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If I thought I had the upper hand in the game, I was getting disappointed by the minute. Tony’s boys seemed to be well organized, their passes were more accurate, and Williams, their top striker was a wonderful dribbler with the ball. My boys were just running all over the park. I didn’t want to consider it, but Tope’s stupid speech must have had an effect.

It was Five minutes to the end of the first half when William got his way through the back man and was just a shot from beating the keeper ( in Monkey post, using hands was an offence) my heart was in my stomach as he struck. The force of the strike was much for such skinny legs, luckily the ball struck the cross bar of the post and bounced away harmlessly. My keeper was already sprawled on the floor, even before the ball was struck.

“ O’boy,my own don finish,” Ugo said, his head was between his knees.

He said he was done watching the game, I felt bad for him, I was pondering our next option when I heard Tope yell.
“Goal! Goal! Goal!”

I had to look carefully to make sure Tope was rooting for the right time. I was surprised to see that my team had actually scored. I didn’t know how they did it, I didn’t care. I expected Ugo’s spirit to be lifted but he remained skeptical.

At half time, scores was 1-0, advantage us. Tope was about to give the boys another speech when I convinced him to get sachet water for them instead. Tony looked apprehensive; I could see him shout at his boys. I told the boys to play a defensive game in the other half.

The game resumed in the same pattern of the first half, except that my boys remained mainly in their half. My boys played with a lone striker, and I was impressed by their discipline. Even Ugo was watching the match and smiling again. It was fun as I watched Tony fret, he was getting very uncomfortable. Then Williams did his magic. He collected a pass from his own half and was with three of my players to beat. He was a dribbler and they were expecting him to start so they can close him down. Instead he skillfully lobbed the ball over their head, the semi obese boy that served as the keeper jumped after the ball had passed him. He landed just as the ball settled into the waiting arms of the net. Tony became ecstatic, jumping and shouting, Ugo became said again, Tope’s disposition was unreadable.

We had 8 minutes more, I still had hope that my big for nothing boys will surprise me. That hope became dashed when Williams almost dribbled all my boys to score another goal. After that it became an onslaught.

The walk away from the car park was depressing, apart from the fact that the 500 Naira we took there was gone, Tony laughed at our faces. Ugo was trying to keep a brave face but I knew he was dying inside, Tope kept shaking his head. It was 5 minutes past s6pm when we returned to Ugo’s house. Ogechi was in the kitchen, washing dishes.

She winked at me when she came to greet her brother, careful to make sure that I was the only person that saw it. Ogechi was a very beautiful 15yr old girl. She was light skinned with long limbs. This didn’t affect her bumbum from shooting out or her breasts from being bounteous. Sometimes I really wanted every soul in the zone to know that she was my baby, but Ugo was a hindrance. More than once, she had insisted I informed her brother, but I convinced her that the time wasn’t right.

“Why are you looking gloomy?” she asked her brother.

Before we could stop him, Tope told her everything, even the football game that crowned our misery. Accepting our faith, I bade Ugo goodnight. Tope and I were strolling to my apartment when I heard my name being called. It was Ogeche. I told him to go home, that we would see in school tomorrow, then I walked up to her.

We walked with some distance apart until we got to a secluded area between 2 blocks of 16 flats.

“You promised to come and see me in my class today, you didn’t,” she said pulling me closer to her.

“I’m sorry, something came up in school, I miss you.”

My hand cupped the cheeks of her round backside; she leaned closer and kissed my lips.

“I have 1000 Naira, I have been saving it for a while, you can use it for the chicken,” she said, using her left hand to place in the money into my breast-pocket.

I was so happy, I lifted her up her feet, she giggled like the princes she was.

“Now quickly go to the market, its 6:30pm!” she said, freeing herself from my grasp.

“Thank you very much; you are the best, Oge!”

“Stop thanking me, you know I love you,” she said.

Every time she said those words, she expected an obvious reply. But I couldn’t tell her that I did, those words were scary.

My dad loved my mum, she left him…he killed himself.

“I will come to your class tomorrow, I promise,” I said, instead.

If she was mad, she didn’t show it, instead she pushed me to hurry and make it to the market. I ran with all the speed my legs could muster.

...

The Estate was divided into 5 Zones. They were Zone A, B, C, D and G.R.A. In low cost housing like ours, the hood had five strata of guys. Those that just got into secondary school and had not written their J.S.S exams had their own group, those that were freshly in Senior secondary school but were still ‘boys’ had theirs, those in SS2 and SS3 that where at the edge of being big boys also had theirs. This was the group I belonged too. There were those in the university, they were the most violent in all the zones. The last group was the graduates, employed and unemployed, though I must add that the unemployed outnumbered the employed by 7 to 1.

Groups in the lower ebb like ours had guys fighting for superiority. Our weapons were height, alcohol, girls and violence. This organization was Peculiar to each of the zones in the estate, except G.R.A. the guys there were mainly children of Lecturers and workers from LASU.

We lived in Zone D, and would have been the undisputed head if not for Tony. Tony was an SS3 student from Command day Secondary school, Ojo. He was 17 yrs old, with moustache that depicted age 30. He was the most feared among our peers. He had everything, from the height to girls and he was pretty violent too. One thing he wanted but couldn’t get was Ogechi. I believed they would have been dating if she didn’t know how much her brother detested him. Tony didn’t like us either and he used every opportuinity he had to show it. This included baring us from coming to play his Playstation game. He was among the very few that had it then in the low cost housing.

He was a gambler like me. WHOTS, soccer, dice were our thing. Sometimes we added the game of Ludo. Rubber band throwing was a gamble for the lower strata. Unfortunately, he held the key to providing Mama Joshua with her Chicken.
As expected, he was at Zone D car park, with his followers. That was where ‘monkey post’ football was played in our Zone. There were usually people there playing for fun or money. Tony was usually there, waiting for those who would play for money. Monkey post football was a kind of football played with miniature posts of about 3feet by 6feet, and maximum of 5 players per team. Tony was seated by a drainage that overlooked the park with black shades that protected him from the sun. Grown-ups usually arrived with their cars from 6pm, the idea was to finish all activities before they came with their automobiles.

“Tony, howfar, make we play ball na, 5, 5 hundred,” I said, sitting beside him.

“I get injury,” he said raising his leg to expose a bandaged feet, “but we fit gamble on those guys wey dey play,” he said pointing the group of younger boys playing four aside.

“How do we choose a team?” I asked.

“We flip a coin,” he replied.

His guys encircled us, Tope and Ugo were seated beside me.
After flipping the coin, our team was the one on the right. So we left to inform them that we had placed money on their head, victory was all that mattered. They would play for 30 minutes, 15 per half. It was a winner wins all and loser loses all.
I thought we had the upper edge in the coin flipping because our guys looked bigger. After informing them about the agreement we had made without their consent, we promised to give them 100 Naira to share among themselves.

I thought we were done talking and it was time for soccer, but Tope was having none of this. He assembled the boys and prepared to motivate them.

“ Fellow brethrens, in one accord we find ourselves in this hallowed ground. To find out if this team or any other team, so blessed in skills and bravado can longer endure.”

I could swear I heard phrases from Abraham Lincoln's Gettysburg address, but he just continued with the assassination of the speech. The poor boys had no idea what my lunatic of a friend was talking about.

“Let us remember, that as women use breasts and bumbums as a weapon to express love, we must use our victory to express why we are here.”
I tapped him to quickly finish the speech.

“Most importantly, you are warriors, what you are fighting for is for the greater good, it will save us from the brink of destruction!”

I couldn’t help but agree with him on that last part.

“Dearest comrades, don’t forget what you are fighting for!” he concluded like he was expecting a clapping ovation. More than one of the boys sighed, they must have been confused about what they were playing for, wasn’t it just football?

Ugo, Tope and I were the only ones that knew that this match was about Mama Joshua’s Chicken. As the clock hit 5pm, the match started.

“Good afternoon ma,” I said, trying to look at as normal as possible.

She shoved me away and walked into the apartment. Mama Joshua was a short, fat woman. Her backside was probably bigger than her entire body, that didn’t stop her from being agile though. Her store doubled as a provision shop and a pharmacy, I doubted if she was certified. The ruthlessness in which you used in injecting the kids of the zone when we fell ill was a nightmare.

“Where did you people put my chicken, they told me that you stole it. Ugo! Where is my chicken?”
Ugo looked at his feet like his toes ought to talk for him. Tope ran out of the kitchen to greet Mama Joshua.

“Mummy J, good afternoon ma, you are looking wonderful oh!, Ah!” he said, smiling cheekily.
Mama Joshua shook her head slowly; Tope was quite a pathetic sight. His idea of ass kissing wasn’t working at all.

“What did you people do with my chicken? How can you people just take what does not belong to you. Una no dey fear God?”
Tope walked closer to her.

“ Mummy J, we don’t know what you are talking about, all those lazy neighbors that don’t have work are telling you rubbish, if they had a big shop like yours, it would have been better for our societal values. But we shall not be deterred, mummy! We must pray for them. Go home and worry no more, you chicken is somewhere enjoying the afternoon sunshine.”
Like Ugo, I can’t remember the first time I saw Tope, because he had been with me all my life. But his grandeur speeches had started when he got to SS1, I thought it was a thing of the moment then, but it apparently never stopped.

“Tope, if I slap you ehn!” she said, storming into the kitchen.

Ugo was shaking, Tope’s hands were on his head, I had to think of a way out, apparently, there was none.
When she came out, it was with a black pot, badly stained by the fumes generated from bad wicks used in kerosene stoves. Inside the pot were pieces of boiled chicken. Its head was the most visible, its eyes were closed.

“Ugo, your father must hear this. I don’t know how a policeman will have a thief as a son. As for you Fifi, I pity your life, Tope..hahahaha..Your mother and I will talk!”

“Mama Joshua, let’s not put the cart before the horse,” Tope said, faking a smile.

“Tope, just shut up!” Ugo screamed.

Mama Joshua’s head gear was around her waist, she was ready for war.

“Ma, we didn’t know the chicken belonged to you,” I said.

“What if it belonged to someone else, that gives you the right to steal it?” she asked.

“No ma,” I said, feeling stupid, “How about we get another one for you, same size and colour?”

“Hehehehehe, you want to go and steal another person’s chicken for me?”

“No ma, we will go to the market as soon as you leave,” I replied.

“If you knew you wanted to eat chicken, why didn’t you go to the market instead of stealing?”

That was another question that made me feel stupid.

“I will give you people till 7pm, after that, your parents will hear about it,” she threatened.

She must have forgotten that I didn’t have a parent, except she intended to write a letter to my mum.

“Thank you ma!” Ugo said, relieved.

She hissed and walked out, raining abuses on us as she descended the stairs.

“Fifi, how much chicken we go buy?” Tope asked.

“How much dey your hand?” I asked in return.

“50 Naira, sorry 40, I buy bread 10 Naira this morning.”

Many a time, I have wanted to throw a punch at Tope, this was one of those times, but I held on to my fist.

“I get 300 Naira, how much you get, Fifi?” Ugo asked.

“200 Naira, and that chicken in the market will be nothing less than 900 Naira,” I replied.

“We are bleeped,” Ugo said, looking dejected.

His father was a violent man. It was not strange to see Ugo with belt marks in school. He was also a drunkard, but he was smart enough not to carry his rifle to the bar.

Tope took a wing from the pot and started chewing. He was shaking his head with remorse at the same time. The picture looked annoying.

“Let’s go and look for Tony, that’s the only chance we have now,” I said.

“I don’t like that guy, I am sure he is not going to give us the balance,” Ugo retorted.

“He wouldn’t give us, we would have to earn it from him,” I said.

“How?” Tope asked.

“Through Gamble.”

Kidnapping a chicken was a stealth operation. You hoped the noise from the mission wasn’t much. You also hoped the nosy neighbors didn’t know about the operation.
Ugo, Tope and I had been stalking this particular chicken for a while. We would have gone for the kill last month but I decided it wasn’t big enough and Tope still believed that Mama Joshua, the owner of the chicken had spiritual powers. There was a red piece of cloth tied to the chicken’s leg, while I said it was merely for identification, Tope said it was jazz.

“We would use the three pronged approach, while I attack from the middle, both of you will close on to it from the side,” I said to the guys.

I was the fastest of the three, Ugo was more muscular, Tope had issues.

“The chicken don big oh!” Tope said with adoration, as he stared at the bird from a distance.

Tope was from a poor family like I was. The only difference was that his folks were with him. His dad was a Laborer with more children than he can cater for. I liked his mum though, especially the amala she makes so beautifully well.
Ugo’s dad was a police-man, while his mum was a teacher. He also had a very cute younger sister called Ogechi. She was a year our junior.

“Let’s get going,” Ugo mumbled.

The chicken didn’t seem to notice that we were approaching it until when we got to about 5m from its position. It started moving away, but as it noticed that we were on its heels, it increased the speed, we did same.
It was a hot afternoon and most grown-ups were at work, Mama Joshua was in her shop and the rest of the kids our age were in their houses.
I was clamping down on the chicken and went for a dive, that was when the unexpected happened. With the size of the bird, I hadn’t expected it to have the ability to fly but it did. But the chicken being airborne wasn’t the main problem; it was the shrieking that came with it. Tope was alarmed but I ignored him. It soon perched at a distance and we followed. It started running in different directions and even attempted to fly but couldn’t, until we cornered it to a wall.
Tope took a go at it; his dive brought him crashing to the floor. His legs and shirt were covered with sand when he stood up. I motioned for the guys to stop moving, the chicken stopped moving after a while too, probably guessing we could retreat, then I dived. I was sure I had caught the bird unawares. I landed with three feathers between my right palm. Fortunately, the re-energized chicken ran into the waiting hands of Ugo.
I looked around to ensure that we were not being watched, Tope brought out a black polythene bag, soon the muffled cries of the bird was only heard by us.
Ugo’s house was usually the venue of our cooking. Sometimes my house was used, but that day, I had no kerosene. It was three months since dad died, and things were looking very bleak. Getting drugs for Hana was getting harder by the day, food was also a problem.
Ugo’s flat was a few blocks away from mine. It was also a three bedroom apartment. Tope was our top chef, so he went to the kitchen while Ugo and I stayed in the sitting room.

“E get this mojo wey I get, na black chocolate,” Ugo said, rummaging through a collection of hidden Video cassette players, until he brought out one with “Farming Club” written at the side.

The video soon played with a white man surrounded by two black busty girls. The video quality was terrible, but Mojo is Mojo. While the initial flirting was going on, Ugo asked me a question I was surprised to hear.

“What’s up with you and my sister,” he asked.

I was speechless for some seconds. It was weird that he chose to ask me while a man was having sex with two girls on the TV.

“I don’t understand,” I replied.

Although he didn’t sound pissed, I had instructed Ogechi to keep our relationship from everybody, especially her brother, the reason being that I could not allow any guy come close to my sister.

“You be my guy oh, if anything dey, just tell me.”

“Nothing my guy.”

I turned abruptly to see our chef behind us. He was transfixed by what was going on in the television.

“Tope, hope say wetin you dey boil no go burn,” I said.

“una dey crase!” he replied exposing his broken incisor.

The sound of the guy grinding the slimmer of the two girls coincided with knocks from the door, so we didn’t notice on time, until it grew louder.

“But Ogechi suppose still dey her friend house na,” Ugo moaned, quickly ejecting the cassette, while I went to open the door.
Staring back at me with eyes that could kill the faint hearted was Mama Joshua.

Dad was 36 when he killed himself. My earliest memories of him was a guy that carried me on his shoulders whenever we went out. As I grew older, I noticed he was always happy. I also noticed, unlike the other fathers around, he was relatively younger and jobless. sometimes, he went around hustling to get something home, most times he just hung around the house, with his green Khaki shorts and a newspaper. Mum always complained that he was the laziest person she had ever seen. she said his mates were the bread winners of their family but he instead spent his time gambling. They had a lot of fights as regards his gambling. I knew of the word even before I knew the meaning.

Another subject of their fights was infidelity. Mum believed that was screwing all the house-wives in the estate. She knew because they don't greet her well whenever she greets them. she hated the way he wore only his shorts to the balcony, with his well sculptured body getting admiring glances from the married and unmarried. But as the years flew past, the table turned. The fights became about her infidelity, but unlike dad, she didn't deny it, instead she reminded him that he was the one that forced her into whatever she was doing. I remember when dad had screamed during one of their fights, " you can do whatever you want to far from here, but don't sleep with people of this estate, the shame is killing me".

It wasn't like they didn't have their good times. Dad was a jovial guy, he was always happy except when he was fighting with mum. After their fights, he would come to our room to tell us that everything was alright, that we shouldn't be worried, " Mummy and Daddy were just discussing passionately about something important." Hanatu, my younger sister was too young to understand what he was saying, I was too young to tell him I was old enough to know they were fighting. I was also too young to tell him to reduce the grunts he and mummy make when having sex, I am not disturbed with the noise, I just didn't want the neighbors hearing mummy say " AH,OH, YES BABY!"

I never really liked mum, and she knew it. I felt she was always too violent. she smacked my dad and I at will. I was sure dad was strong enough to beat her mercilessly, but he wasn't like that. Instead when she charges at him, he would run to my room and lock the door. Then we would laugh as mum ranted outside about how dad was straffing Ijeoma, or used the last money in the house to gamble. She complained that there was no money but she kept buying expensive clothes. She was a secretary at a Multi-National Pharmaceutical company, although her salary wouldn't have been impressive, she always had expensive attires.

Another reason why I detested her was because of Hanatu. I was young, but I knew dad and Mum's genotype had contributed to her SS. Mum blamed dad for the condition. Saying he had forced himself to marry her even though he was an AS. Dad explained that she was an AS too, but mum just raised her voice, saying he was a good for nothing play boy. So dad and I were the ones that took care of Hana, mum took care of herself.

Mum was very beautiful, same height as dad, very fine shape, light skinned. But dad was the star, no description would have been complete without saying, that man is fine oh! He was from Tunga, ruggedly handsome and always carrying a day old beard before it came into vogue. He was the most charming person around. Though he was jobless and a gambler, he was well liked by people around. He always had a joke for anybody that was close enough to hear.

He impregnated mum when he was 20, she was 17. Through lotto, he had won a three bedroom flat in Iba housing Estate, mum must have been impressed that such a young guy could own a house. She quickly spread her legs and that produced me. It took a while for her to realize that a gambler never always won. Though they never got married, he knocked her up once more and Hanatu was the fruit.

While Hanatu was named after his mother in Tunga, I was named after his Ghanaian best friend, Fifi Owusu. Many drunken nights, he would tell me about their escapades in the Volta-region of Ghana, before he was deported at age 17 because he had no papers. Most of my friends made jest of my name, especially the Yoruba ones who called me "FuFu".

With dad dead and Mum gone, things not only changed drastically, they also moved in a new direction.

It was the first time I had been to a cemetery. All the images I had of one had come from movies. So I was a tad disappointed with the overgrown vegetation that surrounded the graves. I didn't have a black shirt, the closest i had was a dark blue short-sleeve. I was surrounded by people i had known all my life, most of them lived around, the rest were distant relatives. They were looking at me and my sister as the body was lowered into the ground. I was sure they expected tears to stream down my eyes, but my face was dry. Some kinds of pain are deeper than tears.

My younger sister was beside me, she didn't cry either. If I didn't know her, I would have sworn she didn't know who was being buried. She even smiled at people that told her they were very sorry.

At the other side of the grave were my friends, Tope and Ugo. They looked at me with pity in their eyes, I hated that look. If I had the strength, I would have smiled back at them, to assure them that I was alright. They were my closest friends, we did everything together. We were all in SS2, the same School, Tope was 17, while Ugo and I were 16.

As soon as the prayers were done, people walked away. most of them shook their heads as they walked back. I could see in their eyes that they thought my dad was crazy for killing himself. Even his relatives didn't linger, they reminded me that they were returning back to their distant states. I didn't care, it was not like they had played an important part in my father's life. I just wanted to assure my younger sister that it would all be fine, ironically, she did most of the re-assuring. She was the most important person in my life.

It started drizzling as we made our way back to the house. Half way down, I carried her, though she was 10, I still treated her like a baby, I didn't want mud to stain her shoes, she had always been my responsibility, but with dad gone, she was my all. I had promised her mum was going to come for the burial, she told me she doubted it. she won.

Mum had left us a year earlier, we just got back from school and she was gone. We heard rumors that she was in Ghana, some even said the North, but it didn't matter where she was, she was still gone.

I placed my sister on her bed, she had slept before we got to the house. I made sure the windows were closed, and she was well covered. She was a Sickle cell patient, I didn't take chances with her.

That night as I lay in bed, with eyes closed, I could swear I heard my dad's voice, he was saying " Fifi, you are growing bigger oh, someday you will bigger than me" , but I am sure I was just mentally unstable, those words were one of his favorites. I would have slept to shut out the voices, but I had to think about tomorrow, my dad had died without any money, I mean nada!.. Getting food for the house was top priority, then drugs for my sister. I didn't know how I would get them yet, but I knew I would. There was no other choice.

Sex, Violence.....and the rest that form our real life.

Its fiction, but I swear to you...if everybody I know or knew gets hold of this...they might disagree.



If my heart crawls on all four to land at your feet,
will you trample on it or fall to embrace!

If you hear the beats of my fears,
will you resonate?

Or walk away,
with your heart tucked away.

****standd****


Author : Davidflo
Abuja,Nigeria.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2015, by Davidflo.

standd:
I love you

i love you, muse.

i am a fan.

standd:
Soon. As soon as I get over Jafar's death.

fair enuf...

standd:
Maybe. But when I can't sniff, I can't hold, I can't tickle or kiss the one I Love. Nah

When will you write another story?

When will u be my muse...again?

standd:
What is a game without the players? What is love, without whom the heart wants.
You should have spared Jafar

Without is but with physical eyes..

can death kill love?....isn't it powerless against it...?