The dark cloud hung up in the sky like mango leaves branches
giving shade to the earth beneath it. Stars all dotted in it to show, it would
not rain anytime soon, no matter how the weather might want to manipulate the
seasons.
The Obalende road as fondly called could be seen immediately
after the Ikoyi bridge, the Dordan barracks, - the St. Josephs’ church gate
formerly known to be the State House gate etched at the left end of the wall.
On the same road at the left ran about a 100 yards wall of the Ikoyi cemetery,
- then breaking it on its 80th yard was another gate which led into the Dordan
barracks. There stood mounting security checks on civilians entering the
barracks, some uniformed army officers in their usual camouflaged outfit worn
on their iron-sole combat shoes (boots).
Beside the gate was a transformer caged in burglary-proof.
From the transformer running back to the tip of the bridge was; mosque erected against
the cemetery wall, people bending; sitting on the pavement to perform their ablution
for the 8:10pm Isha’a prayers. Some were setting down their trays of coconuts;
trays of ‘kulikuli’ and big bowls of ‘suya’ with lantern placed in them hurriedly
so as to be in time before the muezzin
called all religious to start the ‘service’.
Refuse were scattered around the refuse dump kept in place
by the Stable Cleansing Service as though fowls had carried out their food hunt
there. The odour that emanated from the dump, the stagnant water that logged in
potholes and spilled out of the drainage were offensive but people who were
used to the environment went about their activities, some smiling, chewing
whatever was in their mouth as if they were around a cake factory in V.G.C.
Taking continuous gaze on the right side of the road were
erected structures of different kinds; bungalows; one storey buildings,
mechanice workshops, and beer parlours with some 2-3 streets dividing them at a
strategic point. The yellow streetlights could be seen visibly shinning, rather
gloomy to reveal the different call-girls, call-women, ‘Ashawos’ ‘Aturu’ as some tribe would have it, ‘Poros’
as niggas would have them, prostitutes as an Englishman would rather have them
called, in their mini-skirts; some without pants which was revealing with the
way their asses clump and shake like tick pap. Cleavages showing in their
singlet-like tops, spaghetti, halter-necks, and tube top, to entice feeble minded
men passing by who took stroll of that area either to feed their eyes or to
exercise their joystick.
“Bros come now, I go
do you well,” a lady who appeared to be in her middle twenties, face very white
as though it had been dug in sack of
flour, - magenta lipstick gracing her lips said pulling the hand of a man that
passed by her. A 5ft 6 man putting on a faded blue shirt that shone white in
the night. He pulled his hand free and increased his bearing but what the other
ladies in same profession but in different indecent dresses with the lady under
discussion were
“Foolish man, na
church you call this place?” a lady in a man-like voice asked rhetorically
without expecting any reply.
“E no fit do!” another calabar ‘poro’ said.
“Him Moses rod too small, e be like crayon” another Idoma
prostitute made jest as if she had examined the man’s joystick.
Others seemed to mind their businesses as some could be
heard negotiating with their catch.
“How much you go pay if you want all those styles and I go
add love?”
“I no get pass 600naira o,” the man said in his what could
be seen as sex starved face. The kind of man that would have gone to an
alcoholic or herb joint for ‘mama 2 shot’ to make him last long and bang
ruthlessly, - a desperate fellow!
“Shey na free to’to you wan f^ck?” the lady exclaimed rather
offensively “abi this my to’to na for promo?” she asked practical in a Benin
accent.
The man made to leave as the lady pulled him back and they
went out of light, incoherent complaints followed their trail.
Outside the famoss guest house were plastic chairs filled
with human buttocks; tables carrying the burden of beer bottles; 33, Star,
Gulder, Small Stout, Malt, plate of pepper soup, bowl for hand wash on their
heads. The On and Off interval of the decorative light of small red, blue and
green bulbs added life to the merriment as the song of Blackface ‘Hard life’
blared out of the horror and hollow sounding speaker.
A short stroll after the guest house was the unnamed street;
the second, - some distance apart was the Suya Junction. It was given the name
because of the activities around the place. Nice smoke of ‘roasting’ meat took
to the air as the A’bokis added groundnut oil to the suya or meat placed on the
hot grill. Sweats cascaded down the sellers’ faces as they wiped with their
shoulder pad, lifting their shoulder to the face.
“Hey A’boki! Me no go collect that suya for your hand o. why
you let sweat dey fall inside am na?” a guy complained walking out of the
mallams presence, with curses flying to catch up with him “Ubanka! Banza ni.”
“Sannu oga madam,” another A’boki welcomed his customers
cutting 2 chunks of meat called ‘tasting or customer hospitality’, dipping it
in suya-pepper, and placing on a newspaper table-mat in front of them.
Some A’bokis were raising large suya up so it could be
examined by their customers, stretching it on the grill to show it worth the
prices they gave. Stalls of various structures stood with chicken stretched
thighs-wide on sticks; tomatoes and cucumber stuck in them. Meat-fats and red
beaten meat on their stalls.
Another part of the road accommodated the stalls of some
A’bokis that made local sandwich or rather burgers out of Agege bread, salad
leaves, cucumbers, onions, mayonnaise and fried eggs. Flies hover around lamps
like customers going about their various shopping. Idle men who didn’t have
money on them but ordinarily taking in (perceiving) the aroma that rouse the
atmosphere, could get their stomach filled – walked around aimlessly.
Izuchukwu, a chubby boy of 19; very shy and timid; had just
finished his Junior Secondary School WAEC(WASSCE) - light skin with somewhat
red eyeballs being the most attractive feature in his baby-face round head. He
wore a 3-quarter black trousers beneath his green T-shirt; his stomach slightly
bulging out to reveal his recent hobby of visiting beer joints. Izu for short,
though not bright in his academics and through his 'pick-a-pick' speech in Igbo
accent, one could easily recognise how dull he would be faring in his studies,
but what he couldn't make-up for in his studies were used in his footballing
abilities. Though a bit chubby, it made for him a perfect advantage to use his
body to attack opponents first before a pass got to him and then attack the
ball with no man marking, which earned him a quick entry into the school team
in his JSS 1. He didn't seem to bother being in the same class with people of 11,
12, or 13 years of age as he had people of his age too in same class as to
compare himself with.
Followed closely behind him was Theresa, a girl of same age
and body but with different colour of the skin. Theresa was ebony 'black' with
some dark spot all over her body; her eyelids were appealing to anyone who
gazed at her. She was not a girl who could have declared intention to represent
her state Imo at any beauty pageant as she was just beautiful in her own world.
Her beauty could not be compared to quarter of Stella Damasus neither could her
ugliness be partnered with any beast, but was okay to Izu who not in his, was
handsome but a guy without a choice. His 'Boniface' only gave him an upper hand
to get Theresa as his girlfriend.
Izu was living with his parents in their makeshift
Shop-house apartment A.O 36, Ilubirin Mechanic Village while Theresa on the
other hand was a maid at the house of her Aunt's friend. She got treated like a
daughter and had everything she wanted as her bosses were rich. Although she
didn't attend a private school like their children but was satisfied she was
being educated, which wouldn't have been the case if she were still working on
the farm at Eshimeshi, Owerri north.
She wasn’t quite bright but pursued average unlike her dull-headed
boyfriend who cared less whether he was average or not, so long he was getting
promoted and kicking football until he gets picked to represent Nigeria or any
foreign base club.
She tried to examine what she wore by gazing from her sandal
and ran her eyes upward as she walked behind Izu, she wore a long skirt like a
deeper-life parishioner on a red and white rose flower designed blouse which covered
her medium calabash-size breast, well packaged in her underwear.
As he took a left
turn into the Daniel’s compound well known to people as a small and affordable
hotel, she wanted to take a halt as it came to her mind ‘why didn’t I ask Izu
where we were heading?’ but she hesitated and followed suit, taking her left
turn, “well, he is my boyfriend and wouldn’t do any harm to me” she soliloquised.
She seemed to be so overwhelmed by the love he showed her. He
was the best ever she had met because on her first day at school, Izu had
walked up to her and asked in Igbo what her name was “kedu bu afa gi?” which
she replied “Nkiru.”. From then, their love adventure had started. The way he
spoke one word at a time like someone who was going to stutter or practicing
public speaking perhaps, not to fumble in the presence of his audience, made
her love him so much, - she had affirmed in her solitude that he couldn’t hurt
an ant if he were given the order to.
Her gaze met people on the left just coming out of a room
sweating profusely and another man and lady entering hurriedly into same room
as though they’ve not had sex some decade’s ago. She imagined the room still
boiling heat, foul odour of sweat, semen and vagina fluid concoct the
unventilated room, even the fan of it would blow heat due to continuous
thrusting and battle between sex organs of both gender.
“I would rather the heat die down and they sprayed the room
with air-freshener” she thought scornfully as they burst out of the compound to
the Obalende road, Izu already waiting for her so they could cross to the other
side of the road together. She caught up with him as they walked two abreast to
cross when no vehicle was in sight. Izu facial expression conveyed what might
be going on in his mind, - his mission at their destination which beclouded
Theresa’s thoughts.
We hope he can't hurt an ant as she vouched!.