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Tobi took a sip from the bottle of gin in his hand. He needed a strong drink for what he was about to do. I for like vodka but that one no be poor man drink na; he reasoned with a smile lighting up his face for the first time in months. He touched the barrel of the pistol underneath his cloth. Ghost had given him a little tutorial on how to use it. He needed to get it right and return it to him in one piece. Random thoughts went through his mind. At a point he wished he was a sniper. He smiled again. The smile was off his face immediately he saw the person behind his travails. It was replaced by something unfamiliar; something darker.
Cynthia was talking with someone outside the company’s office. Tobi moved out of hiding and walked casually towards them. He was putting on a hoodie so he felt confident of not being recognised. He could feel the rising of his heartbeat with each breath he took. All thoughts were shut out; just one emotion – Anger. He reached for the gun as he got closer but something stopped him. He was within earshot so he picked their conversation; which sounded more like an argument or threat.
‘….dare not. If you tell anyone I kept the files with you, I swear you’ll lose your job. We’re in this together….’, Cynthia threatened the man, ‘You have his job now so act smart’.
Tobi recognised the man. So Olu wanted my job all along, he thought bitterly. He wanted to put both of them six feet under the floor but walked pass them instead. Cynthia thought there was something familiar with the wretched-looking man that walked pass but she faced Olu instead with venom still in her blood.
‘Be smart or end up like Tobi’, she said with ice and walked back into the office. Tobi heard the last word but he had other plans. Death is too good for you both, he mused, I’ll bring you to your knees stealthily. He walked away.

A text message tone woke Rahman from his quick nap. He was awake almost throughout the night.
‘These people no go allow person rest jeje’, he grumbled bitterly. The disadvantages of being famous. He staggered to his toilet to ease himself and rinse his face. It was just 6:00am. He shook his head. ‘Nawa o’, he said to nobody in particular. He wanted to ignore the text but something told him to do so which he did.

Where did you get the information?
We are coming for you and your source. GHOST

Na even wrong number, he hissed. He wondered why people fail to write down the right numbers. Since there was still time, he decided to get some sleep. His phone rang just then.
‘Hello’, he said. There was silence on the other side. He ended the call after some minutes. He noticed it was a private number so he could not call back. Network problem probably, he reasoned. He was already asleep when his phone rang.
‘Hello’, he said hiding his frustration. Silence again greeted him, ‘who is this?’. Silence again.
It went on for five more times. A bad feeling niggled at his mind.
He was exasperated when his phone rang again.
‘Hello’, he barked, obviously frustrated now.
‘Rahman; na Tolu’, his lawyer said shocked at his friend’s tone.
‘Tolu, na you dey call me since?’, Rahman asked; breathing slowly to ease the frustration.
‘Your number no go joor’, Tolu said, ‘wetin happen’.
‘Probably network’, Rahman said, ‘maybe it was yours all along’.
‘Oh ok’, His friend replied, ‘I’ll be there around 10 to pick you’.
‘Let me get some sleep then’, Rahman said and was asleep within minutes; after switching his phone off.

Ghost tried the number again but found it was switched off. He smiled. Baba don say make I play with you small before killing you, he thought with a smile. He loves toying with his victims before killing them. He sipped his beer and laughed wickedly. You don enter one chance, he soliloquized. He wondered where Tobi was and suspected it was a botched job already. He shook his head.

Oge was reading a novel a friend recommended. He loved the suspense, the action packed story of the drug mogul. He felt like he was watching a movie. He called his friend.
‘Tunmise, that book mad’, he enthused.
‘I told you’, Tunmise said smiling, ‘my wife recommended it to me too’.
‘I hope he doesn’t step on toes’, Oge said offhand.
‘Rahman Abubakar abi?’, his friend asked.
‘Yep’, Oge replied, ‘too real’.
‘It is’, Tunmise laughed, ‘how you dey?’.
They talked some more and promised to hook up after the weekend. Oge had his weekend planned already. Mama is gonna love this book too, he reasoned, at least it’ll keep her off my matter for a while. He laughed at the thought. His secretary came in just then.
‘Habeebat you need to read this book’, he said with enthusiasm.
‘I have a copy too’, she said smiling. They talked a little about the book and then faced business; sorting files. He wanted to finish everything so he would not be bothered during the weekend.

www.realyans./2014/10/01/the-convict-the-broken-and-the-storyteller-links-to-the-part/

No hope for ex-convict o, Tobi mused while sitting outside his late grandparent’s house. He was tired of being idle; not like he liked his present predicament but no organisation was ready to employ him.
‘We’ll get back to you Mr. Kehinde’, they all said. He had nothing to his name; nothing at all. Just because of a worthless woman, he thought angrily smashing the glass near him. Everyone close by just looked in his direction and got back to what they were doing whispering among each other. That infuriated him more. They condemned him without trusting him. None of the ladies he dated one time or the other stood by him.
He decided to take a walk. He was tired of pitying himself. Suddenly he remembered one of the inmates he met while in prison. Ghost; that was his name. Rumour had it that he was behind most of the high profile hit but no evidence to link him to the murders. Tobi never saw him like an assassin because he had this cool demeanour except for his eyes; they were cold. Shiver ran through his spine thinking of it. ‘I just come do holiday for jungle’, Ghost once told him; referring to prison as Jungle, ‘you better wise up, welcome to the other side of life’. Being in prison was Ghost’s choice; to keep a low profile after one of his numerous hits. Tobi wondered why the other man liked him. Ghost had given him his contact details.
‘You fit wan burst that bitch wey set you up’, Tobi remembered Ghost’s words when he got his freedom. He felt it was time for Cynthia to pay for her evil deed. I’m coming for you, he thought wickedly.

Oge called his mother and promised to see her during the weekend. He felt good that week. His co-workers noticed the change within him and wondered why. He was surprised at himself but it felt good coming out of his shell; even if it was temporary. Unknown to him, his weekend was about to change his life.

Rahman just finished one of his numerous interviews and was back in the comfort of his home taking a well deserved rest. He poured himself some juice and enjoyed the peace he had in his sitting room. His phone rang just then; his mum.
‘Asalam mun alaekum’, she greeted him in arabic.
‘Wa alaekum salam warahmatu llah wa barakahtuh’, he replied, ‘how’s everyone at home’.
‘Allahmdulillah’, she replied, ‘when am I going to hear the cry of my grand children’.
He was stunned momentarily. His mum has always been like that; straight-to-the-point kind of person. Hussein, his brother, just gave birth to his fifth child so he wondered which grandchild his mother wanted again.
‘Soon’, was all he said to avoid confrontation. They talked some more and he sighed with relief when she cut the call. African women and their wahala, he thought with a smile. He had little or no time for a wife yet; at least that was what he thought. He put a call to Tolu, his lawyer to fix a date for them to hang out then he hit his bed. He was asleep in minutes; a well deserved rest.

www.realyans./2014/10/01/the-convict-the-broken-and-the-storyteller-links-to-the-part/

The Storyteller
Creativity is inborn. There’s no special training to be a genius; it grows on us. At least, that’s what Rahman thought. He just finished his early morning prayers and was reflecting over his life. He walked over to his collection of books and items he had written; poems, stories and a movie script.
All I need is a major break, he mused. Making a living has become so hard that he had done ‘unusual’ jobs he knew little about; barman, event usher. Anything to put food on his table. It requires something special to make a name like Wole Soyinka, Achiebe and others; he reasoned. He knew he had it in him. He was still living with his parents at age 31 and that bothered him more. His girlfriend; or rather ex-girlfriend, had complained a lot about that but he just could not afford it. He knew he needed his freedom and privacy and even start a family of his own. He sighed with frustration and feeling idle, he switched on his television to listen to the network news.
….a drug baron has just been arrested in Mexico. Reports confirm that he’s been wanted for close to 10 years……

Rahman listened with rapt attention. Some waves of inspiration was flowing into his brain as the reporter talked. He stood, picked his old laptop and went to the only place he goes when he had inspirations like this; the toilet. The only place he knew nobody would come disturb him; where he always found solace. He had a good feeling about what he wanted to put down; a good vibe that he had never felt before. I pray this brings me food, Insha Allah; he prayed silently. Little did he know his book would bring more than that. The book was about to change his life in ways he would never have imagined.
Rahman worked tirelessly on his new story; The drug mogul, using the Internet and newspapers to his advantage. It took eight long months to accomplish it. He faced a lot of attack for isolating himself often; even from his parents.
‘Why will you lock yourself up all day in the toilet’, his mum once said.
‘Maybe he’s on drugs or marijuana’, his father replied not taking his eyes off the newspaper he was reading. Rahman had smiled at how close they were. At least I’m writing on drugs, he thought but kept it to himself.
‘You’ve even grown lean’, his mum said looking suspiciously at him. ‘if police arrest you; Allah knows I’ll disown you’, his father said and left the sitting room.
‘Mum, I’m not doing anything bad’, Rahman pleaded, ‘I’m working on something’.
‘I don hear o’, and she took her leave. Even his brothers and sister in other states tried talking to him on the phone.
But he worked on and he relaxed only after concluding the novel. He talked to many publishers who wanted to cheat him but he kept his card close to his chest. His friend who was a lawyer helped him broker deals that did not sound appealing. He was already getting discouraged after some months when fortune smiled at him.
He opened a blog to advertise himself and a popular publisher read one of his writeups and contacted him. His lawyer and friend negotiated the deal which was shared reasonably and The drug mogul was on its way to being the best selling book and most talked about book that year.
Rahman’s dream was coming true and he felt on top of the world. He got some endorsements and before long he got his own apartment. His parent could not have been more proud of their son.
His ex-girlfriends tried getting back into his life; even longlost friends. See these vultures, he smiled, dem wan chop my money. His phone rang just then.
‘Hello, please am I speaking to Mr Rahman Abubakar’, a pleasant female voice said.
‘Yes please’, he replied, wondering who it was.
‘This is DG media groups and we want to discuss making your book into a movie’, she informed him.
He was stunned and was speechless for minutes. With joy radiating through him, he collected the company’s details and contacted his lawyer.
‘Ol’ boy, you don hammer‘, his lawyer and friend, Tolu said happily on the phone.
‘Thanks for standing by me’, Rahman said.
‘Who wouldn’t?’, Tolu replied, ‘you’re a genius’.
‘You dey whine me’, he said and they both laughed. They talked some more and fixed a time to meet with the media company.
I’m living my dream, Rahman thought happily. It felt good enjoying the fruits of his sweat. He sat down to read the introduction to his book

The drug mogul: a story filled with crime, kidnap, murder, set up, suspense and lots more centred around a drug baron that would do anything to keep his legacy secret………

The movie was produced and gained a lot of reviews. More awards came in fast and before long Rahman had his own house and car. He felt on top of the world.
Unknown to him, someone watched his movie and got pissed; really pissed. A copy of The drug mogul was in front of the man. His eyes blazed with rage………


Watch Out for the story proper; how the 3 people had their lives changed forever……

Twitter: @yopeolu www.realyans./2014/10/01/the-convict-the-broken-and-the-storyteller-links-to-the-part/

The broken
Oge sat staring at the ceiling. Insomnia was already a part of him. He wondered why he always found it difficult to sleep. Different thoughts raced through his mind. His doctor had advised him to sleep more and reduce his thinking because his blood pressure was a little high. I have to reduce or stop these thoughts, he mused. He reminisced about his life.
He remembered how lovely his childhood was. He used to look forward to holidays which his family spent hanging out at the beach or parks. Good oldies, he thought with a smile. He was the only child and he felt on top of the world due to the attention bestowed on him. Everything was going on like a fairytale until that day. The day that shaped his whole life. He just got back from school and he heard his mum and dad arguing bitterly. His young mind could not comprehend what the whole commotion was all about. That argument had led to the break up of a happy home. Even after many years, he still did not understand why people break up. Why get married in the first place, he whispered. He wondered who was to blame; the husband or the wife or maybe the family members. That break up had shattered him. He had no one to tell his pains to; to share his fears. He had kept his pains, anger and fears hidden. Guess it’s the children that suffers the most, he reasoned.
He got up from his bed and went to his fridge. Vodka was what his system needed; at least that’s what he thought. He moved to the sitting room; poured himself a shot and sat down to reflect more. He shied away from commitment because of the fear of break up. Linda, Sade, Aminat among the girls he had dated. Girls from different walks of life; different tribes, religion and occupation. But something kept holding him back. His last break up had shattered him just like his parents break up did.
Emmanuella; that was her name. He loved calling her Ella. He really had big plans for her. He was ready to push away his fears and take the risk because they had a good thing going. He loved being in her company and was always cuddling her or touching her. You are a cat, she once said. He smiled at the memory but a frown was back on his face when he remembered how it turned out. He stood up and paced around his living room trying to push the memory off his mind to no avail. He remembered that scenario just like yesterday too.

‘Hi love’, he said on getting to Ella’s hostel. She reacted coldly to his greeting. He was shocked because it was unusual.
‘Sorry I came late. I can explain‘, he tried pacifying her for what he felt was the reason behind her reaction and proceeded to hug her. She pushed him away from her. That shocked him momentarily.
‘Take a seat. We need to talk‘, she said looking straight at him. He remembered how fast his heart was beating. He knew something was not right. Was she ill? Did I do something wrong? Different thoughts but no answer so he took his seat.
‘I need a break’, she informed him and continued while he was speechless, ‘you’re a nice guy and all but I just need the break’.
‘Is this a joke or something’, he said after finding his voice. He laughed hoping she was joking but the look on her face told him otherwise. And just like that; the relationship was off. No reasons given, no apology. It was years later he realised someone told her something about him. Third party, he mused shaking his head, Some marriages and relationships are destroyed by that. He wondered why Ella did not talk to him about it before making a decision. Not all third party are backstabbers, he wondered why his own story was different.
He took another shot of vodka. His life had changed dramatically since then. He had stayed off women ever since; except for flings. He knew he needed some good loving but he was not ready to risk being hurt. His life had been boring ever since. He concentrated more on his work and nothing more. He shut everything out of his mind; his parents break up and his nonexistent love life. He knew he needed some spice but he was not ready to push it. His phone rang just then.
‘Hello Ogechukwu’, his mum said.
‘Hi mum’, he said wondering why she was calling late at night, ‘why are you awake by this time’.
‘Why have you been avoiding me?’, she said sounding sad, ‘I want to see you, biko. I miss you’.
‘Work has been stressful‘, he said rolling his eyes.
‘Find time to come see me,’ she pleaded, ‘I promise not to nag about getting a wife’.
‘I’ll try’, he sighed. He knew he had been giving her a cold shoulder for a while. He just wanted to be alone; no attachment from his mum, his dad or anybody for that matter. Their constant arguments about his love life did not help matters. Guess I’m more broken than I want to admit, he sighed. He took the remote of his home theatre and played music. Music always came to his rescue and he relaxed. ‘Renegade’ by Paul play came on and the words made him smile.

……Many times I said I love you
Baby that’s a lie
I was a victim of a broken heart
So many times
Love is in a deep sleep
No one to wake it up
Before I give it up
Baby can you wake it up
Renegade; that is what I am
All the way; Baby can you stand
Everyday; I’m running from myself
Looking for a space

NB: watch out for the story on the Storyteller and how they met. Sit back, relax and I can promise you’ll enjoy the ride all the way.
Twitter: @yopeolu
www.realyans./2014/10/08/the-convict-the-broken-and-the-storyteller-2/

The Convict
For someone who grew up idolizing the heroes in comics; Batman, Superman, Spiderman and the likes; Tobi wondered how he ended up a villain, the exact opposite of his dream. He drank the cup of beer in front of him. His life flashed before him and he could feel tears fighting to make its way down his face but he fought it back. He remembered just like yesterday.
A playboy to the core; different girls graced his bed often and he could never be caught dead with just anyone. Ladies from wealthy parents and beauties were at his beck and call. Tobi was quite handsome, a smooth talker and had a good job too; traits that attracted the ladies like bees. He was quite principled and never went beyond his limit. He never dated his friend’s girls or ex-girlfriends, no married woman could sway him. He was respected for that.
Life was going so well until he met her. The lady behind his predicament; the cause of his pain. He took a sip of his beer and ordered another bottle. He reminisced about how it all went from good to bad, from grace to grass. Cynthia; that was her name. She had walked into a party, organised by his boss, and had captured everybody’s attention. She had a body of a goddess if you can call it that; a sumptuous bust and hips to match. A body that would give Toolz a run for her money, he thought. She had swayed provocatively, aware of the stares, towards his boss. He knew she was trouble from that moment.
‘And I’ll like to honour someone‘, his boss said drawing everyone’s attention, ‘who has been dedicated to the company‘. Everybody whispered looking at each other.
Everyone including Tobi listened as Mr Alabi, his boss, sang the ‘unknown’ person’s praise.
‘Mr Tobi Kehinde, please step forward‘, his boss said looking straight at him. He almost did not hear his name. He had shock written all over him. People applauded as he made his way to the front.
‘On behalf of my family and I, I present this car key to you‘, Mr Alabi said. Tobi could not believe his ears. It felt like a dream.
He got a lot of hugs and pat on the back for a job well done. He felt on top of the world. Hard work and honesty had brought him that far.
‘Congrats‘, a sweet voice said behind him. Tobi turned to acknowledge the person and behold it was the cynosure of all eyes.
‘Thanks, I appreciate‘, and he stretched his hands to her but she opted for a hug instead. He felt awkward but he composed himself.
‘You smell good’, she said and he could swear that he blushed. Did she just flirt with me, he thought.
‘You guys have met’, Mr Alabi joined them, ‘Tobi, meet Cynthia Uju who will be the Managing Director of the company and my wife‘. That shocked him because they all knew Mrs Alabi. Rumour had it that they had divorced. Guess it’s true then, Tobi mused.
‘You are welcome ma‘, he said hiding his surprise. They talked for few minutes and everybody departed. He had noticed the way Cynthia was looking at him but he pushed the thought off thinking it was just the alcohol playing tricks on him.
Life under his new MD started with no issues. He was beginning to like the way she handled the business side of things. Their working relationship was devoid of drama albeit for careless touches here and there from her but he did not read too much meaning into it.
‘Let’s meet at the company’s hotel later in the day‘, Cynthia informed Tobi after the day’s job, ‘and bring along that file with you‘.
‘Okay ma’, he replied, ‘what of the other file‘.
‘Do bring it along’, she replied and departed; swaying seductively all the way. Something erotic sneaked into his mind but he brushed it off. He planned to ring one of his babes to release the pent up sexual tension in his body. Office duty first, he thought sadly and made his way home.
Later in the day, he made his way into the hotel. He was simply dressed; a red Polo shirt on blue jeans. He made his way to the executive lounge where he suspected she would be. A waiter directed him to the room. He felt uneasy but since business had been transacted in the hotel many times, he let his fears go.
‘Come in’, Cynthia answered as he knocked. He walked in to an atmosphere that does not exactly describe ‘business’. He took his seat by the bed cautious of his environment. ‘Wanted’ by Tiwa Savage was playing on the stereo.
‘Welcome’, Cynthia said looking at him seductively.
‘These are the files you requested for‘, he said in his business voice.
‘What drink should I offer you?’, she said oblivious to what he was saying.
‘I’m okay’, he replied.
‘No, I insist‘, she replied and poured him wine, ‘everyone deserves a break’.
He accepted the wine and sipped as they got down to business. He tried to keep his eyes off Cynthia’s cleavage. She smiled knowing the effect she was having on him. She excused herself while Tobi dropped the drink. This drink wan put me for wahala, he thought composing himself but what he saw next stunned him.
Cynthia was now in a revealing lingerie. Tobi practically drooled.
She seized that moment to walk towards him. He tried talking some sense into her but she was already kissing him and he found himself responding. His brain was shut; no thought came to mind. She had planned it well. They tore at each other hungrily and his shirt was off in few seconds. She was driving him crazy and he could not think. The very thing he would never be caught dead doing.
She went for the belt to his jeans when a small bit of sanity came back. He tore away from her. She looked flushed and ready for him on the bed. I can’t do this, he tried to compose himself.
‘I’m dying to have you take me to paradise‘, Cynthia said unhooking her bra. It took all fibre of his being to avoid her.
‘No‘, he said forcefully, ‘this is not right’.
‘Come here joor‘, she pleaded curling herself seductively.
Tobi grabbed his shirt and fled the room leaving behind the files. He was aroused but his brain took over and not until he got home did he relax. Tension was oozing all over him.
‘That was a close call’, he thought, ‘na God save me’.
He thought all was over until he got to the office and the files he was supposed to tender at the board meeting were missing. He was relaxed since he remembered dropping the files with Cynthia. But he got a shocker. She denied seeing the file.
‘MD, abeg no play o‘, Tobi said to Cynthia with plea, ‘that file is worth a lot’.
‘I know, that’s why you have to produce it‘, she feigned ignorance of ever seeing the file. She was acting strangely.
Just then Mr Alabi entered with some men.
‘Tobi, you have disappointed me‘, he said, ‘I trusted you. Arrest this man’.
‘What?’, Tobi was dumbfounded, ‘is this a joke?’.
‘You’re under arrest for attempted rape and also for manipulation of company’s digits‘, one of the men said. He was shocked.
‘Rape? Wait wait’, he said trying to act calm, ‘I’ll prove that this is a big joke. The files are with her for proof‘. Everything was going too fast; spiralling out of control.
He was whizzed to the station and his plea fell on deaf ears. Hotel attendants testified that they saw him leave the hotel room without his shirt. In just a day; his life went from grace to grass. He was charged to court and everything he owned was stripped from him.
‘I’m practically a destitute’, he whispered, ‘Lord why’. He could not fight the tears. He wished he had declined that glass of wine or avoided even going to the room in the first place. He sighed. When did i become a biblical Joseph that I’m accused of rape?, he mused sarcastically. Nobody wanted to employ an ex-convict, even his family members did not believe him. He wished his parents were alive or that he had siblings. Nobody to talk to. He had never felt this lonely in his life.
https://realyans./2014/10/01/the-convict-the-broken-and-the-storyteller-links-to-the-part/

All the villagers were already seated around Fere, the madman with the voice of the gods. I sat with my father who was still trying to solve the last riddle. Everewhere was calm now and you could hear a pin drop.
Fere was unusually quiet; no dancing, no shouting. He just wrote on the floor.
‘Una don come again’, he looked around him and scribbled some words on the sand; only known to him.

Pikin die; you say na the gods……mama die, you go say na the gods……the gods dey laff….
Shey na the gods dey kill them?….

And Fere stopped talking for a while. We looked at each other hoping that was not a riddle. He must have heard our unspoken words because he laughed.

Na we dey kill ourselves. ….

He looked around and went to pick a young lady out. She was one of the prettiest faces around. We all knew he was harmless so they left them alone. He dragged her to another young man and handed her to him. Everybody applauded with the young man grinning. Fere laughed and danced. The gods has given that man a beautiful bride, my mother said echoing the words on everybody’s lips. A perfect match, someone whispered close to us.
Then the madman stopped suddenly and everywhere was quiet again. He took the lady’s hand back from the young man to everyone’s surprise. He took her to the centre and looked around. All eligible young men adjusted; hoping they would be the lucky ones. Even married men adjusted to the chagrin of their wives. My father laughed at their folly.
Suddenly Fere dragged her to a corner and handed her over to a young man seated quietly in a corner. There was no applause this time. Everybody stayed quiet; looking at each other. The young man adjusted awkwardly while the lady removed her hands from her new man.
Everybody expected him to drag her away again but Fere laughed. He danced to the beats from the gods that only he could hear.

Na we dey kill ourselves. ….no be the gods…..(more dancing)…

And just like he does; he sat down exhausted and wrote on the floor. Then he left the gathering. Everybody sat down unmoving expecting an answer to their questions. My father smiled and I knew he understood Fere’s unspoken words. He stood up and went to the centre. He had everybody’s attention.

"I think I know what Fere was driving at. The first young man is from this very village; a true born. A son of the soil; born and bred in this village. A perfect husband."

He stopped to view his audience who were nodding at his words. Even the first young man adjusted to the cheers of his friends. Papa smiled.

"The other man is a total stranger. Not even connected to this village. His parents are just travellers that settled here. How can he marry one of us?"

Everybody nodded to this. He smiled again. We were still confused with the whole drama.

"Fere has spoken and he’s right. Even without using words, he has shown us our own foolishness. We just discriminated amongst ourselves. We just judged another man without even knowing him. The gods do not need to come down to explain what we just witnessed"

We were dumbfounded. Slowly every man walked to his home embarrassed by their actions or in this case; inaction.
*****
Afterword: Discrimination is a disease that has eaten deep into our society. We judge people by their tribe and that is wrong. Even politicians use this to their advantage. ‘United we stand’ is just a word we use to make ourselves feel good. Until the time we really accept others without biases; then we’ll continue to be divided.
*****
There are no bad tribes; but bad people – Tunde Obe
****
previous edition: https://realyans./2014/07/16/rumblings-of-a-madman-a-riddle/