₦airaland Forum

I've got it.Thanks

This spam bot of a thing has been eating me raw each time I copy paste.Shy one I've reposted as you asked but not showing up here but the funny thing I couldnt understand is that I do see my missing posts if I browse NL through my phone, I have my chapter two posted too, but none isnt here.Seun what could be happening?

Shyone could I have your email please.Mine is ayolad4@yahoo.com

Shyone,see the little effort I did making it a bit dramatic from the start rather than rushing to pass my message accross, burning with much to tell and much to change of our society to make it a better place for us all to live, so I was hasty in my narration,hasty for change. Could I have your emai?I went through hell trying to copy paste.


                                     CHAPTER ONE

       Once you were held up in a traffic jam of Odofin, that was it; the least you could spend to get out of it was thirty minutes. Agent Richard knew the mess he was into, as his car had been sucked deep amidst of the impatient drivers’ cars battling to wriggle their way in and out of traffic jam.

The tires squealing, horns hooting, the hawkers would not give you the silent moment you sought, for rolling up your windows to convert the hustling and bustling moment to a cool one by listening to music on your CD player.On a normal day any track from Fela Anikulapokuti would have been his favourite  but today Agent Richard was not listening to any music,he was busy flipping through some pages of a compiled report in his brief case, to him that was all he had to ravish with all his attention.

    He was doing pretty good on this when a hawker walked up to his car and rattled on it.
‘‘Bros! Buy some rat poison, What of this Oga,it is good for cockroach!’’

Agent Richard sighed, adjusted his tie a bit to give him some ease from the anger welled up in him. He wouldn’t say a word he tilted his head to other side of the car, there stood a vendor with piles of Newspapers which he cupped up to his chest while dangling one in his other hand to show its caption for Agent Richard to see.

‘‘Year !Its right on cue’’

Agent Richard whispered this to his detective intuition and ran his eyes through some few lines.

‘Vincent Fasasi the newly elected Governor of  SOGAL STATE launches campaign against child abuse’’
Agent Richard’s countenance changed, it appeared the news raised his hackles, it puffed him to see this coming from the Governor whom he had over the years gleaned much about to arrived at the report in his hand.

Agent Richard became tense, frothing at mouth, he wished he could fly and get out of this rowdy nature of Odofin.

As usual,the fur started to fly among the bus drivers of who shouldn’t have crossed lanes, Agent Richard’s anger lost in this dramatic brawl being displayed by some of these bus drivers.

He sighed and rested his head on the head-rest sliding through within him,of what the image of Odofin always like, the town popularly known for its hurly-burly of everyday street life characterized by cacophony emanating from vehicles blaring  horns to wriggle their way out of traffic jam, the seething of jay-walkers scurrying across to board buses  and pathetic raucous shout that could emerge from victims of purse snatchers, the smoky atmosphere of a burning house that might have been caused by  some fuel mongers and the garbage littered by the road  was all he could picture and what he could see at that moment. For sure he was inured to it, so nothing today could provoke him more.

Just a few distance to where Agent Richard was held up in a traffic jam was another terrible sight that tensed the atmosphere more than usual, pathetic and fearful, a sad day that nobody heard of the news without being gripped with cold of sympathy.

Seven school boys whose age should be around seven years were murdered, swathed in a tarpaulin and dumped by the road side. Nobody knew when and who dropped them, although people had seen the tarpaulin ever since dawn but never bothered to check the content. They believed it was nobody’s business until when Lamidi the jaded tug in the area thought it could be something benefiting to steal, he snaffled it open and raised alarm at what he saw. If anything could make Lamidi raise alarm out of fear, it worth attention. It spurred people to rush to the scene.

The journalists were around both from the electronic and print media, camera all over, arrays of squirting light whirring from the photographers who would surely make a living from it by selling the photographs to those that were not present. The media would enliven the story beyond its content. Different captivating headlines on the newspapers would sell. The paramedics, the nurses, the doctors, the ambulance would soon be on their way. They might come at anytime to dispose the bodies…. two or three days might not be too late to do that….as it had become the habit of the board in charge of environmental protection not to rise up to its responsibility on time. The area had a high record of death related to environmental waste ranging from clinical to industrial and residential waste.

The police were at work,it was Inspector Etim who led the team of police that came to the scene. He was unapologetic to anyone when it came to arrest. He believed criminal would always claim innocent until he was beaten to a pulp with a brute force before he could confess or give a clue to what would lead them to the truth of the matter. Some of his detective officers whom he had sent to mingle with the crowd to get some information didn’t elicit a clue because everyone around had learnt to mind his p’s and q’s in order not to be arrested  to provide more information which he or she might not know to them at the police station. But somebody had managed to squeal on Inspector Etim that it was Lamidi who called the attention of people towards the tarpaulin. He might know something more. Without more ado, the Inspector had ordered to arrest Lamidi and some few members of the crowd. The crowd seemed to know what the police were up to, they started backtracking gradually. All at once, they began to scoot. One of the police fired a tear gas and this caused a commotion among the crowd. The police were able to arrest Lamidi and some groups of people.

The journalists around were not happy at the development. To them, it was a total violation of human right. They believed no law empowered the police to carry out their official duty in such a ruthless manner. ‘‘They are not to ignite the unrest in masses but to quench it, dispersing harmless gathering with tear gas is against the article 22 of Protocol A/SP1/12/01 of ECOWAS.’’ One of the Journalists reacted fuming seriously over the unprofessional way in which the police had handled the supposed –to-be atavistic gathering.

 Lamidi had lost two of his teeth out of the few left behind in his mouth to the severe beating he was receiving in the process of coercing him to confess all he knew about the murder. The notorious boy was saying something in his helpless state…. “Haa. Askari! na true say we dey pick from the careless owner to help us survive. Person pikin must not die in hunger…, but to kon say we dey shed blood…. Haa! Babami, ten commandment of Moses would never allow us do such a thing!”He courageously expressed himself making all attempts within him to suppress the humiliation he had been subjected to…he knew his being the ‘king’ of the street was his ruggedness to triumph in any hard situation.

“Keep quiet! Who say na you do am? We know say no be you do ‘am…. but you must tell us whom you see wey drop the tarpaulin this morning. Or no be under the bridge you and your gang sleep last night? How come u na no see people who drop the dead body?” One of the police asked, accompanying his last statement with a slap that landed on Lamidi’s face but the second attempt was to the air, Lamidi sharply ducked it.

“Oga no light last night till day break, we know say one big Jeep drop the load but where we dey, we no fit see the colour or the number of the car. Nobody came down from the jeep. We no see the person inside the car. Na de load wey in drop, nain we see. I no go fit lie you sir!’’Lamidi replied pensively ,dabbing the edge of his clothe on the blood draining down from his mouth….it had reddened his black lips.

“Time ! time! tell us around what time the jeep dropped the tarpaulin and which route did the jeep follow?” Constable Simon inquisitively asked, moving one of his fingers close to the trigger of his AK47, which he pointed at Lamidi with all gesture that he might pull the trigger if there would be any more slight provocation from Lamidi.
“Oga, please I beg you….no kill me I get wife get pinkin for house,make u no turn my wife to widow turn my pinkin to. , orphan and  My wife no get money to kon bail me from u na station. make you help release me…. she don sell my wrist watch buy ‘gari!’ wey we shop last night…Please I no know the time wey the car  pass….”Lamidi spat out the words alongside with blood from his mouth….his eyes fixed at the trigger….he knew what to do if the Constable would dare make the attempt.
Constable Simon got furious at his reply, he believed Lamidi was only prevaricating. He wanted to pull the trigger but Inspector Etim held his hand and told them to suspend any inquiry until they were back to the station. The Inspector knew why he said this. Could it have been that Lamidi and Raimi Mogaji knew something they were trying to hide? How could Raimi a dosser-mate with Lamidi provide a contradictory version of the incident? The officer that was interrogating him had transmitted on radio to the Inspector of what Raimi confessed that it was a taxicab that dropped the tarpaulin at about 5:00am.

It had been thirty minutes long the police had arrived at the scene, the Inspector had ordered for ambulance to take the bodies to the appropriate authority. They would like to conduct an autopsy on the dead. The suspects had been taken to the station; the ambulance was on the way. Could this car speeding recklessly towards the scene be the ambulance? It was only one-man team in suit. He abruptly stopped the car before the police could stop him. He did not show much regard for the cordon the police had put up to prevent crowd from interfering with any useful item that could aid in their investigation. He spurted across the barricade… somebody among the journalists was calling his name “Richard! Richard!”
He did not answer, probably he didn’t hear or it wasn’t his name because the journalist that had called him was somehow doubtful if he really was whom he thought; a primary school friend of about twenty two years ago. The man in suit was too much engrossed in his obligation to see the bodies, he could not answer the call. One of the constables wanted to stop him from coming closer. The police cocked his AK 47 to scare him but the man was not afraid, he flashed his identity card to the constable and the inscription at the back read “The bearer is empowered with the immunity of superior police officer in accordance with the provisions of the National Security Agencies Act 1986”. When the constable read it, he alerted others and they all snapped to attention. It appeared the Inspector knew him, he extended his hand for greeting and the two embraced each other. Inspector Etim called him by name.
“Agent Richard! Our city has been witnessing too many crimes all over the streets…too much killings over the recent time. Why the innocent souls this time around? Last year before the gubernatorial election, the DDP governorship aspirant of this state was murdered in cold blood in his house. It is worrisome how we waste human resources in this country. How can someone interpret the death of these seven boys to the recent political killings? Are their parents contesting for any political office? Why! Why could someone wickedly terminate this generation of our hopeful children?” He mused but a part of him did not feel much disturbed;…probably the police in him.
“Inspector Etim! Have you tried to guess the age the boys could fall within?” Agent Richard kept an ear cocked for the reply, looking so confident of what he knew of the incident…his hands were on his tie, which he was adjusting to give him some ease from the heat welled up in him from the sentiment he had for the incident.
‘’Six-Seven, I believe!” tentatively replied, Inspector Etim.
“Precisely seven years. I bet you. And today’s date and month?’’, his tie was now draping on his neck.
“Today’s date and month? What are you configuring? Today is seventh of July!” Inspector Etim replied assertively.
“Listen to this, 7 7 7 7 7 does it make a sense to you?”He scribbled it on the ground tapping at each number repeatedly, seeing beyond the written figure.
“Throw more light. I’m getting confused.” Inspector replied trying to make a concrete out of an abstract looking so much interested in what seemed like a brainteaser.
“Seven boys of seven years of age on every seventh of July of every seven years!’’ Agent Richard extrapolated, dangling his head to the confirmation of what he just mustered up courage to reveal.
“It appears you have been following the trend over the years. You surely know something concrete over this that appears as if you never want to discuss with anyone?’’
“Yes let’s say twenty two years ago when I was seven years!”He drew his breath heavily.
“What do you mean? Were you in service twenty two years ago at age of seven?”
Agent Richard smiled trying to bite his tongue over what he knew of the incident. He dragged Etim closer to the bodies and squatted besides it. He brought out a note pad with pencil and wrote his observation down, then he called Etim’s attention towards a new discovery he had found. It was true that he had been on the investigation for many years but he had never been fortunate to see the cadavers at close-up. He had been on the investigation at his own private effort, many of the times in which he  was never  allowed to have access to what he needed most to aid him in his investigation. He later joined the Security Service just because of this case to nail who was behind it. His investigation had revealed to him who the man was, he had been in the man’s den when he was a little boy. Now that he had become an officer, a grown man, he had taken up the cudgels to shed his last blood to bring the culprit to book no matter his political aggrandizement in the country. The blood of the innocent, the love he had been denied, the damage it had caused him had been his fortifying armour.

‘Inspector Etim, just take a look between their legs,’ he pointed between their tights, he continued ‘…their manhood is missing! It was a ritual killing on a political mission”. He surmised. He made some sketch on his note pad.
             “Ritual…, Politics…manhood? What a barbaric act! Heaven have mercy. Do you know the wicked politician that did this?’’ Inspector Etim asked waiting patiently for answer.
Before Agent Richard could answer, the journalist that called him earlier had come to him; he tapped Richard at his back and called his name with all air of uncertainty. Richard looked up and called back surprisingly “Paul….Peter, which of you”.
“It’s me Paul! Richard you or someone else? It is a lie! I cannot believe I am right . Where has life placed you? Looking so manly handsome and healthy! What are you and what…?” Paul in his delight mood could not hold back his happiness, he embraced him.
“Call me Agent Richard. That is what I am now.’’ He made a light pose of an officer and within a blink, he jerked out ‘‘… and what of Peter?”seriously demanding.
“Come on, I blush to remember that. Have you forgotten that twenty-two years ago he got missing? My twin brother was nowhere to be found since we were seven years. I thought you were among the three boys that were declared missing on assembly on 7th of July 1985. Were you not with Peter and Pascal? How come you resurfaced after many years back? Is Peter Still alive?’’His memory ran back giving a clear picture of yester-years…there was an immediate change of mood that was touchy.
Agent Richard sighed deeply and made a compassionate look at him when he remembered that the cheering and promising Peter was among the unlucky victims of 77777 in 1985. The revelation was to put Paul’s mind at rest, but would he be able to bite the bullet if Agent Richard dropped a clanger? Agent Richard looked back at the bodies on the ground and imagined Peter in agony of death in the same state of the cadavers.
“He was dead…. dead, just the same fate that befell these young boys. I was only lucky to escape. Three of us were kidnapped from our school with other four from another school. We were to be killed for ritual. Paul you have to be strong. The only support you could give to Peter is to bring the culprit to book. We have to work together to achieve this. It has been a course I’ve been fighting alone all these years. I will tell you more of what I know on this incident. This battle would surely stain sword but the pen would put a dot to it. And the pen is your profession ‘Journalism.”He fobbed him off with hope of vengeance to prod him into acceptance of reality, which Paul really did with tears oozing from his brimming eyes, which he continuously wiped off with the back of his hand as if to say; save this for the killer of my brother!
The ambulance had arrived with the paramedics; they lifted the cadavers on the gurney and put them inside the ambulance.
Inspector Etim was at the middle of conversation on his mobile phone. The courtesy he was observing revealed that he was speaking with somebody of high authority; his boss or somebody superior to his boss. It seemed the call was demanding for the release of two of the arrested suspects. When he finished, he beckoned at Agent Richard.
The two discussed for some minutes, nobody heard what it was all about. Inspector Etim waved at Paul in greeting. The police van zoomed away in convoy of the ambulance and Agent Richard’s Toyota Camry. Paul was inside the car with Agent Richard, the two were still discussing about the past. The police had gone, the street got back to its hectic and bubbling nature. It had started raining, the light was flickering,… it finally went off. Some unorganized noise swallowed the rattling of the rain “NEPA! no be now now u na bring ‘ am!!!”
It was 800 am, the authority in charge of electric supply had helped to switch off the light, the rain had worsen the traffic jam. The potholes had been filled to the brim, the vehicles could not move again. The waste littered by the roadside had blocked the drainages; it had caused a flood in the area. Somebody was responsible for this; the individual that had dumped their waste by the roadside and the authority that had refused to dispose them.

Thanks.
I need not to explain why this or that, because I know that there has never been a piece written without someone who knows better to gild it and makes it a gold worth buying.
I know I need professionals to guide me through.I've been writing since I was Ten puting ideas on papers all I need now is someone to make me perfect.
I'm a student of English and Literary studies.
Alexander Pope in his poem entitled ''An essay on criticism '' says
''Whoever thinks a fautless piece to see,Thinks what ne'er was,not is,not ever shall be, ''


I'd be expecting your call.Thanks

Shy-one,I really appreciate your comments and that would surely lead me to perfection, This I truly want to achieve by posting the excerpt from the story.

 

THE READER SEES BETTER THAN THE WRITER,THE WRITER ONLY SEES WHAT HE HAS IN HIS MIND NOT WHAT HE ACTUALLY PUTS ON PAPER, that is why we need a critic to help us see better.

Thanks alot adolf bad and C base, that poem is just to rekindle the spirit of writing back in me, and to you two and many more on this forum whose work I drew the inspiration of never to give up from,I say thank you.

Upon the debouch of hope into the new world
many had risen
and
many had fallen

Falling from the rising viscissitudes of time
that mounts the roads with debris of lost hope

This time we mount the mountain of fame
upon the debris of lost hope

success shall set to settle the scores
of what pebbles of fame
has been stoning us with in flame


Vain!
they sing
but
Valour
they ignited

For,I saw the vestigial traces of foot prints
of the celebrated heroes upon the sands of time

I shall not fail
I shall not fall
because Iam born to do it!

Iam still the one with the gift of pen!
Let the world celebrate my birth

Thanks alot Mr gee,your comment means alot to me, that is excatly my audience, you mean I'm not a grub street writer, and I should never keep the pen away.Thanks

Hi C base I've been around but a bit busy to compose a poem not until this Angel provoked the muse of art in me.Miss you dude. ayolad4@yahoo.com

You!
in centuries back
had u lived would have been d goddess of art
upon whom d great painters
would have contested in festivals
to paint in colours

but no glory loss
for you have waited
for this century
to be my Queen

And I shall with gait of hero
height of a genuis
lift you upon my shoulder of greatness
And make the paparazzi
with their shots
keep you forever
as the best of all d paints
of heroines that had ever lived on earth

Here is d flower of love from me to u
made from the seed of life.

Love you my love