₦airaland Forum

***

Jide is in the crowd. As a resident of the street, he is at liberty to attend. It is to his pride that the awesomeness of his street jamz becomes the talk of the town. Jide despises the street guys for their selfish and cowardly attitudes towards the NEPA menace. He felt that for one to be a complete Homey, one has to balance up merry-making together with some form of manly courage. But he was going to lead the way for others to follow. His feat the other day with the NEPA staffs have been widely discussed by the other streets guys in stunted reverence. The boys have continued to hail him whenever they come across him. He was determined to shock the boys a second time. The money from his lotto winnings was indeed burning a hole in his pocket.

***

The agenda of the meeting was read and soon the fund-raising started. Segun was anchoring it all. In this kind of event planning, it is always ideal to have a generally liked person presiding. For that is one sure of getting a lot of people involved. The event is for everybody irrespective of your status or cultural leaning. So long as one is a resident of the street, he or she is at liberty to decide whether or not to get involved. The bidding soon started in earnest; though rather slowly but it began to build on momentum as the time progressed. A bottle of cheap wine was presented for the auction. Like expected, the sum started from as low as fifty naira (#50). The lower homeys bade more according to their rank and overall worth. Only a few tried to be more generous in their biddings. And these ones had a few eyes wiggled their way. The sum continually progressed from tens of naira, to the hundreds and finally to the thousands. This was the league the bigger boys play. Francis, who was sitting on the wooden bench in Mama Alero’s stall started off the league of thousandnaires when he pledged the sum of one thousand naira (#1000). The crowd applauded. Everyone knows Oga Yellow. They all knew him to be financially better than he looks. He is more or less the street clown. Francis paid cash on the spot. Mama Alero hailed him; wiggling her big buttocks alongside as he brought out the money from his pocket to pay.

***

Baba Tee is the local chairman of the N.U.R.T.W (National Union of Road Transport Workers) and the boss of the neighborhood motor park. He oversees the activities of the motor pack touts. He is in fact regarded as the Thug-in-Chief; with a lot of boys (Agberos) under his control. He is highly respected by the local boys. A lot of them, in fact, aspires to be like him some day. As a resident of the street, a lot of the boys considers him the grand patron of the street carnival celebrations. A lot of the activities of the neighborhood rarely happens without him knowing about it. Baba Tee is in fact the boss of bosses.
Baba Tee was sitting on the edge of one of the snooker tables – an act which only someone of his standing can possibly attempt. Segun will not allow anybody sit on his snooker tables but certainly not Baba Tee. Baba Tee has the power to completely shot him down. He is very powerful and well connected. A lot of the boys are loyal to him. These boys outdo themselves to win over his admirations. They will raise both hands high in the air, and then stamp both feet one at a time in salutations. Some of them have even waxed records; singing only his praises. As a thug lord, he is highly coveted by politicians. Baba Tee never fails to deliver his polling units in the case of an election; even if it meant ballot snatching, vote stealing, vote buying and other manipulations or even outright threatening of electorates.
Baba Tee had two beautiful scantily dressed ladies standing to his sides. A bottle of Cicero was placed between them. The three of them had red plastic cups in hand from which they seeped from. He cuddles the ladies closer to himself. They chatted quietly among themselves with Baba Tee bursting out in hearty laughter at intervals. Baba Tee was in fact enjoying himself. He was patiently waiting for the mouse to have their fun before him, the dreaded cat, gets involved.

***

Jide was by the side watching it all. He too was patiently waiting for the time the big boys will play. He loves the way Segun has been going round trying to persuade those that have made pledges to pay instantly in cash. Some of them paid up immediately like Francis. Others gave excuses for their inability to pay instantly. Segun was empathic about cash payment. And whenever someone fails to redeem his pledge instantly in cash, he will mutter loudly enough some very hilarious and degrading comments that will throw people off their feet in laughter. A lot of people made quick dash for home to get money, while some others have their friends or neighbors lend them some cash which they promised to pay back later.
In front of where Jide was standing were two boys. The boys were standing on the pavement of the big gutter that runs the entire length of the street. Jide knows them to live at no 41 on his street. Their compound is more popularly known as “the swimming pool”. It is notorious for always being flooded during the rainy seasons. The compound seems to have sank a couple of inches into its foundations, making it very easy for one to see over the roof of the compound while standing on the main road. The gutter that runs the street is in itself higher than the gutter in the compound. So draining off the water can only be done by pumping or bailing up with bucket. To enter the compound, tenants have to pass through a small wooden platform that serves as bridge. In one of the nights when there was a heavy downpour, tenants woke up from their bed only to find an ankle deep water had flooded their rooms.
Jide do not like the boys. They were far too flamboyant and garrulous that one could easily mistake them as sons to a very wealthy parents. The boys are Timothy and Femi. These boys are notorious for slaughtering people’s chickens that were unfortunate enough to have strayed into their compound. These boys will most certainly make a nice meal out of it within a twinkle of an eye. They are as well, widely known for the petty crime of stealing people’s clothes. After stealing these clothes, they will take them out to any of their colleague not living within the neighborhood, there they will exchange the clothes for something else –most likely with another stolen clothes.
The boys were both discussing in hushed and reverenced tones about Baba Tee. Jide was too annoyed to listen to what they were saying. He felt Baba Tee is just being blown out of proportion. He considers Baba Tee to be a self-serving mediocre who was being accorded more respect than what he is truly worth.

***

The bidding was still within the region of eight thousand naira (#8,000) when Baba Tee, speaking through one of his concubines, made a head rolling bid of fifteen thousand naira (#15,000) cash. There was an uproar as everyone cheered and hailed his name. Baba Tee simply smiled and raised his cup in acknowledgment to the cheers. Some of his boys were already gyrating and singing in his name. Segun allowed it all to continue until it steadyingly began to subside. After everywhere was calm enough for proceedings, Segun continued. Within him, he felt that there was absolutely no need to ask for any more biddings because no one will possibly want to outdo Baba Tee. But for the sake of formalities, he decided to ask using the famous line used by Achilles in the Hollywood movie titled “Tory”.
“Is there anyone else?” Segun asked.
“Yes!” came a voice from nowhere. The voice seems to belong to a teenager.
“Is there anyone else?” Segun asked again, but this time in a firm voice. He stretched out his neck; out in the direction of the audience. With his right hand, he cupped his right ear in an effort to better detect from where the “yes” sound will come from this time.
“Yes!” came the reply again, but this time everyone knew where it is coming from. Everyone turned towards that direction including Baba Tee who still had a smile on his face. He was probably expecting the “yes” to be a prank by a naughty teenage boy. This thought, he seems to share with the other people around. Timothy and Femi both turned to look at the person who had spoken behind them. Their initial surprise gave way to mockery and later to bone-cracking astonishment.
“My name is Jide Olaoye from no 55. I am pledging the sum of twenty thousand naira (#20,000) cash” said Jide as he was emphatic with the word “cash”.
The crowd was not as rapturous as it was when Baba Tee made his pledge. This is due more to the fact that the people were stunted to disbelieve. Some of the boys were now watching it all in restrained anger; waiting to bounce on the little boy for trying to take them all for a ride. Jide brought out from his pocket a wade of one thousand naira (#1,000) notes and almost in a slow-motion like manner counted out twenty pieces.
By counting slowly, he allowed the shock grow in severity over a period of time. His body seems to soak in on the electrifying chill in the audience, as his back began to swell almost into a hunch. With each counted naira note gently flipped over, a particular section of the crowd cheered. This section of the crowd are made up of those who particularly bear grudges against Baba Tee’s acute sense of showmanship. Baba Tee is always too full of himself. Many people only had to put up with his excesses more as a result of him being a tyrant.
With a mischievous grin on his face, Jide handed over the money to an impressed Segun, who had initially walked over to him with the intention of cracking a couple of mocking jokes at him. Segun needed not to count the money. As a man who frequently handles money, the wade of naira notes in hand felt just right for twenty thousand naira. To maximize the effect, Jide felt the need to leave at once. He placed both hands inside his pockets. With his neck raised high and his eyes fixed straight overhead, he gently strode out of the venue; passing through what is considered the podium from where Segun had stood to coordinate the event. With Jide, went Tobi, Ebenezer, Hassan and his entire crew. Jide walked at the head of the line like a mafia boss.

***

The event ended with Baba Tee having to make a face-saving bid of twenty-five thousand naira (#25,000). Ten thousand naira more from his initial pledge but this time, he announced it himself and as well paid in cash. He ignored the cheap bottle of wine he was entitled to as the person with the largest pledge. In his mind, there was the burning desire of wanting to know more about that teenage boy who just took the shine off him.

*****

It was already sundown. Austin did not go to work. He was down with malaria and had call in to report so. He was feeling dizzy. So he set off for the Well with a fetcher in hand. He needed to pour water over his head to relieve the dizziness. The compound seems deserted. Everyone seems to have all gone out.
Austin had just finish his ablution when Chinelo emerged from the main building. She too need some water from the Well. As Austin stood up to check out who it was, both of their eyes were locked on. Without thinking, Austin with his right hand crossed his face to wipe off droplets of water still there. He then walked up to Chinelo who was standing fixed in her position. He stretched out his dry left hand to touch the side of her neck with both their eyes still locked on.
“Chi, how are you? Why have you continued to treat me this way?” Austin asked in a passion-laden voice.
Chinelo broke the gaze by looking downwards. What follows was totally unexpected by Austin.
“Yes! Austin yes!” came an equally emotional voice.
When Chinelo looked up again, she had tears standing in her eyes. She planted a lightning fast kiss on Austin’s cheek. She turned and then ran off inside, leaving the fetcher behind.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Austin was growing increasingly disappointed. He did not know exactly what to expect. He had wondered if really the event of the previous day was real. It had all happened in a flash. He doubts if Chinelo had really heard what he said. He felt like grabbing her by both arms and shake her violently to consciousness. He wished to yell into her face for an answer.
Austin loves Chinelo so dearly. This love was making him feel helpless with each passing moment without a word from her. Austin had hoped to pick up the bits and pieces from her gesture. He had hoped to sew them all together into his personal strand of self-consolation. But these pieces were simply nowhere to be found. She had gone about her business in her usually diligent manner; smiling when spoken to and laughing heartily to good jokes. They had both met, one on one, for a couple of times. Though for very brief moments, her face had remained blank. Devoid of any emotions whatsoever. No questioning looks, no mischievous grin or winks and no knowing smiles. Just the very same old Chinelo. They had at one time locked eyes but Austin was the first to look away. Chinelo must not see the desperate emotions in his eyes. He will not have himself presumed to be weak.
As days rolled by, Austin’s disappointments gave way into despair. He began wearing long faces. He as well began avoiding people whenever possible. He would have himself locked up in his room until it was about time to prepare for work. When he wants to leave his room, he would plug in his headphones and set the volume at the loudest, just to shot out distractions and further lock himself up in a world of his own. He will salute an elder person when he come by one, but will not bother to hear their reply. It was as if his ego has been bruised. He felt like one who said something he wasn't supposed to say. Considering that the girl was still a teenager and of a perceived lower standard (according to the defeatist mechanisms of his heart), he felt all the more wounded. Even if he had loved her, he felt like he wasn’t supposed to say it. His love was dear to him as much as his ego was too. Confessing his love to her hadn’t make him feel any better. He had only just sold his manly pride for a bowl of eba and vegetable soup. The girl has not responded. A no response was by far worse than a response in the negative. Austin felt like the earth should open and swallow him up. He had been fooled by the nice gestures into saying what was better kept secret. He had given his most precious pearls to the dogs and it was about time he gets it back.

***

Chinelo heard what Austin said. It had in fact remained in her head. The moment have repeatedly played in her head. It all seems like in a Nollywood movie scene. She could feel how his firm grip had vibrated her flesh with the tremble of his anxiety. She could still see the love in his eyes. She could feel how his stonecold sincerity stammered those words out of his mouth. She knew they were not words just spoken out of sheer impulse. And they were certainly not words in any way driven by lust. She may not know what sincerity looks like, but she sure do know how it feels when she sees one.
Chinelo loves Austin so very dearly; if only what she was feeling for him could really be called that. The words he had said to her were the exact words she dying to hear. Though she more or less had expected them, but they really left her in grave shock for no reason she had been able to place her hands on. She had remained cold and calm and often more contemplative. Most especially when she is alone. She had felt like jumping on top of him and kiss him to dizziness, but it was not ladylike to do so. By her gender, she is expected by society to remain calm and conceal her emotion for as well as possible, by pretending not to have noticed or feel affected by the event of the previous day.
Chinelo has been seeing less and less of Austin as the days went by. She will sit by her window to observe his door. Whenever his veranda is empty without his slippers lying around, then no one is in. For the last few days, the veranda has remained empty. No slippers, no hanged sponge or sprayed towel. It was as if there was no longer an occupant living there.
She was developing in her this ferocious urge of wanting to say something to Austin; just anything. She felt just a few words about anything will do just fine. Having to make the guy sweat and second-guessing what her decision could likely be is one thing, but not saying anything at all is a whole lot of different things all together. Keeping mute will only shrivel away the feelings. This was something she had always wished for and she wasn’t going to let it all fade away by keeping mute. Austin have asked her out and she had ensured a reasonably dignified wait-time. Now was the time to move a step further.

***

A typical morning for a lot of neighbors starts with a few shots of local gin (kai-kai) to fire up the nerves. It is common to see women –particularly Yorubas- bearing on their head as they hawk about, heavy load of the different variety of the substance. These substance comes in different colors, forms and textures. Some of them are medicinal, while some other are just for the intoxicating sensation they give. The local gin comes in different names but one could generally referred to them by its collective nomenclature “Ogogoro” alias “kai kai”. Local gin connoisseurs have a slogan by which they amused themselves. When one shouts the word “Ogogoro!”, it is expected that the one says “E no dey sour” in reply. Ogogoro should not be confused for Agbo –Yoruba for medicine.
Agbo is enjoyed purely for its medicinal purposes. It is made from blending various herbs and roots. These herbs and roots are most often boiled together in hot water to allow for proper mixture and as well effectively have every essential properties extracted. Most Agbo normally have a bitter or foul taste to them. Some could give off repugnant smells. Sweet tasting Agbo are extremely rare to come by. Agbo could either be water based or liquor based. It all depends on what the choice of the drinker is. Some neighborhood fellow who are not proud enough of their drinking habits, like to give off the impression that though they may be seen to be drinking, but their drinking is necessitated by the need for a healthy well-being. These particular kind of characters are never devoid of sickness. They will announce out loud to the Agbo hawker one ailment or the other, so as to get off their back their intrusively inquisitive neighbors. But they will quietly point out to the Agbo seller that their prescription should be liquor based. The most commonly mentioned ailments are waist pains, constipation (Jedi-Jedi), and typhoid and malaria fevers. These characters are always the first to make jest of another by calling them drunkards. They are always readily available to point out the difference between Agbo and Ogogoro. There is basically an Agbo for every ailment. Dosage strictly depends on how much the drinker can stomach.
Ogogoro on the other hand is a colorless locally distilled gin. Though it may have a variety of other uses, but it is principally sorted for its very potent intoxicating quality. Ogogoro is very cheap and budget-friendly. One can get a shot for a meager sum of thirty naira (#30). Most people prefers it primarily because if it's budget-friendliness. One can get to his desired state of intoxication cheaply and more quickly. The recent crackdown on local distillers by the government following a reported case of more than 72 dead persons who drank from an adulterated gin have only affected the price. It did not scare away drinkers and their crave for it. Many of the local distillers only ended up adding a touch of modernity to it all. Ogogoro starts coming in well packaged; ranging in various sizes and colors.

***

One cannot separate a Homeboy from partying and merriments. One is as well reverenced based on how hard he parties. Objectively speaking, Homeys do not engage in crime for crime sake –though being successful at crime helps promotes one’s prestige within the Hood. In many cases, the underlining reason for them taking to crime is just to support their party-hopping and merry-making lifestyle. Cheap drugs like Codine, Taramadol, Marijuana and others makes them party harder.
The laughter coming in from the direction of Mama Alero’s stall was very loud and by all indication a hearty one. The Christmas season is already in the air. So it was common to comeby people making merries. The people of the neighborhood likes to celebrate and make merry. It is an integral part of their way of life. Some in fact lives for these moments. Few meters away from Mama Alero’s stall is the neighborhood snooker table. The place is the central hotspot for Homeys. They hang out there mainly for the spirit of solidarity and camaraderie that exhumes from therein. It is at spots like this that bosses gets to be boss. The atmosphere in and around the center is always robust and friendly, but there always seems to be a very subtle sense of stratifications. The easiest and most common way to search out the bosses is to lookout for the heavy gamblers. These guys bet the highest amounts; more to uphold their prestige among "men", and if the day is good….make some very good winnings.
The operator of the game center is named Segun. He runs a small bar alongside. Segun is a very likeable and quiet guy. His quiet nature makes it possible for him to effectively run a spot like his. It is in spots like his that drugs are distributed, crimes are planned, successes are celebrated and finally, loots are shared. Segun have had his fair share of police cases; all of which he always come out untainted. He does not partake in the crimes. He simply just minds his business.
Today, the street boys are planning for their annual street carnival on his property. The street jamz (as they are commonly called) is a musical concert. A Disc Jockey is the heart of the entire show. He plays continuously into the wee hours of the night. Any other acts outside that, are just mere side attractions to spice up the event. Street jamz are a very common event on almost every street within the neighborhood and folks takes it very seriously. These street parties are always meticulously planned. Neighborhood folks all conceives of the event as the climax of a whole year round of merriments. They pull out all the stunts to make sure the event is a memorable one.
Preparations are already underway. The street is already decorated to create the right kind of ambiance. The decorations are made to cover the entire length of the street, and they are either tied on electric poles or on streetlights. The theme of the event is printed with assorted images of semi-nude girls on banners. These banners are placed at the various entrance points into the street. Funding for the event is always by freewill donations.

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EPILOGUE


Ugwunato fell and was burnt to the ground.

Obike in grief left Ugwunato for a far off land. There was no point going back to check on things himself. He will be risking his own life; upon which the survival of his newly born son (Ozoemena) depends.

Aniebolam went with Obike after all was laid bear to him. He was not too young to understand. He cried for his mother and his only brother Uzoma. With the soil of his once-upon-a-time land in his hands, he swore to return someday with a consuming vengeance.

Odumodu was murdered in bed while still with his wife.

Obiageli was raped multiple times before one of the warriors compassionately put her out of her misery by driving a knife into her heart. She bled to death.

Mama did not survive the invasion. She was slaughtered sitting next to her mortar as she prepares dinner for Obike her son who went in search of his wife.

Aniebolam’s Mother and Uzoma by the stroke of divine providence, both survived the invasion. They were forcefully marched to Umuagu and there, they were dedicated to an Alusi (Deity). They automatically became Osu (outcasts).

Nwakibe survived the invasion. He was lucky to escape servitude together with Adanma (Ukpala’s wife) in the course of their forced March to Umuagu. They both married each other and started life anew.

CHAPTER SIX


Odumodu’s compound is indeed a very large one. His inheritance begins a few feet behind his fence, covering the entire clearing (Iró, Iló, or Mbará) around the Udara/Udala tree (African Star Apple), and stretching all the way to the pathway that leads directly to the stream. In siting his compound, Odumodu had loved to have it a bit further up, towards the main pathway. But for the sake of the Udara tree, he was forced to move further inward.

The Udara tree is the only one of such trees that can by any means influence architectural considerations. It is a tree that holds a lot of meaning according to native Igbo ontology. The Udara trees are believed to have the spirits of children inhabiting within them. Women and young maidens alike, seeking the blessings of the fruit of the womb are encouraged to sit under their shed. Customarily, an Udara tree cannot be easily displaced in order to site a building. And in very extreme cases where the Udara has to go, certain sacrifices are carried out in order to appease the spirits of the children that dwells therein.

Part of the requirements, is to seek the expressed approval of every single child living within the village. For those stubborn children who may not readily agree, one must patiently win over their heart with gifts and other kind approaches. This is so because one could in effect shot out the chance of having babies within his family if he arrogantly goes ahead to displace the Udara tree.

One could own a palm tree. One could own a breadfruit tree. One could as well, own a kola nut tree. But absolutely no one owns an Udara tree. The Udara tree is essentially believed to be owned by the children of the land. It is their very first property on mother Earth; owned even before they start growing teeth. it is believed that Ani (the earth goddess) does the proprietor an honour by having an Udara tree grow on his land. This by necessity, makes it wrong for one to claim ownership of the tree. Fruits from these trees are equally forbidden to be sold or bought for any reason. It is a natural treat from Ani (the earth goddess) to the children of the land; commercializing such divine benevolence is considered outrightly evil.

One is however, not allowed to climb up the Udara tree with the sole aim of plucking down its fruits. Stones, sticks and other objects thrown up with the intention of plucking down a fruit is equally forbidden. The fruits must be allowed to ripen and fall on its own. And whosoever it is that sees and picks it’s fruit first is allowed to go with it. It is therefore, not surprising for one to see children around the tree in the very early part of dawn; at about the time the sun is contemplating his shine.

Architecturally, one should never site the entrance to his compound away from the direction of the Udara tree or worst still, have his building back the direction of the Udara tree. These actions are customarily believed to send signal of perceived hostility to the spirits of children. Hereby, consequently preventing them from coming in. Traditionalist, by necessity, goes as far as creating another entrance that overlooks an Udara tree which may have accidentally grown behind their own backyard. Just like it is believed “that a woman wanting a child, does not go to bed wearing undies”, so also should accesses into one's compound be restricted, if one wishes to hear the crys of babies therein.

For comfort as well as for surveillance measures, it is ideal for one to site his building further down; conveniently three meters away from an Udara clearing. Udara trees, by nature, are known to attract children, who comes to play under it just as they come for its fruits. Kids in their excitement could quite possibly render the compound nearest to it unconducive with their joyful noises. It is, however, wrong for one to erect a fence round an Udara tree; for such is tantamount to personalization of a communal property. “No one is in essence trying to take over another’s land, but one should not make the mistake of taking the communities property along with them” as the native folks will always maintain.

“Obiageli! Obiageli!!” Odumodu thundered twice in quick successions. When he calls, it was as good as when a lion roars.

“Nná ànyi, I am coming.” came Obiageli's reply from outside his hut.

Odumodu is sitting on the elevated portion of his hut that serves as bed. He was still feeling the full potency of Ukpala’s palm wine. Nwakibe and Ukpala, his two friends, had cleverly left him the last pour from the palm wine keg they had earlier drank together. He certainly did not see them wink mischievously at each other, as he gently stirred the palm wine keg in order to make a pour. Nwakibe was the one who winked. He took a swallow from his drinking horn in order to suppress the laughter in him. Ukpala had a mischievous grin to his face as he simply went on stroking on his moustache while at the same time, he made a throaty cough; as if to clear his throat Odumodu is just too sensitive to jokes like this. He wasn't one to be cajoled with such things.

The last pour essentially contains the concentrated sedimented properties that is believed to make the palm wine what it really is. This part of the Palmwine have overtime been observed to be the most potent of the entire liquor. It is usually reserved for the oldest among the drinking party or “the one with a job in hand”. When the natives talks about “one with a job in hand”, they are necessarily referring to a man who had recently gotten for himself a wife. This part of the liquor is believed to improve a man's stamina and sexual urge, while at the same time sustain his erection for a little while longer.

Odumodu was truly “a man with a job in hand”. He had recently married for himself a third wife. Obiageli had barely turned 17 years old when Odumodu began indicating interest. Odumodu is by every parameter a rich man. He is a titled man and he equally owns a very large yam barn. His wealth covers him well enough that he hardly bothers to go to the farm. He engages more in sharecropping. He had assisted Obiageli’s father to start his own farm after he had nearly lost everything to a bushfire. The best way to repay him for his kindness was to offer his daughter as wife. This will therefore further strengthened the bond of friendship between them. What better way is it to seal a bond other than by marriage? Titled men with enough money can always get what they want; not minding the level of clandestine arm twisting involved.

“Obiageli!” Odumodu called again. His penis was growing increasingly impatient. There was indeed no better time to ask for a copulation other than now. The conditions were indeed just perfect. The weather is cool. The sun had been wrestled out of the sky. Rain clouds were noticeably in the sky. And fresh sweet breeze were streaming in from outside.

“Obiageli!” Odumodu called again for the third time.

“Nná ányi, I’m coming. I am almost through” replied Obiageli form outside still.

“Ñkitâ làshá ùñú gí ébà (May dog kiss you on the mouth)” Odumodu cursed in anger. “if I come and meet you there, you will not like it.”

“Nná ányi, bikó éwé nwé (please don’t be offended). I’m almost there”.

Soon, Obiageli was in his hut. She was carrying a bowl of pounded yam on one hand, and a bowl of vegetable soup on the other.

“Whenever one is calling, I don't understand why you women will hear the call, and yet choose to remain where you are. You are supposed to leave whatsoever it is that you’re doing and come quickly to answer the call. You never can tell when one could be in deer need of a help. You women always think that everything is all about food. Food is obviously important, but it is definitely not all that a man needs.” Odumodu said. He was trying cleverly to substitute his earlier aggressive disposition to a more lighter and friendlier one. One does not get the best out of a woman in such a mood.

“Nná ànyi, I’m sorry. I was only trying to warm the soup to make it a little bit hotter: just the very way you like it.” Said Obiageli as she bend down to place the food before her husband.

Odumodu couldn’t help but to look through cleavage, into the center parting, in between her two succulent breasts, held together by a single strand of cloth tied up her back. The single strand of cloth is a piece of feminine clothing among the native women. It serves as bra to help hold up the breasts against their flip-flap movements.

The effect was instantaneous on Odumodu’s anatomy. His penis considered the sight to be a very threatening one, as it stood achingly charged in between his thighs. It was nodding like an angry man who is desperately restraining himself from deal decisively with the person who had caused him his anger.

Odumodu without an invitation, reached out with his right hand and slide downwards the strand of cloth that was covering her breast. Behold, the two cherries were standing in agile posture; as if to have their arms akimbo, while daring anyone to bring on whatever it is they may have against them. Her small nipples sitting like dwarf candles on two cup cakes pointed dead straight at him, as if to question his authority in the compound. In spite of having slid down the fairly tight strand of clothes around them, they had not moved neither did they changed posture. The confident nature of Obiageli’s breast further enraged Odumodu’s penis. If it could make sounds, the whole of Ugwunato could have converged in Odumodu compound to see what it is that is shouting. It was as if his penis had a separate heart from the rest of his body; for there were now two heart-like beats; one was obviously coming from the heart, while the other seems to be coming from his penis, but that of his penis seems loudest. The nods came in the same frequency and rhythm to the beats.

“Obiyé! Obim! Ori ákú Odumodu! My sweety sweety pawpaw!” Odumodu gushed over his young wife. “Please come and greet your husband now or are we quarrelling?”.

As Obiageli stepped closer, Odumodu’s penis just couldn’t maintain sanity anymore. It began, quite violently, to knock against the roof of his under-robe, in the very same way a dog will hit the roof of a restrictive cage. His body were all fully alert. His veins all seemed like they will detach themselves from underneath his flesh. Every passing moment increased the urge. It was just too indescribable.

When Obiageli was as close enough as decency permits, Odumodu grabbed her quite violently by both arms. In one fluidly movement, he had her lying flat on her back right on his bed. The move was so lightening fast that even Amadi, the best wrestler in all of the hilly communities, would have applauded at such a technique. Odumodu was so purpose minded that he cares nothing for the spilt vegetable soup Obiageli had unconsciously tripped over with her legs, in the cause of maneuvering her onto his bed. For all he cares, the soup and everything else can go to hell.

Without much ado, his penis, whose temperature was already way above normal, find his way into Obiageli’s vagina. They both went missionary. Odumodu had himself sandwiched in between Obiageli’s spread out legs, which in turn came to form a belt at the base of his black hairy buttock. Obiageli had both arms around Odumodu’s shoulder as if in a hug, while her husband had his own hands firmly gripping her by the shoulders; a little off her shoulder blade.

He had his face planted to the right side of her face as he heavily breathe out hot air down her neck. He had his strength at the upper half of his body helping to pin her down, while his waist rise and fall repeatedly in jerking yet pounding movements. Odumodu gave off throaty moans, while obiageli encouraged him at intervals by making sexual sounds.

Quite sooner than expected, Odumodu spilled his seeds on the inside of her and then off he went into an exhausting sleep, right on top of her.


Sex in the native African society is quite a very dicey issue for one two holistically talk about. Inasmuch as it is more or less relative, one cannot hide the fact that it affects the genders differently. Machismo is a societal word for excessive masculinity, however negative or positive it may be. It is considered normal and even applauded for a male to be free, expressive, as well as exploring with his own sexuality. Boys can freely talk about sex, laugh about sex, use foul language and even discuss passed sexual acts within the audible reach of their parents.

It is very strangely the direct opposite for female. For the girl child, chastity is considered a virtue. According to local folklores, “the greatest gift a woman can give to her husband on their wedding night, is the blood of her virginity”. It is considered outrightly indecent, and possibly a taboo in some enclaves, for girls to freely talk about sex, make jokes about sex or even discuss passed sexual acts; except of course, such discussions is with their mother. These discussions are in fact, discussed in private and words are carefully disguised to conceal their true meaning.

Sex start and end with the man. As a woman, you are not primarily expected to enjoy it. But to just live through it in the very same manner you go about every other female-oriented duties or responsibilities like taking care of children and cooking the food. Foreplays are only employed when there is the need to have the man charged up, and not when the both parties needs to put each other in the mood.

A woman must know how to balance her disposition towards sex. This is usually something only a mother could teach her daughters. One must know how to manage her excitement when engaged in the sexual act. Appearing too receptive could give off the impression of one who is loose; and a loose women are more generally suspected for promiscuity. On the other hand, appearing to be adamant in turn, discourages the man. This will consequently make him seek out someone else to help satisfy his sexual needs. Mastering these techniques could be the definitive factor between a good wife and a better one.

If one's husband isn't good in bed, it is very quite sufficiently regarded to be the wife’s fault. And in the case where he is great in bed, it is all solely to his own credit. One with a not-too-good husband must take it upon herself to seek out remedies and when his arrogant will not allow him adhere to recommendations/prescriptions, you have no choice but to continue to endure with him. Ironically, a non-performing wife can be conveniently substituted with another so long as one had the means by which to pay for the customary bride price which it most definitely entails.

Restrictive laws on extramarital affairs are always targeted at the female gender. Men can always cheat and their wives should be able to leave with the knowledge that their husband cheats. In traditional Igbo society, it is perceived to be very normal for a wife to go bring in a concubine for her husband or even marry one into the family strictly to serve her husband's sexual needs. But such is considered unthinkable the other way around; except in very rare cases where a man invites another male family member to come help him he pregnant his own wife owing to his own impotency. In such a scenario, the act is most certainly done very secretly. It is never celebrated, and not a word of it ever leaves the family.

The warriors of Umuagu poured into Ugwunato catching almost everyone indoor. They had all stay in door to wait out the imminent rain; the rain of which had taken too long to fall. They had all stayed indoor to prevent their mortal flesh from getting wet. They had all stayed indoor, and yet forgot to protect their own land.

The rain was coming and with it will their very existence be washed away from the surface of the earth. The rain was coming to soften the earth so their blood can flow even more freely. A rain that will conceal the tears in the eyes. A rain that will fall on Ugwunato and yet, will it stop along side her existence.
O’Ugwunato! How I wished you knew.


“A secret is of no use to a dying man”. Obike is standing tall over the man who had just murdered his wife; the beloved mother of his only child. The man was lying on his back to the ground. He was indeed a dying man. His face, as well as, every part of his body were covered in blood and dirt. Blood were streaming down his nose, and he as well had blood in his mouth.

The man had a large wood pointedly poking out of the side of his upper abdomen; directly below his left rib cage. He was exhausted, he was beaten and he was very definitely going to die but he was quite strangely, not in anyway afraid. He in fact, had a wicked grin to his face that went on to reveal his blood stained teeth.

“Look!” he said to Obike, who towers above him with a machete in hand. This was his very first words to anyone since the beginning of the operation. He had not spoken nor had he opened his mouth since the palm frond had it sealed. Now, whatsoever it is that he was going to say, were definitely going to be his last words. Like a dying man preparing himself for the afterlife, it is his wish that those words will at least save someone’s life.

His eyes glowed in delight to what it is he was looking at. He was definitely enjoying what he was seeing. Curiosity had Obike steal a glance skywards. What he had mistook for rain clouds were actually not clouds. They were in fact smoke; heavy smoke. Evidently coming in the direction of his village; from his beloved Ugwunato, the very land of his fathers. They were certainly land of his fathers no more.
“Ugwunato has fallen!” the dying man said, as Obike brought back his attention to him. Obike was scared now that even the dying man could sense it. It somehow amused him even more. Obike was scared for fate of his beloved fatherland. He was scared for his beloved mother he had just left behind. He was scared for the many children that were already dying right now, and for the women that are getting raped. He silently offered a prayer for their soul.

“Take your sons and go off to a far land and there, start a new life; for the Ugwunato of your birth is no more”. The dying man was evidently in great pains as he struggled to say the words. Talking slowly and more distant as life continues to gradually drain out of him.

Obike felt no form of pity for him or for his smaller fellow, who he had had his head completely separated from the rest of his body when he had ventured into the taller elephant grasses in search of the crying baby. Obike had unfortunately gotten there before him. He just stood back and waited for him to come within striking distance.

“Go! Go! Gooooooooo!” said the man as he faded off to death.

THE END OF PART ONE. WATCH OUT FOR PART TWO.

CHAPTER TWELVE
Jide is at the backyard. He is counting through wads of one thousand naira notes. He is surrounded by his peers, as they all looked on in surprise. Tobi, his friend from the next compound, is by his side. He has his right hand thrown over Jide’s shoulder. Though Jide is only about a year older than Tobi, Tobi have somewhat become Jide’s unofficial spokesman. Tobi is essentially Jide’s praise singer. He is always full of admirations for the older guy, who never seizes to run out of innovative ideas. Jide and Tobi are almost inseparable. Wherever you find one, you are most likely to find the other. They go to school together, and they as well, return home together. Tobi helps Jide with household chores and Jide equally does likewise. Today, both of them are mocking and cajoling the other boys.
“You guys are just small boys. You do not even know anything at all. All you know is how to cry like babies and beg your mommy for food. I and Jide are the biggest boys in this entire area. We have enough money to feed all of you for a whole year and still have some change left.” boosted Tobi.
Jide only just nodded in affirmation, as he wet his fingers with saliva to aid him in sorting through the notes.
“…Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four….” Jide counted aloud.
His friend Tobi later joined in the counting. Soon enough, everyone was counting after Jide. The total sum was twenty nine thousand naira. All the boys shouted in astonishment. They were astounded at how such a huge sum came to belong to a boy their age. Ebuka was the first to speak.
“Jide how did you get this money? Who gave it to you?”
Jide and Tobi both burst out in laughter, but Tobi laughed the hardest. Jide, who now seems to have an air of authority over himself, settled himself down on a makeshift throne made out of bricks stacked to one side of the backyard. He allowed his friend do the talking on his behalf. All of the boys paid rap attention as Tobi narrated what the newest big deal in town is all about. Tobi will stop at intervals to pick on the boys one after the other. When one of them is being picked on, the others will all laugh at that one. The one being picked on will not reply, knowing well enough that any reply will further expose his ignorance, hereby giving more fire power to Tobi; who will certainly never fail to seize on it. They only register their displeasure by frowning their faces.
“Have you guys heard of ‘Baba Ijebu’?” asked Tobi.
“Yes!” chorus the crowd.
“Is it not that one that they call Premier Lotto? I know it now. Papa Oyinbo used to play it.” Further answered by Ikem (one of Nonye’s older siblings).
“If you know it, then tell us what it is all about” said Tobi to Ikem, as the other boys laughed at his obvious ignorance. Some of the boys even started calling him ITK (I too know) just to further piss him off. Ikem remained silent.
“Premier Lotto is now the new local stock exchange in the neighborhood. Who knows what a stock exchange is?” asked Tobi.
None of the boys replied in the affirmative, for none of them knew what a stock exchange really is. Attempting an answer when it is Tobi that is asking, is certainly not an option; for they all knew it is more of a trap than an innocent question. Tobi continued without bothering to answer what a stock exchange was. A move that was, as well, deliberate.
“A player is expected to predict a minimum of two correct numbers or a maximum of five correct numbers from a pool of numbers 1 to 90. Two correct numbers is a win, while five correct numbers is a jackpot. Winnings are dependent on the amount staked. At the end of every game, a draw is cast to determine the winning numbers.”
“What if I want to play just two numbers that I am very sure of? Will I be allowed to do so?” asked Ebenezer. Ebenezer lives in the same compound with Tobi. Like Tobi, he enjoys hanging out in Jide’s compound
“Yes! One is allowed to play just two numbers if he so wishes. Such a game is called TWO SURE. If you are playing above two numbers, maybe between three to five numbers. It is called a THREE DIRECT, FOUR DIRECT or FIVE DIRECT. It all depends on which one you may want to play.”
“What about someone with just one sure number?” asked Ebuka.
“You cannot play just one number. A sure number is called a BANKER and bankers are highly sorted after. One could either look for another sure number to pair with or you can just play a permutation using your sure number against the other eighty-nine numbers”
“But that will be very expensive” said some of the boys
“Yes! But one can decide to perm them at the rate of five naira (#5) each, times the entire eighty-nine games. You work it out yourselves to know the cost”
“That will be four hundred and forty five naira (#445)” said Chiagozie who was speaking for the very first time.
The boys all looked at him. Most of them were surprised at the speed with which he came up with an answer.
“Are you sure?” asked Tobi, who is not too happy that someone among this group of boys he had regarded so lowly could do arithmetic this fast.
Some of the boys reacted by making the calculation in their heads. They wiggled their fingers as if to point to an imaginary blackboard. Some others simply cleared the sand in front of them with their foot, as they squatted down to make their own calculation on the ground. Chiagozie, still quiet, just stood crossed arm as they amused themselves trying to verify his answer. Ikem was the first to confirm chiagozie’s answer before the other boys did so too. Including those who did not even finish their own calculations, all joined in saying that he is correct.
“Hmmn, Chiagozie is a class ahead of us” said Jide enviously, while Tobi nodded in affirmation.
Chiagozie simply laughed at them both as he turned and went on his way. The boys all watched him go. Then they turned back their attention to Tobi.
“…as I was saying before the cockroach interrupted.” said Tobi trying to spite Chiagozie whose brother Ebuka was still present.
The boys all laughed that Chiagozie is being referred to as a cockroach.
“Jide, how were you able to win such an amount of money?” Ebenezer asked, directing his question at Jide. But it was Tobi that answered.
“Jide played a two-sure with one hundred naira (#100) from his money for lunch. He got his number from Fela, the madman that daily walks up and down the street.”
The boys were all surprised. They never expected anything good could actually come from any madman, let alone from Fela.

***

Fela is a lunatic in the neighborhood. “Fela” is not his real name –no one knows his real name. The name was adopted based on his striking resemblance with the late afrobeat rascal Fela Anikulapo Kuti. Fela is always covered in mud and charcoal dust. His hairs are all dreadlocked and looking very unkempt. He wears rags for cloths and never bothers to have them washed. Fela is very troublesome. He enjoys scaring and chasing girls anywhere he finds them.
When Fela is momentarily calm, he will quietly go about the neighborhood begging for garbage to dispose off for a fee. Or will sometimes be seen sweeping the street. After sweeping a couple of meters, he will drop his broom and begin to beg for handouts form passersby. But when Fela’s insanity returns, one could see him scantily dressed, as he dances and chases girls around. Fela seems to have a personal dislike for girls. He will throw stones and other trash at them. And when they insult and mock him, he will scare them off by threating to give them a chase. Some women and young girls alike have lost their phones, bags, purses, and other valuables while trying to run away from Fela.
Fela loves to smoke. He would lie himself flat in front of one of the many shops that line the street and smoke on his cigarettes, one after the other. These moments are always his most peaceful moments. Mischievous passersby are always left disappointed that when they try to spite him up, they get only silence in return. Fela will not even bother to look their way, so long as there is a cigarette in hand. The little money he makes from disposing garbage are all mostly spent on cigarettes. And when there are no more money, Fela will resort to begging or render service for pay.

The advent of Premier Lotto (Baba Ijebu) resulted in the demand for sure winning numbers. It was a generally held believe that lunatics are particularly gifted in predicting numbers correctly. So this led to many prospectors buying Fela gifts of cigarettes just to have him predict for them a winning number. Fela’s predictions often plays out, sometimes they don’t. But these did not stop people from trying.
On that fateful day, Jide -who was already becoming something of a habitual gambler- was determined to get it right this time; not minding what it takes. This reckless determination was born out of his many failed attempts in the past. Pervious predictions had gone wrong. Sometimes it could be just one number that is right from the lot. He has heard of the tales that lunatics are good at predicting numbers but he had repeatedly brushed it aside by not putting much interest in it. Jide felt that good predictions only comes from a perfect mastering of the game chart.
Fela is in his favorite position in front of a shop. He is lying on his back. His head rested slightly raised against the wall. Haggard and filthy looking as he was, but he obviously don’t seems to give a damn. For Fela, the whole world can go to hell for all he cares. Behind his right earlobe hangs an unlighted cigarette, while one burns in between his middle and index fingers. He took a draw and blew out the smoke at intervals. He had his lips squeezed round in order to make a circular patterned smoke. He enjoys watching how the circular smoke starts small, and then continues to expand as it finds space, until it diffuses away into nothingness. Fela was taking his time to enjoy the last two sticks of cigarettes in his possession.
“Fela, please give me Baba Ijebu numbers” Jide requested.
Fela did not flinch. He was not interested in this naughty boy, and even less interested in what he has to say. The mystifying sensation from his cigarette was highly gratifying for him to disrupt just to listen to a nut.
Jide observed Fela’s disposition for a few moment. He came to understand that Fela was acting in the exact mannerism of a child; slowly chewing on the last few bites of a very delicious meal, knowing well enough, that it is to be the last he would get. Jide then walked away to the nearest kiosk and bought two packets of Benson & Hedges. He returned to Fela’s position and flashed the two packets at him. The effect was instantaneous. Fela widen his lips in a devious smile, showing off his smoke stained teeth. He was so happily interested in what was in Jide’s hands to care enough about his personality. He stretch out his hands as it to snatch it off from him. But Jide was fast enough to immediately retract it off his reach.
“Give me Baba Ijebu numbers” requested Jide the second time.
Fela was disappointed that he was denied what his very soul wanted so badly. He frown his face to register his disappointment. Without thinking, Fela said “46” and then he stopped.
“46 what?” asked Jide. “I can’t play just 46”.
“46” Fela repeated not minding what the nut of a boy was saying. All that he was interested in is just those fresh packets of cigarettes he is having.
After much persuasion to have Fela say something else failed, Jide decided to give him just one of the packets and walk away with the other. The move was deliberate. He needs two correct numbers to be sure of a win. One number means he will have to play a permutation against the other remaining 89 numbers. The cost is huge, while the winnings is meager. It is never worth the risk.
Jide threw one of the packet of cigarette at Fela; whose attempt at catching it midair failed. He turned swiftly around to dive in on the packet from where it had landed. He had the packet set in between both palms, swinging it from side to side as if to be rocking a baby to sleep. He gave off a very wild cheer as he looks at the packet in his hands. When he looked up again, he saw the nut of a boy leaving, but without throwing over the other packet. He did not know his name. So without thinking again, he called a number after Jide as if his name was the number.
“47” called Fela with a mischievous grin on his face.
Jide had what he wanted. 46 and 47 were his lucky numbers. He threw the last packet at him. Leaving him behind in a wild celebratory laughter. Then he ran off to a nearby Baba Ijebu Kiosk and had the attendant play him those numbers with a stalk of two hundred naira (#200). When the draws were cast and the results finally out. He won!

Wadewaltz:
I was enjoyin d story untill I discovered dat dere was some sort of Child molestin

is an 18 still a child?

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.