₦airaland Forum

Inspector Mutum eyes gawked suspiciously at the green Volkswagen beetle as the old mobile wobbled its way towards the gates. He suddenly paused in his reveries and stared more suspiciously at the beetle as the car quivered its way towards the gates. He stared thoughtfully with a curious frown at the damaged out model automobile and its lone passenger as if an alien aircraft had just landed on earth. He abandoned all his bravado and gazed more apprehensively at the car and his trained hands quickly went after is service pistol. Who want to take any chance? Not him, definitely not with all these stories and terrible terrorists’ attacks and suicide-bombings going on in the country. He reminded himself, his eyes permanently fixed angrily on the lone passenger inside the outdated car who had confidently parked among other flashy cars and was now slowly making his way out with a bag slung over his shoulder. He watched as the driver stepped out and stood boldly with a smirk on his face.

Colour, unconscious of the piercing eyes of the policemen on him, stepped confidently out of his car, locked the door, strengthened up, and then carefully scanned his environment. The first set of eyes that met his was those of Inspector Mutum who glared distrustfully at him with a registered hard frown. Colour stared back at him, grinned, and then nodded respectfully with a bow. He adjusted his eyes and noticed the knife-like eyes of the other policemen. Thank God, he had thought it wise to park among other rich looking cars outside the premises. He thought as he watched the heavily fortified gates. He was conscious of the hateful eyes of the Inspector who had ignored his greeting, but he reminded himself that it was now a point of no retreat-no surrender. Just ‘carry go’ he resolved. He grabbed the long handle of his laptop bag, braced up, and then made his way confidently towards the particular gate where the bully looking Inspector stood with his thick hands held tightly on his gun and an unfriendly frown adorned his sweaty face like a mask. Colour not deterred by his look, moved to the gate and stood by the entrance with a wide grin on his face. Inspector Mutum and his boys glared silently at him.

“Yes, what do you want?” one of the constables finally barked at him, his riffle held in a threatening posture.

“Good afternoon, officer. I am here on a business and at the same time to see somebody” Colour replied calmly in good English, conscious that the best way to put the Nigerian Policeman off balance was to speak grammar.

“Yes, gentleman what is your business here?” Inspector Mutum barked out, moving closer to the gate, his eyes stared suspiciously at the black bag in his hand.

“ I coordinate an NGO and I am here to make some inquires on a proposal I have for this place.” Colour responded, aware that his words so far were making some impact on the uniformed men in front of him. He had thought it wise not to tell them that he was also a Freelance Journalist, knowing this would raised the suspicious of the uniform men and probably put him in trouble, conscious of the frosty cat and mouse relationship between Journalists and the police in the country.

“Proposal, NGO, what kind of proposal do you have for them? And what is the name of your NGO? Where is your office?” Mutum demanded all at once.

Colour being a full-blooded Nigerian who knows many ways of inserting his fundamental rights in such a situation, quietly fetched out his plastic Identification Card and handed it over to one of the constables; a move he was later to regret. The constables stared at the ID distastefully, and then handed it to Inspector Mutum who frowned down on the grinning picture on the card. He scrutinized the card as if he was holding a virus. His eyes took on the names, address and signature.

“One-Naija – what is that? Are you even registered? He finally demanded not making any sign of returning back the card.

Colour stared thoughtfully at him, and then smiled. “ I will not be here officer, if we are not. Yes, we are a registered organization with the Corporate Affairs Commission.”

Mutum stared expressionlessly at him, and then digested his statement over his mind. He once again stared suspiciously at the card. “So what kind of proposal do you have for them?” He finally demanded.

“Sorry sir, this is strictly our organization’s secret and very confidential.” Colour answered with a grin. “I can only tell you if you are a senior management staff of the NPA.” He added confidently.

Inspector Mutum frowned up at him, and once again thought this over. “Alright- So who is the person you said you came to see?” He demanded angrily, sizing up the smart young man in front of him.

“Hmmm – well, actually she is a friend. I think she works here or something like that. I am not too sure, officer.” Colour replied now smiling.

“So you mean you don’t even know the person you are looking for?” The constable who had earlier confronted him demanded.

“No officer, it is not like that, she is…” Colour continued but the constable cut him shut angrily.

“Stop calling me officer my friend. See our officer here, abi your eyes no dey see. Wetin you carry for that bag self?” The constable demanded, his eyes cutting into Colour angrily.

“Na my laptop dey inside” Colour responded, and unzipped his bag to display the silver color HP laptop inside.

The constable and the other policemen stared dis-interestingly at the system, and then the constable demanded. “So na one of the machines wey una dey use do una yahoo, yahoo be this?”

Colour stared surprisingly at him and then smiled. “ No be so. In fact, I just…” He tried to explain to Inspector Mutum in pidgin, but the cynical looking police officer frown up at him and motioned him to step inside with the wave of his pistol.

“ Oya – come here, come inside gentleman. Wetin be the name of this person wey you they talk about? And how the person be? He demanded his eyes never leaving Colour for a second.

Colour stared surprisingly at the Inspector and his threatening gun, and then quietly stepped into the premises. “Officer, her name na Franca, she is tall, slim with a breaded hair style.” He explained. Inspector Mutum’s mind quickly swings into action as he stared broadly at the young man before him, wondering if he could be among the expected criminals the EFCC team had warned him about. Again, the curiosity to know and see what the anti-fraud agents were doing inside their secluded office at that moment came into his mind. This could be an excuse and opportunity to know what they were up to. So, he gave Colour a wolfish grin, and then nodded to his boys.

“Oh Franca, I see. Alright come with me, she is inside.” The Inspector suddenly offered, turned quietly and then led the bewildered Colour away from the gates towards the main building of the Nigerian Privatization Agency.

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The two front tires of the green Volkswagen wobbled along the fast lane on the busy road that leads to the National Privatization Agency. The car made that sharp piecing annoying noise a damaged car always emit when forced to move. Colour on the wheel now had a frown in place of his usual lively smile. He was not a happy man at the moment. His mind was absolved on his mysterious passenger and his damaged car. Nothing was going to stop him from tracing her he had long concluded and wondered what exactly she was hiding from him and her real mission at the agency.
Colour being a smart guy was aware of the millions of naira worth of genuine business deals that daily happened in this popular building. In fact, he already had plans to introduce his NGO to the agency before coming across his runner–away passenger. He had actually hope to meet someone with a strong link to assist him penetrate the popular bureau. He thought the opportunity had finally presented itself through the mysterious Franca. He calculated as he reminisced over what had happened to him since coming across his strange but beautiful looking passenger. He frowned as he remembered that he had in reality parted with everything in his pocket, including his mobile phone to pacify the angry mob that had almost mobbed him but had finally insisted that he must pay for their damaged goods, after some rational minds among them had saved him from their rages.
They forced him to buy things he never had plans to buy or own at the moment. For God sake! What does he need three rechargeable lamps for? Or four stuffed baby dolls, broken China plates and glass cups? He lamented, and pressed his leg angrily on the turtle and the damaged car shot forward with a loud cracking noise. He now has a damaged car to repair, some loans to pay back, adding to his tormenting house rent that he was yet to settle. Why had he followed her and picked her in the first place for God sake? He quarreled himself, banging his fist angrily on the dashboard, but quickly cautioned himself for thinking negatively. Why should he quarrel himself? Something he had always tried to avoid. Don’t quarrel yourself- and- don’t regret. These have always been part of his principles. He told himself. He had always reasoned that one should never quarrel with oneself or regret his action when one could simply forget about the past and ride on with the wheels of nature. What will be, will always be. This was part of his philosophy. Right now he was broke with just twenty naira, his mobile simcard, his old skin wallet and a damaged car; all these because of a woman. He reminded himself and then allowed himself a smile.

Colour had always been a hard struggling guy who had long deleted the word impossible from his thinking. He has this strong conviction that everything was possible as long as one has the zeal, confidence and faith to believe that the impossible could become possible. And this was his thinking that afternoon as he rode his way to the NPA, believing in his gut feeling that part of his destiny lies in this tall imposing structure. Sketchy information about him indicated that he was a Mass Communication graduate from one of the Higher Institutions in the country. He had worked with various print media, before resigning his last appointment because of the prevailing lack of good pay package and welfare for Journalists in the country and had instead decided to be on his own as a Freelance Journalist and activist. It was in that position of daily struggling to survive that he met his current circumstances, a bad situation that was at the moment tormenting him.

He ignored the angry horns from other cars behind him and continued on his wobbling pace. The drivers of the other cars had the habit of first staring at his battered car mischievously, glared at him then zoomed off. Others smiled at him with a sympathetic look, shook their heads and also quickly overtake him and hurried away as if his car was a time bomb waiting to explode any moment.
Colour ignored them and drove on, grateful that his rear signals were still intact and lucky to have escaped the accident. So, he kept them on, flashing them continuously as he wobbled away. He tried his car stereo and was happy as the CD picked up and the music of Majek Fashek ‘Little Patience’ filtered out of the speakers. Thank God- at least he could still listen to some music. He reasoned. Why worry? Life after all is all about incidences, accidents, and happiness. So why not go for the cheapest and the best, happiness. He told himself, adjusted his seat belt and relaxed his tired frame more comfortably on his seat. He swiftly composed himself, wore back his happy smile and then headed towards the NPA in a more relaxed mood. How could he have known what lied in stock for him today when nobody on earth knows what lies around the corner? He consoled himself thoughtfully.

The accident has happened and she had disappeared like a ghost. So, what is the next move? He asked himself. Should he go in search of her? Or forget her and head straight to his mechanic and abandon the car with him pending when he was financially buoyant to come for the repairs? Why not simply turn around and head back home to his one room apartment, lock up from everybody and silently nurse his problems? He debated all these inside his mind as he approached the Federal Secretariat.
He slowed down for traffic, maneuvered his way slowly among other cars and then headed towards the main junction leading to NPA. No! the third option was the last thing he wanted to do this time, not with all the eyes that would be on him and his damaged car, especially the curious eyes of some of his jobless neighbours who might still be at home at this time, reading old newspapers and chatting about the worsening economy and security situations in the country which was true anyway. He concluded, and shifted his mind to the second option.

Should he head for the mechanic workshop with just twenty naira left in his pocket? And tell them what? Okay –that he had just had an accident, so they should please pity him and fix his car pending when he could settle them. “Rubbish!” He shouted aloud. He was tired of making excuses to his mechanic, not with the current hash economy bite that was boldly telling on most mechanic workshops in the country. No! This was a poor option, he concluded, and picked on the first option. Should he continue his search for the mysterious Franca and her bag of tricks? But was he really in a good frame of mind and financially capable of doing this? He questioned his conscience as the car wobbled slowly towards the last intersection to the agency.

He glanced at the time from his dashboard. “God! To three, he muttered and at the same time suddenly found himself face to face with the imposing structure of the NPA and its barricade of policemen. He realized that he had no choice at that moment than to brace up and follow the first option that had just presented itself. He adjusted his frame more comfortably on his seat and drove slowly towards the building. The suspicious hostile eyes of the policemen at the gates never left him for a moment as he approached.

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Ms Pamela Evans sat silently on one of the multi colour sofas inside the posh office of her boss, her legs crossed, her slim fingers held thoughtfully under her chin and her green eyes stared confusingly with an unbelievable look at her stoned, but confident looking boss who appears to have things under control as usual this despite his odd manners. She reasoned, letting her mind think freely. She digested and tried to make sense out of what he had just told her. She was sure he was not joking and also convinced that nothing was going to make him change his mind from the mission and plan he had secretly prepared alone for the past few weeks. Although Pamela Evans was not happy that KS had secretly left her out of the deal and transactions from day one, but she knew and was convinced that he had no bad intention towards her. This was just part of the numerous surprises and eccentricity she knew him with. So she quickly believed him when he explained things to her.

“What! – I can’t believe this” she suddenly exclaimed to herself still finding it difficult to put herself in the new position he was offering her. She shook her head, and stared unbelievable at her amiable boss admiringly.
Ken Solomon sipped from a glass of juice and grinned broadly at her. He sauntered towards her and offered her a glass of juice.

“Take – please enjoy and cool down your surprise.” He advised, handed her the glass and then took a seat opposite her. He crossed his legs, sipped his drink with a wide smile which hide his troubles and worries from her.

“Jesus!-KS –this is one of the biggest surprises of my career. I mean, I am still finding it very difficult to place myself in the position…” She traced off again.

“Ha! ha! ha!” KS chuckled on his seat and then smiled up at her. “ I guess you must have felt just the same way Condoleezza Rice felt when President Bush appointed her as the Secretary of State, positioning her as one of the most powerful and popular black women in the world” He chuckled at his joke, sipped his juice, and then re-crossed his legs.

“God! This is different KS. Ms Rice case was a Federal Appointment and she has been in that system for long…” Ms Evans traced off again thoughtfully.

“So…?” KS asked drousily raising his eyebrows in a surprised look.

“ So, we are saying two different things here…”She traced off with a smile.

“ What makes them different? Are you telling me that you’re scared of becoming the Vice-President of the best telecommunication company that is coming to sweep all the others under the carpet”? KS boasted confidently still looking surprised.

“ No – I am not scared…” Ms Evans responded after some few seconds and then added. ‘’I am just worried about operating in an unfamiliar ground. I have never been to Africa and I don’t know whose door to knock on when I need ‘something’…”
Ken Solomon at this junction took a long sip at his drink and then stared thoughtfully away. This was just what he had been expecting her to say. He concluded silently. Yes – this was the right time to drive his point home and end this long discussion.

“ Yes – I agree with you, I guess you’re right here –Dimples” He finally said, calling her by the nick name he gave her on their first meeting.

“ I had not actually thought about this angle,” He continued, paused and stared thoughtfully away.

“ I think the sensible thing to do is to take a short trip to this place myself first, familiarize myself with the people and the setting. Then you and the other staff follow later. What do you think?”

He asked with a grin after making his planned suggestion. God! I wish I was actually telling her the truth. He told himself and then silently wished that the whole thing could just fly way like a bad dream and leave his troubled soul alone. He wished he could close and open his eyes and find himself just dreaming on his big cozy bed inside his expensive furnished bedroom.

“Perfect – I think this idea is perfect. Far better than sending me over to that jungle…it is like placing a shark in a pond, how do you expect it to survive?” Ms Evans asked with a mocking smile on her face. “Not with all those negative stories I have read and heard about this place and its people. I appreciate working in a well organized country with smart people, KS.” She added and her seductive voice brought him out of his reveries.

He nodded at her, half listening to what she was saying. He almost burst into laugh on hearing her complains about organized and smart people. He was almost tempted to tell her how smart and well organized these people were. How smart and organized they had been in outsmarting him of his millions and how stupidly he had plummeted so cheap to their smart tricks. She might not know it, but his common sense had since told him that it takes a smart and well organized people to dupe a smart American like him of his hard earned money. Millions of dollars he had prudently accumulated over the years, using his smart brain and connections. Yes- it takes a well organized smart people to siphoned that amount of money from America, especially from a Wall Street whiz kid like him. He concluded silently and allowed himself to listen to her seductive voice some more by making himself more comfortable on his seat.
Ken Solomon suddenly wished he could tell her the truth about this smart Nigerians and the horrible things they had done to his wealth and reputation, but his years of experience with women had thought him one good lesson: Never-never-tell a woman-the –whole-truth. So, with this doctrine on his mind, he sipped his glass of juice and then nodded approvingly to her babbles with rapt attention. One lie he reasoned, leads to another and the other many lies he realized he should be ready to tell her. The lies he reasoned were his only temporary protection from the disgrace and fall. He glanced casually at his watch and realized that they had actually been discussing for more than three hours, and every second now was very important and precious to him. Thank God, no visitor was waiting to see him at the moment in the waiting room.
They had both thought it wise to canceled all his appointments that day and agreed to both sit down in his office, lock the door and discuss the ‘good things’ KS was proposing. And Ken Solomon had sat her down, braced himself and told her some of the most thoughtful lies he had ever said in his life. He acknowledged that he was able to tell the lies more easily than he had anticipated. He believed the weed must have contributed to his easy flow because he noticed that he was confident and not ashamed as the lies tumbled out of his mouth. He was surprised that he was able to answer all her inquisitive questions to her satisfaction and approval; an endorsement that spurred him to happily tap a key from his laptop. He proudly showed her the copy of the approval letter from Naija-Phones that designated him as the new owner of the telecommunication company. Though, he now knew that the mail, just like the other mails from the company was a hoax. All the same, he controlled his anger of falling so cheap to their trick, smiled at her and allowed her to read the content of the well organized spear phishing mail. He noticed that she was excited and carried away by the smart write up, just the same way he had felt when he first read the letter few weeks ago. But all the excitement has since disappeared from his countenance once he realized the whole truth about the whole transactions. This was his burden and he was not ready to tell her or anyone else. This weight, he must be ready to carry alone all the way, just the same way he fell a sucker to the whole thing all alone from day one.
So with this conclusion on his mind, Ken Solomon allowed a broad happy smile to grease his face and gently explained or rather lied about the whole transactions to her. And she believed him which was also very important to him because she was the only trusted and qualified person he could leave his company with while he was gone. Again, Pamela Evans was the most reliable human being on earth who could protect his ass from curious Federal Financial Investigators who might invade his office the moment the news of the fraud licks out and he was certain that could happen any moment, unless he quickly does something about it. And the only quick solution on his mind right now was to go into hiding and where better to go if not to Nigeria where some faceless smart crooks were busy enjoying his hard earned money.

He imagined thoughtfully. His smile never left his face as she kept rereading the letter and allowed him to continue his silent plan.
The quick solution was to go straight down to Nigeria and trace the smart criminals wherever they where and get back his money then return home before those sniffing financial detectives start putting one plus one together which could lead to a free invitation to the wolfish press to set in. He calculated. He knew the moment one newspaper carried the story, the rest would swamp in like bees, and he and his company would be the next sweetest honey to be lick and feed to the curious American public, including the rest of the world. Although KS derived great kicks from making newspaper and magazine headlines, like the ones TIME, Newsweek, Forbes, GQ and the Washington Post had ran on him a year ago when the going was good. They had been well organized positive interviews and write-ups that really assisted in lifting and shaping his image and captured more admirers for his over publicized and embellished success story. The publications also brought and encouraged more investors to his company and made it one of the sorts after Stock Broker firms on Wall Street. His happy smiling face had appeared as cover page in all the popular news print with more pictures of himself, his staff, his corporate headquarter, his house, his cars and even his pampered dogs adoring the centre spreads and few more pages. This was the kind of publicity he craves for, not negative destructive ones like the one likely to happen to him any moment. He reasoned and then flinched as he tried to imagine how the headline might look and sound like. He even created one on his mind as he smiled at the confused looking Pamela who had finished reading the letter and had walked up to the glass wall were she fed her eyes thoughtfully at the busy images below.

The headline he had imagined read: ‘WALL STREET WHIZ KID DUPED BY SMARTER BRAINS IN NIGERIA.’

“ No! No! No! Not me…” He suddenly announced aloud, forgetting that he was not alone in the office.

“Not- what? – what is it, KS?” Pamela turned and stared confusingly at him.

“Oh – nothing- Dimples” He replied and quickly composed himself with a broad smile. “ I was thinking about something I wanted to do, but right now I just realized that I might not have the time for it” He lied and glanced at his watch.

“ Is it something I could do for you? You know I am always here for you…” Pamela offered, her eyes now relaxed with her dimple smiles reappearing on her pretty face.

“ I know, Pam –but thanks, this is something strictly for the boys.’ He smiled gratefully at her, unplugged his laptop from his office printer and then packed it into its bag.

“I think that will be all for today. I have to start making all the necessary preparation and arrangement for this Africa trip, and you know we need all the time for this special project right now. Like we have agreed, I need to be on ground to spend few weeks to familiarize myself with the people and the setting and make some few links, then pronto, I am back to sweet America” He reminded her, and walked away from his large desk.

‘ Yes, I know and agree with you. I just hope you know exactly what you’re doing as always, KS” She replied, smiling back broadly at him.
He paused and smiled back at her before answering. “You know I have always known what I wanted to do and exactly what I am doing… Just be a good girl and trust me as usual.”

With that, Ken Solomon strolled up to her and kissed her gently on her cheeks. And then slowly lifted her chin and gave her a full French kiss on her lips. It came as a surprise to her but not to him because he felt deep inside him that he was probably kissing her on her lips for the first and last time.


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Lizzy, alias Franca stared thoughtfully at the busy gates of the NPA from a white painted caravan not too far from the imposing structure. The caravan, one of those found in and around most business districts in Abuja, stood secured under a tall imposing tree. Everyone who had any dealings around the district knew the caravan as a business centre where you could easily browse the internet or buy a recharge card, type a document or make a photo copy, and if you have enough cash in your pocket, you could as well sacrifice some few naira for a chill coke, snacks or strictly bottled water. The makeshift shop at this hour looked less busy with few customers dashing in and out of the large air-conditioned caravan.
Presently, four female and a male occupied the place. Three of the female kept themselves busy with their various skills on the office equipment, consisting of two Dell desktop computers, a Canon photocopier and printer. A transparent Coca-Cola fridge stocked with different drinks hummed loudly from one side of the tidy looking caravan. The three young ladies in their early twenties carried on their duties diligently with the tallest among them typing away skillfully on one of the computers, while the plump one busied herself photocopying some set of documents for the male customer and the third one , a slim average looking girl was busy scratching a recharged card for him.

Everyone inside the caravan was engaged and busy, except Lizzy. She sat confidently on her seat, and silently nursed a plastic Sprite, occasionally smiling at the busy girls who all appear to be happy to have her around. Though her big sensual eyes stole frequent glances at the gates of the NPA, her face betrayed no sign of panic or concern about the tight security checks going on at the massive gates. She sipped her drink from a straw, fiddled with her meat pie, and then stared thoughtfully at the bulky figure of Inspector Mutum by the gates as he finally gave the clear to his boys to allow a green Toyota Camry and its occupants through.
She had been watching the drama from her seat right inside the safety of the caravan since she arrived more than twenty minutes ago. It was a routine she was used to once she arrived the district, usually before her normal adventure inside the rich structure. But presently her instinct was telling her something. She had sensed danger immediately she arrived. Something was wrong somewhere she told herself. She became more suspicious when Victor whom she was sure was inside the building refused to pick her calls before his lines suddenly went dead. What is going on? She questioned herself and wondered why his phones should suddenly be switched off and not available at this critical moment.
She pondered, smiled up at the girls, and then pretended to busy herself on her phone as the male customer inside the caravan kept staring admiringly at her. She deduced that the guy was just waiting for the green light from her for the opportunity to unleash his toasting skills. This was the last thing she needed at the moment. She thought as she kept her eyes glued to her expensive mobile phone. The male customer sensed she was not giving him the green light, so he paid for his work and lousily told the girl to keep the change, and then finally stepped out of the caravan with a last admiringly look at his lust who ignored him and pretended to talk on her phone.

“ Ha! Thank God” she finally exclaimed, and then smiled up at the three girls who all giggles back at her.

“You can keep the change!” the tall one among the girls paused in her work and mimicked the customer loudly, and they all busted into laugh.

“Ye-Ye man – na toasting be the next thing wey dey him mind” the plumb girl added, and dropped the twenty naira change disgustingly into her pocket.

“ I no know say una dey watch am… I don kuku carry phone put for ear, who get time for him long grammar this afternoon” Lizzy said mockingly and they all ruptured into another hysterical laugh.

“ I beg wetin una say dey happen for our place today, this one wey oga Inspector and him boys dey search everyone thoroughly like dis?” she interjected in-between their laughter.

“ Na so we too see am today, but I hear say na the new security system, you know all this bombing wey dey go on everywhere. I no blame them sha. But that one no suppose stop you from entering the place Anty, wetin happen you no go enter today?” The tall one among the girls asked her and then smiled at the busy gates.

“ He be like so.” Lizzy glanced at her watch. “In fact, I get another important appointment with one big oga for Central Bank, and na money matter be that. I no sure say I get time for this building today.” She continued, and glanced at her watch again.

“I don dey late self. I beg Rita help me get drop” she told the plump one, brought out a thousand naira note from her pulse, grinned as she noticed the quick interest from the three girls, then slowly handed the note to Rita.

“Make you commot the money for my drink and meat pie, then make una share the change” She said carelessly and stood up.

Rita pocketed the money, hurried out of the caravan, and soon returned and happily informed her that an empty cab was waiting outside. Lizzy smiled, stole a glance at Inspector Mutum and his boys who were still busy at the gates. She picked her designer bag and then casually stepped out of the caravan into the back seat of an empty cab with a young driver at the wheel. He stared admiringly at her, smiled and then engaged gears as he slowly joined the moving traffic.

“Maitama” she announced softly to the driver who nodded and drove way.

She covered her face with her big dark sunglasses and relaxed deep into her seat as the cab went pass the busy gates of the NPA. She smiled as she stared at the busy bulky figure of Inspector Mutum and his boys as they continued with their illusive search in the hot furious sun. She sensed that it would be dangerous to walk up to them as usual and cunningly engaged the inspector and his boys in seductive chats; a trick of distracting their attention while the gang carry out their scam successfully inside the building. She grinned, slipped her earphone on and shut her eyes to enjoy the ride. Something definitely was wrong somewhere, new security system my ass. She reasoned, as the driver cut through the next bend. She grinned, shut her eyes and allowed herself the pleasure of the melodious tune of Asa, ‘Jailer’, playing on her iphone.




******
Detective Assistant Superintendent of Police (ASP) Mai-Kudi Baba, a.k.a’ Mai-Coins, glanced at his watch and at the same time secretly studied the petit looking young Nigerian and a middle-aged foreigner as they stepped out from one of the elevators and were heading for the reception. He had earlier noticed them as they stepped out of a black Jeep from the visitor car park and watched as the uniformed chauffeur held the door open for them and both of them made their way into the main building after going through the suspicious scrutiny of Inspector Mutum and his men at the fortified gate.

The ASP was in mufti as usual. In fact, just few people really knew their real mission in the building. They had been posted there specially from the presidency and their boss from headquarter, a no-nonsense fellow had specifically instructed or rather ordered them to stay awake, resist, fight, and arrest corruption in the building. And this he had been trying to do with his subordinate over the past two days since their transfer to the structure. Staying awake every hour to observe, see and catch corruption through their economic fighting agency.

The Nigerian government through its other security apparatus, the DSS, and NIA with international collaboration with the Interpol were currently on a secret look out for one of the most notorious cyber-crime syndicates in Africa who called themselves the Free-Hands, led by a faceless kingpin, known as ‘Smoke’, a shrewd fraudster who flamboyantly command a group of sharp lieutenants known as the Flames. The Nigeria government through systematic intelligence and reports discovered that the Free-Hands using their large network and ability to easily penetrate various government and private agencies had cleverly used the system to defraud hundreds of gullible local and foreign business men and women across the country and internationally. So, the EFCC being the most recognized and most funded anti-fraud government agency saddled with the task of fighting financial crime was therefore mandated to look out and smoke out the Free-hands and its leaders from their hide out by all means.

Mai-Coins, as most people called him had been fortunate to be selected among the first batch of graduates who were recruited into the agency after going through a six months ASP course at one of the police academics in the country. Few weeks later, they proceeded on some local and international courses within and outside the country. They were then posted to various sensitive government and private establishment across the country under the guise of different profession and corporate identity. Although they were trained police officers within the force cycle, but they were seen and known as ordinary business managers and supervisors at most of these sensitive establishments, especially in the eyes of most of the other gullible staff. ASP Mai-Coins and his subordinate Superintendent of police, Etim were supposed to be the manager and assistant manager of a Stockbroker firm in one of the offices in the NPA building.

The firm, hosted in a well furnished office space at the top floor of the building which was not far from the main entrance and reception hall has hidden camera that captures the unsuspecting face of every visitor as he or she steps out of the cozy elevators or that of those who decided to exercise their muscles by coming up through the staircase which was very rare.
The two operatives had secretly installed the cameras few days after their resumption. They carried out the exercise under the deep cover of the night when everyone had left the building, leaving only the few private security guards who usually snore away immediately the last staff of the day stepped out of the building. Mai-Coins and Etim had actually prepared themselves for the job, dutifully sacrificed their night inside their cozy office, smoked a pack of cigarette over a game of Chess and waited patiently for the last guard to closed the swing doors of the main entrance and then stepped into the long corridor where they professionally installed their secret cameras down to the reception hall. Apart from the two of them, the other two people who knew about the cameras were their Chairman and the agency Director of Operations.

Presently, Mai-Coins stared dis-interestingly at the Nigerian youth with his expatriate friend as they moved into the reception, certain that Etim was fully awake and watching their every move from their secluded inner office. He hide a grin, as he visualized how he always loved to watch unsuspecting crooks as they step out of the elevators and moved freely among other unsuspecting members of staff and other genuine visitors. He enjoyed sitting down over a cup of coffee in the morning or a bottle of Coke in the afternoon with a pack of cigarette, watching his unsuspecting criminals showcased themselves on the large screens across his front. The camera he realized always provided him enough time to study them, judge their strength and weakness, before finally bouncing on them like an Alsatian dog.
Right now, he was out of the office. He had gone downstairs to pick up some magazines and had actually sighted the Nigerian and the expatriate as they stepped out from a black Prado Jeep and he quickly made it his duty to trail their movements from that moment into the building.
He swiftly took a secret door that led to one of the elevators and sent it straight to the top floor, then waited obscurely for the two visitors to show up. One of the elevators doors finally opened few minutes later and the two had stepped into the large corridor with the white expatriate staring curiously around with a suspicious look. He had actually paused, stared puzzling at Mai-Coins who sensed his apprehension and stared back expressionless at him and then engaged himself thoughtfully with one of the magazines in his hands.

Yes! There is something out of place here, he concluded silently, his eyes secretly taking on the Nigerian, watching his every move. Then he watched as the Nigerian nodded to one of the two receptionists, a thin man in green uniform he had never seen before. He stared carelessly at him as he led the Nigerian and his white friend into another elevator that lead to the Director General’s office.This move quickly aroused Mai-Coins suspicious the more. Why the DG office? He was aware that the director general and other top member of staff of the agency were presently at a seminar outside the capital in Lagos. What then would the visitors be looking for or doing in the office that cannot be handle downstairs?
All these questions raced through his mind as he made his way casually inside the building and then sauntered casually into their office with all his senses now fully alert on the two visitors on their way to the director general’s office.


www.okadabooks.com.

Colour gunned down his Volkswagen beetle coolly along the security fortified Central Bank building. He slowed down deliberately to allow his thoughtful looking passenger to take in the beauty of the structure; and as expected, she unconsciously turned around on her seat and inspected the marble and glass building with admiration. He stole a glance at her and then grin. He accelerated and drove towards a major road leading towards Metro Plaza, then headed towards the National Privatization Agency.
They had drove around town after escaping a long hold up along Jabi by Kado estate. Colour had professionally lost the jeep through one of the numerous short-cuts along the busy industrial area of Utako. He had smiled triumphantly at her as he headed towards the National Stadium and finally made his way confidently through the capital. They stole occasional glances at each other and he admitted to himself that she was seductively beautiful with a fancy breaded hair. Her head wore one of the most articulate breaded hairstyles he had ever seen on a woman which was perfectly in line with her shape, radiating a true African woman. Another captivating thing about her was her slim figure which perfectly fitted her glowing African attire.

Colour preferred women with this shape, and this particular one beside him was one of the most captivating slim shapes he had ever come across. Slim with pointed boobs and big captivating eyes. She had almost everything he loved in a woman. Although he had a very important appointment at the moment but he was willing to sacrifice his time and day to take her anywhere she was going. His appointment could wait for another time. He was not ready to let-go a beautiful catch like this. He concluded with a cheerful smile. He was curious about her and wanted to know what her mission to the NPA was all about. He had failed to extract the information from her and noticed that she was smart, alert and suspicious and had cleverly declined to give him the information he wanted. Instead, she had smiled up at him and confidently gave her name as Franca, from the South-South part of the country. To which he had smiled up at her and told her it does not really matter to him from what part of the country she was as long as she was a Nigerian and most importantly a human being. She giggled at this and laughed out loudly when he told her his name.

‘’You mean Colour, as in colour of things? She asked in-between laughter.

‘’ Yes, Colour, I am all colours, black, white, green, blue, yellow, pink, brown or whatever. Any colour at all. I blend easily like the Chameleon,’’ He told her proudly.

He then went further to explained that he was a Freelance Journalist and runs an NGO that encourages fraternity among all the geo-political zones and languages across the country, irrespective of tribe, religion, gender or class. She stared thoughtfully at him, opened her big expensive bag and fetched out a pack of Orbit chewing gum, unwrapped one, dropped it into her mouth, and then chewed seductively away, her big eyes silently scrutinizing his face with a smile.

“Hmmm…that is very thoughtful of you” she finally said as she unwrap another gum for him. He smiled and also dropped the gum into his mouth, then chewed thoughtfully.

“Hmmm – really – well, that is a nice thing to say – hope you are not flattering me sha, but I appreciate it anyway” he said, then smiled back at her.

He invited her to join his NGO if she was interested. She smiled at him, giggled and declined his invitation with a smile. Instead, she changed the station on the car stereo and the music of 2Face ‘For Instant’ filtered through the speakers and cut off their conversation. The track played on, followed by different tracks from various Nigerian artists. He noted that she was up to date on the latest music in town and a loyal fan of the Nigerian artists and their Naija flavor. So he allowed her to enjoy the music while he engaged himself carefully on the roads, negotiating cars and cutting any available short-cut along the various busy roads in the federal capital. His mind was absolved with the thought of the beautiful female passenger beside him as he pressed down his beetle that afternoon towards the NPA with his curious mind pondering over her real mission at the popular agency.

They drove on in silence as the beautiful looking passenger stared thoughtfully at the tall structure of Radio House, her mind silently debating on her mission at the agency in the next couple of minutes. She stole a glance at the relaxed face of her driver. The guy appears relaxed as he whistled happily away to Majek Fashek’s ‘promised land’ tune playing on the car stereo. She noted and then hide a grin as she try to imagine his reaction if she were to tell him her real mission inside the agency that day. Men! – What won’t they do just to have a bite of the sacred fruit? She thought and deliberately glanced at her wristwatch to provoke his curiosity the more and he actually fell for her bait. For, he glanced at her, smiled and suddenly accelerated faster and swept past three cars in front of them. He beat the next traffic light by inch, cut between two other cars, smiled up at her again, then twisted into a corner with a sharp screech and suddenly headed straight towards a small gathering of street hawkers by the sharp bend. The people all panicked and scampered towards different direction – men, women and children. They all took off for their dear lives as the beetle suddenly lost control and headed towards them.

Colour not expecting to meet a gathering at the bend, panicked and quickly stepped hard on the break which at that moment failed him. He watched horribly as the panicked crowd scattered frightfully towards different direction. He half glanced at his passenger who was struggling with her seat belt, she looked panic and was loudly muttering “Jesus! Oh! –Jesus…”

Colour pulled back his reflexes and tried to control the car. He suddenly pulled on the handbrake and at the same time spinning the wheel in a three sixty stunts. The car obeyed and came to a stop few inches away from a wide street sewage, surprising everyone around, including himself. His passenger quickly disembarked and ran away as fast as possible from the crowd. Her large eyes now stared at the smoking beetle with a bewildered look as if she was just seeing the car for the first time. Few among the panicked crowd who had recovered from their shock suddenly make their way angrily towards the car as Colour who was now out of his seat belt and look composed stepped out of the smoking car with a broad smile.

“ Shege!” someone shouted angrily from the crowd.

“ Oloshi!” another added loudly

“ Oyin hara” Chipped in another in a husky voice, and they all matched angrily towards him.

Colour, sensing their grievances, hurried away from the car and confronted their leaders.

“ I beg make una no vex – na break fail me…I swear na break…” He pleaded with his two hands, pausing few distance away from them.

“ Break – which kind yeye break?” Someone from the crowd shouted. “ You wan kill us? abi dem send you come? God punish your mouth,
Which kind yeye break be that?” Another shouted angrily

“ Yes – dem send una come? – you and your woman? where she dey self?” A broad shouldered thug shouted angrily and made for the smoking car.

The crowd suddenly turned towards where Lizzy had been standing. They were all shocked when none of them saw her slim frame there again – she was gone.

*******

Mr. Alfred Richmond, a middle-aged Briton in his early 60s stared admiringly at the beautiful city of Abuja from the comfortable leather seat of the black Prado Jeep that conveyed him from the Azikwe International Airport into the capital city that afternoon. Seated beside him with a beaming smile was Victor, smartly dressed in a black suite, white shirt and a multi colour tie. On the wheel was Jerome Gamuka another member of the syndicate in neat blue chauffeur uniform and a cap to match. It was a sunny day and the air-condition in the car relaxed any worry on the minds of the passengers and cool the sweat and heat on the expensive blue suit and blue shirt on Alfred Richmond’s fat frame.

He was actually delighted to be in Nigeria and more excited that he was about to seal the final deal with his Nigerian partners and then finally he could lay claim to owing one of the most lucrative energy distribution companies in the country. He was glad to have wisely invested in the country’s privatized power sector and he consciously believe that he could ripe off millions from his investment in the next couple of years or even months depending on his strategy and plans to rebrand and reorganize the management and the company itself. All these ran through his mind as he admired the fast moving traffic and the crowded city.

‘’ So we go straight to the office to finalize the deal and then back to the hotel to celebrate,’’ Victor assured him with his broad smile.

‘’ Yes, yes, I think we should do that, work first, then merry later,’’ Alfred responded excitedly, his eyes roving around the Central Bank Building and other high rise structures around.

‘’ Beautiful city, never knew Nigeria is such a rich, big city,’’ he added.

‘’ Really, you’ve seen nothing yet, Mr. Alfred, the boss has a surprise for you at the gala night later,’’ Victor informed him as their car make a u-turn and headed towards the National Privatization Agency with their excited prey smiling broadly all the way to their trap.


*******
The National Privatization Agency sits within one of the properly arranged districts of Abuja, with its striking tall elongated structure dominating almost all the other rich structures within the high brow business district. It is therefore not mere saying that hundreds of corporate deals pass through most of the tastefully furnished offices in the building on a daily bases; deals worth billions of naira. From the enticing banking sector, lucrative oil deals, genuine telecommunication businesses and down to the fast rising printing and publishing sector of the Nigerian economy.
Few cars with bored and excited looking passengers drove in a row in and out of the heavily guarded gates. Parked few meters from the gate was a black police patrol van with four heavily armed uniformed policemen with alert suspicious eyes. A navy blue 506 Peugeot with two passengers suddenly approached them. The two young looking passengers in mufti dropped and smiled up to the team.

“Good morning officer and gentlemen, how is work?” one of them, a tall slim guy around thirty one or two greeted them. His colleague a stocky looking youth in his late twenties with a short bead and a set of thick arms and broad chest trailed after him calmly. They were both smartly dressed in Chinos and blazers, dark sunglasses, with Blue-tooth hanging from their ears.

“We are fine here,” the senior officer among the policemen, a clean shaved Inspector answered with grumble, and then shook the young men extended hands reluctantly. How he hated these young boys in mufti and their different security gadgets like the one hanging down from their ears and their expensive coats and blazers. He thought silently, his eyes betraying no emotion. If not for education, the political corruption and bureaucracy in almost all the government establishments in the country; boys like this two were supposed to be his ‘boys’ with full authority to shout at them and order them to salute him respectfully. If not, he would have no alternative than to witch-hunt them out of the force; something many of his subordinates and colleagues knew him well with. He told himself and then stared suspiciously at the two young men and wondered what they were doing at the place this morning, outside their jurisdiction which was supposed to be inside the NPA building, not outside as they were presently doing.

“Hope no problem?” he finally asked suspiciously, unable to cancel his curiosity any longer, his eyes searched for a clue from the smiling detective in mufti known as Mai-Coins.
Mai-Coins ignored his question; he stared at the other policemen instead, a bored looking sergeant and two excited looking young constables who both yawned at the same time and carried on with their boring sentry duty.

“ No problem Inspector. We are just on routine check and to put you on alert in case something went wrong with one of our operations that might likely commence soon.” Mai-Coins finally answered.

The Inspector shifted his bulky frame and then stared curiously at the two young men. He suddenly hated them more, including their over propagated agency. He hated their impromptu plans, their overpaid salaries and worst of all their pampering from both the government and the general public.

“What do you mean by something going wrong? And what kind of operation is that?” he demanded from the two men, his eyes still cancelling his emotion.

Mai-Coins grinned thoughtfully at him, glanced at his colleague and then gently shook his head. “Strictly confidential for now Oga Inspector, but we would inform you on what to do immediately we are certain our suspects are here. Just relax and be on the alert – they are smart and very cunning.” He told the gathering, nodded to his colleague and they both sauntered back to their car. He abruptly paused, turned and returned to the patrol team. “Sorry Inspector, before I forget.” He apologized, fetched out a photograph from the inner pocket of his blazer, smiled down on the female face on the photograph, and then passed it over to the curious Inspector.

“We want to believe that this is the female member of the gang. So be careful and watch out for her” he told the gathering, turned and sauntered back to their car and then drove away.

The Inspector glared cruelly at the photo and his shaved wrinkled face screwed into suspicious. He lifted his shaved head and stared more apprehensively at every passerby on foot and inside the various cars around.

Ken Solomon did something he hardly do in his office on a particular afternoon a week later, the same day Colour gave a ride to his beautiful passenger. He rolled himself a thick weed and then lit up right there on his official seat. His jacket rested on a rack, his tie loosened and his white designer long sleeve shirt folded up to his ankle. He dragged the smoke and then stared thoughtfully at the open internet page on his laptop; a page that was now the most popular on his mind and the catalyst to his present worries. The hitherto beautiful looking website with its deep green, black and white design was now the most horrible looking vision in his subconscious. The home page, enticing advertisements and pictures were nothing but irritating blur on his face at the moment.

He dragged his weed, inhaled, and exhaled and then carried on with his thinking. Why had he allowed himself to fall so cheap and blindly to some well crafted Whaling mails - a third world trick? Why did he replied those smart swindlers that unforgettable morning after going through their proposal and asserting that the website, including the pictures of the purported corporate headquarters of the company as shown on the site were all-real? All these he had been able to verified quickly from an associate who knew Abuja the Nigeria capital very well, including some of its beautiful structures; this because of his vast interest in real estate business all over the world. However, what Ken Solomon deliberately did not asked his friend was if he was aware of any telecommunication company by the name Naija-Phones for sale. Why raise his suspicious KS had reasoned greedily, knowing his associate would want to know more and that more questions were bound to follow. He promised himself to keep this deal secretly wrapped under his hat. This was strictly a secret he had intended to surprise everyone with, especially some of his business associates who always had the erroneous impression that he was not capable of diversifying his business empire away from only buying and selling stocks from desperate frustrated American companies and individuals.

So, Ken Solomon had cleverly asked his real estate associate if he was aware of a beautiful structure that was likely to go up for sale in the Nigeria capital. The friend had assured him that he knew the structure just as he knew the popular Eric Moore building in Lagos, but was not aware if the said structure in Abuja was penciled down for sale like the others in Lagos. However, he rightly informed him that he knew that the Nigeria Federal Government had penciled down some of its public facilities and infrastructures for privatization and promised to find out more information if KS was interested. To this, KS had told him not bother himself that he was only just curious about the structure. He told his associate that he never knew there was such a beautiful structure in Nigeria, especially somewhere deep in the ‘African Jungle’. They laughed off richly, said all the sweet banters of the rich and wished each other success in their daily quest of multiplying their wealth.

The management of Naija- Phones had required confidentiality, respected him and invited him exclusively to be among the first bidders, this was an honour he promised himself to respect and work on privately and secretly as possible. He had calculated earlier. He had ensured that even his most trusted private assistant, the amiable Ms Pamela Evans was cunningly schemed out of the whole transactions from day one. She was among those he had wanted to surprise with an appointment as Vice-President of the new acquired Naija-Phones if things worked out fine according to plans. Ken Solomon had actually visualized and rehearsed the look of surprise and shock on her face as he, ‘Kenneth Edward Solomon’ the new owner, chairman, CEO of Naija- Phones or whatever tag the press or writers decided to call him break the good news to her and the rest of the world.

The name Naija-Phone appealed to him. He had promised himself not to change the indigenous name, instead, part of his plan was to re-brand the logo, the slogan and probably reshape and rearranged the colours of the company. He saw the name as an easy identification of the people and the country, aware that about eighty percent of the populace speaks the popular pidgin language fluently, both in their private and public interactions and in transactions daily. So, why not play along with it and encourage it more when his new branded Naija-Phones hit the street. He had reasoned few days earlier as he deliberated over the offer. That was about a week ago, but right now the ideas seemed to be nothing but bad nightmares as he dragged on his weed and puffed smoke across his face. Just then, his door slowly pushed open and Ms. Pamela Evans with a curious worried look on her beautiful face, sauntered into the large office and stared with an astonished look at him and then more curiously at the half-smoked weed in his hand. They both stared strangely at the weed, then quietly at each other.

“ What is going on here?’’ She demanded like a big sister.
He grinned at her with a ‘high look’, took another drag at the weed, inhaled and exhaled and then finally smiled up to her. “I am doing some serious thinking…?” He responded still smiling.

“Really…thinking, over rolled marijuana, right inside your office, in-between working hours?’’ She announced the words slowly one after the other and then moved closer to him, her eyes still staring strangely at the weed. “Finally, I have long been suspecting you of doing this, but not right here where we hourly receives clients and do business. And right now more than six important clients are waiting out there at the reception, waiting patiently to see you…and here you are… doping you brain away,” she finally announced with a disapproved tone her eyes never leaving the weed in his hand.
Ken Solomon once again grinned at her with his high look, and then stared thoughtfully at her for some seconds.

“But I told you I was doing some serious, important thinking, Pam.” He finally answered.

“ God! KS – I am getting paranoid with your sudden eccentric behaviors these days. Now you are here busy smoking marijuana on a working hour in your office. I demand to know what is going on. That is why I am here and part of the reasons why you’re paying me as your Personal Assistant – I swear, I can see that something is wrong or is happening somewhere.”
She suddenly paused and stared more strangely at him, studying him like a big sister whose younger one had just committed a mischief.

“So, what is it KS? I am all ears and listening. Please remember, I am always here for you”, she added her disapproving tone now sobering a little.

Ken Solomon dragged the last drag of his weed, inhaled, exhaled and then stared thoughtfully at her beautiful curved shape and her seductive hips, hidden under the cover of a black designer French suit and a snow-white shirt. Her black hair was cut low and neatly arranged with the edge slightly brushing her rimless glasses. He glued his eyes at her busty boobs, and then grinned away with a mischievous look. She stared confusingly at him and then frowned. KS was still lost in his thought; he was asking himself why he had not laid her when he had all the opportunities in the world. In fact, some of his associates, including almost all his other staff had the illusion that they were actually dating. This, he knew through the office grapevine, Adams. The sixty something year old informal employee of Shares.com was one of his most reliable informant on earth. Though not officially employed as a staff, but his hanging around the company was a tremendous benefit to Ken Solomon and by extension to his company.

KS discovered him one day on his way to the office about six years ago when he was still a squatter with one of the struggling stockbroker firms on Wall Street. Adams, he discovered was an encyclopedia on anything going on in or around Wall Street. He had the names of almost who-was-who and what-was-what on Wall Street stored safely inside his old brain. They became instant friends that morning and since then had passed through the good and bad sides of the popular street together. Adams was there when KS made his first million and was equally still with him when he made the other millions subsequently. Although, he had offered him a full partnership or employment when he opened his own company Shares.com but Adams had declined with his mocking grin and his consistent phrase “The present belongs to those with education”
This was something he had foolishly and stubbornly abandoned many years ago, as a third grade student; the quest for fast money and his insatiable lust for women had tricked his brain and blindfolded his eyes to know and see the value of education then. The old encyclopedic Adams, had personally opted to just hang around Shares.com, listen, gossip and report all the important and relevant reportable to KS, and in return have some of his essential bills settled on Shares.com’s account. Ken Solomon had first thought about his proposal and finally accepted the arrangement. He directed that his name be included in the monthly expenditure of the company and since then they had remained reliable loyal friends in and off the office.

At the moment, KS still feeling high on his seat grinned at Pamela, his mind reminiscing on Adams and some of his gossips (Reports) as he likes to call them. He pushed himself forward in his chair, quenched the last drag of his weed in an ashtray and then smiled up at her again. She stared back at him with a confused frown.

“What is going on?” she demanded.

“Good things, Pam. Good things are going on” Ken Solomon responded with a confident air. He pushed himself up from his swivel chair and strolled to a glass shelve, fetched out a Ralph Lauren Polo perfume, spread it on his palms and then rubbed it over his temple with a wide smile.

“Yes my dear Pam –good things. Good positive things are about to happen to our lives…” He announced proudly.
Deep inside him, he knew he was lying. He had reasoned that he had no option now than to concoct some of the best lies to her. Over the years, he had learned how to use some positive lies on her since their first meeting over five years ago. One fact he never denies was the reality that she was actually part of his success story. He knew he had to keep inventing some fictitious lies in order to carry on their successful association and keep on with the cumbersome task of daily living in his vanity world. The Spaniards must have thought of a situation like his with their famous shrewd proverb. “Tell a lie and find troth.” He reasoned silently and smiled broadly at her. She happened to be one of the most beautiful brains he had ever come across, an excellent girl in his judgment, physically beautiful in the average standard of a fine woman, tall with green seductive eyes, enticing busty boobs and a well-curved woman shape. The most captivating feature about her was her hips, squarely shaped like an eight figure. She wore a trademark dimple smile and an air of confidence and seriousness. These were some of the attributes and qualities he wants in a woman.

Ken Solomon could never imagined the smooth running of Shares.com without the magical hands of the amiable and charismatic Ms. Pamela Evans, a.k.a ‘Dimples’ one of the rare women in the world who could pick up a phone and wake up the President of the United States of America from his short guarded sleep. Pamela Evans was among the rare species of human beings who had the skills to bring out positive result amidst tight and restricted business situations. She was smart, educated and charming. He had happily bumped into her at a business seminar in Los Angeles, and since then they had stayed loyally glued to each other in their fast competitive world of Wall Street. While he provided the settings and backgrounds, she had always successfully provided the links. They were doing great and happy with each other, despite their mutual restriction on intimate relationship. However, it seems all these would soon vanish with the present tormenting situation he now found himself. He now regretted not telling her the Naija-Phones deal right from day one. What had he been thinking about for God sake? He cursed himself silently and watched her as she suddenly dropped her beautiful frame into one of the leather chairs by his desk. If not for the hand rest that the designer had thought wise to designed with glass, everything else about the chair was in rich black leather.

“What is going on for God sake? Why don’t you cover your pride and tell me what’s happening, KS”. She finally said reluctantly and covered her face with her long manicured fingers in a sign of resignation.

“Good things, Pam – I told you good positive things are what are happening around here.” He smiled broadly at her, turned around and rested his athletic frame on the large desk.

“Then why the sudden change in you. You are not the KS I used to know. Your present ways of saying and doing things are not the same like before. I am sure of this, because I know you and I can feel it. So, what has come over you in the last one week or thereabout” she challenged him with the question, her eyes never leaving him.
KS brooded over her sensitive question and observations and then slowly smiled up broadly. He sauntered to her and gently tapped her on the shoulder with assurance

‘’ Relax your worries my dear Pam. I have good news for you. Though I never wanted to let the cat out of the bag so soon…” He paused, smiled at her, and continued. “But it seems I can no longer curtail your curiosity. So, I have no option than to tell you the news.”

He announced, his smile never leaving his face. He realized that the weed was now doing a thorough job on him. He suddenly felt the confidence he always feel whenever he took a good grass. He assumed that his best speech always flows and come freely at that high moment. He almost laughed out as he visualized what her expression and reaction would look like if he had told her the whole truth about the whole transactions. Opening from the first enticing letter of offer, to the money transfers, and then finally to the horrible day he realized that he had greedily and stupidly fell to some wiser brains somewhere in Africa, in Nigeria precisely. He visualized how stupid she would think he was and absolutely the respect, reputation and his prestige, all built over the past long years will quickly vanished in her eyes. He was sure she would stare miserably at him, shake her beautiful smart head in a disappointed gesture and that would end their successful association of almost six solid years. He was actually not afraid of the breakup or split, as he preferred to call it. He was just awed and not comfortable with the failure and let down. Moreover, one thing he hated more than poverty was disappointment. He was a man of honour who like keeping to his words, especially a promise. However, he felt he had no other option at the moment than to tell a good lie to safe himself and his threatened reputation. He concluded, smiled broadly at her and then told her his lies.

www.okadbooks.com

CHAPTER TWO

Abuja, Nigeria

It was a sunny afternoon the next week in Abuja. A young Nigerian simply known as Colour drove his popular Volkswagen Beetle along Gwarinpa estates; one of African largest housing estates and the biggest in Abuja the pampered capital city of Nigeria. The Federal Capital Territory, Abuja, has to its credit a high concentration of Nigerian elites; comprising top government officials, flamboyant politicians, diplomats and their cliques, including some over-worked and under-paid civil servants, mixed up with a high population of ordinary struggling Nigerians. The last group mostly made up of unemployed Nigerians and artisans from various part of the country as well as those with school degrees were poorly squeezed within the various underdeveloped satellite towns across the city and long abandoned by those in power but nevertheless daily antagonized with different oppressive government policies, repressive laws and high tax imposition.

The character known as Colour was a young man in his early thirties, thirty-five or thereabout nobody around really knew the truth about Colour. He was an average Nigerian who speaks all the three major Nigerian languages fluently, including more than a dozen of the other indigenous languages scattered across the vast Nigerian rich land. In fact, he could confidently claim to be from any part of the country because of his vast knowledge of the thirty-six states that put together the country known as Nigeria, the most controversial country in Africa. Colour in real sense was actually a full-blooded Nigerian who never reveals his real name or his real identity. He was a care-free, bold young man, a Freelance Journalist by profession and the proud founder and national coordinator of One Naija, an NGO with nationalism as its motto. He was actually a popular guy in the capital and other states across the country who love to cruise around in his clean looking green Volkswagen beetle1500, a classic car he proudly drove around the flamboyant city of Abuja amidst the hundreds of other high-class intimidating cars across the city. He was a tall guy, slim with an athletic frame and carries a conspicuous smile on his square face over a round shaved head which gave him a calmed disposition. On this particular afternoon he wore a thoughtful grin as he slowly accelerated and bypass an Okada rider (Motorcyclist) with a beautiful female passenger. The passenger seems to be in a hurry, this was evident with the way she constantly glanced at her wristwatch. Colour gazed admiringly at her beautiful exposed legs, he then grinned and gestured to her to drop from the bike and join him on the empty passenger’s seat in his car. He slowed down, bringing up his car in parallel to the bike. The rider, a youth in a fez cap and a jacket smiled up at him as the female passenger nodded him to speed off, a frown now visibly on her pampered face.

“ Haba! Woman – na good Samaritan work I want do for you ’’ Colour explained in pidgin from his car with a smile.
“Thank you…” she replied mockingly as the bike speed away.
However, Colour was not a man who gives up easily, not when it has to do with the female flesh. Therefore, as a playboy, he accelerated and caught up with them.

“Come- true, I no just like the way you dey on top that machine. Drop make I give you ride… no wahala, I go carry you go where you dey go.” He told her and then indicated his empty passenger’s seat again.

“ I say thank you, abi na by force?” Lizzy the female passenger quarreled holding tight to the carrier. “Please go on” this she commanded the bike rider who smiled and suddenly zoomed off speedily.

“Honestly- I no go fit allow you go climb that dangerous highway on top of Okada.” Colour persisted as he caught up with them.

She stared at him baffled at his guts and then asked the bike rider to park. Just then a black Land Cruiser jeep with a lone passenger on the wheel sighted her and slowly parked some few distance away from them. The driver, a middle-aged man in a blue suit, smiled and watched her from his rear view mirror and then pressed his horn sharply trying to attract her attention. Colour who was observing all this suddenly grinned and eased out of the road and then parked very close to the bike a wide appealing smile now greased his face and his slim fingers calmly rubbed his shaved head as Lizzy suddenly jumped down angrily from the bike and confronted him.

“ Come – na wetin? – I know you bifor?” she demanded angrily walking up to him confidently, and glared at him with her big eyeballs.
Colour stared silently at her, his trademark smile more alive and at the same time he stole a glance at the jeep with its passenger who seems to have all the time in the world and not really in a hurry to move. The lady followed his glance, frown more and then glared back angrily at him.

“Why are you following me? Who are you? Why don’t you go your way and leave me alone?” she demanded in proper English her tone now relaxed but still confident.

“Because I want to give you a ride in my classic and carry you to that place you’re hurrying to.” Colour replied with a smile, winked at the bike rider and then glanced at the jeep again.

“Where exactly do you know I am hurrying to?” she questioned and then scanned the jeep and its passenger who at that moment peeped out and smiled at her.

“See woman – why we no do am like his…” Colour suggested smiling.

“ Like how?” she questioned suspiciously then pleaded with the bike rider to exercise patient. The guy nodded and then also stared at the jeep.

“ Like this—settle this bike guy, come make I carry you go wherever you dey go for free,” He finally suggested with a wide grin.

“Because say your motor better pass the Okada wey I climb or say he fine pass that Jeep wey dey wait for me there?” she replied with a cynical grin and her eyes flashed at the jeep.
Colour smiled and then stared thoughtfully at the jeep. “ Na choice – at least people know me for this area…and remember say no be everything wey dey glitter be gold sha.” He finally responded his eyes still staring at the jeep.

Lizzy stared thoughtfully at him, brooded over his statement, stared at the jeep for some seconds, and then turned to the bike rider. She paid him off and asked him to keep the change, then to Colour’s surprise; she opens his passenger’s door and dropped her beautiful frame beside him.

“ Make we waka if you ready” she said slowly her eyes still staring suspiciously at the jeep.

Colour smiled, ignited his car and then slowly eased back into the road. The driver inside the jeep stared surprisingly at them as they went past him. The lady stared quizzically at the strange guy inside the car and then hissed out loudly as Colour drove away with a wide grin.

“ How far, I be think say you know the guy bifor?” He asked curiously

“ Know am for where?” she hissed out as she admired herself from the side view mirror her eyes suspiciously watching the jeep and its driver who suddenly swigged back into the road after them.

“ Na whao! This guy get patience, abi wetin you think?’’ Colour said and then glanced at the jeep from his rear view mirror.

Lizzy suddenly grinned up at him and then relaxed more comfortably on her seat.

“ Na people like this dey use people private parts do rituals; dem dey always dey patience.” she hissed out once more and then closed her eyes.

Colour glanced at her, stared at the Jeep from his rear mirror and then ruptured into laugh.

If he knew who his beautiful passenger was and what was going on inside her corny mind he would have kept his laughter to himself and probably dropped her immediately from his car. But since no human has the ability to read what is going on inside any human’s mind, he assumed she was down with him and safe to drive with beside him.

‘’ So how comes a beautiful woman like you is riding an okada in this hot sun? At least there are many taxis around,’’ he said half glancing at her thoughtful face.

Lizzy glanced at him and then grin. She actually wished the smooth talking guy beside her would just mind his business with the road and allow her to think out her present situation.

‘’ My car broke down somewhere. I could not get a taxi, and I was in hurry, so I sharply took the next available means or is that a sin?’’ she demanded mockingly

‘’ Ha-ha-ha, a sin ke, not at all, just wondering that is all,’’ he laughed out loudly. ‘’ so where are you actually rushing to?’’

She stared thoughtfully at him with hesitation and then grinned up at him. ‘’ NPA’’ she finally said
‘’NPA, you mean National Privatization Agency, do you work there?’’

‘’ Yes, that is where I am going, and no, I don’t work there,’’

‘’Okay, so what’s your business there? I mean your interest there?’ he asked with a broad smile.
Lizzy stared thoughtfully at him once more then frowned away thoughtfully. ‘’ Your questions don dey too much, abi you be policeman or wetin?’’

‘’ Policeman, at all, I resemble police?’’

‘’ Who know, dem no dey write am for face,’’

‘’Well, I am not one,’’

‘’Good, then concentrate on the road and listen to some music,’’ Lizzy said, and then put on the FM radio and a Naija song filled the car.
Colour baffled by her attitude and elusiveness, glanced at her and his car radio, burst into laugh and then drove on silently.



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Ken Solomon made his first mistake when he curiously visited the website, a mistake he was later to regret. The site was captivating and one of the most beautiful and well-organized websites he had so far visited and Ken Solomon being a Social Media freak had visited many uncountable sites since the revolution of the internet. This particular website was artistically designed with eye catching graphics, the homepage craftily sketched in the shape of a mobile phone and well blended with various articles, write-ups, proposals, commendable views, letters and feeds from different sources across the globe. The site was flexible and easily asses-sable to visitors who were advised to sign up for mailing list, subscribe to newsletters, asses their services or search for whatever their curiosity might want to know about Naija-Phones through their FAQ page. Ken Solomon was not just an astute businessperson and a computer proficient individual he was also very shrewd and suspicious. So the first thing he did after scrutinizing the page prudently was to click on all the clickable pages on the site, read and reread some of the articles, write ups, letters, opinions, and feed backs, and then finally the proposal.

He sat back more comfortable on his chair, his left hand on his chin, his right fingers slowly scrolled down what they were proposing. He read and reread the proposal and could not hide a wide smile after going through the organization profile. This was just the right stuff he had on the back of his mind. He told himself, an infant-startup telecommunication company with few individual owing one or two shares and the majority shares by the government. The proposal had affirmed that government being the majority owner of the organization was now ready to privatize, an exercise presently going on virtually in all other sectors of the Nigerian economy which he was well aware of, including his knowledge of other business opportunities going on across the country. He reasoned and reflected on some few things he knew about the country. He was long in the picture of the capitalization history and the financial standing and buoyancy of some Nigerian banks, especially the new generation ones with their creative brands and colours. He was fascinated with the orange brand of GTBank, its unique structure, international outlook and its simple slogan and logo. He was also down with Zenith Bank and its branch vibrancy across the country, Eko Bank was another bank that enthralls him, including Access Bank and FCMB. He also knew some of the financial activities of banks like Skye Bank and its history, Fidelity Bank and Diamond Bank as well, including the northern headquartered Unity Bank. In fact, if not for his oversight he could have been one of the major players in the Nigerian banking and communication sectors. He had always wanted to invest and be part of the Nigerian virgin land. A country he constantly monitors on newspapers, magazines, books, and cable, this thanks to CNN, VOA and the BBC, including various internet news sites and other western stations that occasionally relates anything hot and relevant about the country and it neighbors around the African continent.

Ken Solomon had always foresee a big potential in the Nigerian telecommunication market, this with its large population and diversity, including the vast land for expansion. He had made it one of his priorities to follow the financial successes of most communication companies around the world. So he knew very well the success stories of companies like the South African MTN in Nigeria and their yearly turnover. He was also aware of the changes that took place in Econet, before re-branding to V-Mobile, to Celtel, and then to Airtel. He was a keen observer of the country’s first indigenous telecommunication company Globalcom, or Glo as most people prefer to call it. He was equally aware of how the company had famously and patriotically crashed the over-exploited price of Simcard in the country. He was truly fascinated by the company’s success stories and its strong indigenous marketing strategies. He also knew and was conscious of the late entry of Etisalat and was very positive that more profit could be milked out from the large untapped Nigeria population. He remembered that one of his trusted business associates had once invited him to be part of a group of American foreign investors in the then just incorporated V-Mobile Nigeria. But KS, as he was lovingly called by close friends and associates now regretted that he had quickly declined the offer. He had then sighted the uncertainty nature of Nigeria and the rampant corruption in the country as some of the reasons why he was not interested and nastiest of all the fraudulent 419 nature of an average Nigerian. This as reported by his country media and attested to by some of his unfortunate associates, including some of his other country men and women who had one way or the other fallen victims to these smart thinking black men most of them had always underrated. His declination of the V-Mobile offer was a mistake he had always regretted, this after hearing, reading and seeing it success stories just few years after the company sojourn in Nigeria. He did not believed his ears when his business associate who had wisely and riskily invested in the venture later called him and informed him of the company’s turnover and huge profit at the end of their over celebrated Annual General Meeting. The associate had sarcastically reminded him that every business in the world was actually a ‘risk’ and had laughed off in his rich satisfied voice. Ken Solomon had quickly clicked on some few keys on his laptop and the financial statements of the company had been accurate as his friend had boasted. This was unwelcome news to KS who had always prided himself as one of the sharpest financial brains on Wall Street.

The incidence taught him a lesson and also pushed his keen interest in the Nigerian telecommunication market with a vow never to let a good offer like this slipped through his rich fingers again. So when the offer from Naija-Phones landed this time around, on his table, via the internet, on his laptop, right inside his posh secluded office – he quickly assumed it was just another opportunity for him to grab his long expected shares of the Nigerian untapped profitable telecommunication windfall. So he smiled excitedly to himself, lit a cigarette and sat back more comfortably on his chair and did his research. He then finally wrote them a reply after studying their proposal prudently and from that moment he unconsciously fell into the phished trap of the Free-Hands which culminated into transferring millions of dollars into their accounts over the next few days.

PART ONE
The Deal

Chapter 1
Wall Street, America

Kenneth Edward Solomon took his first class elevator as usual that morning towards his elegant office. He smiled broadly from home all the way to his company’s magnificent corporate headquarters, moving through the morning traffic at a steady relaxed pace. Ken Solomon or KS as he was fondly called was a car freak who loves to drive himself anywhere his restless mind decided to take him. He occasionally drove his latest Porsche convertible with relish and enjoys winking at some of the female drivers alone in their cars or those with companions beside them. He always concealed a grin whenever some of the male companions in the other cars frowned up or scowled at him, ‘envy” he had always concluded silently and then eased through the traffic at a steady pace with his right hand on the small mahogany steering wheel and his left palm held up on his chin in a thoughtful relaxed posture. What thrilled Ken Solomon each day was the holdup he daily encounters on his way to the office. He considered the slow driving amidst angry horns and curses from other impatient drivers and passengers as something good, since this gave him enough time to enjoy his ride, see and think up new ideas and other ways of multiplying his wealth. He was a man who was never in a hurry. Ken Solomon was among those fortunate Americans who had gone to school on scholarship and came out with a Bsc, Economics, and MBA in International Relation. At thirty-five, he was every inch part of the American dream, a brain in his field and a pride of any nation.
One of the amazing things about this young American entrepreneur was the fact that he inherited ‘no dime’ – as the Americans would say from anybody, unlike most rich men of his age. He had worked real hard and smart to get to where he was. And it was up, towards part of where he belonged at the top floor of one of Wall’s Street exquisite offices that the elevator had dropped him that unfortunate morning. That dark day in his life when he mistakenly or rather curiously searched for the website that later became the beginning of his problems and one of the greatest challenges in his smart easy going life. The whole thing had started that morning during his everyday ceremonious checking of his e-mails from his Apple laptop inside the comfort of his stylish office after driving happily to his distinctive structure on Wall Street and ferried into his floor inside his cozy elevator. Relaxed on his swivel chair as usual, he swagger his slim athletic shape right and left with his index finger on his chin and his eyes leisurely scanned through his recent mails, contemplating on the important ones to read and those to delete. The heading of a particular mail suddenly caught his attention as he browse through the inbox. The Spear Phishing mail from Naija-Phones was captivating and very enticing with a bold heading: PHONES FOR 100 MILLION PEOPLE.

He stared thoughtfully at the heading, and then wondered ‘what the hell’ has this to do with his business? He made to delete the mail and then scroll on to other important mails, but ‘curiosity’, a strong attribute of great people instigated him to pause and he clicked on the mail. His sharp blue eyes stared curiously at the screen as the mail slowly opened. He read the well-organized letter carefully with an unhurried suspicious mind, taking in every sentence and breaking them up prudently with his sharp business acumen. The well crafted Whaling mail he would later admit was craftily composed and properly addressed to him; and again the tone was respectful and straight to the point, just the way he likes his mails; not long grammatical jargons that sometimes are pains in his head, down to his pile-up ass. He noted as he read the one page letter.
The mail reads:
Dear Sir,
It is our pleasure to inform your distinguished firm of our conclusive decision to put our esteem telecommunication company Naija Phones up for privatization. We hereby wish to invite you as one of the first bidders for this potential business with a visible and realistic market to provide communication for more than one hundred million subscribers.
It is our delight to invite you to our Homepage on our website www.naijaphones.com for more information. Please find attached our proposal for your assessment and consideration.
Thank you for taking time to go through our letter and we hope this will form the basis of a long working business association with you and your amiable company.
Yours sincerely,
Elder Walter Micheal Orosu
Chairman: Naija Phones.

Prelude

It is important to note that some of the names, individuals, groups, places and establishments, including several of the settings are actually real. It is not the wish of the writer to portray any of them in bad light but an imaginative creative plot to blend fiction with reality and to also showcase the efficacy and contribution of those mentioned here in our day to day lives. Although, several readers might see or view the sequential events of the story as something impossible, but again, it is important to comprehend that nothing is impossible in our present technological propel generation. The world as they say is now a ‘global village’ and in reality we are now closer and more advanced than our ancestors.

The invention of the computer and the subsequent coming of the internet no doubt have made human transactions flexible across the globe. Our hitherto conservative methods of doing things like letter writing, telephoning, marketing, advertising, including news reporting and bank transactions are now obsolete and part of historical archives in most countries across the world. Most of these human activities are now carried out easily and more efficiently through the internet. But the coming of the internet no doubt has not stopped or eradicated criminality in our society, rather it has refined the criminals and galvanized their greed effortlessly. The world today has more sophisticated criminals and sophisticated tools to carry out their crimes without even pointing a gun at anyone. All a computer savvy criminal now needs is a computer and internet access and then he or she has the world in their pocket.

The story here is an illustration of what is actually possible to do or has been done or in the process of being carried out by various cyber-crime criminals across our world through the flexible power of the internet. However, the final decision to believe in the possibility of the events here or not is still yours as the reader. I believe many readers might have come across similar circumstances in real life or read about something like this elsewhere. But all the same, this is a different fictitious story, embellished with realism. This is the imaginative story of Kenneth Edward Solomon, a rich and smart American entrepreneur who greedily fell into the enticing internet trap of the Free-Hands one of the most daring and flamboyant cyber-crime gangs in Nigeria and one of the most wanted in the world.

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OK

Everything is fine.
All is OK in my life.

Things are good.
Everything OK with me.

Each day is beautiful.
Very OK with its glow

Life is sweet.
I am OK with the taste.

Each moment is a story.
OK as the drama unfolds.

Copyright Ahmed Dodo

‘Yes, Smile Guy, I noticed you sharing your smile with my woman?’ I heard the man demanded scornfully.
I kept silent and stared back thoughtfully at him, noting the sudden silence inside the bar as well.

‘So, tell me, Smile Guy, You know her somewhere?’ he demanded in his soft but commanding tone.

‘No, I don’t,’ I responded, wanting to say something and I noticed the attention of his woman was now on us.

‘Then why the smile?’ he asked with his wolfish grin.

I stared at him intently for some seconds and then gave him a broad smile. ‘ I thought smiles are suppose to be free.’ I responded, now getting bored with his questions and presence.
He thought over my statement with his snake eyes boring into me the more and then his wolfish grin again. ‘Well, not here. We don’t welcome strange smiles from strange faces here,’’ he announced loudly and lit a cigarette then blew smolder of smoke across my face.

‘My apology, I never knew this. This is actually my first time here and I love the setting,’ I replied with a smile, aware of the various eyes on us.

‘Then keep your smiles to yourself. I don’t like your face and I don’t like your smile. I hope you understand now?’ he commanded with a frown.


FATAL SMILE
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‘’From fairest creatures we desire increase,
That thereby beauty's rose might never die.’’
William Shakespeare




ONE

“No –not again” I screamed loudly, my eyes stared hopefully with fear at the sullen face of my husband who stared back with a devastated look. I turned back to look at the doctor who had a sympathetic look and the two female nurses who also stared at me with a look of lost and disappointment. None of them would utter any word; instead, they all followed my gaze towards the empty baby cot. I had visualized and expected to see my baby lying peaceful or whimpering for the tender care of my hands.
But my sobbing eyes presently could only make out the small pillow and the rich baby blanket we bought during one of our numerous babies shopping spree, in anticipation of a long expected child of our own.

“Sorry – darling – it’s a miscarriage again” I heard my husband finally announced stepping forward to sit down beside me on the bed and stroked my head gently against his broad shoulder.

“ We are sorry, Mrs. James – we tried everything we could do to save your child – but…” The doctor chipped in, but I was no longer listening to voices around me, I found my mind instead on a long thoughtful journey with a broken spirit. I wished I could close my eyes and open them to find I was just dreaming and still have my baby safely hidden in my womb.

“ I am sorry James…I am really sorry” I sobbed uncontrollable in the protective shoulder of my caring and understanding husband, who held me tightly and whispered some long reassuring words into my ears.

“No – darling don’t be sorry- it wasn’t you fault – that is the way God wanted it to be. We will try again”. He told me, and lifted my face to clean the flowing tears from my sunken eyes.






TWO

I trailed after my husband and the other sympathizers who had throng to the hospital to see me home, after spending two more days at my cozy room at the expensive hospital, this after the doctor and my over pampering nurses had assured themselves that I was now psychological fit to return to our big house and the other materialistic vanities that make up a good life. But all I ever needed was just a child, a lively bouncing toothless baby I could proudly call my own, just like some of my family, mates and neighbours.
All I desperately wished could happen was to go home with a whimpering child held closely to my bosom, just like some of the other pregnant mothers who came to the hospital with me on the same day and were now proud mothers of innocent sweet little creatures.
I don’t mind what gender - a girl, a boy, twins or triplets, just a little child with life, that pure smell and the natural blood bond.
We were nearing where my husband had parked his posh Mercedes car , when I noticed a new mother with her God’s gift held protectively in her hands, and were about boding a car with a smiling happy looking man, whom I guessed must be her husband. I suddenly paused halfway through our car door and stared ones more at the lucky mother, with a wish that I was in the same position with her, and my husband wearing that same happy smile like her hubby.

“Come on Martha- let’s go home and start preparing for another chance” I heard James said to me, knowing he must have comprehended what I was thinking.
I flopped into the car leather seat and stared silently at the hospital surroundings as we drove out of the rich premises that could not reward me with a lifelong desire.



THREE

God – when is my own baby coming, after eight years of trying, humiliation and perseverance? I thought silently as James drove off silently absolved in his own wishes and thoughts. I felt sorry for him, blaming myself for making him go through all the trouble with me faithfully, despite all the prodding from his parents, other family members and friends, including my own family and friends, who had long expected us to fill our rich home with babies , as if all the wealth in this world could create one.
This was my forth miscarriage and I tell you, nobody , but me and James, knew exactly how these tormenting eight years have been. The doctor had long confirmed that we were both okay, with enough steam, strong sperm from James and active eggs in my womb to produce a child, but what many of these people failed to understand was that providence was still locking around us and nobody but the creator and owner of everything on earth could make this desire possible. I thought silently my eyes suddenly staring at various parents with their little ones, held in their backs, hands or strolling together along the busy morning street. My curious eyes equally picked up the ignorant faces of some kids hawking cheap wares dangerously amidst the noisy street and fast speeding vehicles. I stared at them, bewildered and cursed the system that allowed young innocent ones to strive dangerously at this tender age.
I cursed the system that closed its eyes to its responsibilities, and encourage these innocent ones to fall preys to heartless child molesters, rapists, and ritualists, now rampant and mingling freely among these gullible young ones. I suddenly hated the system and people that have failed to see the potentials of these ingenuous future leaders and the custodian of this country. I was bemused by those heartless and foolish women who senselessly dumped or abandoned their babies on roadsides, front doors, or many other strange places, after suffering to carry them in their wombs for nine solid months. I asked myself if they really knew and appreciate the value of life, especially that of a child, whom known among us know what he or she might be tomorrow. Oh God - just give me my own child and I will show this uncaring bunch of people how to take care of an adolescent. I pray silently as we approach our imposing big house. I suddenly wished all its beauty and all the expensive materialism inside and outside the impressing mansion could turn into a child, not minding if we had to live in a small room, as long as my baby would have a space to lay his innocent head.

“Here we are – welcome back home” I heard James announced happily, cutting off my silent thoughts and wishes.

“Thank you – darling – I am happy to be home” I replied, and slowly stepped out of the car and gave him my hand. He gave me his assurance smile as he led me into our home, and I returned his kind support with a broad smile on my face and a silent resolve to stay calm and get prepared to try again, in hope that providence would have pity on us next time and faithfully give us a little child of our own.

End

Random Voices
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Ha! Devilpen...deals dey waka. Thanks. God bless you too.

THREE
Much to my surprised, blue curtain room was not untidy, as I had earlier thought and visualized. Instead we were ushered into a neat tidy room with a round Arabian rug where three elderly men sat drinking tea. Again, to my amazement the room was not so small – at least my eyes could pick out the shape of a woman as she pretended to be asleep on a wide mattress.
Thick lips instructed us to pick a space and drop our frames, which we all did gladly, our eyes staring suspiciously at three couples of strange eyes that stared back at us.

“ Who be all dis people?” one of the three men, the fattest among them demanded, staring angrily at thick lips.

“ Alhaji – na the boys wey I tell you about be dis” Thick lips quickly replied.

“ Na all of dem get something for me? Alhaji demanded again his eyes now staring curiously at us.

“ No Alhaji – Na dis my friend get the thing – we be him friend – we all dey together…” Segun quickly answered, becoming our spoke man.

“ Me, I no dey like too much eyes for market – especially market from small, small boys like una. Una market too dey bring wahala…”Alhaji complained, sipping from his steaming jug.
We all remained quite; my heart was now beating faster and at the same time excited.

“ Make I see wetin una bring – whither na better thing” Alhaji finally said pretending not to show any concern about us.

“ Dis na the correct original thing” Segun boasted with a smile as he slowly brought out the necklace from his pocket ceremoniously.
I watched closely as the eyes of the other two men with Alhaji quickly transformed into facilitations as Segun dangled the beautiful necklace proudly before our eyes. I caught the sight of the female figure on the bed as she tried to peep across the room at the necklace. Even the corny looking thick lips caught his breath on sighting the glittering pendant. But surprisingly not for Alhaji who just stared indifferently at the necklace without betraying his emotion. He stretched out his left hand after some minutes and Segun obediently dropped the necklace in his smooth chunky palm.
Alhaji stared at the beautiful piece the way a criminal stares at a conman. He turned the necklace up, side and down in his thick hands, dangled it to and fro across our curious faces, then finally dropped it into a small silver scale beside him. He noted the weight and finally stared into our novice faces, his creamy fat face now registering into something that looked like a grin.

“ Dis thing just fine for face – e no get weight and na eighteen carat” He finally announced to our disappointment, but not to his two companions and thick lips who all nodded in agreement to his verdict.
What is carat? What weight? Fine for face or eighteen carat? What the hell is this corny looking man saying? Who cares what number the chain carries? All we came here for is real money – not long corny talks about carat or weight. I thought silently as I stole glances at my two friends who were now both wearing a visible frown on their faces and I quickly follow suit.
“ Alhaji dis na the correct gold o – na from Mecca dem bring am, make you check am well, well.” Kassim finally interjected defensively, his face still in a frown.

“ Nothing concern me from where the thing commot from – me, na the weight and carat concern me. How much una wan sell am?” Alhaji finally demanded, the supposed grin on his face suddenly vanished.

“ How much you go buy am?” Segun answered, taking his place again as our spokesman and we all trusted him as a shrewd good bargainer.

“ Look, I get many things to do…why you go ask me say how much I go buy am? – No be una get una thing – see me see wahala o “ Alhaji said his face screwing up in surprise at his two companions who nodded with sympathy at him.
I stole some secret glances at my two friends again, knowing deep within us that none of us knew the actual worth of the necklace, nor could we fix a reasonable price for the fortune at that moment. I quickly detected the confusion on our faces as we all stared quietly at each other.

“ Alhaji, dis na your business – na something wey you dey buy everyday, just tell us how much you go buy am, make we hear? – kobo, albarka” Segun challenged him, coming to our rescue.

“ Okey – five thousand naira “ Alhaji offered, and smiled , conscious that we were all novice in the business.

“ Haba! Five thousand Naira, Alhaji!” I never knew when I burst out angrily to the surprise of everybody, including myself.

“ Five wetin? - Haba! Alhaji - like say we pick am…” Segun grumbled, coming to my support.
Alhaji stared quietly at him, and then rested his eyes on the female figure that had now sat up and seems to show more attention to our discussion.

“ Come how you see thing?” Alhaji asked her with sly grin.

“ Make I see am” She replied, arranging a white lace material on her beautiful curved waist as she stood up.
We all stared admiringly at her beautiful face with Alhaji’s companions smiling more broadly and making room for her as she bend down and collected the necklace from Alhaji ‘s outstretched hand.
We all watched silently as she expertly turned the necklace in her gold filled fingers. I quickly counted six rings at a role, with three gold rings in each of her three first fingers.

“Add something for dem Alhaji, the thing no bad – make una try settle,” She finally sang out in her sweet charming voice, her face wearing a seductive smile at the three of us.

“ Okey! If you say so” Alhaji struggled, then turned back to address us “ How much una wan sell am last?”

“ Last na fifteen thousand – buy am or leave am…” Kassim suddenly shot out to our surprise
Alhaji stared surprisingly at him, then at Segun who stared back at him, then at Kassim who nodded silently.

‘ Fifteen thousand! , Okay, listen, for the sake say dis my woman say make I hard something , since na women sabi dis thing pass us and again for the sake of another day, the last price wey I fit pay for dis una market na…’’ He paused deliberately to take some sips from his long forgotten mug. We all stared attentively at him, my heart pounding with an increased pace and my breath almost whispered out of my nose.
The lady pushed herself closer to Alhaji and refilled his jug with hot steaming tea from a kittle nearby.

“ Come, bring cups for our guests make dem take tea warm body, the weather take style cold today” Alhaji said , instructing thick lips, as if he was just noticing our shivering for the first time.
Like I had expected, we all quickly declined, assuring him and his associates that we were all okay. All we wanted at that particular moment was an end to the transaction and the hell out of the corny looking setting. Why didn’t he offer the tea since, which we might have gladly accepted, to calm the furious cold that had escorted us into his compound? I thought, my eyes stealing a glance at the lady who was now trying on the necklace on her neck.

“ Yes! As I was saying – the only thing wey make me wan buy dis thing na bicos na my woman go use am. Honestly, if no be so, I for no even look am – bicos market like dis too dey bring trouble and me, I no dey like trouble…no be say we dey fear am”
He finally added with a sip from his mug , then turned to admired the lady who now had the necklace beautiful fixed on her long neck

“ Alhaji, how much you wan pay for dis market ?, time dey go and we get many things to do” Kassim voiced out beside me to the surprise of Alhaji , his two companions and thick lips who all stared quietly at him. I could see embarrassment written all over the lady’s face, her slim fingers had suspended across the necklace.

Yes, Kassim was right; we have many other things to do ourselves, who want to talk about trouble now. Come on! Split it out – what are you ready to pay? I quarreled silently inside my mind, waiting for or expecting an angry reaction from Alhaji or a rough barking and slaps from the still surprised looking thick lips, whom I guessed was just waiting for a go ahead from his boss. But to my surprised, Alhaji suddenly burst into a short paroxysm of laughter, chuckling as his face creased into a corny smile.

“ Yes, young man- time is money. Bring ten thousand for dis young men, make dem go do wetin dem wan do.” He finally instructed the lady over his subsiding chuckle.

We had no option, than to collect the ten thousand naira from Alhaji, since the risk of marketing the necklace elsewhere was something we were not ready to take and worse, we knew nobody else that could buy a stolen necklace. Finally the thought of our parents getting to know in the process of marketing it was another thing we fear might happen.
Kassim stepped forward, collected the ten thousand from the lady, whom I noticed was very happy to part with the five bundles of twenty naira notes.
I took a final look at the beautiful necklace on the neck of the lady, but deep inside me I was sad that a beautiful thing like this was going out so cheap, but all the same, I joined my friends to bid Alhaji and his group a not too satisfactory farewell.
We all stubbornly ignored thick lips who insisted we must “see him” before we go. We told him point blank that we were not parting with a dime!, reminding him that the whole transaction had been to his boss favour, so therefore he should go and see him for his settlement or share as he called it.
The lady finally peep out on hearing our voices inside the compound, then with a seductive voice had commanded thick lips to allow us to go. And with this we became initiated members of the tempting world of deals.
We all stood our ground and denied any knowledge of the missing necklace few days after it was discovered. Though, we had shared the money into three parts, with Seguna and I insisting that Kassim take the highest share, despite his willingness to share equally with both of us. We stood loyally to each other, defended and protected ourselves, confident that we had all kept our shares hidden till the heat goes down. And what a scandalous heat it was. Not even the threats of bringing in the police, mallams and herbalists could scare us into betraying ourselves. Then finally, like any other thing, the matter died down, after some concerned families, friends and even few foes advised Hajia Asabe to take heart and leave everything to God, which she eventually did, since she actually had no any other option than to let go, this after much conviction that Kassim and his friends had nothing to do with it.
She weep over the stole necklace openly for some few days, and eventually forgot about the missing twenty three carat gold, we later learnt was actually worth ten times the price we had stupidly and blindly sold it to Alhaji and his seductive mistress.

Well, we had no option too later, than to bring out our respective shares and indulge ourselves with the latest fashion in town and a little fun here and there. But to our disappointment all was a short treat as the fun and excitement only lasted for some few weeks. We became full members of the world of deals. We collected jewelries and other fast deals from our “Ajebutters “ friends and act as middle men whenever they brought or stole something from home, either from an unsuspecting mother, sister or girlfriend.
We find ourselves eventually plumping deep and deeper into the world of deals.
One of the most popular deals then was the illusive Mercury Deal. We had suckered ourselves into the believe of getting easy money from mercury, with the red one becoming the most sort after. Without much knowledge, we entered and joined other group of youths desperately in search for the mysterious and illusive little substance. We scouted and traveled far and wide, but all in vain. For at the end of the whole thing, none of us was able to sell the magnetic and transparent looking liquid substance to anybody.
Kassim was always boasting to buy a new necklace for his sister, after we might have stroke another big deal to compensate her for the one he stole and we sold. We all agreed with him, with the promise to contribute from our shares immediately our mercury deal clicked. But like I said – nothing really came out from the mercury deals and the promise to buy Hajiya Asabe a new necklace became a pipe dream. Not even the consoling news of a new deal – scouting and selling of precious stones, another craze in the deals world, could bring us the collective desire of replacing the missing necklace. At the end all the genuine stones we were able to lay our hands on were constantly rejected by the always prudent and shrewd looking Lebanese business men that were supposed to buy them.
Anyway, as I write this story, I am actually expecting Segun, my prominent deal partner who was on his way with another new member who had in his possession the stolen credit card of his oldman, another new deal in our ever revolving world of deals.

END

Ahmed Dodo
Random Voices
www.okadabooks.com

“Money doesn’t come through hardness, tricks or strength, but through focus, hope and perseverance” Dodo

ONE
Deals! Almost all my mates were into it, then why shouldn’t I? This was part of the questions that kept tormenting my mind as I stared at the tiny piece of stolen fortune in my palm that morning. But what if she later finds out? The other part of my mind suddenly questioned. “I don’t know anything about it” I assured myself was exactly what I was going to say, if she eventually asked me.
My name is Bobo– though not my real name, why should I tell you my real name, when I sometimes still regret taking part in some of these deals I am about telling you. I am going to use the name Bobo as my name – for this is actually the stories of young Bobo like me who over the years have been associated with anything called deal. I belong to this generation that must carry out one deal or the other to survive and stay alive in our tough environments.
The deals actually became part of me on a sunny afternoon when two of my childhood friends visited me in my parent house, where I was still living on them as a parasite, despite my independent age. Who was I to actually go stay on my own, when almost everything in our environment seems to grow wings on the high side every day? Again, I was still view as a child in the eyes of my caring parents, although, I was almost clocking twenty-one years old.

“ Dis guy dey so? “ I heard the voice of Segun the taller of my friends inquired in pidgin as my door pushed open and they both sauntered into my always arranged one room apartment in our large family compound.

“ My friend wake up, which kind yeye sleep you still dey sleep by dis time?” Segun questioned pulling off my cover clothe, a wrapper my mother had happily dashed me to use against the seasonal furious harmattan that was now part of our environment.

“Wetin be your problem, I beg make una allow me enjoy my sleep” I pleaded back helplessly in pidgin, covering back myself and held the clothe tightly against my body in case the diehard Segun attempt to pull it again.
“Wake up! My friend , who no like sleep?” Segun hissed, and yanked off the wrapper from my struggling hands. “Wake up, see something my guy,” He whispered softly with an excited smile.

“Wetin – okay, I don wake up – wetin dey happen? Or wetin I go do for you? Sleep if you wan sleep no body stop you,” I complained, and struggled up reluctantly from my warm bed. “Deals! – my guy- na deals dey happen” Segun boasted, dangling a necklace across my face.

“ O boy make we go where we dey go – e be like say dis one still dey sleep” Kassim my other friend and age mate suggested with a smile.
I sat stupefied, and stared in awe at the piece of glittering necklace with a round pendant engraved with tiny sparkling stones. Although I was ignorant in any jewelry affairs but my mind automatically told me this was a real thing. I suddenly found myself hypnotized to one of the most beautiful necklace my innocent eyes had ever seen. But my admiration suddenly turned to fear as Segun on hearing footsteps outside my door quickly dropped the necklace into his pocket, out of sight of my innocent kid brother, who had pushed his way into my room as usual whenever my friends were around.

“Uncle Biscuit “He cried out holding Segun by the trouser.

“Junior – yes! Your Biscuit – oh God! I don forget, don’t worry I go buy you biscuit when I come back “Segun assured him picking him up.

“Biscuit “Junior repeated protesting in his hand

“Oya junior go collect biscuit from mama “I chipped in, my mind still on the necklace.

“ No biscuit “ Junior still protested knowing that I was lying to get him out of the way

“ Come Junior – oya mama” I barked with a tough voice.

“ Leave the little boy alone- wetin, na biscuit the boy ask for- wetin be your own?” Segun said, comforted the now relaxed junior who dropped down from his laps and frowned out of the room.

“ Why you no give am? - No be you e ask…” I asked with a grin.

“ Where I see am – I never take my hand touch one kobo for almost three days now” The ever jovial Segun complained, not making any move to jump into my bed as usual with him and some of my other visitors, especially the girls, as this was the only piece of furniture that young men like me always thought wise to allow in our rooms – this as traps to give us easy access to the ever curious girls.

“ Look una dey waste my time o “ Kassim voiced cut across the room, and my mind quickly flashed back to the hidden necklace in Segun’s pocket.

“ Come guys wetin dey happen “ I found myself demanding suspiciously, my eyes glued to the worn out Chinos trouser on Segun thick frame, knowing quite well that the trouser now housed one of the most expensive looking jewelries I had ever seen in my life.

“ I tell you say na deal – you dey look me like mugu” Segun smiled and dangled the necklace across my curious face excitedly again.

“ God! Where dis one commot from?” I asked as my right hand stretched towards the necklace, my eyes hypnotized by the glittering piece of art work and the sparking rainbow stones across the pendant.

“ Hey guys – look lets do this thing and get the hell out – time is running out’’
Kassim complained in real English, a language we all seldom use, preferring to flow in pigin language our dominant day to day medium of exchange and the most effective language quickly understood in the fast tempo world of deals.

“ Come cool down - wetin dey happen – who get necklace?” I demanded confronting them.

“ Asabe!” Kassim replied boldly and stared back at my inquisitive face

“Asabe!” I exclaimed with shock, but my eyes were still hypnotized to the necklace.

“ Yes, Asabe – but na me get am now.” Kassim elaborated and retrieved the necklace from my reluctant hands.

“ Come Segun ,wetin dey go on? I no understand “ I confessed, confused and excited at the same time.
Segun stared at me, smiled and dropped himself slowly on the bed. “ Tell am the story now – at least, he dey with us” He finally instructed Kassim who had now dropped the necklace in his kaftan pocket and had a wide grin on his happy face.


TWO
The early morning sun was still radiating in its warm glow as we set out to transact our first deal that day. Although, the story the confident talking Kassim had told me was disturbing, but I had no option then but to tag along and be part of the conspiracy.
Kassim had told me confidently that he had sleeked into his elder sister room Hajiya Asabe while she was in the bathroom and quietly stole the necklace from her set of jewelries.
He accused her of being too stingy – a fact that Segun and I knew very well to be true. He told us not to worry, assuring us that nothing would happen, reminding us that after all, he only stole something from his parents house – not outside. This we again nodded to, as this was part of the excuse we members of the deals world always used, whenever we strike a deal or better steal something at home. We have always consoled ourselves with the fallacy that at least we were stealing from our homes and not from outsiders.
The excited world of deals is mostly made up of rich kids from the elites and middle class, commonly refers to as the “aje butters” and the third group, made up mostly of low income street kids with the sharp knowledge of the ever frightening world of deals.
I tagged silently behind Kassim and Segun that morning as we made our way towards the rendezvous where we were suppose to meet the buyer of our first deal.
Segun confidently lead us away and we both followed silently with only the furious sound of the harmattan breeze whistling across our ears.
We finally arrived at a small tenement building, with few guys outside, who stared suspiciously at us and us at them. My mind kept debating silently within me. I kept asking myself if what we were about to do was really right. But the thought of holding or maybe owning a substantial amount of real crispy notes very soon was too tempting and overwhelming. Again, the long fantasy and imagination of dressing up in the latest “wares” (fashion) and fulfilling one or two “plans” stole any thought of right from my mind.
Yes – Segun was right – young guys like us should be ashamed for not having a common five naira to buy biscuit for small ones like Junior. Yes! A shameful thing to remain broke and silent in perjury when right in the same house you live, some sisters sees nothing wrong spending thousands of naira on glittering necklace and other illusive materialism, while their younger ones cannot afford to buy the latest pairs of canvas or jeans and T – shirts in town. A very shameful thing indeed, we had nodded and agreed to Kassim as he complained about his elder sister.
In a few minutes we shall all be smiling to the market with wad of naira notes in our pockets. I thought silently, already visualizing the blue jeans I saw on one of my cousins the last time. I knew my friends too were eager and I could imagine some visualized pictures on their minds. Well, my mind was made up – let the worst happen – after all, I cannot betray my two best friends after showing me the necklace. We had always do almost all our things together, right from childhood – so growing up and doing deals together now should not change anything. I finally convinced myself as we were ushered into a small untidy compound with wooden doors that I quickly guessed leads into untidy small rooms.
Our guard one of the guys we had met outside, smiled at us with a corny eyes, a cigarette dangling on his thick lips. We all smiled back at him and stared frightfully at his tough looking frame. He commanded us to wait and disappeared into one of the rooms with a blue worn-out curtain.
We all stared quietly at the room, then back at each other, all of us contemplating what the next action might be. God! – That was one of the most frightening days of my life. The setting looked phony and tough for my liking. But all the same, I had remained quite, my eyes never leaving the door and ready to scamper if the need arises.
Our thick lips guard finally emerged few minutes later, his smile now broader and his eyes more corny. He commanded me and Kassim to remain outside and instructed Segun to come along with him. Segun quickly protested, insisting that we must all come along. Thick lips smiled wolfishly at us and succumbed, then lead us into the room with the blue curtain, my mind beating faster than its natural pace.

‘’I am a free man. I am as light as a feather.’’-Javier Pérez de Cuéllar


ONE

The massive gates of the old colonial prison rattled noisily behind me as the two uniformed warders shut them away from curious eyes, and I was led to my new abode, where I was to spend three agonizing days, days I prayed never to witness again.
The day was a Friday and the last day before the weekend. And the judge had thought it wise to send me to cool off my heels and spend the weekend inside the four walls of a prison yard for disturbing the peace and intent to injure. So this is it, I thought silently, as I was cut off from my families, friends and foes, to await Monday, when I might be granted my liberty ones again.
My journey into this tormenting prison world had actually started two days ago when anger a very poor attributes of a gentleman had pushed me into a fight with my unfriendly neighbor, who had actually started the fight in the first place, but anger had covered my sense of logic and had pushed me foolishly to smashed a bottle on his head and in the process had caused him a serious injury that required six stitches and some days in hospital, where he was still laying in critical condition, before I was reminded. A mere argument we could both had resolved amicably. Instead, we had allowed dispute over right of space a cheap vanity thing to overtake our senses of reasoning. Well, it was too late, I thought as I was led into my new bareness room at the Awaiting Trial section of the old prison, where twenty one other inmates stared suspiciously at me with curious eyes as the uniformed guards locked up the rusty but strong looking iron door and I found myself suddenly curtained away from freedom and peace.




TWO

I stared sullenly at the round shape of a bright shining moon from the iron barred window in the crowded cell, and listened to the loud snoring of tired bodies lying next to me, I suddenly appreciated how marvelous my old mattress at home had been and the privacy I had hitherto enjoyed every night at home, alone in my small tidy room. What won’t I have given to be free and laying on my mattress even with the option of not stepping out throughout the day or week? At least it was still better than this secluded cage, where the freedom to shut my eyes and sleep off peacefully is as impossible as trying to spray one’s hand and attempt to fly up like a bird. What won’t I do this night just to be free and be able to use the bathroom as usual and ease myself freely without being authorized to do so?, as was obtainable in this dingy room.
It was an experience that had shocked me when I had attempted to ease myself of tormenting urine inside the smelly little room provided as toilet. But a loud voice from one of the prisoners had commanded that I must see the ‘OC in charge first to give me approval and I had waited with discomfort for my turn and made to keep the place clean as a newcomer after a hard looking Inmate, whose duty as the officer in charge of toilet, finally gave me the go ahead.
I had never done a more horrifying chore like the one I did that night. The stench from the dark unlighted urine flooded room was enough to send any sane mind into insanity and deflate his or her pride and ego. I had thrown up twice and held my nose throughout the twenty minutes exercise that seemed to have lasted two hours.
Finally, I was allowed to squeeze my tired disoriented body among other sleeping inmates who seemed to have accustomed their body and mind to the hard concrete floor and the constant tormenting whizzes noises of the abundant mosquitoes. I tried everything humanly to fight the small tiny creatures all-night, before I unconsciously succumbed to sleep and a dreamless night.




THREE
The two other days in my new caged world were up to this moment the most terrifying days of my life. I still find it hard to believe that a place like this existed in my country. My hitherto perception of a prison was no luxury house though, but not a house of hell as well. To me this was a house well out of a horror movie. How best could I have described a place where hundreds of able bodied men are locked up day and night, hunger and depression slowly eating away their creative minds and aspirations? Or what should I call a world where innocent beings were crammed like sardines with hardened criminals and left to break down permanently or waste away awaiting a long overdue court judgment, where their freedom lies in the hands of other fellow human beings who decide and has the final right to set them free like sheep to pasture in unwelcome societies.

The rattling of our old rusted iron cell door early the next morning after my first night, had jotted me abruptly from my uncomfortable dreamless sleep, as I stared frightening at the bulky shape of the morning warder, bumming loudly to everyone in the crammed cell to wake up to another dehumanizing day. We were all lined up outside and counted like sheep in the abattoir, waiting for the butcher’s long knife. The fat unsmiling warder assisted by other two unsmiling and unfriendly colleagues took note of our numbers and after assuring themselves that none among us had thought it stupid to escape the previous night, a suicide mission only a stupid fool would attempt, ordered us back into the smelling cell and locked us ones again from freedom and the morning fresh air.
I could have done anything to have been left out to soak my nose and body in that free fresh air. I would have gladly with a wide smile on my face sweep the whole prison yard, filled up plenty drums of water or wash many horrifying bathrooms, just to be left outside, away from the cage like cell that morning. I would not have mind nor give a darm if they had ordered me to stay stacked naked and roam around the big wall of the massive compound, amidst the curious eyes of other prisoners or warders, just to remain away from that one single lice infested room, where many disease were roaming freely, scouting for the next victim to descend on. I would have given out my blemish food ratio of the whole day gladly, just to be left outside to stare freely at the rising sun, and feel that sweet morning breeze as it blew comfortably across my face, free from conscious and unconscious farting and other human stench boldly abode in that room.
I would have gladly presented my buttock to be whip a thousand times, to be free from that airless room, away from unwashed bodies, demoralized and abandoned by their fellow country men and women in authority.


FOUR

I spent the last night of my three horrible days awake all night, praying, waiting and hopeful that the fat warder would come and wake us up with his big baton rattling loudly against the iron door earlier than usual. Today was my D-Day, a day that would decide my fate of either to remain a caged human being in this dehumanizing four walls or a free man with freedom written boldly all over my face, with a free smile, a free will and all the other unquantifiable features that make up a free man. Thank God, my victim was now back home from the hospital and now feeling much better, this all important life and death information I had gathered from a visiting relative earlier yesterday, so my fate now lies in the hand of the judge whom I pray would have leniency on me and grant me bail and that unquantifiable ticket to freedom.
I listened quietly as my other fellow inmates snored on and probably had the privileged of visiting the dreamland, one natural exercise that occurs ones in awhile in this place.
I noticed that few among them were also already awake and over heard some of them praying, wondering which among them hope to taste the sweetness of liberty that day just like me.
The loud horns from cars as they speed pass our walled world, spurred up my determination and hope to leave the place and go back home a freeman and a reformed one, with a self promise never to fight anybody again, even resolving to ensure that I give my other chin to any of my adversary who might be tempted to taste my patience again.
After all, that was the way the scriptures taught us to do in circumstances that had brought me to this place. I reminded myself silently, as I saw the big frame of the fat warder sleeked up to our cell door. I watched him with a grin, as he gave out his first loud bang of the morning, catching the other tired malnourished sleeping bodies unaware, rattling their ears awake to another degrading day.


End

Random Voices
www.okadabooks.com

‘’I am a free man. I am as light as a feather.’’-Javier Pérez de Cuéllar


ONE

The massive gates of the old colonial prison rattled noisily behind me as the two uniformed warders shut them away from curious eyes, and I was led to my new abode, where I was to spend three agonizing days, days I prayed never to witness again.
The day was a Friday and the last day before the weekend. And the judge had thought it wise to send me to cool off my heels and spend the weekend inside the four walls of a prison yard for disturbing the peace and intent to injure. So this is it, I thought silently, as I was cut off from my families, friends and foes, to await Monday, when I might be granted my liberty ones again.
My journey into this tormenting prison world had actually started two days ago when anger a very poor attributes of a gentleman had pushed me into a fight with my unfriendly neighbor, who had actually started the fight in the first place, but anger had covered my sense of logic and had pushed me foolishly to smashed a bottle on his head and in the process had caused him a serious injury that required six stitches and some days in hospital, where he was still laying in critical condition, before I was reminded. A mere argument we could both had resolved amicably. Instead, we had allowed dispute over right of space a cheap vanity thing to overtake our senses of reasoning. Well, it was too late, I thought as I was led into my new bareness room at the Awaiting Trial section of the old prison, where twenty one other inmates stared suspiciously at me with curious eyes as the uniformed guards locked up the rusty but strong looking iron door and I found myself suddenly curtained away from freedom and peace.




TWO

I stared sullenly at the round shape of a bright shining moon from the iron barred window in the crowded cell, and listened to the loud snoring of tired bodies lying next to me, I suddenly appreciated how marvelous my old mattress at home had been and the privacy I had hitherto enjoyed every night at home, alone in my small tidy room. What won’t I have given to be free and laying on my mattress even with the option of not stepping out throughout the day or week? At least it was still better than this secluded cage, where the freedom to shut my eyes and sleep off peacefully is as impossible as trying to spray one’s hand and attempt to fly up like a bird. What won’t I do this night just to be free and be able to use the bathroom as usual and ease myself freely without being authorized to do so?, as was obtainable in this dingy room.
It was an experience that had shocked me when I had attempted to ease myself of tormenting urine inside the smelly little room provided as toilet. But a loud voice from one of the prisoners had commanded that I must see the ‘OC in charge first to give me approval and I had waited with discomfort for my turn and made to keep the place clean as a newcomer after a hard looking Inmate, whose duty as the officer in charge of toilet, finally gave me the go ahead.
I had never done a more horrifying chore like the one I did that night. The stench from the dark unlighted urine flooded room was enough to send any sane mind into insanity and deflate his or her pride and ego. I had thrown up twice and held my nose throughout the twenty minutes exercise that seemed to have lasted two hours.
Finally, I was allowed to squeeze my tired disoriented body among other sleeping inmates who seemed to have accustomed their body and mind to the hard concrete floor and the constant tormenting whizzes noises of the abundant mosquitoes. I tried everything humanly to fight the small tiny creatures all-night, before I unconsciously succumbed to sleep and a dreamless night.




THREE
The two other days in my new caged world were up to this moment the most terrifying days of my life. I still find it hard to believe that a place like this existed in my country. My hitherto perception of a prison was no luxury house though, but not a house of hell as well. To me this was a house well out of a horror movie. How best could I have described a place where hundreds of able bodied men are locked up day and night, hunger and depression slowly eating away their creative minds and aspirations? Or what should I call a world where innocent beings were crammed like sardines with hardened criminals and left to break down permanently or waste away awaiting a long overdue court judgment, where their freedom lies in the hands of other fellow human beings who decide and has the final right to set them free like sheep to pasture in unwelcome societies.

The rattling of our old rusted iron cell door early the next morning after my first night, had jotted me abruptly from my uncomfortable dreamless sleep, as I stared frightening at the bulky shape of the morning warder, bumming loudly to everyone in the crammed cell to wake up to another dehumanizing day. We were all lined up outside and counted like sheep in the abattoir, waiting for the butcher’s long knife. The fat unsmiling warder assisted by other two unsmiling and unfriendly colleagues took note of our numbers and after assuring themselves that none among us had thought it stupid to escape the previous night, a suicide mission only a stupid fool would attempt, ordered us back into the smelling cell and locked us ones again from freedom and the morning fresh air.
I could have done anything to have been left out to soak my nose and body in that free fresh air. I would have gladly with a wide smile on my face sweep the whole prison yard, filled up plenty drums of water or wash many horrifying bathrooms, just to be left outside, away from the cage like cell that morning. I would not have mind nor give a darm if they had ordered me to stay stacked naked and roam around the big wall of the massive compound, amidst the curious eyes of other prisoners or warders, just to remain away from that one single lice infested room, where many disease were roaming freely, scouting for the next victim to descend on. I would have given out my blemish food ratio of the whole day gladly, just to be left outside to stare freely at the rising sun, and feel that sweet morning breeze as it blew comfortably across my face, free from conscious and unconscious farting and other human stench boldly abode in that room.
I would have gladly presented my buttock to be whip a thousand times, to be free from that airless room, away from unwashed bodies, demoralized and abandoned by their fellow country men and women in authority.


FOUR

I spent the last night of my three horrible days awake all night, praying, waiting and hopeful that the fat warder would come and wake us up with his big baton rattling loudly against the iron door earlier than usual. Today was my D-Day, a day that would decide my fate of either to remain a caged human being in this dehumanizing four walls or a free man with freedom written boldly all over my face, with a free smile, a free will and all the other unquantifiable features that make up a free man. Thank God, my victim was now back home from the hospital and now feeling much better, this all important life and death information I had gathered from a visiting relative earlier yesterday, so my fate now lies in the hand of the judge whom I pray would have leniency on me and grant me bail and that unquantifiable ticket to freedom.
I listened quietly as my other fellow inmates snored on and probably had the privileged of visiting the dreamland, one natural exercise that occurs ones in awhile in this place.
I noticed that few among them were also already awake and over heard some of them praying, wondering which among them hope to taste the sweetness of liberty that day just like me.
The loud horns from cars as they speed pass our walled world, spurred up my determination and hope to leave the place and go back home a freeman and a reformed one, with a self promise never to fight anybody again, even resolving to ensure that I give my other chin to any of my adversary who might be tempted to taste my patience again.
After all, that was the way the scriptures taught us to do in circumstances that had brought me to this place. I reminded myself silently, as I saw the big frame of the fat warder sleeked up to our cell door. I watched him with a grin, as he gave out his first loud bang of the morning, catching the other tired malnourished sleeping bodies unaware, rattling their ears awake to another degrading day.


End

Random Voices
www.okadabooks.com

‘’ Opportunity makes a thief.’’- Francis Bacon

Today was his lucky day he thought silently as he smartly picked the wallet from the back pocket of the unsuspecting old traveler. It was one of the smoothest thefts he had performed of recent. The crowded hotel elevator had provided him the cover and the act had been quick and successful and it was time he quickly get away from the vicinity before the old man raise the alarm that was bound to come, he reasoned with a happy hidden grin on his oily face. Flagging down a commercial motor cycle, he jumped on the back seat and a few minutes later he disembarked, paid off the young Okada guy happily and walked casually into the large crowded market and then easily disappeared among the busy traders and customers with nobody paying him any attention.
Getting into his one room apartment, he fetched out the old man’s skin wallet and eagerly went through the content. He could not believe his luck when he saw among other notes a one hundred dollar American note. He quickly tried to estimate the value, but he was too excited to think properly, so he wisely folded the dollar bill, wrapped it in a black polythene bag and hide it in his secret hideout, inside the ceiling. This one is for the rainy days, he thought happily. He counted the remaining notes and smiles when he realized he was some thousands Naira richer all of a sudden. He folded the naira notes and safely tucked them away into his inner pocket. He locked his door and casually strolled out, whistling away as he returned to the streets.
He woke up the next day around midday, he was still nursing the hangover of the previous night and cursed silently as he realized he had lost almost all the money he went out with last night to some cheap prostitutes he had met at the bar. But thank God, he was wise to have kept his precious American Dollar in his safe place. He thought with a grin, then jumped out of bed and went straight for his treasure, but to his horror the polythene bag was nowhere to be found. He suddenly went berserk, scattering everywhere in his room and cursing slowly as he searched desperately for the hundred dollar bill. Luck finally came his way about an hour later after some extensive search. He found the money somewhere inside his ceiling, but half of it was now torn off and the other half eaten away. He cursed out loudly, and suddenly sobs greedily.
He sat dejected inside his room, his eyes never leaving the half eaten note and his ripped off ceiling. He was still nursing his loss, when his eyes suddenly caught the sight of a big rat starring silently at him from the ceiling, and he went berserk again. He quickly locked up all the escape routes inside his room and went after the rat. His effort was rewarded some minutes later as he won his one man battle against the helpless rat and angrily killed it, and ripped open it belly in search of his hundred dollar bill. He stared miserably at the pieces of dollar note among other undigested materials inside the dead rat.

End
Random Voices
www.okadabooks.com

Inspiration from God. Thanks

‘’Just because a man lacks the use of his eyes doesn’t mean he lacks vision.’’- Steve Wonder


ONE

“Wow! What a beauty – this is my dream car” I heard one of the female voices besides me announced with an excited and breath taking tone to her friend as they both giggle happily beside me by the bus stop. Though I could not see or make out what they both look like but my long years of experience as a blind man had built up my inner vision – what we the blind call the inner eyes. The invisible subconscious eyes that only the blind posses. With this, I was able to conclude that I was standing not too far away from two young women, with good taste and a strong quest for the enormous beautiful things of life that have been ordained from birth that men like me and other blind men and women around mother’s earth would not have the privilege to see and admire. But thank God, at least, I could still smell their sweet perfume and hear their gossips within the short time at the bus stop.
So I stray my ears to hear what these beautiful women were saying. I imagined them looking as beautiful and gaily as their voices, but this was something I could only visualized as well, just as I have always over the years visualized and imagined the beauty and shapes of anything around me.

“I can’t wait to get home and try on this new dress in the full view of my standing mirror” The other girl continued after sometime. “I know the shape of the dress will come out fully and show my perfect figure” she giggles softly. “And all those curious eyes will almost jump out of their sockets”

I heard her friend giggled loudly before saying “ I trust you and your shape”

I wish I could see this talked about shape and decide if she really had a beautiful figure as she was making out. But shapes, size, and colors, including beauty were strangers to me.
I was born blind more than sixty years ago and a blind man I had grown up to be, accepting my fate and believing that the creator knew why he decided to send me into this hard struggling world as a blind man. Though, I sometime wish I could have my eyesight even just for a day to behold all the beautiful and astonishing things I have over the years heard about. Things like the sun, which I could only describe as a hot ball hanging up in the sky, the moon which I have never seen nor feel its impact like the sun or the so much described stars, which I was meant to understand are tiny looking shining balls scattered across the invisible sky.
I equally wish more than anything that I could see how I look like in person and also the shape and frames of the other millions of people around me. I sometimes visualized how colours look like and the many structures of trees; especially those with those sweet fruits I have over the years cherished. Like mango, guava, orange, pawpaw, water melon, dates and the other tasty ones so numerous to mention. Even though I have cherished eating meat and fish over the years, I still wish I could see what a goat, a cow or a fish look like, including the others various domestic animals around me, like ducks, fowls, chickens and even small rodent like rats.
I wish for the day fate would smile on me and give me a glimpse of that friendly animal called dog that has restored hope to many blind humans like me across the globe, acting as guide dogs. I also wish I could see the strong shape of a horse as I was meant to know.
Yes, I sometime have these strong wishes inside me, but I never allowed them to deprived me to enjoy my days on earth, nor closed my ears to different gossips and talks as they daily fly freely around me.




TWO

I made my way carefully along the swampy road leading to my one room lonely apartment. The sun, I was meant to know has since gone down and using my inner eyes, I quickly deduced that the day was fast approaching another night. Every day to me has always been dark and night alike since I found myself as a blind man among my fellow human beings. What has brightness or light got to do with me? Tell me about the change in weather and I will quickly tell you if its winter, summer, dry season, rainy season or the cold windy season. All these I could feel, touch and perceive, not minding that I can never see their features.
I am on my way back into my lonely world and lonely thoughts. I wondered, like always, what it would be like to have a woman and a small family waiting for me at home. But providence has also denied me a woman I could call a wife, as well a child I could never see to call my own.
I suddenly remembered the two ladies I had earlier met at the bus stop earlier in the day and reminisce over some of their gossips and strong desires for material things. Things I could never see, but already have mental picture about.
I had listened silently as they both wished for so many different things that existed under the sun, as we boded the popular city transit bus, and they had been kind enough to assist me get into the bus and sat me behind them, though I was meeting them for the first time. I listened as they both wished for rich husbands, healthy and fine kids and big beautiful house with posh cars to drive around. All their wishes had flashed through my mind as I tried to picture how they look like. The world I was told is abound with new technologies and devices like the big roaring bird in the sky I was told could carry five to a thousand people at a go. The airplane to me is one of the most mysterious creations of the human being, this apart from a small machine I owned at home that telecast people’s voices, they called it the radio and another one called televeision, I was told could even televise pictures and images, which I wished I could see.
A ride in a moving machine had always mystified me, though I could not see how they look like, but I could feel their power and their mystery. How does a car, a bus, a bicycle, a motor cycle, a train, a plane or a ship look like? How do these mysterious awe sounding engines look like? And what shape do they have? All these are part of the constant questions in my life.

I made the last bend to my house, and confidently increased my steps, as I heard some voices complaining that the Electricity Company had just took the light. Who cares, I thought silently wondering what this popular electricity look like. I grinned, and imagined what they would do if they were in my shoes, none of these grumbling neighbors would ever want to switch position with me, even for a day, I concluded, as I finally pushed my stick forward and identified the familiar entrance. I made my way silently towards my compound and expertly unlocked my door and stepped into my room, shutting the door behind me, away from mosquitoes; those tormenting little creatures with annoying buzzing and painful bites. I have always wondered what the little rascals look like, after crushing any unfortunate one in my powerful palms.
Dropping my guarding stick, my most fateful companion over the years, I got myself a cup of water from a jug nearby and drank down this sweet liquid of life with relish, again with a wish as usual for an opportunity to see and know what this important liquid of existence look like.
I suddenly smiled to myself , remembering that I could still always smile happily, though I could not see or know how a smile look like , but many people I have come across, said I have a fine happy smile. Why not appreciate what I have? I thought silently as I settled down to eat my dinner, sweet food, but I could not make out what it look like. I thought silently and munched away.
Few minutes later, I dropped my tired frame on my old mattress to rest and wait for another day to smile in and probably I might be among the lucky ones alive. I know though, I won’t see the features of the day and the other creations abounded, but I would feel and smell it presence just like all the other days I have been lucky to witnessed as a blind man.

End

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‘’You must despise your enemy strategically, but respect him tactically.’’ MaoZedong

Nobody could really tell why they were the worst enemies around. But the fact was that they hated each other so much that they don’t greet each, don’t contribute to each other conversations, laugh at each other jokes, nor allow their wives and children to do the same. They don’t drink water from the same stream, share the same friends, patronize the same vendor, and allow even their domestic animals like chickens; goats and sheep to mingle, nor go to the same ceremonies or discuss each other among families, friends and foes. In fact, they hated meeting each other accidentally along the way, at the markets, or at burials.
What everyone in the tiny community knew about the two men apart from their profession of both been farmers was the distinct fact that they were the worst of two enemies around the village, including the surrounding villages around their heterogeneous setting and all efforts by the village head, kinsmen, and other concerned humans like them have so far proved abortive over the years. Again, the fact that they share the same fence did not help matter as both had stubbornly vowed not to move or sell his property to buy another elsewhere just to please the other. To them, they were enemies for life, unless one of them was willing to accept the other as better and more gifted.

That was the way the two men and their families lived over the years in their village. The only visible sign that they shared anything in common was the fact that they were both naturally short, and almost of the same height. But since they hated standing close to each other nobody could really distinguished who among the two was taller. Although they both had different colour, while one was black the other was yellow, but they still carried the same physical structure and swaggered superciliously among other taller people.
Mr. Black and Mr. Yellow as they were both distinctively addressed by all and sundry, excluding their immediate families who call them Baba (Father) at home, were really two of the various queer characters created among humans on earth. Surprisingly these two men belong to the same religious faith, although they never attended the same sermons, but they read and studied the same Holy Book. The fact was that the two enemies didn’t really care if they shared a free world, comprising of a free air, a free distinct sun, and a peculiar moon. Their enmity never pricked their stubborn conscience to the fact that none of them had a say in the free rain that seasonally watered their farms and yielded them abundant crops. They failed to grab the reality that they were both just like other human beings on earth , sharing a temporary space and that naked they came into the world and naked they shall both returned as well, with their stubbornness changing no part of the metrics of each day. The reality was that they hated each other passionately, but no one around could really discerned who hated each other more among the two, until an incidence happened naturally along the way one day.

It was a rainy day and both had no option that day than to paddle their old bicycles along the slippery bridge that lead everyone else in the village back to their homes from their farms. The human traffic on the bridge on this particularly evening was heavy and everyone hurried off across the slippery bridge towards his and her aboard. The two enemies were also among those that rushed down home from the heavy rain and thundering sky. It was actually Mr. Yellow, who was pushing his bicycle that first sighted Mr. Black, as he also pushed his bicycle frantically away ahead of him. So, avoiding meeting up with him on the same road despite the heavy rain, he turned and make to take another route, but he suddenly slipped his foot and down he went.
He plummeted into the moving current of water below the bridge with his bicycle. The heavy current of rain water plunged him away and everyone around gaped miserably at his short frame as the water ferried him away and his old bicycle swallowed by the river. Then to everyone surprised, Mr. Black, who also saw what happened, first stared mischievously with a cynical smile at his worst enemy as the current of water stole him away, then all of a sudden he pushed everyone aside and bravely dived into the water and went after him. Everyone around watched the impending tragedy as the two enemies battled the current of water, and Mr. Yellow who apparently could not swim was almost getting drowned by the water. But, Mr. Black exhibited his great skill of swimming as he heroically went after his enemy under the water and to everyone relieved rescued his weak body from the deep river and single-handedly carried him ashore.

Everyone around clapped and rushed to them excitedly and praised him for his courageous deed. In fact, most of them hoped and believed it was the end of their enmity. But they got the shock of their lives when Mr. Black, after helping to revived Mr. Yellow back to life, stared cynically at him again and then to everyone’s ears said.

‘’ I saved you just for one purpose, I don’t want you to have a free ticket to heaven as a drowned man, and since our religion taught us and make us understand that any person who died through drowning automatically goes to heaven, why then should I allow you to have that privilege?’’ He demanded from his enemy, strengthened his wet clothes and then sauntered away without another glance at him.

End

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‘’A fool always finds a greater fool to admire him.’’ -Nicolas Boileau-Despréaux


One
He came into the bus, puffing and staring suspiciously at everyone inside the old rickety Danfo bus. He arrogantly refused to seat on a seat behind me where I was patiently sitting with two other passengers when the conductor, a tough looking youth, with rough looks and a hard tough voice asked him to climb in.
“No! I can’t seat behind” Our new passenger replied stubbornly. I noticed his right hand, was constantly guarding the right hand pocket of his trouser and seems he wanted nobody to touch him.
‘Make we go now – abi na only him be the passenger “One of the passengers quarreled angrily in pidgin.
“Oga please enter and save our time. What is wrong with sitting behind? Are we not people like you?” The passenger close to me asked, hissed and mopped his sweaty face with his palm.
“No problem you can go. But I am not sitting behind.” The new passenger insisted stubbornly, making to join another bus at the busy bus stop.
“Enter oga there is a space here.” The passenger sitting directly in front of us, suddenly offered, making more room for the new passenger to sit down.
“Thank you my friend” The new passenger said, eyed the seat suspiciously and then finally humped into the bus, his right hand still protecting his right pocket tightly.
Almost everyone on the bus hived a sign of relieve as the driver engaged gears and droved back into the moving mid afternoon traffic. The day was one of those hot sunny afternoons, when the sun thought it wise to show it face in a furious mood. Going about in a commuter bus daily from one office to another, in search of my daily bread, was not something new to me. What option did I, like most of my fellow poor starving country men and women have, than to daily hop about in dead rickety buses on our way to our different strives.
The economy was really getting more depressing and things like joining a taxi was almost becoming impossible for the average citizen. So going about in cheap buses was our only means of cheap transportation. Old and out of date buses, where helpless passengers are crammed like sardines, suffering and smiling, like my late country legend Fela rightly defined.

I sat silently, my head constantly peeping out to catch some fresh air and take a glance at many suffering faces of my fellow country men and women who roam about in the hot sun in search of how to survive for the day under the most hashed economy environment in a rich nation. I sat thoughtfully, as the bus rode on, stopping here and there to pick or drop a passenger. I noticed that the arrogant passenger was not finding it too comfortable the way he was constantly made to get up for a passenger to either get in or drop off.
“Look I am tired with this stand up and sit down o… Come what is wrong with you?” He finally demanded angrily.
“ Oga me too I don taya with you o. why you no go sit down for back, abi the people wey dey back no be people like you? “ The conductor suddenly burst out, loosing his already accumulated patience.
“Come relax – wetin be your problem - why you dey talk to dis oga like dis , abi you dey craze” The passenger who had offered the man a seat, suddenly barked at the conductor, to everyone surprise. “ No mind am oga , come dis side, make I sit down for your place” The kind passenger suggested, standing up from his seat.
“Thank you my brother – God bless you” The arrogant passenger answered gladly and they both swapped their seats. The kind passenger was now sitting on his right side. I noticed his right hand was now out of his pocket and he was now in a relaxed mood.
I sat back and waited for the reply from the conductor, knowing conductors in this town, don’t normally take barking orders from passengers in their ‘office’, as they now coined their buses. It is nothing strange when you enter a bus and the first thing you notice are different stickers with different inscriptions, welcoming you. Inscriptions such as Welcome to my office, Please respect yourself, or No money – No friend. No Smoking, Glory be to God or probably pictures of local and international stars, affixed to the windscreens and other parts of the buses.
“ Look Mr. Man – you no go come teach me my job for my office o. Wetin concern you inside dis talk – sabi - sabi” The expected shot finally came from the angry looking conductor, his blood shot eyes glaring with rage at both the kind passenger and his new friend.
“My guy –e be like say you dey craze o , Na me you dey talk to like dat. Come you know who I be? I go deal with you if you no take time “The kind guy boasted, half rising up threatening from his seat.
“Who you be” You no fit do me anything. All dis na shakara – na today.” The conductor challenged, calling his bluffs.

“ Look, Mr. man – I beg drop if you no want peace, me na peace I take dey work for dis moto – wetin . Haba! Na only una dey dis bus , come no be by force. If una no wan go , make una drop, other passengers dey for road” The driver suddenly quarreled, coming to the aid of his conductor.
“ I beg make una cool down make we reach where we dey go safely. Dis one wey una dey quarrel inside bus like dis” One of the ladies inside the bus pleaded, her face looking tired and eager to reach her destination.
I sat quietly, my eyes staring expressionless at the other passengers. I was also tired and eager to drop out of the bus. The tension inside the bus was gradually building up. I feared it might result into throwing punches any moment. A scene I was familiar with almost every day inside our buses. And right now, I was not in the mood to poke noise into other people’s affairs, not especially this kind of cheap stupid fight.
Fighting was now part of our daily existence. Fights over material things, due to the harsh economy pressure on the average Nigerian, who was now finding it very hard to survive and interact peacefully with his fellow country men and women.
I sat back and quietly try to comprehend the reason why fighting was now so visible in almost all sphere of our lives. I once again concluded on the theory that “A hungry man – will always be an angry man”. Yes, my people were hungry, so they should be angry. Why shouldn’t they, when almost everything seems to be getting worst everyday, without a sign of relieve? I concluded.
I noticed that the fighting party inside the bus had now decided to suspend their cheap barking and that the kind passenger and his arrogant new friend, were now discussing among themselves. I overheard them talking about the weather as I try to make myself comfortable in the tight seat. Why is everything not working in my country? I thought silently, and wondered why the government can’t provide a good cheap transportation system for the poor populace, just as it is done in other countries around the world.
I visualized an organized bus system, where people could queue up and get transported on cheap subsidized prices. Instead of leaving the helpless low income citizens in the hands of over jealous, greedy private transport owners’ in the name of deregulation.
I silently wondered why our rail system is still being left to waste away when this system could be revive to help assist the suffering cheap income earners in their transportation problems. Again, I shook my head sadly remembering the news I heard not quite long of greedy saboteurs among my fellow country men who without the fear of God or sympathy for their fellow human beings, have now find business in vandalizing and stealing off some of the railway tracks across the country.
What kind of wicked and heartless people will go and steal rail lines. God! Things are really getting out of hands. What is really wrong with my dear country? I questioned myself again, as the now silent bus speed down the long congested road.

TWO
Few passengers dropped down happily on the way and two other new ones joined us, grumbling as they were pushed behind and sandwiched among us at the rear. Our two new friends, I noticed had now become so close and were busy exchanging names and addresses. The conductor I noticed on the other hand was still wearing a strong frown, his eyes occasionally stealing wicked glances at both of them.
“Take- bifor Roundabout, I pay for two of us.”
The kind man suddenly announced, trusting a fifty naira note at the still angry looking conductor, who snatched the money away with a frown.
“Driver bifor dey” he told the driver and handed the kind man a ten naira change.
“Keep the change I dash you” the kind man said, ignoring the change.
“Thank you. I no need your change” the conductor replied, dropping the change carelessly on the man’s lap.
“Thank you my brother-no mind am collect your change…e no deserve am.” The arrogant passenger said, picked the money and handed it to his new friend, who pocketed the money and grinned at the conductor, who stared back, his eyes still blazing.
“No problem, just drop me for bifor roundabout..” The kind man said as the bus swung out of the road on nearing the next roundabout.
The kind passenger stood up and bid his new friend good bye. ”Una safe journey o” he bid everyone and happily dropped out of the bus. I thought I could see a wide grin on his face as he dropped and confidently cross over the road. Another new passenger soon joined us and the bus rejoined the moving traffic.
We had hardly traveled few miles when suddenly we all heard a loud shout. “Stop driver yeh! my money” This from the arrogant passenger, whose arrogant face now suddenly looked confused and stupid.
“Driver stop!, stop!, my money. I can’t find my money now! now! now!” the man shouted springing up to his feet, almost colliding with the passenger next to him.
“Oga wetin again, stop for wetin?” The driver asked from the steering, ignoring the man’s hysterical shouts as he continued down the road.
“I say stop, my money- abi you no dey hear stop, somebody don steal my money.” The man cried out to our astonishment.
“Stop driver “Some of the passenger finally told the driver who reluctantly swung out of the road again grumbling with his conductor. Finally the conductor angrily opened the door and we all filled out of the bus with grumbles, including the driver.
“Yes, wetin dey happen?” the driver demanded angrily staring at the confused looking arrogant passenger who was busy emptying all his pockets.
“What is the problem?” another passenger asked walking up to the man.
“My money, the ten thousand naira I just collected from the bank –now-now, I can’t find it”
“Ten thousand naira, where you keep am.?” Another passenger asked, staring confusingly at him.
“Here, inside my right pocket, five, five, hundred naira notes. I am just from the bank. Yeh!” The man screamed and stared at all of us, displaying his empty right pocket.
“Ha! e don fall Mugu” the conductor announced his face twisting into a satisfactory grin.
“Sorry, Oga, e be like say you don fall to pick pockets, since when you no notice the money again?” Another passenger asked with a mockery smile.
“I say na now!- now!- now!. Money wey I carry enter dis bus”The man replied peeped back into the bus and searched all the seats.
“Oga you sure say no be that man wey siddon near you pick this your money so?” I slowly suggested, my eyes assisting in the search going on inside the bus.
“Yes! o. It could be true “Another passenger supported my view. “Where did he drop?”
“Drop- forget dat one don waka, shebi na him friend- e go nowhere he go see am” The conductor said. His face now wears a wide grin and mockery look.
“I no know am o. Na today I just meet am, che! now! now! now! -ten thousand naira… Five- five hundred naira notes.- che!., dis man don kill me today” Our arrogant passenger cried out and his eyes stared faraway towards where his kind new friend had dropped.

” Well oga – we na go we dey so. You fit rush back go check where the man drop, may be you fit get luck see am. Oya make una enter moto make we dey go, my hour don dey go” The driver finally announced, climbing back into the bus.
The man stared quietly at some of us, then quickly darted across the road and rushed down in panic towards the roundabout.
I watched him silently as he dashed off and disappeared among the crowd on the busy street. I shook my head and quickly climbed back into the now accelerating bus.
“Na waho! and the man was so very nice to him. Kai! dis country, - na only God go save us. The passenger next to me exclaimed with surprise.
“Na him take him hand buy trouble for himself. Sebi na back seat I say make e siddon , wey he wan fight me. He think say him get sense - mu- mu – wise fool.” The conductor happily announced, and turned to collect his fares from a passenger.
“Yes- a wise fool- the arrogant passenger the conductor had rightly christened. He had allowed himself to fall cheaply to an old trick, swapping seats with a kind stranger. Thank God, my last fifty naira which was my transport fare, was still safely tucked where I had prudently hidden it. I pulled it out and held it in my hand tightly , waiting to reach my destination before paying, in order to collect my change and avoid any unforeseen embarrassed moment of also becoming a wise fool. I thought silently as all the passengers now stare suspiciously at each other.

END
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‘’We could never learn to be brave and patient, if there were only joy in the world.’’
- Helen Keller


ONE

God please don’t let it rain today again, I prayed silently as I crawled hurriedly towards my temporary shelter where I have been hanging for the past two weeks, daily begging passerby for arms. At the same time, my eyes and senses were fully alert to my real mission in the rich business area of our Federal Capital city, a rich environment not meant for people like me, hundreds of thousands like me who were view as incomplete human beings because of our deformities and physically challenged frames. A condition none of us prayed for nor had hands in creating. But our fellow human beings especially those in this part of the world hardly understand or care to know.
I am a cripple , I was born unfortunate with no legs or rather with two sets of stumps which on a carefree look has the similarity of a normal grown human limps, but a proper glance would revealed what I am to you; a full grown man with small legs that could never carry the big weight of my frame. I lost my parents at a tender age and found myself growing up among a group of old folks who could hardly survived on their own, and few years later I found myself alone with the passing away of these kind hearted people who taught me how to be humble and appreciate myself the way I am. But the condition in my country won’t allow me the privilege of earning my living in a humble way. Instead, I was forced to result to begging or other dehumanized services to survive, like the other millions of physically challenged people in our rich, disorganized country.



You might be surprise why I pleaded to God not to let a much needed rain fall as I ran to my shelter. I was not trying to be greedy or self centered, because a farmer might not take it kindly with me, if he happens to hear such prayer from my mouth. But the truth is, I was eager to end what brought me from our long abandoned settlement, inside one of the far away slums within the capital and gladly return home to endure with more suffering and neglect ion.

My journey actually began one morning after a friend who happens to be a cripple himself told me the cheering news of a Good Samaritan he had stumbled upon one day on his way to his daily begging. The Good Samaritan he told me had been kind enough to dashed him twenty thousand naira to start his much cherished phone card business, and since then his life had changed for the better. He was one of my closest poor friends and I had noticed instantly that truly his life was now far better than many of us and he had that dignified look of a proud business man something most of us craved to become one day.
To cut the story short, my good friend gave me the name of this gentleman or rather what he assumed was his name and encouraged me to try my luck if I could trace him, since he never knew where he stays, but gave me a clue to the area he had luckily stumbled into him and over heard two different passerby addressed him with the moniker ‘lawyer’.




TWO

I thanked my friend and quickly organized myself with my scarce resources and bode an expensive ride into the city and painfully into one of the most expensive areas in the capital where only over charge taxis and privately run vehicles plies. And because of the negligence attitude of our people, especially those in authority, nobody cared or gave it a thought to create a special transport system for us towards this part of our country. I was sure the planners never envisioned the probability of the physical challenged people venturing towards this area; since business to them is the privilege right of only the able bodied human beings.

It took the grace of my creator and my courage to make it to this expensive part of our capital, as I was constantly stared pitifully at, harassed and even almost lost my life trying to cross one of the wide expensive roads with no provision for people like me. Just like the other many government infrastructures across the country that has no provision for the disables. We sometimes see and feel as if we are aliens in our land, as nobody ever thought about us before constructing a road, build a hospital or designed the many tall imposing structures adoring our rich cities, unlike other thoughtful nations who respect, value and have sympathy for the physical challenged in their society. Back here, we are seen as obstacles and valueless members of the society with no needs or right to also enjoy the good things of life.

My sojourn to the city was one of the hardest journeys I had ever under taken on my own, and for almost two weeks, I have been hanging around the rich unfriendly vicinity, praying and waiting for ‘ Mr. Lawyer’ to come down from his cozy office on the tenth floor of a twelve storey building. It actually took me five good days of patiently searching and making inquiries before I was lucky to come across an old man who work as a guard in one of the rich structures along the street, who had patiently listened to my story and told me he knew exactly who I was searching for. According to him there was only one popular lawyer with a sympathetic heart along the street and he was certain he was who I was looking for.

The smile and happiness on my face could have won me a record in a contest if it were to be a competition. Because the joy on my face was too hard to hide as I thanked the old man who directed me to the tall imposing building with a warning to be careful as the guards inside the structure don’t usually welcome people like me and hardly have time or sympathy to listen to our stories.
I nodded at his caution and bade him farewell as I crawled towards the tall structure. I was determine to go see this good lawyer even if the guards would turn to wolves and threaten me. I could not just turn back now and go back home, not after spending five crushing days in search of the illusive lawyer, whom nobody seems to know at first or rather pretended not to know, after staring miserably at my crippled legs and the sweat on my face.

I crawled confidently towards the gate and was immediately confronted by two guards in uniform who both stared surprisingly at me as if I was an alien who had just dropped down from the sky. I was quick to noticed the frowns on their faces and their threatening posture as one of them slowly make his way towards me the baton in his hand swinging threatening in his big large hands.
“Yes – what do you want?” he barked at me from afar, his eyes taking on my deformity.

“ Good afternoon sir “ I answered, giving him a respect I know he does not deserve, but I would have addressed him by his majesty or his royal highness, if these words would sweeten his mind and allow me to get inside and see Mr. Lawyer.

A car with a passenger drove towards the gate at that moment and the guard stared miserable once more at me, and then went to attend to the car, ignoring my presence in the hot scorching sun. He finally returned after letting the car in with much respect and fanfares.

“Yes – what do you want? “He demanded once again coming to stand few distance away from me, his eyes boring into my shape suspiciously.

“Well-done, sir – I want to see Mr. Lawyer” I said, making my voice a little high from where I was crushing, and mopping my sweaty face.

“Which Mr. Lawyer? – Which office he dey work? Wetin you wan see am for?” He demanded in pidgin in a harsh voice.

I knew I was suck because the old man never told me which office the kind lawyer was to be found, something he had told me he had no idea about, but all the same, I was determine, and nothing would stop me from achieving my goal this far. So I stared hopefully at the unfriendly guard and said. “Mr. Good lawyer – I was told he has an office here on the tenth floor. So I came to see him” I answered with a desperate voice.

The guard stared surprisingly at me and burst into a long hysterical laugh. His colleague also joined him and together they laughed their lives away, forcing me to also join them with a wide smile on my tired face. Then they both finally stared miserably at me and chased me out of the imposing structure.

“We don’t allow beggars around here” the second guard announced with pride and the big gate was shut on my face. That had been almost one week three day ago. And since then, I had been trying everything possible to see Mr. Lawyer, but the guards at the building would not allow me in. So I devised a plan to wait outside the vicinity, in hope Mr. Lawyer would come down one day during or after work and see me or if I am lucky, I might also stumble upon him like my lucky friend. Again it had occurred to me that it would actually take a miracle for me to climb up to the tenth floor if they were to allow me in. The elevators I knew was not meant for people like me and could visualized the scowl on the faces of other passengers if I try to join any of the expensive looking machines. But all these were just part of my imagination as the guards have refused to allow me to come near the building again.
So I found a space, an abandoned structure that at one time served as a bus stop and turned the dilapidated place into my temporary sleeping quarters. And there, I had ran into as the sky wore the look of rain again, after falling almost the whole day yesterday and my prayer was for God to kindly pause the rain for the day and bring out Mr. Lawyer down from his office and push him towards my way.



THREE

The strong wind of the rain blew across my face as I hurriedly crawled safely to my hiding place. God seemed to have refused to answer my prayers as the sky suddenly darkened, boldly displaying the sign of an unstoppable heavy rain.
Well thank God, I still had somewhere to run to and hide since most of the rich structures along the expensive street won’t welcome a disable person like me, not with their stern looking security guards and sometimes wild looking Alsatian dogs whose Jaws I guess could deal easily with a cripple like me. I propelled myself on the long abandoned concrete seat at the bus stop and quietly surveyed and analyst the able bodied human beings around me.

I watched silently as most of them although with full good legs and strong human frames still grumbled hurriedly away from the incoming rain, some even cursed loudly. Now and then I heard grumbling and curses like. ‘This rain again. I am tired with it’, ‘which kind yeye rain be this’, ‘another bad day – rain – rain’ a bad business day again’ . So on and so forth.

I imagined some of them taking my place for just some few hours and I guessed most of them would definitely go crazy as cripples, curse and grumble throughout the experience. Ungrateful bunch, I thought, wondering why most able bodied human beings hardly appreciate and thank God for making them whole to walk freely, jump, run, climb and go wherever their curious minds and legs decide to take them.
I grinned silently, staring at different angry faces of beautiful women with hair styles that must have cost them a fortune hurriedly scampered towards some of the buildings along the street, with frown faces, while their male counterparts also sprinted towards safety with none wanting to come towards the abandoned bus stop after staring at me and noticing my deformed figure. Thank God, none of them even came closer; at least the shade provided me with privacy from the scrutinizing eyes of these arrogant and swell headed able bodied people who might have forced me out of the safe shade with their curious stares, questions and over displayed pity.

Then as if in response to my silent thoughts, the rain suddenly came down heavily, just as three men scampered hurriedly into the shade away from the furious rain. God, here they come, I thought silently, staring at them and braced up myself to their curious stares, disgust looks and unsolicited pity, probably with torrent of investigative questions. But I told myself I still have the right to ignore them and stared up quietly at the sky as the rain came down freely with the wind blowing across our faces.


I quickly noticed that the three strangers where not friends, but the rain had pushed them here. Two of them had become close and were freely chatting away , stealing occasional glances at me, even though none of them had the courtesy of saying hello to me as the first occupant of the safe place. I was not actually expecting their courtesy as I was used to the arrogant postures of my able bodied fellow citizens who see us as the lowest class in the country with nothing to contribute to their materialistic quests.
But to my surprise, the third man who had ran into the shade last and had been silent as the two other two grumbled about the consistent rain that was spoiling their business and complained of the harsh economic situation in the country, suddenly glanced in my direction and nodded at me with a smile. I stared thoughtfully at him and nodded back with a smile. He left the other two and walked up to me, and then dropped his tall slim frame on the space beside me on the concrete seat.



“This rain is heavy” he said, his friendly smile still visible on his face.

“Yes – oga – na heavy rain” I replied in pidgin, smiling back at him. I noticed the other two fellows staring surprisingly at us as if they were just noticing me there for the first time. I ignored their curious stares and smiled up at the sky.

“But you are new around here; I have noticed you since last week.” My new friend suddenly said, staring with interest at me.

“ Yes – oga - I just come see somebody” I answered now staring more curiously at him, my mind trying to picture if I had noticed him among the hundreds of people I had come across since invading this rich environment. But I find it difficult to place his face with a body or action that might have caught my interest as I squatted all weeks waiting to see the invisible Mr. Lawyer.

“I see you every day from my office and I kept wondering what you were doing here. I mean it’s on usual to see someone like you here consistently for almost two weeks” he said as the rain kept its furious fall on the street and the two other men now back to their discussions. “Who exactly are you looking for?” He finally asked slowly.

I nodded silently at his observations, stared at the sky, then at the tall imposing structure where I was told Mr. Lawyer had his office. “The man is inside this tall building” I finally announced, my eyes still glued to the building.

My new friend stared surprisingly at me, his eyes also staring at the building. “ What is his name and what is your business with him?

“His name is Mr. Lawyer – I came to see him for help’’ I replied, now staring at him with a worried look.

“Who gave you his name and address?” He asked staring at me with a wide grin. Sensing that I was not ready to disclosed this information to him, he smiled and suddenly added
“ I am Mr. Lawyer – I am the one you are looking for.”




**********
Thirty minutes later with the rain now gone, and the sky wearing a cool bright glow, I sat silently alone at the back seat of a painted taxi as the driver speed down the double lanes of the rich city road that lead towards our ghetto. I grinned silently to myself, and now thanked God for allowing the rain to fall freely that day. I now realized that the rain shower was the natural circumstance that had pushed my savior Mr. Lawyer to my temporary abode. Who knows, if the rain had not fall, I guessed I might still be waiting hopefully with a depleted determination to see him. But providence had naturally pushed him towards me and true to my friend’s word; he was one of the biggest giver I had ever come across.
He had listened to my story as the rain hits down on the roof of the bus stop, silently nodding his head to my lamentations. He frowned when I told him how the guards at the gate had refused me entry into the building and nodded his head sadly when I confessed to him that I had been hanging hopefully outside to see him for almost two weeks, and wished that I had two good legs which would have given me easy access to the building and allowed me to ride inside one of the elevators or walk up the long flight of stairs to see him. He commended me for my courage and determination smiled warmly and reminded me that probably if I was physical fit I would not have come to see him nor would our paths have crossed each other. I nodded in agreement, seeing the wisdom in his saying.

Finally, he had looked down at me after the rain, stood up and said calmly with a broad smile “Come – lets go” and with that, we strolled side by side towards the building and he proudly took me into the tall imposing structure to the astonishment of some of the guards around who had stared foolishly at us as we made our grand entry. And up to his floor, I rode proudly in one of the cozy elevators to his tastefully furnished office, the first time in my life to ride in such a beautiful easy moving machine.
And finally, here I was, seated comfortably alone at the back seat of a taxi, a luxury I had never foreseen in my dream and the sweetest part of it all: thirty thousand naira richer – in cash, safely tucked away in the most hidden pocket in my old trouser, all these courtesy of Mr. Lawyer, the Good Samaritan.
I shut my eyes briefly, imagining what the taxi driver might think, if he knew I had that amount of cash on me. I hide a grin and try to visualized myself as a successful independent trader, that won’t have to depend on anyone for survival again, or daily beg around, living as parasite on unfriendly frowning faces, with just few among them with big generous minds as ‘oga lawyer’.
Thank God for the rain and its blessings, I thought silently, and peep out at the hazy looking sky. So finally, I was on my way to become an independent human being, proudly earning my living with dignity. Let the rain keep falling, I wished silently, and then shut back my eyes to enjoy a journey of a lifetime.


END

Random Voices
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"I am sure there was no man born marked of God above another; for none comes into the world with a saddle upon his back, neither any booted and spurred to ride him"-- Richard Rumbold

ONE
I steered lazily with no option than to drag myself away from my sweet sleep, lazed with a free sweet dream. Part of the two things we still enjoyed freely in our harsh tormenting world. Apart from the free air, breeze, sun and moon that our fellow uncaring citizens have been naturally forced to allow us enjoy, every other thing, I tell you, is ever hard on our side. And the best liberty was the autonomy of our souls, were none of them have control over, apart from the creator who created all, including our tormenting fellow beings that over the decades have turned most of us and millions of other weak northern Nigerians into almajiris.
In the western definition we are called child beggars, but in real sense, we are more like slaves and desecrates in God’s free land.

I yawned at the moment, and steered up my closest and most trusted friend, Sani Hanchi, who slowly forced his eyes open and also yawned up lazily from his short guarded sleep.

“Wake up lazy bone – time for prayers” I announced in a low voice not to draw the attention to the fact that we had both missed the early morning (Subh) prayers by almost ten minutes, this I calculated from my precious rubber wrist watch, a fortune I had slaved six months nine days of hard labour to own.

“Oh! – What is it again? I am bellyful. Please allow me to sleep.” He said lazily with a sleepy voice and dragged his old blanket to cover his fray frame again.

I chuckled covering my mouth with my hands. Remembering that food was the most prominent thoughts in our daily strives. We like the other hundreds of thousands of almajiris scattered across the country, prominently in the northern part, hardly ever had enough of this essential ingredient of survival in our tough world. We struggle and live for food. We sleep and wake up daily thinking of food. Why shouldn’t we, when we don’t know where and when the next day meal would spring from with surprise, just as we have always survived by surprise in our tough environment.

“Ga Mallam” I evoked the revered magical words slowly, watching to see the reaction on Sani, who jumped up hurriedly from our lice infested mat, and stared wide-eyed, his sleepy eyes suddenly coming awake and alive.
I chuckled again and silently led the way to catch up with the last rakkah(prostration) of the early Morning Prayer.




TWO

I think it will be proper to take a pause and briefly introduce myself. My name is
Ado Ido, though ‘Ido’ is not my real surname, but a name I got from my fellow hungry colleagues, as a result of my sharp eyes and the luck to always see a possible potential of source of food or odd jobs to do.
I am ten years old, slim, with big eyes and thick round lips. I am what you will call light in colour, but for the harsh condition I have come to found myself, I now look more of a tan black, with a clean skull and always dress in tattered old clothes and half eaten rubber slippers. To complement my description is our trade mark logo: the bowl.
See me or any of my colleagues anywhere; be rest-assure to see our begging plastic or aluminum bowl held proudly in our hands. This is our trade mark and we have come to respect it the way a farmer would respect and be proud of his hoe.
I am what our people have come to be labeled as an almajiri. I belong to a group of young innocent Nigerians who live as parasites on others, knocking and banging on their gates or doors to beg for food or money to survive, amidst the plenty that our eyes could daily see. I am a member of the neglected and abandoned village boys roaming our rich expensive urban cities, pleading and crying daily for help from our uncaring fellow citizens who see us as aliens from other planets, despite the fact that we all came from one village or the other in the same country with them and equally share the same sky, sun and moon.
Our day is always shrouded in mystery and end with the aid of God our creator, who always ensures that one or two good Samaritans among our fellow humans had pity on us and give us something to feed our always unsatisfied stomachs as we plead with the worms who constantly scream night and day for more food.
I belong to those group of promising young men with no hope of going to western school, nor being part of our civilized country, where only the educated ones seems to be having it all. We are blind and innocent to democracy, neither do we know how to search and get our rights. To me and my other fellow almajiris, the only authority or fear we know is the authority of our revered Mallam (Teacher) and his teachings. His words were lord and his command final. Even the words of our biological parents had long abandoned our thinking, neither do we have much fear of them than our one and only known master –the mallam.

I was ferried away one sunny day from our village when I was still a six year village kid, struggling daily from farm to home with my aged parents. Though nobody had informed me that I would be leaving my beloved village, friends and family behind at that early age, I just woke up one day and I saw the mallam and his entourage in front of our house. I had stared strangely at the gathering, made up mostly of eight other boys of my age group, three of them I knew, but the other five I was later to know were from a neighboring village. I watched and listened confusingly as the Mallam, an old looking man, thin with a white long bead and unsmiling eyes, stared quietly at my father, gazed thoughtfully at me, and then finally nodded his turbaned head to the satisfaction of my father who look happy with the verdict of the stick chewing stranger.

I was ferried away few hours later inside a yellow rickety bus with the other eight boys, only stopping in a village to add two more boys, who also had sullen faces like most of us, a sign of crying and sadness from being forced to leave their homes and parents in search of traditional knowledge in an unknown world.
Four years later we were now part of those street kids roaming and scavenging our land in search of an elusive knowledge and food for survival. Though we live under our revered Mallam, who make sure that we build up our moral with the teaching of the unquantifiable Islamic knowledge, the best gain of our four years sojourn in the cities, but we were more or less outcasts in our country, even in the house of our master, where discrimination is not far gone. We normally sleep crammed in a room with hardly ventilation or space to stretch our bodies, and sometimes clean our dirty bodies ones in a while in a stream not too far away or in any other free water our feet’s could carry us to discover. As long as we did not break the set laws and regulation of the Mallam, because to us the fear of the Mallam – is the beginning of wisdom, unless one is not yet satisfied with the countless of hard whipping from the always available hands of the Mallam and his carefully selected and appointed lieutenants, who always derives pleasure in flogging a stubborn ass or a rigid back.

So you would understand why my trusted friend Sani Hanchi, though not is real surname, but named for his strong sense of smelling any kind of food from a distance, had jumped up frightfully that morning when I mentioned the magical words “Ga Mallam”, the truth is, that was the only word that could move any right thinking almajiri to change course and behave properly in whatever he must have been doing at any particular given time.

“Where do we start from this morning?” Muntari Kunne, a young lad with thick long ears and a round big head, asked, yawning and scratching his lice bitten body as he stared hopefully around the long stretched road we were all standing thoughtfully.

We were all had been staring admiringly at three well dressed school kids in uniforms as they strutted towards school with their filled food flasks and rich looking water bottles. They all stared strangely at us, and the only girl among them pulled her brother by the hand and quickly stepped away from our direction then headed hurriedly towards their school gate not too far from where we were standing, deliberating on where to start from in our daily strive to find food to eat, clothes to wash or a home to sweep. All these to earn the little pittance we occasionally get from a hard day labor. The three school kids had, as expected, steered our minds that morning and reminded us that we were part of the rejected in the society, something we have all come to accept, but learn to forget in our daily strive for survival. But occasion like this always brought out that revolt in all of us whenever we see kids of our own age, dressed in school uniforms and heading peacefully towards schools, while we, our trademark bowls in our frail hands, shuttled desperately to the north, west, south and eastern part of our environment in search of food and means to survive.

“Where do we start from?” Muntari eased out again, his frustration of not wearing a school uniform already subsiding and same with the rest. They now stared quietly at me with hopes in their eyes.

Yes – hope on me to lead the way as usual. I was the oldest and the elected leader of the group. “ Okay lets split, two – two as usual” I announced finally . “ Bala and Ismaila – go right , Sani and Muntari you go straight, while I follow you behind”

I instructed the squad like a commandant and arranged our first home to be invaded for the day. This was when our voices would be heard loudly chorusing helplessly begging and pleading for remnants of foods or odd jobs to do.




THREE

The Almajiri system if not for the uncaring attitude of our masters and those saddled to look after us as authority could be said to be a very good initiative and one of the best ways of impacting the Islamic knowledge to young kids like us. But the idea since its introduction has been left to rust away by conservative attitudes with personal goals and greed taking over the hitherto traditional system of education more dominant in the northern part of the country, where I found myself biologically.
Our Mallams lacking the resources to see us through this hard teenage lives, ferried us from our villages and brought us to urban towns, where they squatted or live in old molded houses mostly in villages, towns or ghettos. Here we are cramped into single rooms or entrance to the Mallam’s house with our iron boxes in different shapes, sizes and makes competing most of the space with us at the end living us with ample legroom to spray our lice infested mats every night before dropping our tired weather beaten frames for a short guarded sleep to await the next day when the cock crows or the voice of the muezzin is heard announcing for prayer and a new day. And every day we must go out in search of food and goodwill otherwise we all get some spice of the cane or wait to starve to death.
Our clothing is nothing to write home about, because we are always conspicuous among hundreds of people. We are easily identifiable in any setting with our tattered clothes that might have not seen water or smell a detergent or soap for close to three months or more, depending on the circumstances we find ourselves. Our feet are detectable from afar from our old patched rubber sleepers or painful rubber shoes always adoring our tired cracked feet and arched toes.
I tell you once you see us – you don’t need to be told that we are hungry human beings living under the same planet with you. And if you are the sympathetic type, you might ask yourself, why should this be like this? Or what responsible God fearing society or system could leave its own young innocent citizens like this in this 21st century? but if you are the- I don’t – care- type, then you might just stare miserably at us and keep pretending as if we don’t really exist, which could be hard for someone with a God fearing conscience, which only few among our country folks still possess.
We are found mostly wherever we know something to eat would be available, part of the reasons why we are noticeable at food canteens, where we scavenge for remnants or occasional generosity from a customer or from the proprietress of the food joint, who might give us something to fill our starving stomachs, after we must have done some dish washing, fetched drums or buckets of water from long miles or scrubbed a dirty floor.
You can easily pick us out in naming, wedding or even burial ceremonies, depending where our hungry stomachs pushed us to. All we just want is something to pacify our shouting stomachs. And most times we are not always a welcome sight in these various occasions because of our looks and our shameful ways of pleading and grabbing for leftovers, even though most invited guests might have had their fill or stored plenty hidden or conspicuous takeaway in their bags, polythene bags, pockets or other safe places.
Still we are sometimes chased away like dogs, but if lucky made to do one form of labuor before we were allow to scavenged for remnants or get some piece from the over budgeted foods and drinks always given with regret sometimes written all over the faces of the celebrants or those in charge.

It sometimes perplexed and surprised us whenever we come across some spoilt free kids who were sometimes pampered by their parents to eat food or forced to eat rich luscious meals, while we salivate nearby on hungry stomachs, silently praying to have their leftover or half of what they were being implored to eat, or wishfully to be invited to teach them how to devote grateful time to good food like the ones they were being pampered on. Again, we were baffled by those lazy ones with all the opportunities, but hate going to school, instead they find joy in playing around or hanging with other spoilt lazy kids like them, away from school, where their parents or guardians must have spent a fortune sending them to. And here we are, always on the street, come rain – come sun or come even the coldest harmattan of the season, searching for food or where to lay our heads.

“Let’s move on” I commandeered my hungry squad as they split into two groups and we all made our ways in two different directions in search of our first meal of the day. And today like all other days for the past four years since most of us left our villages and parents behind we were once again out in search for food remnants and probably some odd jobs that might luckily fall our ways. We were out in search for food and our tool is to shout out in our tired hungry voices to any conscience human being who might be kind enough to give us our rightful shares from the free bounties of the creator, the owner of everything.



END

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At the moment I had a full charged cheap phone, including my wife’s fully charged cheap batteries I had took along to charge in the city as usual at one of the various road sides’ battery chargers who greedily charge us N50 per battery. My wife phone at the moment had no battery, and the other people I could call to explain my situation to, which included my brothers, uncles and other relatives in our hamlets had also surrendered their batteries to me for charging that morning as I set for the city. They all depended on my arrival to be able to communicate with the world again. But right now, they were all incommunicable until I return home safely.
I appraised my situation and then hurried down the lonely pathways, using my knowledge of the bush and the surrounding trees. I calmly negotiated my way through the jungle. The journey was easy and smooth at first, but as I matched on the load on my head became a burden and then I mistakenly lost my footing and dropped exhausted to the ground. I realized I was no longer strong and young like before and that my sixty five years on earth was telling on me.
Again, the fact that I had not actually prepared myself to spend my time on the road made things worse. I realized I was suddenly thirsty and needed water to soften my dry throat. I picked up my tired frame from the ground reluctantly and navigated my way towards the smell of a stream close by. This was part of the secrets we had been taught from childhood. The sun by this time had long disappeared and a bright moon was just smiling its way to the world.
The day was getting a little bit darker as I made my way around the thick bush. I suddenly felt lonely and begged to hear the noises of other creatures around. I luckily noted some group of Monkeys as they stared quizzically at me and then darted across the trees in a wild pack. I also noticed two Squirrels as they darted into the bush, including a big snake that apparently was after them for dinner. I was not really afraid of these small animals or any other bigger ones, but rather, I was more concerned and scared of meeting another human being like me; a stranger who could be more dangerous than all the animals put together.
I made my way to the stream and was lucky that the water was fresh and drinkable. I filled my stomach with little quantity of the light of life, washed my face and feet and then decided to take a short rest before continuing, a mistake I was later to regret, for sleep suddenly stole me away. I believe it was that instinct of a Bushman that jolted me up few minutes later as my sharp ears suddenly picked out the sound of an approaching machine. I bolted up and listened more attentively to the approaching sound of a vehicle. I hurriedly dashed into the cover of some thick bush with my load and quickly climbed up one of the tall trees around, where I quietly concealed my thin frame and waited frightfully.
I noticed the shape of a big black car, a Jeep precisely as it slowly came into view. The car drove some few meters to where I had earlier been resting and I counted four dodgy looking men as they dropped out of the car, paused and then suspiciously scanned the surrounding.
I almost froze with shock where I was hiding and silently prayed that none of them should look up towards the tree. Luckily for me they seemed satisfied and one of them, a broad shoulder sturdy man sauntered to a spot and then pulled off some scrub of grass. The three other men joined him and then like magic they all fetched out four automatic AK45 riffles from the grass and examined them one after the other with expertise. They all stood up and suddenly aimed the nuzzles of the guns directly at my position. I thought I had no other option than to come out of my hiding and surrender to them. I was just about to do that when they all lowered their riffles and then returned to their car with excitement written all over their faces.
I watched the four men discussed something among themselves, examined the guns ones more and then their leader a broad shouldered man with shaved head in jeans and a T-shirt made a phone call. Then to my surprised, they all piled back into their car and drove away with the guns now safely in their possession. I cautiously made my way down from my hiding place few minutes later after ensuring that they had gone. This I could ascertain from my position.
I watched with fear as the big car climbed into the dark highway and then disappeared into the night. I huff a sign of relief and gracefully thanked my creator for guarding me against these dangerous human beings from the city and their evil minds. I then casually made my way down from the shady tree with my cumbersome load. My first thought was to bolt into the night immediately and ferried my thin scared frame from the dangerous vicinity. I had gone some few distance when I suddenly noticed that the black polythene bag where I had kept the numerous phone batteries I had charged in the city was no longer inside my shirt pocket.
No, this was not something I should leave behind given its importance to our existence in our tiny hamlets. I told myself, and then quickly dashed back frightfully to the tall tree in search of these important items. Using my phone tiny torchlight, I frantically combed the whole area like a desperate gold digger in search of raw gold. My forehead and face were drenched with sweat with my shirt sticking miserable to my tired body. I searched and researched everywhere around the tree, including near the stream and the surrounding scrubs of grass the four strange men had picked out their guns and at the end of more than half an hour I could not find anything.
Dejected and broken, I decided to let go and continue my journey back home. I picked up my load, strengthened myself and was just about to dash back into the tiny path that leads to my destination when my alert eyes suddenly picked out the bright headlights of an approaching vehicle again. The sight of the approaching car gave me a fright and I once again quickly dashed towards the shady tree and hurriedly climbed back to my hidden position at the topmost part of the tree. I watched silently as the big car approached and quickly noted that it was the same black Jeep that had left not long ago. The car came to a stop at the same position it left some minutes ago and the same four men jumped out with their riffles. I watched silently as they made their way to the dry scrubs and then returned the guns to the same spot they had picked them from.
Then the leader of the gang did something that surprised me. He sauntered to the car and brought out a small bag, unzipped it and counted out some rolls of money. He then wrapped the money into a black polythene bag and dropped the cash into the same spot with the riffles. They then covered back the spot with scrub of grass and then fetched a bottle of drink.
I stared frightfully at them as they all took some swing from the bottle, smoked what smelled like marijuana, including cigarettes, chatted happily in low tones and then finally returned to their big car and excitedly drove away into the night.
You know money and its enticing force, so the first thing that crossed my curious mind that night was to jump down and grab the black polythene bag containing that huge roll of money. This could be an opportunity of a life time, I reasoned, as something inside my mind encouraged me and urged me to go on with my plan. Honestly, I had never in my entire life seen a large roll of money like that. All I needed to do was to hurried down from my hiding place and invade the bag of money and convert everything to mine without anyone suspecting. I told myself.

But again, something else inside me warned and cautioned me against this step. This was not my money, then why should I have a sudden interest in it? I reasoned. But I came down casually from my hiding place and still uprooted the content of the black polythene bag. It was the largest concentration of currency I had ever seen in my life. I noted that among the currency notes were some crispy foreign bank notes I had never seen before, including rolls of Nigerian one thousand naira notes. My grassy hand felt the notes and their clout and was almost tempted to keep some to myself and damn anything. With these notes in my pocket, I reasoned, I will now have cash to buy more goats, hens and sheep and probably have more power and influence in my community and also give me an opportunity to solve some of the numerous problems bedeviling our helmets. The world we now lived in and found ourselves was all about this man- made paper note known as money and right now I have plenty of it in my hands. All I need to do was to pack everything and get the hell out of the place. I calculated as I stared at the bundle of bank notes in my frail hands. But the guilt about the source of the money suddenly pricked my conscience. The silent warning from my mind resurfaced and cautioned me once again against this move. Something deep inside my soul warned me and made it glaring to me that the crispy money was not actually part of my legitimate striving on earth. This was not my money, then why should I keep what is not mine? This could be some blood money. This invisible voice reminded me.
I was still holding the bag of money, deliberating on what to do, when I suddenly heard the noise of an approaching vehicle again. My eyes picked out the fast approaching headlights of the car and I froze and then instantly jolted back to the dangerous situation I was in at that moment. I quickly dropped the polythene bag with the money intact back to its place and hurriedly covered the spot the way I found it and then dashed back frantically to my hiding place at the top of the shady tree. I watched with a frightful silence as the car approached. I quickly noticed that it was not the same black Jeep with the four men this time around; instead it was the familiar black painted van of the police with its trademark siren light in its multicolor glow. The van made its way slowly into the arena with a familiar insight. I stared more frightfully at the van as it made its way to the same spot I had dashed away from few minutes ago. The vehicle finally parked and I watched as four uniformed policemen jumped out and suspiciously scanned the environment with their apprehensive eyes.
I could not believe what I was seeing. These were actually real security men in our familiar Police Force uniform, I noted. The leader of the team finally stepped forward and I quickly noted the Inspector tag on his shoulders from the reflection of the bright shining moon and twinkling stars from the sky. He matched to the hidden spot, pulled off the scrubs, retrieved the black polythene bag and then ordered one of his men, a constable to pick the guns. The constable, a thin looking lad, picked out the riffles one after the other and then distributed them among each other. They all examined the riffles, and after been satisfied they stood quietly and watched greedily as the inspector counted the roll of cash from the polythene bag.
I could see the excitement on their faces, including the greed on their suspicious eyes. The inspector finally paused, pulled out some rolls of cash and shared it among his men. I could not see the exact amount, but I knew there was more inside the polythene bag than what he gave them. The three other men, a sergeant and two constables shared the money among each other. I watched as the inspector finally counted another roll for himself, pocketed it and then folded the black bag with the extra money with a greedy frown. He said something to the others, and they all nodded. He then retrieved one of the guns from the constable who apparently was holding it for him and they all returned to their van and drove away.
I stared quietly at the moving van from my position and watched with relieved as its tail lights disappeared into the highway and into the night. I waited for another ten minutes, afraid of coming down from the safety of the tree. Wow! What an escape. I reminded myself and once again looked up to the sky and thanked my creator for sparing my life in the hands and guns of these greedy looking city policemen and their dangerous minds. I had no doubt in my mind that these men would have wasted no time discharging their bullets into my thin frame if they had sighted me. I knew I had just witnessed a pre-arranged exchange of guns for money between a criminal gang and a legal security force. My bush mind and jungle sense told me that the four men in the black jeep were robbers and the four uniformed men were members of our country Police Force, collaborating to rob the people. While the four robbers carry out the action, the four policemen I guessed equally provided the arms to make the action happen. I realized their underground night transaction was a secret they would have loved no one else to see or know about. I then wondered what would have happened if anyone of them had crept in while I was down from the tree with the money bag in my hand. Definitely, I would not have lived to tell this story.
The moon was still shining boldly and the stars still twinkling brightly from the sky when I decided to make my way down from the shady tree. The place was no longer a safe place to be. I told myself and hurriedly jumped down with my load. My only regret was that I could not find the phone batteries and I was no longer interested nor have the mind to search for them in the unsafe environment. I promised myself not to bother coming back the next morning or anytime in the future to search for them. To hell with the batteries, I consoled myself and then hurriedly dashed out of the surrounding into the thick jungle and into the lonely path that would lead me home. I knew my people would understand with me when I recount the story of my escape from the jugular of death in the hands of four vicious looking robbers and four greedy uniformed policemen.

End

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‘’ A man should stay alive even out of curiosity’’ – Yiddish proverb

Life as a nomad is not really an easy way of life in this hard competitive world. If you have ever lived in the bush all your life then you will definitely know what I am talking about.
Our life is fill with adventure and unadventurous as well; an existence that defined and confirmed our daily life in the jungle. Though, we daily move in groups and sometimes we found ourselves splitting up and then it becomes all man to himself, as you suddenly find yourself matching boldly through the dangers of the jungle alone.
I am a Bushman and very proud to be one. Yes, I am a herdsman and a farmer with care for humanity and live a daily life of tendering to my beautiful animals.
I practically enjoy the natural world of the jungle, away from the city rush hours and crazy chase for materialism. The tranquility and isolation in the bush always gave us an opportunity and enough time to study and admire some of the mysteries of plants, trees and animals in this remote world and it equally bestowed on us some rich knowledge about these God made creations.
To be honest, most of us living in the bush are contented with our lives and importantly our safety, this not minding the daily challenges and confrontations from some of the dangerous animals that inhabit this vast and thick hinterland with us. But thank God, we have always been able to tame and killed some of them and also have power and charms over them as humans and as ordained by the creator of the universe. It is not actually an exaggeration that the Bushman has various charms and secrets of the bush and forest.
This in fact, is actually a reality. We have hidden secrets of the jungle. We have the secrets on most snakes and how to charm and control them. We have secrets on some wild beasts of the jungle and how to tame and overpower them as well no matter how big and wild they look. This should not be something difficult to understand as our lives over the years in the most fearful jungle in the country have trained our minds and body to face the challenges and dangers we daily encounters on our ways.
In reality, we are more fearful of other humans like us who could think intelligently and plan various traps to entrap us. We are more scared of Man and his many modern tricks, especially those from the city. We are always suspicious and wary of their modern way of life and their dangerous minds. We are actually more comfortable living our lives in the bush and gladly appreciating the natural wealth our creator has wisely bestowed on us. We feel more safer in our bushy surroundings, daily breathing in fresh unpolluted air, feeding our eyes to greenish plants, grass and trees around us and enticing our ears to various songs from those captivating birds and other vocal animals sharing this vast jungle with us. Believe me, we feel more at home than in and around those tall city buildings, noisy machines and air polluted environment prevalent across the towns and cities. We feel more secured in our secluded hamlets from those city robbers, kidnappers and assassins daily roaming the streets and unleashing their dangerous acts across the cities and urban towns all in their desperate search for man-made toys , load of unearned money and other frivolous materialism they were always ready to kill for.
The urban cities to most of us were not reasonable place to stay and its flashy people were equally inhuman people we believe we should be wary of. I have personally on my own long promised myself that the jumble city was a no go area for me to live no matter its enticement and glitters.
It was actually based on this self decision and conclusion of never living in the city that made me hurried back home to our hamlet somewhere in the thickest of the jungle one evening after a trip to the city market where necessity had prompted me to the weekly market to buy our needed provisions. This trip was a regular weekly journey I dreadfully embarked on at the end of every week to get some essentials for my family, including my extended ones.
I left home early as usual that day and trekked the more than 10 kilometers that brought me to the major highway where I then boarded one of the various dilapidated buses that ferried most of us to the city on market days. You might have noticed us, always crammed inside some of these outdated buses like sandiness or sheep into space that dehumanized our thin frames. But we are Bushmen and most of these drivers don’t give a damn on why or how we are crammed into their rickety buses as long as they get their money. In fact, the stuffier a bus, the more money they make.
I endowed the long journey to the city and headed straight to the rowdy market with a suspicious eyes and curious mind at the various city people and other human beings I met along the way and around the market. I made sure my money inside my pant was well secured where I cancelled it and hurriedly made my purchase and then hurried back to the garage to bode another rickety bus back to the highway leading to our quite world; away from the noisy and criminal minded city people whom I noticed were now in the habit of glorifying materialism with their various man- made goods many of them tried to enticed me with. But my curious mind was quickly cautioned by my instinct and I had wisely ran away from their enticement and headed back home, after retrieving the half charged phone batteries I had given for the normal weekly charging in one of the kiosks around the market.
I was lucky the next bus was almost full as I landed the unkempt garage with various motor park thugs having a field day, extorting and harassing any sucker that fell to their traps. One of them stared curiously at my sack with its contents and wanted to trick me into parting with some extra charge which I bluntly refused with a frown. He noted that I was not ready to play ball, and then finally crammed me into the remaining space as the bus driver who was ready to leave ordered him to do. I jumped in and smiled at some of my fellow Bushmen who were already crammed into the filled bus and waiting eagerly to get home.
Our Journey back home actually started on a good note as the elderly looking driver made his way smartly on the long expressway. I was happy with my purchases and was also eager to get home and impress my wife, my daughters and my other family members. It was always a pleasure when I see the surprises and shock on their faces whenever I gave them the little presents I bought for them. It was not actually all the time, but once in a while that I sacrifice the little in my hand to make them happy. I relaxed back on the uncomfortable seat and closed my eyes to enjoy the long journey.
Then the unexpected happened. Our rickety bus suddenly lost control and then veered out of the road and headed towards the thick bush with speed. We were later to know that the old brakes in the car were long out of use, but yet still being manage by the greedy driver, and as expected the brakes on this day failed the old bus and plummeted us into the bush.
Most of us inside the bus screamed out loud, afraid that death was about to steal us way. But some of us still with sanity of mind continuously prayed to God to safe us and recited various verses and prayers as the old bus plunged us towards a big tree. Then like a miracle, the bus finally came to a stop just few inches before the trunk of the big tree. We later realized that some thick bush and other trunk of trees around had safely wielded us against the heavy collision that could have happened.
We all scrambled out of the bus with fear and joy and ran as fast away from the bus as our tiny legs could ferried us, afraid that the old bus might burst into flame any moment. After what we expected did not happened, we all stared at the bus and at each other, and then the blames reeled out. Many of us cursed and blamed the driver and his conductor for ferrying us in the old bus after being aware of the old brakes and demanded for the return of their fares. Others just picked their loads and stormed away from the scene angrily. While others stared up into the sky and thanked their creator for saving them from the impended calamity.
We finally left the driver and his conductor to fix their problem and made our way to the main road in search of another bus to ferry us home, as we were all now more eager to get to our isolated world and families in our faraway hamlets in the thickness of the jungle, far away from the city madness and danger. Four of us around failed to get another bus to ferry us home as we waited restlessly in the scorching sun for hours in hope that another rickety bus might come our way. The few that were lucky had loaded themselves among sheep and goats with no more space to accommodate the rest of us.
We were still waiting, praying for any other moving machine to come our way when three among us made up their minds to take the bush path and trek back home. They were tired of waiting and wanted to get home before the sun set. I wanted to go with them, but reasoned that my own hamlet was very far from theirs, and trekking home was not going to be easy with my load at this hour. My wife and children I know were anxious to see me and the things I bought from the market. So I wisely declined to follow them, instead made up my mind to be a little bit patient for a lucky bus to come around The three other Bushmen wished me luck and then disappeared into the thick bush, and left me and my load alone by the road side. I was still standing by the road when the sun went down and the sign of night crept in. None of the private cars I flagged down took a second glance at my thin frame and the few buses that came my way were all loaded and filled up to the maximum with humans and animals competing for space at the booths.
I finally made up my mind and decided to follow the path of the other Bushmen who had thought it wise to take our old way of mobility- trekking. I suddenly realized that the bush paths would be safer than the dangerous road I was standing. I became afraid of those notorious highway robbers and heartless kidnappers that patrol this highway at night and right now the day was getting darker and very soon I would be at their mercy. I decided to take the risk and dashed into the bush and made my way slowly across the familiar environment with my load on my head and my trademark stick as the only weapon with me. I suddenly wished I could communicate with my family and explained my situation to them. But owing a phone was much of a luxury to most of us and moreover our phone batteries usually last for few hours because we had no means of always charging them to full capacity. They always lasted few hours and it was back to recharging again in the city when anyone among us go there on market days.

********
They made their way back to the gate and went straight into the security post to sign out their names.
“How far “The junior guard inquired, staring suspiciously at their face with hope.
They noticed that other customers were now around and the senior guard was busy interrogating them with pleasure.
“Not yet. We are coming back around two thirty” Slim informed the suspicious guard with a smile, signed his name out and pushed the register to Danjay who also did the same.
“Okay, no problem- I just hope say una no go forget us when things done” The guard asked, now wearing a smile.
“No wahala at all- shey we don promise una something, make una no worry, make una pray make things work out well” Slim assured him and they showed him the green bottle privately from the bag.
‘’ No problem I trust una . Make una go come back we dey here dey wait” He told them, his smile broadly, assured that they were not trying to outsmart them. You never can tell with all these young school boys of this generation. He thought as he personally saw them to the gate. Slim and Danjay gave him their smiles, thanked him and stepped out of the high fenced compound.




SEVEN
Zara, Kato’s obese looking younger sister suspected something fishy was going on inside her brother’s crowded room. Though she could not rally placed her hand on what exactly it was, but she was sure something exiting was going on. She knew Chucks and Baba were already inside with their two girlfriends. Again, another guy who she had never seen, had just came in and also asked her if Kato was around. She had actually wanted to ask him to tell her what was going on before venturing her answer. But Kato had came out at that moment and on sighting the guy, had smiled up at him and hailed his name- Tax or something. She tried to remember. She decided to just go peep into the room again. One thing that kept her too curious was why she had not seen the regulars- Slim and Danjay for almost two days now? Why not go and confirm she told herself and moved towards the noisy room.
“Bros make I make eba for you?” She asked slowly pulling aside the cotton, her eyes quickly x-raying what was going on and taking on everybody with a curious look. She quickly noticed that Slim and Danjay were missing in the gathering, which was very unusual. Then definitely something was going on. She concluded, trying to fake a smile at the girls who stared oddly at her size.
‘’No, thank you’’ Kato who was busy telling the excited guests about the green bottle and the good things that was about to come with it suddenly paused and stared silently at her.
He was worried deep inside him. He was beginning to wonder what was still keeping Slim and Danjay longer than planned. They had promised taking the next available flight back immediately after the deal. And as they estimated that was supposed to be two or three hours ago. Maybe they got a cheque -so they had to go to the bank. He reasoned silently and smiled up at the curious looking Zara.

“Me, I go chop o’ Chucks voiced out loudly with a worried look. He was also thinking about Slim and Danjay and also wondered what was keeping them so long. He was worried about the money he had invested into the plan, about five thousand naira. The money had been part of the money his father had gave him to go settle their electricity bills and the agreement with the overzealous NEPA officials was before two o’clock today and anything could happen. What would his father do when he got home and found their line cut off or yanked angrily away by the no-nonsense NEPA officials? He deliberated silently alone. No – Slim and Danjay should be on their way back. He pray they return on time for him to rush to NEPA and settle their bills before kata- kata burst. He could not just imagine what would happen. He regretted loaning out the money and also agreeing with Baba to bring the two girls around and ‘enjoy’ nothing as far as he could see. Instead, he had been conned into buying drinks for the girls, with the balance he had earlier vowed to tightly keep safe in his wallet. He yawned and stared hungrily at the two girls who were busy giggling as they scanned through Kato’s photo collections.




EIGHT
Danjay and Slim sat thoughtfully inside the production manager’s office. This time not opposite him, but on the long leather settle backing the wide French window.
The manager as usual was behind his large desk and sitting on one of the reserved visitor chairs was a thick set, huge looking man, in white flowing gown. He had a fixed piecing stare on Slim and Danjay who were finding it uncomfortable with his penetrating stares. There was something about his looks that scared them. Danjay especially tried to avoid the piecing eyes. He was getting fed up with the whole thing – what is really happening? He asked himself silently and stole a glance at Slim who was staring back confidently at the stranger.

“Well, young men – I am happy to see you. Our Manager here just informed us about your demand” The though looking stranger finally said breaking the tensed silence.
His voice they noticed was husky and had a threatening vocal. “A very funny and ridiculous demand though.” He continued, his eyes never leaving both of them.
” That was really a ridiculous prize coming from young men like you” He repeated harshly. “Well, maybe I should introduce myself to you properly.” He demanded, crossed his legs and stared confidently at them. Sure he had made his impact, he continued.
” I am a retired Assistant Inspector General of the Nigerian police and a strong shareholder of this organization and I don’t normally welcome strangers like you in our premises, especially if they are blackmailers.” He announced distastefully.
Danjay raised his eyebrows and stared surprisingly at him. There was a sudden flash of fear in his eyes. Slim on the other hand quietly absolved the man’s statement and grinned thoughtfully.
“Young men, what you people are trying to squeeze us for is out of our line of compensation and I want to tell you categorically that it is going to be impossible to get that amount of money from us and I mean it” The bully looking man informed them with a frank concluding tone.
Danjay and Slim stared thoughtfully at him, their heart now beating faster than necessary, their breath heaving out slowly from their nostrils. They both could not believe what they were hearing. And as if to confirm their worries the man continued after registering the sudden change in their composure.
“The only thing I think we can offer you as a form of compensation is the normal thing we generously give to people like you who had similar complains.” He grinned at the manager who nodded hurriedly and smiled away.
‘And what will that be, sir?” Slim slowly chipped in with a mockery smile. He had now recovered from the initial shock.
“Tell them” The man commanded the manager.

“Yes- what we can do to assist you is to compensate you with …” He paused and smiled up at Slim and Danjay who stared back expressionlessly at him. “Yes, we are willing to compensate you with five cartons of our product. The same brand you brought to us. That is our normal way here. I am going to make it five because you said you came in from a far place. Normally we are supposed to compensate you with two to three cartons. So you can see that we are generous here.” He announced happily, his smile more visible on his calm face.
“No –since they said they are students and came from a far distance, I think we should give them six cartons” The AIG announced proudly as if they had just won a big jackpot.

Slim and Danjay could not bring their senses to believe what they heard; six cartons of beer. No – These two men must be joking. Slim thought, almost screaming at both of them. But he quickly remembered that he was sitting with an ex-cop and that brought him back to his senses. Danjay on the other hand just stared with a slowpoke look on his face. He was confused and more worried than before.
“You can sell them to any of our dealers outside, if you don’t want to carry the bottles along” The manger suggested.
“ So what do you say to our offer?” The now grinning AIG inquired his yes returning to the two young men.
“Sir – we can’t collect that from you. Our colleagues are not going to find it funny and moreover we need money to settle our colleague’s hospital bills” Slim replied, gambling for the last time.
“Young men- do you realized what you are demanding from us?” The AIG suddenly pushed his large frame up and glared thoughtfully at both of them. ‘’Okay, let me tell you’’ He said and strolled to the wide French window, and stared thoughtfully at the other contaminated bottles on display. ‘’ What you are asking from us is total blackmail. Yes, we call it blackmail in the law and it is a very serious criminal offence” He paused and glared at them once again, then continued” And for your information this organization is blessed with some of the best team of lawyers in this country and also on the board of our shareholders are some of the most powerful personalities in this country, both serving and retired. So any idea of you suing us to court I want to assure you and your student union is completely a waste of time and energy.” He paused again and glared once more at them before riding on” So young men – my advice to and your student union is to wisely collect what we are offering you now and go back home.
You are both supposed to be in school – studying, not wasting your time on complicated issues like blackmail, something that could land you in jail. Good day,” He finally concluded abruptly, and dismissed them with a frown as he pushed his huge frame towards the door.
Slim and Danjay stared amazingly at him as he sauntered towards the door and paused half way.
“Tell me how you finish with them” He directed the manager and quietly stepped out of the office without a glance at the marooned looking friends who also avoided his face and he was gone.



]




**********
The two friends stood quietly by the road side. With them was the black Jimtex bag and the green bottle. They had actually bluntly refused the offer from the manager. They told him they have to talk to the others and would get back to him. The manager had stared thoughtfully at them and finally nodded. “Any how you want it my friends’ He had replied with his sly grin.
The two guards at the gate had also been disappointed, since nothing will now come their way as pre-agreed, but they advised them to collect the offer and promised to quickly get someone to buy the content and the bottles immediately. They had regretful declined, bid them farwell, with the promise to come back and quietly stepped out of the premises.
“So how far – e be like say our plan don back fire, maybe we for get some lawyers” Danjay finally announced as if he was realizing the idea for the first time.
“Na so o – but at least we try” Slim replied, lit a stick of cigarette and grinned thoughtfully away.
“So how we go do?” Danjay asked, his worries returning to his tired looking face.
Slim dragged his cigarette, then smiled up at him” Nothing- we no get anything to do again, na to go begin hustle for transport money back home” He replied.
“Well, help me with dis load then, the thing don dey heavy for my hand” Danjay complained, and handed him the black bag with the green bottle.
Slim collected the bag, smiled and confidently slugged it around his shoulder as they waited for the next bus to take them back to their host place, to prepare for their long journey back home.

END

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********


The passenger train drove slowly into their destination the next day at about mid-day. The two friends both dragged their tired frames quietly out of the coach, pushing and bumping into other eager passengers who were happy to have arrived safely and were anxious to meet their weary looking relatives, family and friends.
Slim tagged slowly after Danjay, who because of his familiarity with the town, lead the way. This was actually Slim`s first visit to the town. All he had earlier known about the popular town was from newspapers, magazines, TV, books and other journals he had read in school or lucky to come across. Truly the town looks clean and social. He could see many beautiful ladies, mostly dressed in western clothes. Trousers and the Miniskirts seem to be some of their favorites. The guys he noticed were not also left out in their western looks and manners. This is the town to be. He thought silently. Where nobody seems to care about what you think, what you do and what you wear. A place were ethnic, tribal and religion differences are ignored and regarded as part of the natural feature of the environment.
‘Welcome to the City –the place for everyone’ was the exact message one of the large billboards inside the station conspicuously displayed as visitors behold the city for the first time. He read the words silently, smiled and then joined other passengers towards the exit.
Slim and Danjay stood quietly outside the station and slowly surveyed the busy environment. The buses and Taxis were having a really busy day. Most of them were filled up with passengers and headed towards the main city.
“How far na bus get us o” Danjay announced his eyes staring at the row of buses across the road.
“Na you know town and na you know wetin go cheap for us. Just remember say na three hundred naira remain for our hand” Slim reminded him.
“Okay make we go. Take carry dis thing small, I don taya” Danjay said and trust a black Jimtex bag at him.
Slim collected the bag and they crossed towards one of the buses and boarded quietly with other passengers.
They got the address Kato had given them easily. It was a two bedroom flat, situated or rather built on a hill. Most of the other houses they noticed were also on hills as was the nature of the city.
Kato`s elder brother personally came to the gate and let them in, surprised to see them at that un-expected odd hours. Then after the long ceremonious greetings and a meal of heavy pounded yam, courtesy of their host and his wife, they finally drew him aside and led him into their true mission in the town. Their host listened attentively to them, saw the reality in their plan and promised to assist them with food and accommodation. He apologized that things were a little bit ruff on his side too, but promised to do everything available from his side.
They thanked him and told him not to worry; assuring him that very soon money will come their way. Big money they had boasted. All what they needed at that particular moment was just accommodation and luckily he had kindly provided them.
‘By this time tomorrow- God’s will, we should be counting some bundles of naira notes- bros” Slim boasted confidently.
‘No problem. I will give you the description of the place tomorrow. Meanwhile you guys need some rest. I will see you later.” With that, their host stood up, stared thoughtfully once more at the green bottle and then excused himself out of the room.
Danjay stared up quietly at the ceiling. He realized that he could not sleep, just like Slim who was already fast asleep. His mind was now occupied with imaginations and questions. What would happen the next day? Will the plan work? How would the company react? Was the plan really possible in this country? If they were in a developed country he knew things would have been different. But this is Nigeria. His country and he knew how difficult things could be. He reasoned silently, wishing he could light up a stick cigarette and drag all his worries away. But he knew that was impossible, unless he want to upset their host and his wife, who were strong anti-smokers. Well, at least he could still go out and satisfy his soul. Things will work out; their case at least was genuine enough. He assured himself. He pushed himself out of bed and tip toed out of the room.










FOUR
Kato glanced at his plastic Swatch watch; he noticed that the time was few minutes pass ten in the morning. The sleep could not just come yesterday night. The thought of making some real big money soon was just too much for him to just close his eyes and go to sleep. And today being the D-Day, his morning breakfast of koko and kose still lay ignored on the table. This was actually unusual as this happens to be his favourite food.
But today was just different. His mind could not just ignored thinking about his two friends and their last hope of checking out of the country- the green bottle. He wondered what might be going on at the factory by now in silence. Will the management see the logic behind their arguments and easily succumb to their demands?
Why not- he debated alone. They should be wise and see reasons, unless they don’t cherish their reputation. God! How he wish to quickly do away with their exams, get the money and get the hell out of this frustrating country. He prayed silently. Things were really getting worse and out of control these days, not with the sky rocking prizes of food, houses and clothes, the three most important things necessary for every living human being on earth. But not in his own country, where the traders, contractors and the all powerful government officials have hijacked the prizes of things, fixing, deregulating and monopolizing almost everything to themselves and their cronies.
He ought to leave this country, where the prize of garri, the cheapest food he grew up to know has now suddenly become ten times higher than the token he used to know. The most frightful one was the sudden rise of millet, maize, beans and the local groundnut and red oil. What would become of his favourite koko and kose, since the prizes of maize, beans and oil were now part of the rocketed commodities in the market? He wondered silently, his face screwing up into a frown. How long would his family keep feeding him every morning? His mother an old widow was only a petty trader. What about his younger ones? What about finishing school and not getting a job, just like other hundreds of thousands of graduates roaming the streets daily in search of jobs?
No- he must get out of this country, his mind was made up. His mother, like it or not has no option than to understand or maybe understand much later after he might have gone. He concluded his mind shifting back to his two friends and the green bottle.





FIVE
Slim and Danjay presented themselves at the factory gates around ten thirty on the dot the next day. They woke up very early, took their baths, dressed up and spend some time discussing and rehearsing their plans.
Their host had come in around few minutes to eight and gave them the address and description of the factory. Danjay had stared at the address and assured him that he knew the road and area. And few minutes later they bid their host goodbye and headed towards their all important confrontation. This after a rich breakfast of fried chips and stew, running it down with hot cups of Lipton tea, this courtesy of their host and his hospital able wife as usual.
They had picked a taxi since it was the only means of transportation towards the route.
Then they had casually presented themselves at the fenced Iron Gate. Two security men in private guards uniform stared suspiciously at them, their eyes constantly glancing at the black Jimtex bag in Danjay`s hand.

“Yes what can we do for you? “ One of the guards, a fat looking man, who seems to be the senior finally demanded with a loud voice.

“Yes, good morning. Please we came to see the manager” Slim replied, stepping forward with his trade mark smile, his eyes silently taking on the fake rank on the guard deep blue uniform.
“Manager – which of the manager?” The fat guard asked, his face not returning Slim`s smile, instead he kept staring suspiciously at them and their odd looking bag.
“The manger- the oga in charge of production” Slim told him, mixing up in pidgin, the smile still visible on his face. He glanced at Danjay who smiled and nodded at him.
‘Yes the production manager” He supported.
“Production manager- what do you want to see him for? And from where? Hope you know this is not our visiting time?” The fat guard announced, not making any move to let them in.
Slim stared quietly at the two guards, then at the large space housing the rich looking factory. He knew this was the only chance left for them to convince the two hostile looking elderly men, if they were to see the top management of the place. Should he tell them the purpose of their visit and their mission? Or just ask for the visitor’s book and sigh their names and purpose? Since in actual sense they were there on an official visit? He deliberated quickly. This place is a public company why allow these two elderly guards the opportunity of stopping them from achieving their aims? No- they did not come this far to be turned back home. So with this resolved in his mind he confronted the men again.
“Excuse me, sir; this is very important we must see the production manager today. We came all the way from another state to see him. And like I earlier said –it is very –very important” He told them bluntly, the smile now disappearing from his face.
The senior guard stared quietly at him, and then glanced once more at their bag.
“What is inside that bag?” He finally demanded.
“ Your company product , the main reason why we are here.” Slim replied confidently.

The two guards’ curiosity now rose further. They both gazed at the bag more curiously. Slim stared at Danjay and gave him a silent sign. He stepped forward and placed the bag on the table. He slowly pulled back the zip and ceremoniously brought out the green bottle, placing it quietly on the table for the two suspicious guards to see.



********
Tax lied to his manager he was sick and excused himself from work, though he was on his first morning shift. At ten 0’clock on the tot he was ready, dressed and ready to go. Today was the D- day – the day that things might change in his life for the better. He thought happily as he stepped out of his one room apartment. He locked his roosted iron door and sauntered out of the compound, usually deserted at this hour. Most of his co-tenants where either at their place of low income jobs or still dozing their tired lives away from the previous day’s hard striving. Tax was grateful that he met none of them outside. He had no time for long talk or gossips about the tight economy situation in the country this morning. He just pray that this plan of Slim and co works out fine as planned, his only confusion was the long grammatical name Slim had called the plan –litigation, who cares what name they called it, all he cares about was the raw cash. He admitted once again that he was a drop out, but all this was about to change, if all goes well as planned. This Slim and the rest had confidently assured him. Today was supposed to be the change he had long been dreaming and waiting for.
He was ready to wait at Kato’s place throughout the day, knowing that was going to be the rendezvous after the deal has been sealed. He grinned and slowly flagged an okada rider and told the weather beaten cyclist where he was going. They agreed on a price, he jumped on the back seat, his mind occupied with Slim, Danjay and the green bottle.





SIX
The production manager, a thin fair looking elderly man in his late forties, stared quietly at the two young men sitting confidently right opposite him across his large desk. He re-adjusted his medical glasses and tried to absolve what the two young men had just told him. He could not just believe what his ears was hearing- threat of litigation. Something about their stories still puzzled him and he realized that he could not just closed his ears to their complains and threats. But how truthful was their stories and threats? He wondered, his expression still staring blankly at the green bottle on his table.
“This other colleague of yours, which hospital did you say he is?” He finally managed to ask, his face now showing sign of seriousness and concern, at the same time piecing into Slim.
“At a Private Clinic, In fact, we don’t know how he his handling the bills right now” Slim responded with seriousness.
“And you are sure it was after drinking our product that he fell sick?” The manager asked, sizing up his sincerity. He gazed amazingly at the green bottle as if he was just seeing such product for the first time. He suddenly returned his gaze to Slim and Danjay, the suspicious on his face growing by bit.
“Yes – we are absolutely sure, even the doctor has also confirmed it” Slim replied, his eyes staring confidently at him.
“So where is the other bottle?”
“We left it with the Clinic”
The manager stared surprisingly at him as if to tell him how stupid and careless they had been. Instead he allowed himself a grin” And you say you guys are students – am I right?”
“Yes we are, and we are also part of the student union government in school.’ Slim lied.
It was a deliberate lie to put more fear and pressure on the manager and his employers. No sensible profit oriented organization would be foolish enough to mess around with student unions in the country. He thought happily as he grinned back at the now wary looking manager.
“So you want us to compensate you? “ The wary looking manager finally forced the word out, the grin no longer visible on his face.
“Exactly- that was the conclusion and agreement we all arrived at during our last emergency congress meeting. Yes, the student union agreed to negotiate for a reasonable compensation with your organization” Slim announced slowly as if he was actually doing the organization a favour by revealing this.
“ I see. So how reasonable is this compensation going to be? Do you have anything in mind?” The manger finally asked after a short thoughtful minutes. He kept staring at the mysterious green bottle.
Danjay stared at him, his eyes half on the bottle and ready to scoped it back into the Jimtex bag , if the man made any wrong move. He had earlier cautioned Slim about the sensibility of bringing along the bottle, first without having a photograph of it or better, engaging a qualified lawyer to do all the legal negotiations for them. But Slim had always assured them that they were capable of handling this.
“Why are we in school?” he had always projected confidently with a wide beam on his face, again with the reminder that it will cost a large sum of money to engage a good lawyer to slug it out with the manufacturer on litigation and punitive charges. This was still Nigeria, were the laws always favoured the rich and mighty. He had always pointed out.
”But these people could actually confisticate this bottle once we are in their premises” he had tried to convince the ever so confident Slim, who had smiled and insisted they come along with it, since time was going, the earlier the better . He had advised.” No shaking – everything go work out fine” he had assured. And now Danjay stared silently at his slim figure and waited for him to make everything fine. What should be a reasonable prize? He thought silently and tried to imagine a big reasonable figure.
“Five million should be reasonable enough, sir” Slim finally announced with a smile, actually wishing he could increase the sum to a clean ten million naira.
“Five million what?’ The manager demanded loudly with surprise.
“Five million naira, sir” Slim repeated, noticing the shock on the man’s face and imagining what his reaction would have been if he had told him the ten million figure. He smiled broadly and listened to his rambling.
“Five million naira. Common young men, you guys must be kidding. Don’t you think you and your student union are asking for an unreasonable compensation? You are actually asking for too much gentlemen.” He paused and mop his face, though the air-conditional was working steadily, he then continued.” You see, like I earlier told you, this is not a new thing to us as you can see here” He pointed to other green bottles with similar dirty substances by the window. ‘’ All these are due to production error and we have our normal ways of compensating customers, faithful consumer like you , who might have been unfortunate to come across mistakes like this’. He paused and actually smiled at both of them. ‘’ But our ways of compensation is not on the same line with that ridiculous amount you are asking for” He added, his smile now more of a grin.
“So what is your line of compensation?” Slim mockingly asked, deliberately dropping the sir prefix. ‘We are here to negotiate.
“Look young men, I think you guys should better come back later in the day. I really need to take up your issue with the top management.’ He glanced at his watch” Why don’t you come back say around two thirty” He suggested glancing once more at his watch.
“ You can at least tell us what your organization is willing to offer, sir” Danjay suggested not happy with the way things were going.
The manager stared quizzically at Danjay, as if he had just suggested something weird and distractive. “No, I can’t do that right now. You guys should just go and come back around two thirty, I believe I should be in a better position to tell you our offer then. But right now, I will need to take up your request with my ogas” He told them with a final decision and a full grin.
Slim and Danjay stared at each other, and both pushed themselves up from their seats at the same time. Danjay scoped up their green bottle and returned it back to the bag.
“Oh, you guys are not leaving the bottle with us? It is okay, you can go with it, but make sure to bring it along when coming back; the management will need to see it.” He told them, privately regretting that they had refused to leave the evidence behind-Wise boys. He thought silently with his mischievous grin.
“There is no problem. We will come back with it “ Danjay assured him, safely zipping back the back. They thanked him, grinned back at him and went out of the air-conditioned office, back into the scorching sun of the day.

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RANDOM VOICES
Collection of short stories

The Green Bottle
‘’All great ideas are controversial, or have been at one time.’’-Gilbert Seldes

Fate as they say is inevitable. That is- what would be – will be, come whatever may. Fate, the three friends agreed, had pushed them to see the mysterious content inside the green beer bottle that very day.
This is the story of three determined young men who believed that the best could be milked out of every given opportunity. They were determined and ambitious. Street wise, social and broke. Meet them any day, anytime and anywhere, their ambitions is either to travel out to Jans, a coined name for abroad or stay back in Naija their home country; in a comfortable house , with a beautiful wife and some of the latest posh cars in town. Just two things seem to be holding them back from realizing their daily visualized reveries. The first most important thing was money; something that was still eluding the three of them and the second obstacle, though a must, if they want to be part of a future country, where education was now daily turning into a privilege for only the rich and mighty in the society. Schooling was the must and the second most important thing holding them back from achieving their dreams.
Their parents had always drummed it into their ears.” You must go to school, if you ever want to be somebody in this country” this was the golden advice daily preached to them at home. Though on this particular day, just like any other evening, which was rear, they had gone out for just one one (A bottle of beer each) and few stick of shared cigarettes between the two smokers among them. And maybe one or two extra bottles from a familiar face or from a generous drunk, accompany with extra charitable different brand of cigarettes. They love socializing, believing that socializing with others from different backgrounds add value to their education and broaden the act of living with different brains and minds anywhere they might eventually found themselves in the world. This was part of their many believes in life. They all drink; an act frowned upon by their parents. But they were young men and one or two escapades, won’t hurt anybody as long as they do their things silently in the right way. The three friends had long agreed. And where better to do their ‘things’, if not in a bar far away from home and away from gossipers and other curious onlookers and foes around.

“Wait!’’ Slim – so called because of his slim long frame, shouted to the amazement of his two friends, who both suddenly stared frightfully at the green bottle in front of them. The young barman who had wanted to open the beer also paused and stared confusingly at the bottle of beer.
“What! – na wetin?” Kato the fattest among the three shouted jumping from his seat.
Luckily the bar this evening was not as crowded as other evenings. Few customers lingered around some of the tables, faraway from the drama going on among the three friends and the bar man. This was actually supposed to be their first one- one , the bill already taken care of by a familiar face who was generous enough to have included a half pack of Benson and Hedges. And playing from the background was the mind inspiring song coming in from the cold, by the Jamaican legend Bob Nester Marley.
“Don’t open that bottle” Slim shouted again and grabbed the particular green bottle and held it up.
The three other men stared amazingly at the bottle and then stupidly at Slim, who was now grinning and staring thoughtfully at the odd looking content inside the beer bottle.
“ e be like say you guys never ready- well me I dey on my way” Danjay the darker of the three friends , announced in pidgin, lifting one of the bottle and taking a long satisfactory sip. Kato soon followed suit.
“How far make I open or not?” Tax the barman, asked unable to hold back his patience.
“Go your own Tax, leave am- maybe the one- one don dey work for him body. No worry I go call you when I finish dis one” Kato said and made to pull the controversial bottle. But Slim`s reflexes was faster and quicker.
“Cool Down- you mean you guys can’t still see what I am seeing?” Slim asked, pulling the bottle away from Kato.” Okay all of you – come closer and shine your eyes proper. Come closer and take a careful look- I am serious.”



Danjay bend down and make to pick a stick of cigarette from the table then suddenly paused, and stared completely in awe at the green bottle.
“Come o – wetin I dey see so. There is something inside this bottle.” He finally announced his hand pausing inches away from the pack of cigarette.
Kato and Tax now looking more confused bend down and also take a closer look at the bottle. And there it was – a strange growing Fungi right inside the cocked green bottle of beer. They all stared bewilderedly at the bottle. Kato lifted it and confirmed that the bottle was actually still sealed from the factory. He turned it up, side and down, to make sure it was not licking. He scanned the bottom to see if there was any trick from somewhere. Nothing – but there it was – a dirty looking substance, a fungi to be precise. He concluded, now also thinking thoughtfully.
“ Are you guys now satisfied” Slim asked, lighting up a stick of cigarette , his eyes fixed on the bottle thoughtfully.
“But how come?” Tax asked, lifted the bottle and also scrutinized it carefully. Satisfied there was no leakage, he makes to return the bottle to the bar
“Come – where are you going?” Slim almost shouted at the confused looking Tax who paused half way. “Wait let me show you something” Slim continued and snatched the bottle away from him.
“What! - I want to replace another one for you”. Tax told him
“Don’t worry- I will pay you for this one” Slim answered quickly extracting some naira notes from his wallet. “Take I will bring back your bottle later. Right now I am taking this one home - take away.” He smiled, and retained his excited look.
“But you know- that is impossible, unless you deposit for the bottle” Tax replied, wondering at the odd request.
“What is impossible? Please, I don’t like that word impossible. Everything is possible…okay, here take for the drink.” Slim said and handed him the exact amount for the drink.
“What about the deposit?” A suspicious Tax asked, collected the bill and stared thoughtfully at it.
“Don’t worry I’ll settle you proper when the deal succeeds. And believe me, it’ll succeed” Slim said proudly and returned to his seat.
Kato and Danjay, stared thoughtfully at him their minds already deliberating on the deal. They both suddenly wore a wide grin, visualizing an already emerging opportunity.
“Deal – what deal? “A confused looking Tax asked his lean face screwed up in a frown.
“Relax Tax – wetin be your problem. Is this the best way to threat old customers like us? Don’t worry we go settle you the deposit before we go.” Kato assured a bewildered Tax who stared thoughtfully at the bottle, then grumbled away to attend to other customers.





TWO
The Three friends sat scattered across the room. Sitting anxiously with them were two other invited young men of their age. Also resting comfortably on a stool, in the middle of the room, was the main subject of this august gathering – The green bottle.
A visitor entering the room would have had the impression that the five young men were having a lecture rehearsal. A curious detective on the other hand might have accused them of planning something dangerous against the unsuspecting public. While if they were to be in the military, someone, maybe a fellow es pirit de cop, would have reported them to the relevant high command, for suspicious that they were planning a coup.
But to the trio, what they were planning and trying to conscript their two new friends into was far better than any coup or public disturbance, and very crucial to them.
They had been able to convince the grumbling Tax to allow them take the bottle home without depositing a kobo. Slim and Danjay had actually sweet mouthed the reluctant Tax into their proposed plan. He had listened attentively, then easily succumbed and agreed to contribute to the success of what he had quickly seen as an opportunity and a possible break through. And his contribution they had told him was just to allow them go away with the bottle since the truth was that they had no extra money to deposit for the bottle.
“ Don’t worry Tax- you no trust us, wetin go commot na big money, big break my brother ,just imagine am” Slim had told him boastfully as they all stood up to leave with the green bottle safely concealed inside Kato`s trouser, and they had all spirited to his house.
Presently, they were all still seated inside Kato`s scanty room, with the excited Kato playing the happy host ,the sweet talking Slim the planner and Danjay acted as the mobilize, while the two new entrant the chain smoking Baba and a shrewd looking Chuks, all listened attentively to Slim and his plans.
“Gentlemen, like we have always said- never close your eyes to an opportunity. Always ensure to milk the best out of it”. Slim reminded them with his wide grin.
Baba a cigarette dangling from his tobacco stained teeth, nodded, his eyes constantly stealing glances at the green bottle on the stool.
“Fate has pushed us a solid opportunity today. One opportunity we all never expected and we should not close our eyes and allow this big opportunity to slip through our fingers, without milking the very best out of it”. Slim continued, his eyes looking towards Danjay for approval, which he got through a short sharp nod of the head from the grinning mobilizer.
“ We decided to invite the both of you to be part of this big break, because we see all of us as age mates and friends in progress, in hope that we can all come together and contribute to the success of this positive plans of ours”. Slim continued in his confident tone and excited look.
“Come Slim why don’t you come out straight to the point. What exactly do you want us to do? Agreed we have all seen the bottle and the dirty content inside it, then what?” An impatient Chuks asked, lighting a cigarette.

“Yes, hit the nail Slim. Tell them the plans and what we expect from them. – simple” Kato chipped in. They all suddenly heard foot steps by the door and Kato quickly scoped up the bottle from the stool and hurriedly hide it away under the bed.
“Your food is ready” Kato heard his younger sister announced, half peeping inside the room from the door way. “Should I bring it now?” She asked, her eyes scanning the room and coming to rest with her brother and his four friends. She sensed something was amused, but as usual she could not place what they were planning. She stared inquisitively at them for confirmations, but they all stared back blankly at her.
‘Thank you, I will send for it when we are ready” Kato finally told her, loosing interest in her curious stares. She stared thoughtfully at them once more, and then quietly sauntered away.
“Yes where were we?” Kato asked pulling out the bottle and placing it once more on the stool.
“Make Slim come straight to the point. Wetin be the plan?” Chuks complained switching back to pidgin.
“ Yes, Slim make you break the thing down for dem. Make we know where we stand” Kato supported , his eyes on Slim who was trying to collect the half smoked cigarette `fifty` as they call it in their parlance.
“Yes – in straight simple English, no be all those big – big grammar wey you dey speak. Just tell us wetin be the plan?” Baba interjected also showing his impatience.
Slim stared thoughtfully at all of them a wide grin greasing his face. He stared at the bottle and then pushed himself up.
“Make una take am easy…cool down…Na small – small. I just want make una understand the plan very well, bicos dis one na mother of all opportunity for us to break through’. He calmly told them dragging the last drag on the cigarette.
‘ We don already get the plan and see the opportunity, na Chuks and Baba you suppose explain to in details, just tell dem the plan. I sure say dem go dey interested, if dem hear the full jist”. Danjay advised speaking for the first time.
“Come una just dey shout say make I talk the plan. No be say to spin am out na him be the problem, but how serious Baba and Chucks go take am na him dey worry me”. Slim complained, he hid a grin and stole glances at Baba and Chucks who now wore frowns on their faces.
“Just tell us wetin be the plan – simple “They both busted out.
“Okay –easy – dis na the plan” Slim said and returned to his seat and for the next few minutes the young men listened attentively to the planner and his plans, the mobilizer gave out his full support, and the financials listened and got fascinated and hooked to the plan. They quickly promised to assist and support the opportunity to it end, then the host provided food and cigarettes to step down and finally the crucial meeting came to an end, after much brain storming.



THREE
Two of the five friends sat right opposite each other inside the same coach of a faded Express train the next day, on their way to keep to their fate. Though they sat facing each other, but each was deeply lost in his own thoughts and worries.
They had been traveling on the fast moving train for more than six hours and the day was now wearing a dark look, with almost all the passengers already fast asleep, dozing off or snoring away, unable to resist nature, despite their fears of the notorious train thieves.
Slim adjusted his slender frame and stole a glance at Danjay who was already in the league of those fast asleep. Resting on his lap was his unfinished Hadley Chase novel ‘Want to Stay Alive’.
Finally they were on their way to confront an opportunity and redeemed their destiny. Slim thought silently his mind tormented with worries, excitement and the fear of the unknown. Good they were on their way to the brewery, to go see the manufacturer and management of the green bottle and its mysterious content. But what would happen? He tried to visualize the scenario and the dialogue that might likely take place between them and a suspicious and shrewd management. God, let this plan work. He prayed silently, his eyes staring blankly at the dark night.
He, like his friends, was fed up with the poor education environment in the country. God! What is going on? What is happening to education in this country? He asked himself. What are the unsolvable problems bedeviling our hitherto vibrant educational sector, where some of the best brains in this world originated from? He almost shouted out angrily, but restrains himself on time before waking the tired sleeping passengers. How could those in charge of our primary, secondary and higher institutions have closed their eyes and reasoning to the realities on ground in almost all part of the country? The pathetic situation was how young innocent primary school pupils were forced to learn from bare floor of classrooms and other dilapidated structures. A scene visible in some of the secondary and higher schools across the country, with windows and verandahs converted into seats.
The hostels and other student abodes are a sorry sight for any thoughtfully knowledge seeking human being. Who won’t be, when the sights of young brilliant inspiring students are cramped into a room, with six to eight boarders sharing what the authority called a bed space? yet the school, their parents, guardians, and friends all eager to see them pass out in good colours.
Thank God, they had wisely parked out of that frustrated environment. Why continue to stay on campus, when eating a plate of meal was now becoming something impossible. Why force yourself to live inside the campus, when reading during the night or pro to examination period is always frustrating, no thanks to the poor epileptic power supply and constant break down of the old generating set or the constant excuse of lack of diesel.
He wondered why his country leaders, who during their time had a free and comfortable environment, could now greedily decide to now turned blind eyes to the sorry state of their learning environment. It amazed him why millions, trillions and billions of Naira should be wasted on white elephant projects and other unrealistic imported policies.

God, why can’t those saddled with the responsibility of ruling this rich country, invest selflessly on education and make our schools the brain castles and pride of any nation. A pride and hope for his generation and the future generations. What is hindering the reality of a free education for all in all level of their schools? Why is it becoming impossible for the ordinary citizens to be awarded scholarships or grants to school abroad and exchange ideas with other brains from other part of the world, just like it was done in those days? Instead, all their applications for scholarship had been ignored, with only whispers of the purported Nigerian syndrome always coming to play. What family are you from? What is your surname? Who was your father or mother? And so on. Bullshit! He grumbled out. Thank God, they were about to round up their three year frustrating diploma programmes. Three years of hard struggling and striving. He thought his mind trying not to remember all those hard days they had all tried to stay focus in class amidst hunger and cheap oppression by those fortunate enough to have all the good things in school.
Well, they have all made up their individual minds. They will ‘check out’ of the country immediately after their papers. Yes, the three of them. All they just needed right now was for this vital plan to work. He concluded happily as the train speed through the dark cold night. He stared thoughtfully at the sleeping figure of the snoring Danjay , grinned and also closed his eyes and unconsciously gave himself up to the irresistible hands of sleep.







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