₦airaland Forum

slap1:
first time i've heard that. why?

Based on the hype. . .it had as much suspense as a Hardy Boys mystery.

The Interpreters by Wole Soyinka

Dear Madge,

Errr. . .I feel awkward at the start of this letter. I write these long epistles without any assurance you actually read them. It is highly likely you throw every letter with any kind of African insignia into the bin once it passes through the letterbox. Regardless, it is only right I make the proper salutations. I hope the London winter hasn't been as harsh as last year's. Lagos is experiencing its own coldish season with the arrival of the harmattan. While I am grateful for the respite from the humidity, there seems to be literally dust floating in the air. No  surface is left untouched sentient or otherwise. And I am ever so tired of rubbing balm on the lips to relieve the chappiness. But you must think me an ungrateful sod. Here I am basking in twenty degrees plus temperatures and still running my gob. Haa. . but it is the nature of man isn't it. Never satisfied.

Talking about satisfied, there has been some grumbling in Lagos lately from very high quarters. Remember the 'big man' bankrolling this investigation. Well, he has been on the edge lately, and giving it to everyone within an earshot in the police department, more often than not Burukutu. I can't help but feel for the man. You can tell, he has risen the ranks in a profession he is ill suited for. The other officers have a certain edge to them as they reek of the errr ''streets''. I have seen more than one or two in dark corners at headquaters, talking in silent tones, probably negotiating one bribe or the other. With their bloodshot eyes, testament to long sessions smoking joints or drinking the local alcoholic brew, one understands why Lagos has such a tatty security reputation.

But all this is of no interest to our ''big man'' of course. In Nigeria, money talks. Human beings are bought and sold, whole cities erased and new ones built and governments fail and . . . well they have never succeeded have they, with the exchange of a few wads of cash. So our ''big man'' with his filthy lucre expected this filthy business to be summarily disposed of, and punishment handed out to whoever dared deprive him of his daughter.

At this juncture, I should make a confession. Macpherson put me on this case in order to simply make it go away, to keep it hush hush. To my surprise, it occured to me not long after arriving in Lagos, many of my new Nigerian partners had thesame disposition as Macpherson. You see, investigations in Nigeria follow a particular pattern. In the event of a crime, the police looks for people in the immediate vicinity when they belatedly arrive at the scene of a crime and round up everyone that remotely looks suspicious. They look for the usual clues. Bloodshot eyes, inadequacy in the English language and the clincher, the presence of a collection of individuals. These are all for public crimes, for ones in private quarters, discretion is left to the participants. No questions are asked so long as enough is paid to buy silence. This case did not fit the bill. They were no suspects they could lay their hands on, they were no criminally minded sort lurking in the shadows. Cyberworld might as well be in Timbuktu for all they cared. So the onus was all on me, and they would watch the white witch doctor perform his magic.

Burukutu though was of different ilk from his colleagues,  A man of hitherto high ideals, you can literally see the cynicism emanating from his pores and in his comportment. Many shrugs of the shoulders and spreading of his arms in a helpless manner testify to the years, as he watched any sense of purpose seeped or decency seeped out of the Police he once believed in. Initially reluctant to open up to a foreigner, he slowly grew to trust me and recounted tales upon tales of corruption you can only imagine going all the way to the top of the tree itself. I grew to like him very quickly because in many ways, we shared thesame fate. Outcasts, maladjusted to a system that does not forgive.

So I was hurt as I watched the big man berate Burukutu over the lack of improvement in the case. We had gone to see him in his palatial home in the choice part of the city, or I should say Burukutu had gone to see him and I decided to tag along despite my partner's objection. Now I understood why he did not want me to watch his man-shaming.

''You are a slowpoke Burukutu,'' said the big man.

''Sir, we are putting all our efforts sir into the case, we have. . . .''

''Don't give me that nonsense my friend'', the big man interrupted, ''You think I will let you waste all the money I have put into this thing without any results. Look my friend, if by next week, you don't start giving me names and suspects, I will deal with you in a way you will not like.''

''Sir, we are really trying our best . . . . ''Burukutu kept repeating.

''Your best my foot,'' he interrupted again.''What more do you need, I got you a white man,'' he said this without looking to my direction, ''I gave your supervisors tons of money and yet nothing.''

He was practically foaming at the mouth. And you got the impression, he was a master of the art. Many before Burukutu had been subjects of this manner of deprection and by all indications many will come after. But I got the urge, and couldn't hold myself.

''With all due respect sir, I think you should calm down and let the police do their job.'' I said.

He appeared,nay he was shocked at my interjection. I was not meant to speak unless spoken to.

''Excuse me. . .'' he stammered out.

''Sir, I think you are underestimating the complexities of this case.''

''The complexities unh?''

''Yes, this is no ordinary case. Governments around the world are grapling with cyber crimes and its sophistication. Your police are making do in a not too favourable environment.''

I waited for a reply but none was forthcoming. He was looking at me, sizing me up. Then he sighed,

''You know what some young lark of a journalist nicknamed me?''

''No idea.''

''Well, am surprised Burukutu hasn't educated you. I was nicknamed Jackal the Hannibal. Apparently I was gruff, rude, impatient, loquacious etcetera.''

''Errr. . .Okay.'' I was a bit lost but I indulged him.

''But you will agree I have not been rude to you Detective McCrackles, '' he said as he sat up in his throne-ish seat. ''Even when you rudely interrupted a few moments ago, I let your indiscretion pass.''

''I don't think I was rude Sir. . . I was just. . . ''

He raised his hand to silence me.

''Its okay. This case isn't about me but finding the man who murdered my daughter.''

''Why are you so sure it was a man?''

He looked at me askance, then at Burukutu. And suddenly both burst out laughing, while I just sat there looking at them explore their mirth. We left not too long after. He walked us to our car before retiring. As the gateman opened the gates, he knocked on the passenger side window. When I responded, he passed a note to me before walking away not saying a word.

The note read: Hello Detective McCrackles. I told the gateman to pass this note to you. My name is AdeAbeke, sister to Desiree. Please meet me at Eko Hotel on Wednesday at 6pm. I was an active member of koboland and might be useful to you in your investigation.

There you have it Madge for now. I know this letter really did not offer too much in terms of say the eccentric Jeun Okuwa but I am hopeful this lady Abekeade might offer something when I meet her.

Errr. . . I guess its bye for now.


Love You

Dickie



''

Show us the money

true true. . Zadie Smith's first book, white teeth. funny, topical and entertaining. She gets no prize but lots of acclaim.

Then she writes On Beauty, I still don't know how I managed to finish. Some pretentious expose on College campus life.
Quite dreary. . what you know, wins the Orange Prize.

But there are some quite good ones. Andrea levy's won the orange.

I know you don't like err dark broody novels. . .but I think you should read Lionel Shriver's ''we need to talk about kevin''.
Can't recommend it enough. Hope ur fragile constitution can take it though It won the orange too.

Tatase:
I HAVE slacked in pace because I'm a little busier and have a little more going on right now. But I'm never not "currently reading" something. I just hadn't been on NL in a few days to update is all. What are YOU reading?

a thousand acres - - - -jane smiley. American midwest farming family saga. Pulitzer prize winner no less.

Has been boring so far though