of the man of the house. It was here that he receives his visitors and entertains them. Its position in the compound is considered to be in harmonious context with his masculine dignity and pride. The position gives him a vantage point to see what comes into his compound and as well what is it that is leaving his compound. he is indeed without choice the first line of defense.
As customary with the Igbos, the concept of a one-man sovereign is absolutely alien to the people. There are no Kings to lord it over the people. Every man is a king in his own compound. As a republican minded people, men who have distinguished themselves in their various endeavor of choice are held in esteem but they could as well lose their respect if they do not manage it well enough.
The other three huts formed a half moon behind the master’s hut. The hut directly to his left belong to Uloma. A wife does not share a hut with her husband. In as much as she may have unrestricted access to her husband’s hut, she is not expected to sleep there without his invitation or expressed approval. Traditionally, this provides for the much needed privacy between a man and his wives. It is more or less a traditionally instituted system by which couples are meant to respect each other’s space.
Even more so, the woman is considered unclean during her menstrual periods. For traditionalist most especially titled men and great men whose hands are strong in juju, women under this condition do not cook their food, visit their hut or even touch anything that directly belongs to them. This is why wives of such men have eating bowls specially designated to the man of the house. It is imperative to state herein that it is not an expressed law overseen and enforced by the male folks but it is rather an expression of the feminine acknowledgment of the superiority of a man and even more importantly, her disciplined respect for her own sense of feminine decency.
The hut to the right of the master’s hut is being occupied by his mother. It is her right of place. For Mama, there is absolutely no shortage of places to stay. Five sons literally translates to five different places to stay. Even though her rights of place is in the first son’s compound who legitimately inherited her husband’s compound, it is not out of place for her to rover around her five sons compound if she so desires. Each of her sons, out of courtesy, reserves a hut for Mama as they spread out wide; each taking charge of his own inheritance.
The last hut is a few pace behind the master’s hut. It is a crude structure of four wooden post holding up a thatched roof. It is quite the smallest when compared with the other three huts. It is this hut that houses the family shrine. Spooky looking, carved wooden masks adorns the entire place. Blackened sprinkled blood and palm oil droplets littered the altar. Chicken feathers and broken lobes of half chewed kolanut could be seen every which way. This is where Obike prays and offer sacrifices to the spirit of his fathers. Here, he calls for their continued protection of his family and their unrestrained blessings for his endeavors. But even more importantly, this is where he houses his “Ofor”
The Ofor is the traditional symbol of masculine authority. It is usually passed from fathers to their sons. The Ofor is likened to a spiritual torch that carries with it the flame of legacies of the ancestral fathers, in order to illuminate the cultural pathway of the sons still living. The Ofor staff could be the definitive factor between an ordinary man and an extra ordinary man.
Obike is lying on the elevated portion of his hut that serves as bed. He had returned early from the farm. Though he had had very little work to do there, the impending rain had made him return earlier than he had planned. He had hope to take time out to check up on traps he had set beyond his farm, further out into the bushes, the previous evening. But his spirit seems not to affirm in the positive; no thanks to the impending rain which presented itself as a perfect excuse not to.
Obike had barely closed his eyes to a nap when Mama’s voice came calling from outside. It is considered uncultured for a mother to enter the hut of her married son unannounced. Decency dictates that she either comes in on invitation or she announces her presence as she approach the hut. Mama was calling from a few meters off the main entrance.
“Obike! Obike!! Obike!!!” Mama called again. This time standing akimbo by the entrance of her hut. She had a worried look to her face.
Obike reluctantly stood up from his bed, but not without grumbling about women and their ceaseless disturbances. Grumbling about women and almost literally blaming them for almost everything in the world was a very manly thing to do. It shows sophistication and positively adds to one's panache. Even though one will most definitely come to their aid, a little of rubbing it on their face will do a great deal to one's manly ego.
He came out of his hut. Without looking at his mother, he yawned and muttered a few complaints about the weather. Scratching the side of his neck, he reluctantly asked his mother.
“Where is Uloma? Since I came back, I haven’t set my eyes on her”
“that is exactly the very same reason I am calling you for. It’s been quite a long while since she left with Akunna for the stream. The weather has changed. It will soon rain and yet, they are still not back. She hardly ever stays this long.” answered Mama.
“since when did they leave for the stream?” Obike asked with an air of indifference; as if not to be really interested. But deep in his heart, he was greatly concerned. Masculine pride requires of him to maintain stoic calmness even when in distress especially with a woman around.
“Since when the sun was still well below the tree-lines” Mama replied. she was obviously panicked.
Obike ruminated on the answer for a little while. Then without much ado he quietly went back inside his hut, picked up his machete and quietly came out again. He admonished his mother to go and mind the other business she may have or “better still go and sleep if there are none, instead of creating undue panic”.
Then, just like going to the farm, he walked out of the compound as Mama continued to watch with both arms akimbo. Obike broke into a run when he was well off the compound fence. not throwing salutations or receiving any from those he came across on the bush path, he ran. A part of him was fearing for the worst, while the other part kept on reassuring him on the need to take it easy. Obike fear for his woman and the baby she carries, but even more importantly, he fears for the love he has for her. The fear of losing the love of his life tormented him greatly that he ran so hard, wishing his legs could carry him even faster. Unknown to Obike was the fact that his chi (personal spirit) was manipulating his destiny.

tahir01:
OP Ur fan base is on the increase. What we need it now is consistent updates and then front page.

I do other jobs apart from writing. Please bear with me. Your updates will definitely come. I promise you that on my honor. Thanks for the concern.

CHAPTER THREE
Uloma is drifting in and out of consciousness. Lying exhausted on the lush green grasses -the very first blooming in vitality, thanks to the early rains of the season. She cannot sufficiently tell what it is she was doing there neither could she tell how she got herself there. The events of the moments were fleeting away like distant memories.
She had only managed to tail off her zombielike adversaries. Her miraculous yet momentary escape was more of an issue of divine preservation than it is to a better woodcraftmanship; after all, how else can one explain a gravida out running two able-bodied men on a mission
Uloma cannot sufficiently tell who her adversaries really are, neither could she tell what is it they want. All that mattered was that she perceived danger and decided that the best way to react to it was to keep a distance between each other.
Lying on the grasses exhausted, she desperately gasped for breath. Her chest raising and falling in labored respite. Uloma relapsed into unconsciousness again. This time into a very deep sleep.

Somewhere in the bushes bordering Ugwunato were a congregation of men. Warriors they are. Veterans and novices alike. One would be surprised at how such a sizable crowd of men could be maintained under disciplined silence. They all have palm fronds (Omu) to their lips, sealing it shot. Outside the occasional hand gestures, head movements and knowing stares, no one was saying virtually anything to the other.
The Palm frond (Omu) in the Igbo traditional ontology is a symbol of caution, purity, peace and of course, a heightened sense of mission/purpose. It’s interpretation is, however, most often circumstantial. These fronds are always gotten from the juvenile ferns of the palm tree. Juveniles guarantees better flexibility and gives off a more brilliant green color.
For some of the men, this will be their first shot at the savage experience of warfare. While for some others, it will be just another moment to relive their youth. The novices just had their sheathed machetes and a few talisman tied up around their waist or arms. For the veterans, they wear their glory on the leather armor. On it, various fetish ornaments dangles like medals on the uniform of an aristocratic British officer. Some had on them, seeming heavy headgears made out from human skulls.
Strangely but true was the fact that there were absolutely no ranks or an organized form of a military hierarchical system. All man was representing his own household, while the younger boys were simply learning the ropes of becoming like men. It was not necessarily a rite of passage but it was certainly a thing of pride to be counted among the defenders of the clan.
Further out back, is located the makeshift command post or shrine. Here the mighty men who have distinguished themselves in war commune with themselves as well as consults with the gods. And yet, when it is time to do battle proper, these men will always lead from the front. It is not out of place to see much younger men among this esteemed clique; necessitating the adage that says “when a child washes his hands clean, he eats with elders”.
In this primitive society, respect is earned. Honor is earned. Even wealth is better when earned. No one regards a man who wallows in inherited wealth. For such it is that a man with a single corncob gotten from the sweat of his own toil is far greater than the man with a big inherited yam barn. One has to essentially earn everything including his peace. Today, these men are out to earn their peace from Ugwunato and ultimately their respect from the entire hilly clans.

The staccato of rumbling thunder had Uloma’s eyes open. The visible world appeared to be rotating too fast. She close them again. The world was steady when she reopened them after a suitable interval. With her vision adjusting to the grayish luminescence of the forest, she was able to make out the green grasshopper set majestically in between her parted bosom. The nipples of her full breast faced the opposite directions like two quarrelling housewives as she lay face-up, giving the grasshopper ample hopping space.
With a poorly motivated right hand, she brushed aside the grasshopper. Picking along the way a few other crawling insects on her body as her hand returns back to it’s initial resting place. Uloma was so very exhausted. Even the very basic task of lifting a hand became tedious. Though her body was weak, her mind was beginning to properly interpret events within her immediate surroundings. The thoughts of how she got herself here was so far proving abortive.
Uloma was very much aware of the forming clouds and the rassling of the vegetative canopy by the wind and of course the imminency of rain. But she was just too powerless to move. She just lie there, taking in everything happening around her but literally not moving. She simply could not sit up or even look down her leg; the view of which is blocked out by her protruded stomach.
Soon after, Uloma began to have uterine contractions. A condition she had been experiencing for the last couple of days. It comes but goes away after a little while. Her mother-in-law have been particularly watchful for these signs. She had once told her “You are getting close but not yet due” after observing her closely through experienced eyes.
“Ohhhh Mama!” Uloma had grumbled in feign annoyance. “Every time your eyes will be on my body as if I am the only pregnant woman in Ugwunato”
“My daughter, you should be happy that you are getting this much attention from your mother-in-law. Not all of us were this privileged.” Mama had replied in gentle softness. Mama was trying so hard to suppress the laughter Uloma’s comical show of feigned annoyance had brought up in her. But Uloma could tell by looking into Mama’s eyes.
“Ohhhhhhh Mama, the attentions is just too suffocating. It is seeming as if I am carrying the whole of Ugwunato in my belly”
“My dear, when Ani (the earth goddess) blesses you with the fruit of the womb, it is not just you or your family that she bless, but the entire clan. Without children to carry on our legacies, the clan becomes desolate and useless. No one will pour libations to our memories or will there be anyone to offer sacrifices to the gods. Strangers will take over our land and our cultural heritage will be completing wiped off.”
Uloma remembers that it was at this point that her husband Obike returned from the farm bearing his hoe to his left shoulder. Uloma as well remembers how she had joyfully welcomed him in an embrace. She did not catch her husband winked at his mother, but she remembered how Mama had heartily laughed out as both husband and wife in a side embrace comically marched into their hut.
Uloma loves her husband so dearly, but she seems to love her mother-in-law even more. Mama had literally took her right from her younger years as a teenage girl like a daughter; vehemently insisting that one of her sons must take her for a wife. Obike was her last child. The favorite of all her five sons, and it was him that Mama betrothed her to
Soon, Uloma felt a fluid-like sensation on her inner thighs. She struggled to bring her right hands to her vagina region as she slightly moved her legs further apart. With a fluid drenched palm close to her face in careful observation, Uloma knew that her time was up.
She wondered how she was going to go through it all… all alone. Her very first pregnancy, in the middle of nowhere, under an imminent rain, without sufficient strength and finally with human predators still searching for her.
Hot tears rolled down the sides of her eyes; disappearing into the hair directly behind her earlobes. She closed her eyes and prayed a silent prayer to the gods to please forgive her for underplaying the privilege of having a caring mother-in-law. Now, she sincerely wish she could have her by her side. She is must certainly give anything just to make this wish come true.
The next pain that came was so tremendous that Uloma lost consciousness of herself and she let out a loud cry in labor pains.

The men left in wide-eyed satisfaction. Leaving in their wake the dismembered body of the stupid Palmwine tapper. The Palmwine tapper on the realization of who they are and where they had come from, had mocked and ridiculed them. He had confronted them with that which they dispersed most.
“You cowardly sons of harlots! You men of Umuagu. Lazy swine that cannot even impregnate their own wives. You are all men without honor who shamelessly prostitutes your female folks for money. I Ukpala Nnanna, son of the great Nwafor Nnanna of Ugwunato, the greatest Palmwine tapper in all of the hilly clans do not fear you”. The Stupid Palmwine tapper had boasted, reassuringly beating his chest repeatedly.
Though he fought gallantly and had embraced his death with a straight face, the men considered him stupid for even attempting to put up a fight when the odds are obviously stacked against him. With the loudmouthed Palmwine tapper, they send out a very strong message to anyone who will dare dishonor them or make a ridicule of their way of life.
They had the loudmouthed Palmwine tapper’s penis stoking out of the agape mouth of his dismembered head, leaving them properly resting on the dead man's chest. They had his machete stocked to the earth in the very place that once housed his testicles; in a mockery of the bluntness of his manhood. It was such a savage sight to behold.
The men left without touching anything of the stupid dead man. Not even the temptation of the freshly tapped Palmwine could dissuade them from their mission. They were of course the forward detachment of the attacking Umuagu warriors. With a smoke signal, they shall call the main party into action. But first, they must rid the surrounding bushes of undesirable elements that can possibly blow open their cover, taking away with them the element of surprise that is so far working in their favor. A task they are carrying out with a very heightened sense of duty.

The loud cry caught Aniebolam in the ear as he sat on the ground a few meters away from the remains of what used to be his best friend. He had his jaw rest on his knees. Both arms were locked on each other around the shin of his leg, bringing both thighs and chest in a tight embrace. He did not mind the flies neither did he take notice of the foul smell in the air. He just sat there crying and sobbing for his friend. Tears came in an endless stream down his face. Memories of the beautiful times they shared together came flooding into his head.
Aniebolam and Ahamefuna were like brothers. They go to the stream together, they go hunting together, they even fight off the bullies on the playground together. Aniebolam knows his friend loves him and will do anything to make him happy. But now at death, Aniebolam feels like he did not do well enough to reciprocate his friend's selfless gestures towards him. His heart picked him on times he had literally hid his food behind the big water pot and hurriedly washed off his hands to the sound of Ahamefuna’s arrival.
He had selfishly done this many times to his best friend yet, his friend always don’t seems to care about it all. On some occasions, Uzoma when not selling him out, would go behind his back and finish up the food. Ahamefuna do not in any way pay Aniebolam bad for bad. Whenever he meets Ahamefuna eating, his friend will always invite him to come and partake in the food. Aniebolam now wish he could right those wrongs. He wish he had never suspected him. These thoughts just continue to let the tears flow so freely.
The loud cry came again. This time with an even greater determination. Aniebolam had ignored the first one which was clearly labored but seemed distant. The second cry came even more labored but it came very clear; no thanks to the wind which obviously was manipulating the direction of the sound waves.
Aniebolam stood up at once. He wasn’t going to sit here crying over his dead friend while those savages get at another person. He was going to do something after all, he is a bonafide son of the soil. His heart was heavy with grief and hate. With his catapult retrieved from his neck, he set out to find out who it is that needs help. Following in the direction the sound came from, he went off.

Hands on their sheathed machetes in readiness to draw it at the slightest instance. Eyes alert, lips sealed, heads moving side to side as they scanned the forest. These are warriors of Umuagu. They are part of the forward detachment assigned to the stream. Between them, they have neutralized three elements from the other side. But they still don’t understand how a heavily pregnant woman had slipped passed them. In reckless desperation of not wanting to compromise the entire operation, they resolved to searching out the pregnant woman.
For these men, they are fighting to avenge the spilled blood of Umuagu maiden, but even more importantly, they are trying to preserve their dignity and respect as a people. For so long have Ugwunato regarded them with disdain, almost to the level of sub-humans; a favor they as well return in like manner. Ugwunato will never marry from them neither will they marry from Ugwunato.
According to native legends, the people of Umuagu migrated to their present location having been driven out of their land by famine. They were welcomed with open arms by Mbanta-the original owners of the land. They were given land and assisted with yam seeds to enable them start a farm. But overtime, Umuagu grew in population and power that they eventually disposed Mbanta out of their land.
This tale have been retold from fathers to their sons and from one generation to the next generation. With garnished variations of the story flying around the hilly clans, came heart filled with hate and a more heightened sense of self-preservation. Everyone sees and regarded Umuagu as a people that is never to be trusted or welcomed for any reason. They were, after all, an ungrateful people.
For honor sake, men fights. For glory sake, men fights. No matter the price to be paid. No matter the quantity of blood to be spilled. Many were not even born to see a living indigenous Mbantian yet, they shall fight in her memories. Yet they shall fight and die in the pain of an unverifiable past.
The men had just finished combing the entire region of the big iroko, when the wind brought to their ears the very faint sound of what is clearly a labored cry of a female. They immediately looked at each other as if to confirm if truly the other had heard the sound too. Their eyes obviously answered in the affirmative. One of them, bigger and more muscular, nodded in the direction from where the sound had come. With hands firmly on their machetes, off they went jogging in that direction.

The village stream is sectionalized. There are parts of it that are restricted to the women alone, parts for the men and as well parts for children below fourteen to dive in. There are parts reserved for soaking/washing Abacha (Cassava flakes) as well as parts considered to be better when seeking out drinkable water.

The stream is most often the lifeline of native communities. It provides them the much-needed supply of fresh water both for drinking and for other domestic uses. Just like the community marketplaces and the village squares, the streams in precolonial times were as much a Centre for socialization as much as the two formerly stated.

Militarily speaking, a security conscious society which cannot be conquered on her market day or through the common village square, can be easily taken apart through her stream; the principal source of her water need.

The way to Ugwunato's stream is quite stoney. One had to descend down what obviously is a gorge, worn deeper over years of running waters, to access the very source of the stream.

“Akunna, please help fetch my water pot too. My condition will not permit me to carry the water pot back up this stony hills” pleaded Uloma to Akunna as they came to the very edge of the slope that goes downwards into the stream.

The edge of the slope is usually Uloma’s last bus stop. There she will stand, patiently waiting for someone going down the gorge or coming up out of it, to help her fetch the water and bring it up the slope from where she will take it home.

“When next you people are coming to the stream, make sure you come along with a servant who will help you down and up this slope. After all, you people have been asked to stay back home but you would not listen”. Akunna replied with a mocking look to her face.

Akunna just like some of the villagers hilariously refers to Uloma in the plural. “are you guys back? Are you people not feeling hungry? When will you people go to the market? You people should try and take some rest”. These are the many ways Uloma is most often addressed. Even the little ones entertain themselves by mimicking her steps with an imaginary water pot on their heads.
With big protruded stomach, water pots balanced on her head; secured in place with both hands, one couldn't help but laugh at the comical gestures of her movement. Uloma laughs at herself too.

“Okay ma!” replied Uloma in hilarious resignation as she made her way to the fallen tree trunk that lays just slightly off the bush path. There she sat as she await Akunna's arrival.

It was exactly 20 minutes when two younger girls passed by the bush path. They threw salutations at Uloma and then disappeared down the gorge with their water pots. Uloma asked them to “please tell Akunna to hurry up”

Uloma stood up and attempted to go down the gorge after about another 20 minutes of not seeing neither Akunna nor the other two girls. She had thought that they could possibly be taking their bath and gotten carried away in an ensuring discussions to have keep cognizance of time.

Standing on the edge of the slope, one can only see the flowing stream as it snakes out of its source and continues on its course. The heavy stones and dense vegetation blocks the rest of the view.

Uloma carefully negotiated her way down the slope. Most of the time supporting herself with both hands, while at some point dragged herself literarily on her buttocks.

When back on level ground down the slope, she proceeded to the female section of the stream in search of her friend.
As she went further and deeper down the course of the river, she noticed the water pots of the last two girls; empty and lying carelessly on the vegetation that sits on the stream bank. Her eyes as well picked up what seems like signs of struggle on the sandy part of the stream bank, but she waved them away attributing it to have been a playful giggly struggle between two growing adolescent girls who have obviously started gaining the attention of the opposite sex.

“Akunna” shouted Uloma as she advanced further.
“Akunna! Akunna!! Akunna!!!” she shouted three times in quick successions; on the last of which she heard footsteps. Satisfied that at least Akunna was the owner of the footsteps coming further down the stream, Uloma lunched into a fusillade.

“Do you think I have all day to spend at the stream? Don’t you know that mama will be worried by now? Have you forgotten since when we left for the stream? You should have at least told me you wouldn’t be able to bring up my water pot instead of just keeping me waiting all this while for nothing. My husband will soon be back from the farm and I’m yet to prepare his meal…” said Uloma in a voice that obviously seems to betray the annoyance she felt.

And then, as if out of nowhere emerged two zombielike figures covered with intricate white markings from their head to their feet. As soon as we Uloma set eyes on them, she almost unconsciously gave out an hysterical scream in horror. Without time to have her eyes properly interpret what she had saw, she turn her back and in one fluidly movement took to her heels.
And zombielike figures chased after her.



Aniebolam was carried away munching on Ahamefuna’s share of cashew; his mouth moving from side to side like a cud chewing goat when the rumbling sound of thunder brought him back to consciousness.

“Chineke!” shouted Aniebolam as he jumped to his feet with tremendous alacrity. Every sense of time heightened in him.

It’s being quite a long while since Ahamefuna excused himself to go ease himself. It was already far beyond the normal time necessary. Aniebolam is himself a notorious time spender when passing excreta in the bushes. The zoar of the forest is for him as a relieving environment for one to daydream and fantasize in the world of his own thoughts. His preferred line of fantasy is imagining himself as king of the ants; venerated by them, with a large yam barn, many wives and all the titles in the land to compliment his power.

Aniebolam is as well of the habit of catching ants, termites, and other small crawling insects and literally dropping them directly on his feces. He finds amusement watching them struggle out of his excrement. Soliloquizing and christening the ants after villagers according to their perceived trait. Those who survives the poo are picked up by hand and dropped back in to begin their struggle anew. Stubborn ones he will call Mazi Odumodu, while lazy ones he will say are from Umuagu.

Legs slightly apart in an agile posture, waist slightly leaning aback, arms stretched overhead, Aniebolam gave off a throaty groan in a perfect show of exhaustion. With the hunted games left leaning against the exposed roots of the cashew tree, Aniebolam resolved to go see what it is that is keeping Ahamefuna.

“This stupid boy, even pregnant women don’t take this much time to give birth” muttered Aniebolam to himself as he repeatedly stroke his buttock with both hands, one after the other, in an effort to dust off silts of sand that have attached themselves to the robust muscles of his childish bum bum.

Buttock dusted clean, body reenergized, Aniebolam strode off; away in the direction Ahamefuna had took.
“Ahame! Ahame!! Ahame!!!” Aniebolam called as he went further and further into the bushes. With each step further inward, he wondered why Ahamefuna will want to go such far off to take a dump. Though he is very much aware that Ahamefuna’s poo could smell really foul but he just couldn’t find it as enough justification as to why his friend went this much far.

“Could Ahamefuna have cheated in the cashew sharing by not surrendering all of the plucked fruit? After all, he is the person up on the tree…. Could it possibly be cashews that he had hidden in-between his buttock, pretending it to be poo that was about to drop off? He could most likely be eating on the stolen cashews as he passes out excreta.” All of these were playing in Aniebolam’s head as he scouts out his friend.

“I shall no longer shout out his name” Aniebolam muttered to himself. “I shall caught him red-handed. So he will not be able to deny it. That boy is just too greedy”.
Unknown to Aniebolam, it was this very decision to keep mute in order to catch his perceived dubious friend that will ultimately save his life. It was a simple case of the right thing happening for the wrong reasons.


Aniebolam is perfectly concealed within the tall elephant grasses. Directly in front of him appears to be a hunting party of three men. These men had obviously had a successful hunt. From his position in the bushes, he could see that they were all squatted, busy field dressing their game. Disemboweling and taking out the entrails.

Strangely, the men weren’t saying anything to each other nor were they making the usual bantering and backslapping that normally comes after a big hunt. On their face were intricate white markings and their lips sealed tight with palm fronds. Their eyes blaze like fire in the cold concentration with which they went about their business.

Aniebolam at once, intuitively decided against making his presence known. He was going to carefully monitor them as well as try to understand what it is they want here. It is not out of place meeting strangers in the forest, but certainly not with such fierce, combative appearance and almost not this close to a village one is not a native of.
When the men finally began to walk away, one after the other, Aniebolam could see that they were all armed with bloodstained machetes. The white markings he had thought were on their faces was as well covering every part of their body down to their feet. Even more surprising, was the fact that the strangers were leaving behind the more pristine part of the game. Aniebolam had initially thought that they probably wanted to seek a better means to carry their game, but the way the men went away headlong without even stealing a knowing stare at the game clearly suggested abandonment.

He smiled at himself mischievously as the thought of how he was going to steal the game hit his heart. Almost instantaneously, he convinced himself that he was going to keep this one all for himself alone. This was going to be his way of getting one back at Ahamefuna. He was going to wait here. He was going to allow a considerable distance between the men and their game before making out for it.

After a suitable interval, Aniebolam left the concealment of the tall grasses as he monkeyed in, into the shorter undergrowth towards the game. As he crawled closer, his perception of the size of the hunt and what it really is began to change. At first, it was a big antelope, then it became a baby antelope, and later a primate, and finally a….

Confronting Aniebolam was a sight that even his head was finding difficult to interpret. His legs were shaking vigorously as if they will break under the weight of his body. His heartbeats were now louder, faster and as irregular as the Ikoro of his village. His face went grey as his stomach turned. It was as if it’s the very moment the eaten cashews choose to stage an uprising. His hands went straight to his neck in an effort to prevent a jailbreak but it was a little too late as the cashews and palm oiled yam and other stomached matters came pouring out of his mouth. His nose was not spared either.

Lying lifeless on the ground is a boy his age. His throat spilt. His head were still attached to the body by about one inch of neck tissue; clearly suggesting a machete blow from obviously an inexperienced hand. The corpse was gruesomely dissected from the superior mediastinum down to the base of the abdominal cavity. His entrails were scattered at random even though they were still very much attached. His heart were missing together with his kidneys. Blood, most of which were already congealed, compete for space with other physiological matters. His stomach and other gastrointestinal organs were spared, they were only amateurishly shifted out of place for easy access to the kidneys. His exposed immature penis sat like a scared retreated house rat on his testicles.

Flies were exactly the kind of creatures that will just not refuse to stay away out of this kind of party. They were everywhere. Joyfully perching on whatever catches their fancy; no thanks to the fact that the corpse was lying on what is clearly the excrement of his own body. The sight was simply just too horrible.

Even more horrifying for Aniebolam was that the corpse he was helplessly staring at is the corpse of his very best friend. A friend with whom he had set out for the forest. A friend with whom he had hunted games with. A friend with whom he had plucked, shared and eating cashew with. A friend who had only excuse himself to go relieve himself. A friend who a while ago had made him laugh. A friend who had pleaded not to be left behind, and yet, who without warning had left him behind….. Here is that friend lying lifeless, humorless, not talking and without feelings.
Aniebolam let out a loud cry in agony.

AryEmber:
Wow! This is going to be great! More and more please!

Thank you so much for the encouragement. God bless you.