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Happy birthday boss...

Oga Cowhard..carry go..we dey ya back..ride on sir

Good job. Ride on sir..

CHAPTER 10

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I stood up and walked up to the receptionist again.

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

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

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

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

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

"Congratulations Mr. Desmond", she said.

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

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

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

queenitee:
Better read the msg

sure..

CHAPTER 9

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fine gal, how far?"

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

"Ah han, hope all is well?"

"You get any alert from Uncle Felix?"

"Yes, day before yesterday's night"

"You get any last night?"

"Make I check abeg. I no know"

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

"Sho! Make I check sharply"

"Call me back when you do ASAP"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I have seen no such amount"

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

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

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

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

"I don't care", I said.

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

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

"Did you hear what I said?"

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

And the Miss writes again...nice one..nice one...

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

Thanks, I'm grateful...

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

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

queenitee:
You are doing a wonderful job

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

queenitee:
You are doing a wonderful job

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

dimssy:
Great job manh.

Thanks boss...

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

Welcome on board

CHAPTER 8

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Before nko"

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

CHAPTER 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Just came out of a police station"

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

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

"My dad heads that station"

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

"Yes"

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

MissWrite:
Thanks, dear.

Hello MissWrites..how are you.. I've been trying to reach you...seems like trying to get to Pluto with a Keke Napep and a Nokia 1100 touch light phone..even tried FB..met your sis..sent email via Nairaland..don't know if it ever got delivered.. is there a way...I can get to you beyond a public means..something more private...this is my number.. 08065930056...a call or SMS would help..thanks..Lady Mbonu...

Holymann...Josephdominic...my invitation cards are here for you fellas...

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

First of all..I wasn't expecting this story to make the front page on the General Nairaland page but it did. I am sure I did not to make it happen. I am even yet to finish the story. But, I want to thank the fellows that placed it on the front page..I appreciate. And to those who have been reading- reading with comments and those without- 'ghost reading'.

I appreciate you all...

CHAPTER 6

More slaps followed. And kicks. I was dragged out. More slaps. I wanted to retaliate but I knew the implications. I wished it was not a police officer. I wished it was not an uniformed personnel. I would have fought back.

Ngozi was shouting, "He is our neighbor sir". I was surprised how she got such boldness. Usually, when these MoPol guys begin to 'massage' anybody, people usually stay away. They would say nothing. They would do nothing. The attitude would be the 'it is not my business' kind of attitude. But Ngozi was not doing that. She was shouting more and more and crying, "Stop it. He is our neighbor"

I thought my cheeks would finally leave my face and I would be cheek less given the many slaps landing on them despite my efforts to stop them. How they still find their ways to my cheeks was shocking to me. This man must have taken some professional courses on slapping. It could be Slappology.

Suddenly, he stopped. What? Stopped? With the way he was slapping me, it was certain that he was enjoying it and speedily getting addicted to it. He stopped and turned to Ngozi, who looked at him fearlessly. Sho, which kind girl be this na? She wan make this guy slap her to death? Abeg, I no fit help her o. Make the guy just resume the slap on top me.

I turned to the officer as I saw how he was looking at Ngozi, and said, "Sir, please leave her. It was a mistake"

To my surprise, the MoPol officer spoke for the first time, and to me(in his Hausa accent): "Mistake? Por weya. Whalayi, I no do am por mistake pa."

Hausa and uniform work? Hmm. I don't understand o. But before the man could get to Ngozi, her mother came out from no where and stood between them with her headtie tied around her waist and her hands one her waist, "Oga, you no go touch my pikin at all"

Seeing what was going on and that it seemed as if everybody was suddenly getting bold except me, I also did something. I needed to. It is the guy that ought to save the lady and not the other way round. It is the knight in shinning armour that saves the damsel in distress and not the other way. So, I would not let the episode end with Ngozi trying to save me. I went out and gripped the officer's hand. My male ego was at work. I didn't want to be seen as the guy that went under a MoPol officer's beatings only to be saved by Ngozi's daring confrontation. I needed to man up.

But the other part of my brain was telling me cool down. Easy man, it texted me. Don't get irrational it further advised. The consequence might cost you. But I was already late. My hand was already gripping the officer's hand and he turned and sent a slap. This time, I felt I must have to faint to survive. Sometimes, a near death experience can further life. A close encounter with death can prolong life. It is those who have seen death dare its worst and survived that fears not death. I didn't want to die. Fainting would do. It would be an escape. Because I won't be able to fight this guy. The man would kill me if I dared fight him. I needed to faint. I needed to...faint as soon as his slap landed.

But I was betrayed. I didn't understand. How did the slap not land? Why did I dodge it? What was happening? My body was betraying me. What kind of reflex was that? Why can't it just not put up any reflex and act as if it was not expecting the slap and then get slapped and faint? But it dodged skillfully, and then my adrenaline shoot up. Adrenaline tap was turned on and I did the unthinkable.

My right hand went out with its clenched fist and straight without diversion or road block to Oga MoPol's face. Oh boy, I thought, few microseconds later, I don enter gbege. Na yawa jus gas so. Na die I dey. The man staggered. He wasn't expecting it. Not in his wildest dream. Not expecting that a civilian would retaliate. That a civilian would fight back. He was used to beating up civilians. It was his way. It was their way. Harassing the very people they ought to protect and never getting questioned for that.

In my country, it seems that uniform makes gods out of men.

It was as a shock to him. He liked horrified.

As soon as I saw what happened (funny enough it was like two sides of me. One was the fighter and the other was the observer), he went back and with rage he was aiming at me, to rush me and deal with me so severely but a voice stopped him. A voice of command. A superior voice. One with a superior authority.

"Officer Adamu, stop!", he commanded coldly.

That was how I was saved from the instant judgment from officer Adamu. I would have been hospitalized afterwards if he had had his way.

"You dare touch a police officer? You dare assault him? You don't know what you've got yourself into. Let's get to the station", the man with the voice said and walked away to the front seat of the Hilux.

As soon as he said that, mam Nkechi began to scream, " You people are trying to enslave us. It will not work. This constant embarrassment will end", and turning to Ngozi, she said, "Go and call all the neighbors"

As if everyone was waiting to be called, all of them landed. Like a boss that she is (she is our landlord's wife. Her husband is late. So, he is both a father and a mother to her children and the story was that she fought her in laws who came to take her husband's properties and throw her and their children out of her husband's house. She is an amazon..lol), she spoke as if she is leading a movement, "we are all going to the police station with them. They are arresting Des (that's was she calls me- her shortened version of my name, Desmond). What they don't know is that they are arresting all of us. Enough is enough of these their regular harassment"

Everyone moved to the side of the Hilux where the man with authority sat, "we are ready", they said.

The man nodded his head. He was evidently angry that I hit back one of his men. He would not let that go unpunished. Yet, he knew that his men were not civil in dealing with us.

He made a call and another Hilux came and we all got in. All the way to Kwalo Police Station. Everyone was going including the pregnant wives and their children and even sucklings. Everyone.

The thing just got the man tired but he would not show it or say it. He needed to maintain and give us the impression that he and his men were prepared for us even if we went and gathered the whole community.

Kendrickmykell:
Present sir. Following all the way. Mr Evelyn. kikiki

I hear you my man. As I turn, Na so I come see you...thanks man..

Holymann:
Fresh thunder awaits you if you don't mention me in the next episode.
Nice story you have here

Boss..lol..no thunder dey wait for me o...Na credit alert I dey expect.. meanwhile thanks man..I dey so mention you..

just2day:
This second date will bankrupt him lol, but meh me laughing at those jokes is worth a meal lolz Engaging story

Wow..really? We will see... thanks man...

CHAPTER 5

I dug my hands into my pocket as I approached Mama Nkechi's shop and got disappointed at what I say. I thought I had lost some money. But when I pulled out the calculator from my brain and did the math, I discovered that I had spent N1,650 (two plates of fried rice, each N700 making it N1,400, two bottled waters, each N100 making it N200, and my transport fare from the junction where Evelyn and I parted, N50).

What?, I screamed mentally. I had just spent N1,650 in one night. In fact, it was not even a complete night. It was just some hours. How would I survive the remaining days of my one week- plus target with N1,350? Would that money get my tooth paste that had gone down, and even my bathing soap, and other stuffs aside from food, transport fares to move around and submit my CVs? What about the N400 I was owing Mama Nkechi(I had been promising her and failing her but told her that today was the day that I would finally pay)

I had some debate about paying the debt. I began wishing to not meet her at the shop when I get there to but bread. I hoped I met her daughter Ngozi. That one was my favorite. She was gentle and kind and has no 'eye' for money like her Mom and her elder sister Nkechi. Her eyes no dey chuuk for money.

At the other part of my mind, I felt it would be better I pay whether I met Ngozi or her Mom or Nkechi. If I pay the debt, I thought, it would make me 'debt worthy'. Now, that's is it. I'm sure that my fellow debtors in the house know what that means. To simply put it, it means that feeling of worthiness you have when you come to ask for something with the intention of paying later since you always pay your debts. Its different for those who don't pay their debts. In fact, not paying your debts kind of closes the door for you to get another. To crown it all, the good Book with the title: Holy Bible inscribed on it says, "A wicked man borrows and pays not".

I began to analyze my life not long ago with that statement. I knew lots of people I borrowed from and never paid. Because I was desperate to have my need met, I would sweet talk them into helping me with some fancy promises close to the ones our politicians make.

I would say things like: " I'm expecting some money this afternoon. As soon as it comes, I will just make withdrawal and pay you", "I just got an alert now(whether it is a debit or credit alert, no one dares to ask), but I need to get this now. As soon as I go out I would make withdrawal and pay you when I come in". And all other such stories.

And the next step would be dodging. I would discovered new routes to my house and walk sneakingly to the point that the streets would swear that I didn't walk on them and even the sandy parts would have no print of my shoes.

As soon as I got to Mama Nkechi's shop I felt something was wrong. It was unusual. There were no customers. Her shop was usually full of customers especially at night, but it was different today.

I noticed a police Hilux parked close by. As soon as I wanted to ask Ngozi what the matter was, I felt someone close to me, and I saw Ngozi's countenance change. She looked scared.

Before I could turn, a hand gripped the waist of my trouser and with my face turning slightly to see, a slap landed on my face. The next few seconds was lost. I am sure that would be the only lost part of my life. I am sure that even if I lived up to one hundred years old, I would not be able to explain what happened in those few seconds even if I get medicated to revive my memory and CNN or Aljazera gets to ask me about it.

I saw flashes of light. Oh, boy, I thought. Was it lightening? Does lightening happen when its not raining? Wonders! Oh wonders! New wonders! I just made a discovery. Lightening without rain. Then my ears began to blow siren. Oh my! How was it that I had just developed super hearing ability in just a moment? But it must be super because the police Hilux near by was not on. It must be another from a very far distance. I suddenly felt like Clark Kent. I began to think that I would be able to hear even people's thoughts.

I guess my life just got 'super humanized' in few seconds but I was wrong. Na one MoPol 'lay hand' upon me. I don enter.

I like your work sir. Its a simple story but you put skillful drags and touches to it. Kudos sir.. well done..

CHAPTER 4

It was almost 2pm. I had practically spent almost the whole day trying to withdraw money. Just three thousand naira to survive. The delays were all the results of poorly functioning and inadequately functioning systems- ATM.

I would not really blame the machines fully. I would also package some blames and send through DHL to the bank management staff. After all, no ATM fixed itself. It was humans that fixed them- the bank people, and it was their duty to ensure that the machines function properly. But they failed there.

That has always been one of our key challenges as a people- poor management culture. We could easily start up something but to manage and maintain what we started properly was another thing. That is where our failure lies. Failure in proper management and maintenance.

I bet you that if you move those machines outside the country, not necessarily outside the country but under good management hands, they would serve well and better and give less problems.

We finally left the bank hall- Evelyn (who I now got to be calling Eve. She seemed to like that.) and I around past 3pm. Oh, what a day! The bank guys just sat us down. We discovered that we were not the only ones. It seems that their ATMs have a habit of 'swallowing' ATM cards. It might as well become the whale that swallowed Jonah in the Bible. I cannot say if that whale was always swallowing men. I do not know. I just knew it swallowed Jonah. But, I can bet that these guys ATMs were habitual 'swallowers' of ATM cards. I needed no one to tell me. The queue of people who had come to retrieve their cards was sufficient proof.

We left tired and exhausted. I was practically dying. Hunger was really doing a project in my life. I turned to Evelyn and smiled.

"I need to eat and I am so famished. Would you be chanced to join me, please?"

She looked at me, "Well, I have almost used up my day and wasted it trying to withdraw money. I don't really have much to do for the rest of the day. So, let's go"

I smiled at her.

I knew I had to manage this little 3k that I had withdrawn. It was supposed to last for a week plus. It means I had to work with a closed budget. Or really, I guess its a zero budget. But I needed to get a relaxed place to chat with Evelyn. The whole stress of the day had hindered us from really chatting into some areas. An eatery would afford us such a place.

Moreover, I never even get her number. Guy, I need that girl number die. I no fit dull at all. But I had to be careful and do it in a gentlemanly way, so as not to make her feel that I was desperate. And so, I needed to check my acts. I needed to act as if I didn't need her, as if I was not drawn by her beauty and person, as if she had no effect on me.

I didn't want her to feel I was loosing my mind and composure around her after just meeting her few hours ago. So, I decided to play my game. Care less and still care. I had to mix them both. And the easier way was for me to stop starting all the lines of conversation that we were having. Let her initiate some. Let her show interest.

I located an eatery and I opened the door for her to step in before me. She smiled a thank you. I knew she was liking me somehow and it was making some sense. I went over to the counter and got two plates of fried rice and beef and two bottle waters.

I intentionally prayed over the meals before we began to eat. I prayed cleanly, as if I had cramed the prayer from a prayer book. I felt her eyes boring holes at me while I prayed. she was not expecting that I am sure. Because, I didn't look like a guy that would pray in such a public place and in front of such a beautiful lady that I was trying to woo.

But I prayed anyway. And we began to eat. I ate in silence with my eyes thoroughly focused on my food. Man, na my first food for the day be that o. I knew that it would not be enough to quench my hunger but it would tame it, and I would get bread at Mama Nkechi's shop close to my place on my way home. But I needed to deal with what was before me first. So, I ate with all determination as if I was in a competition for who to finish eating first. I didn't look up to her. I didn't talk to her. I acted as if she was not there. As if I didn't care about a thing in the world except the plate of rice before me.

I noticed that she was stealing glances at me. And her face was saying something about her need for me to look at her. To acknowledge her. To act as if I cared, as if she mattered more than the food. But me? I was just acting. It was as a game. It was as not typical of me. I had been talking and playing the talkative with her since. But I needed to do this.

Soon I finished and I drank my bottle of water and finished it straight and then, I gave one majestic belch and sent my right hand straight to the tooth pick close by to work on my teeth.

I straightened up and look ahead of her as if I was checking out something behind her and still said nothing. I noticed her face struggle. She felt neglected. Not given attention. Women and attention. Attention from someone they are beginning to like.

After some time she spoke, "I saw the way you attacked your food. Do you always eat that way?"

"I am naturally a fast eater. I don't usually waste time with food. But I don't usually eat as fast as I did few minutes ago"

"What could be the reason?"

"This is my first meal for today"

"What? Why?"

Then I decided to use another tool in my box of games- sincerity and jokes. I told her of how I slept hungry, and had a dream about food and all that. She was just laughing and almost loud. Some times, people would turn to look at us. I made her laugh so much and so hard to the point that tears were filling her eyes and some dropped.

When I finished, we had to leave. We talked a little before getting a keke Napep to the junction close to her house. She insisted that I let her pay the transport fare which I did.

After standing for some minutes, I stared at my watch (another scheme of mine), and said, "Ah, its late. I need to let you go and rest and I need to go home. I have some reading to do". She sudden looked disappointed (it was just 8pm), but quickly dismissed the look.

"Alright, thank you. I enjoyed myself and your jokes"

"Oh..I see. Is that your way of saying you would like more jokes from me?", I teased.

"Those dry jokes of yours. I was just trying to make you feel good"

"Really? Says the lady that was laughing her heart out to my jokes. But you know what?"

"What?"

"I have more jokes. Maybe, better ones. You might want to hear them"

"Really? I think I would"

"Will tomorrow evening, 6pm be alright for Eve to hear them?"

"Are you asking me out?"

"Am I?"

She smiled and extended her hand, "you are one crafty fellow you know. Tomorrow evening then. 6pm"

"You just got yourself a deal, young lady", I said.

She smiled and we exchanged numbers and bade each other good night.

gabi98:
Present baba

Oga mi..I see you sharp...welcome...

donnaD:
present sir.

Yes o...I sight you wella. Welcome on board...

Please make comments o...thanks..they will be appreciated

CHAPTER 3

Dramas everywhere. Strange dramas. Everything be acting. Humans would act. Animals would act. Last time I remember, they shoot a 'movie' in the south eastern part of the country called 'python dance'(I know it was a code name for a military operation). Python dance. Pythons dancing? Which kin dance dem go dey dance? Skelewu abi na shoki..?

JAMB office did its own set of dramas. And they featured a snake in it. A snake who was given the role of swallowing about thirty something million naira. All these happened here.

Animals are not the only ones acting. Even machines. ATM acting. Acting annoyingly bad. Acting wickedly and bad. How could this ATM just notice I was getting close to making my own withdrawal and suddenly act dead and barren? Say the thing no fit born money again. I tire o.

These bank guys could be plainly and professionally annoying. You would have money in the bank and come into the bank to collect some A/C since you might not even have one in your house. For some people, the only place they collect A/C is in the bank, at church or when traveling in an A/C bus. End of discussion. And its not their fault. Its money issue.

You would walk into the banking hall, join a queue and stylishly enjoy the A/C and then as you stand before the cashier, he or she would smile at you(that thing na 419 o. No be say dem like you. Na ya money dey pay them to smile), and ask, "Do you have an ATM card?". Sho, na by force to get ATM card? The thing na national ID card abi na green card or what? You might say you don't and they would 'insist' you get one or if you say you do have one, then you would be advised to use the ATM to transact. Then when you decide that its high time you stop listening to this advice of using your ATM card to transact ATM outside and respectfully deny yourself the A/C and stand outside the bank to withdraw from the ATM, the ATM suddenly 'gets tired' of paying money. You own money o?

As usual, people began to complain about the ATM- the only functioning ATM that has stopped paying. Some were busy insulting the machine. Some, the bank. Some, the staff inside enjoying the A/C and locked up inside one prison called suit and tie. Others were insulting the security guys. Some were insulting other people who had withdrawn before. They said that they over withdrew money and left nothing for them. Ah! Is it not their money? Would you blame them? Do you know how sluggish that ATM center operates? You can't get yourself guaranteed that you would always be able to withdraw your money every time you come and has need of it. Others? This last group was insulting my dear country Nigeria, saying of how messed up things are here.

I am sure you want to know the group I belonged to. I didn't state the group. So, I will just do that right away.

I, Desmond Okira was in the silent but terribly angry (and just for me, hungry) group. I didn't even know the singular particular reason why I didn't talk. Maybe it was anger. Or maybe it was hunger. No, it couldn't have been either of them. None was as powerful on its own to produce the kind of effect I was feeling. I was a very talking person but I became dumb. It must have been the combined operations of hunger and anger.

Some went in to log complains after speaking to the security- uniformed men who kept telling them, 'they are working on the machine'. This was the line we had been told when we had complained about the other five or so that had stopped working before now. We knew that if that statement was to be applied to this present situation as it was to the past one regarding the other five that had stopped working, it meant we were done for the day.

So, I decided to look for another ATM center. Evelyn (that was the name of the lady with me) and I decided to leave. We took bikes to another. She footed the bills. I told her I was going to make refunds after I had made my withdrawal. She just smiled.

As soon as we landed, we joined the queue. She was in front of me as usual. My eyes were trying to look ahead because I was repeatedly tempted to look at her beautiful body- her backside and her finely shaped hips. This girl na sweet wahala o, I thought to myself.

I asked her if I could transfer the fund I intended to withdraw into her account so that she would make withdrawal for both of us, she agreed. I quickly used my *426# and did the transfer. She confirmed reception. The three thousand naira I had transferred had arrived. I needed to get food stuffs and settle a few debts. I knew the money wasn't going to be enough but I didn't want to leave my bank account empty. So, I left two thousand naira there.

We pulled close to the machine and I was trying to be optimistic and not pessimistic. I was hoping we wouldn't have a repeat of what happened at the previous ATM center we went to.

Two steps to Evelyn, was a guy who as soon as he got to the machine, decided to pull out all the monies in the machine. Some guys were shouting, 'chairman, no finish the money o'. Me? I was beginning to dislike the guy. It was as if he was feeling that the people were at his mercy, and as if he was on top of the world, and as if he was just giving the power to decide if they would have any money to withdraw or not. He just sprayed his legs and hung his big head staring at the machine with one hand in his pocket.

"Oga, tell this man to leave o. We don't know what he has been doing with the ATM. He should not finish the money o", one angry looking fellow told one of the security guys.

Finally, the fellow turned to leave and everyone was like, 'thank God o'. Then another guy moved and did his fast. Followed by Evelyn. The money came out well and then, the system froze. Something was not right. What was the issue? I stared at Evelyn as she turned her beautiful face in confusion towards me. I walked up to her and discovered the issue. Her ATM card had been held back by the machine.

Oh boy, can anything get better today?, I asked. We had to move into the bank hall to log in a complaint about her card the was 'swallowed' by the machine. Thank God we had gotten the cash.

OK..fellas..let's mark our register. If you are here..raise thy hand and say present


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