Third leg

In the land of kalejaiye far from where the sun sets but close to sunrise. there lived a girl born of a father and mother named Tola (of course, who else would she be born to). 
she liked and kissed another girl named fola and they became friends.
The girl and her friend,fola went to the bush to play and they saw an old woman (not very old, make-up things) who asked the girls to help her with massaging her breast to detect any sign of lump .(More than 90% of women diagnosed with breast cancer at the earliest stage survive their disease for at least five years. This figure is around 15% for those women who are diagnosed with the most advanced stage disease). The friend helped while her friend Fola considered her unnecessarily stupid.
The old woman thanked the girl and she gave her a clay pot with the instruction that she breaks it when she get home. The girl and Tola left the bush and went home,with Tola holding the clay pot in her hand.
The girl bade farewell to her friend, Fola,went inside the house and broke the clay pot. the moment she broke the clay pot everything in the house turned gold. pure solid gold including her poo, all solid 24 carat gold (oh God i cant wait to buy a golden poo, you know,like a golden egg laid by the goose). she went to her friend's place and told her of her fortune.
When Tola left Fola's house. Fola, a greedy girl, went back to the bush to look for the old woman but instead she found a young handsome man with a big third leg. the man told Fola to help him carry the third leg in her mouth. Fola took the third leg in her mouth , thinking she will soon have her golden poo too but the man further asked her to help him hide the third leg between her thighs.she said ok but complained that the place is getting wet as she hides it. the man slide the third leg gently between the thighs and she moaned. the man continually hid the third leg in a jerking,hiding,sliding mode technique until she suddenly begged him to continue. just then the man groaned as if in joyous pain and stopped the hiding his now shrieked third leg . He stood up, thanked her and left, forever. Fola hurried home thinking she will have her gold at home but she got home and became pregnant and gave birth to a monster.

that should make a good karma story for you abi....stories are stories when you belive what they are, learn for it.
(Definition of breast cancer: Cancer that forms in tissues of the breast. The most common type of breast cancer is ductal carcinoma, which begins in the lining of the milk ducts (thin tubes that carry milk from the lobules of the breast to the nipple). Another type of breast cancer is lobular carcinoma, which begins in the lobules (milk glands) of the breast. Invasive breast cancer is breast cancer that has spread from where it began in the breast ducts or lobules to surrounding normal tissue. Breast cancer occurs in both men and women, although male breast cancer is rare. )

Another typical Nigerian morning has begun. The first cock crow begins to wake the early seekers, then the beating of the gong by the vigilante men, followed closely by the call for prayer by the muezzin. The sound of ‘okada’ honks and activity in Iwo resumes. Cars, pedestrians, stray dogs, stubborn goats, and chickens that are prone to vehicular manslaughter all troupe in search of their earthly destiny. Iwo road is a very busy business area in Ibadan, the largest city in West Africa. With this bee hive activity going on nobody seem to be take notice of the suicide bomber who sat calmly in his car. His fingers fidget on the detonator button, sweating profusely he finds it hard to press the button and end it all. He had been sent on an assignment by the queen, it mattered little if the London Bridge is falling down. He had been assured 110 virgins in paradise and he is a believer. With personal encouragement from the grand sheik, he dare not fail. Yet he was skeptical to end it. What would happen to his beloved Zainab? His first true love, a girl he had loved and cared for as a friend since primary school. She was however forcefully whisked away from him and given to an older man who already had six wives. He had cried for days. What would happen to his mother? He is the eldest surviving son of the septuagenarian mother. His father, a retired civil servant died few weeks to his graduation from the university. That was four years ago. With no job poverty became his friend and hunger became jewelry on his neck. He joined the jamil nataru islamia, an extremist Islamic sect, as a means of escaping injustice and hunger (they serve free food twice daily). His devotion and passion for the sect’s belief and brotherhood brought him to the attention of the grand sheik, the grand master and leader of the “loto haram” sect. He was rumored to have killed a lion with a club and pen knife.

The bomber remembers how it all started. A brother from the jihad cell (the sect had been divided into various cells with its corresponding agenda. The jihad cell is responsible for defense of the truth, the prayer and intercessory cell, which the bomber belongs to, was responsible for prayers etc) approached him with a brotherly hug and whispers in his ears.

“Asalamu alekum, brother” the jihadist said

“Walekum salam” replied Aminu (for Aminu is the suicide bomber name).

“You are requested by the grand sheik to stay behind after the jumat prayers” he said and before Aminu could utter any words the brother had departed from towards the ablution shack to join other worshipper taking their place in the orderly arrangement of prayer warriors. Aminu stood transfixed, he made an attempt to follow the ‘jihad’ brother and asked questions but his foot was somewhat paralyzed, his heartbeat began beating faster. He knew it was useless asking questions now but he kept asking himself ‘why me’? He wondered and pondered on the reason for the summons.

The jummat prayer seems longer than usual. His mind was preoccupied with so many thoughts that he could not concentrate on his prayers. After the prayers and the regular hugs and handshakes from fellow brothers Aminu proceeded toward the inner chamber of the mosque. Some parts have been dedicated to the private use of the grand sheik. He receives visitors and patrons of the sect within the private quarters. Secret meetings are held too behind the walls. He approached with caution, knowing how tight up the security detail around the grand sheik is. Fortunately, he saw the brother who came to him earlier and he walked toward him, the brother saw Aminu too and welcomed him with a smile. They meet each other with a hug.

“Brother Aminu, I have been waiting for you. Follow me please. He said and led the way which he followed closely. They pass the tough looking guards holding rifles, thorough dark hall ways until at last they came to a door. The brother knocks the door thrice; a peephole was slide aside to identify the intruders. Then the doors opened and the rest is history. He closed his eyes and tried to think of paradise. He pressed the detonator button and did not even hear the blast.

   

                                                     Chapter two

‘Reports just reaching us indicate that the level of violence in the country is gaining momentum. 45 people are reported dead while over 60 is currently receiving treatment at various hospitals. A suicide bomber had earlier today detonated a car bomb in Iwo road, killing him and others. The ‘loto haram’ sect has claimed responsibility. The presidential spokesman, Mr. Segun Adetoun has condemned the act calling it “an act of terrorism, a scourge that must be contained”. Earlier today we brought you a report of a similar bomb blast in the capital cities of Kano and Maiduguri….’

Adamu stretched his arm forward toward the remote control lying undisturbed on his monogamy office desk. Raising it up to the same level with the TV, he pressed a button and the TV went dead. He gave a heavy sigh and leaned back into his comfortable leather office chair. He is not pleased with himself. As director of the Nigerian intelligence agency, his report gathering is coming in quite late. He only gets to see them on the national news reports after the press would have had their feast. He hates to admit but the agency’s ineffective policies and logistics was wreaking a lot of insecurity in the nation. He had reports alright, reports about threats to various strategic places of national importance. These reports are unreliable and their sources unverified.  With little or no technological and financial backing the men in the field end up forgetting their primary assignment and an ideal man Is the workshop of evil. He was soon due for a meeting with the national security adviser and he was yet to be briefed on the details and motive of the terrorist except the figures of the dead. ‘These terrorist are really going cuckoo’ he thought. They had initially clamored for free sovereign Islamic state which was turned down by the federal government. They subsequently indulged in the sabotage of federal government installations but noting of these magnitude had been imagined, suicide bombings. The group’s hostility was increasing into a perilous proportion which must be curbed and the bulk lies on his desk. Adamu rose from his official chair and stood between the desk and chair he bent his waist forward a bit lowering his mouth to the inter com lying on his desk. He pressed a button and waited for the response from the other end.

“Sarah, any more reports coming in?” he barked at the phone

“No sir, except for the files from the morgue” replied the intercom phone.

Adamu checked his wrist watch; it revealed 11:36am.

“I want you to cancel all my meetings scheduled for lunch time, I am on my way to the defense headquarters to see Oga” Adamu said, addressing the intercom again.

“Ok sir,” replied the voice from the other end, a click and the line went dead. Adamu sank back in his chair and exhaled deeply. Sarah has been his secretary for 18yrs. She started working with him when she was much younger. A damsel in her early twenties and after theses years she managed to look fabulous in anything and everything she wears. She is one of the few he still trust in the agency. Trust is not an easy virtue especially in their trade. Yet after all these years she is still trust worthy. Another trustworthy fellow in the agency is his special agent codenamed ‘Hawk’. He knows the hawk can deliver but his attitude to life and even the agency is troublesome. The hawk disturbed the peace successively in Lome, Abidjan, Freetown and even Cairo. Most of his assignments had been tagged mission impossible yet he had been able to maneuver effectively and to deliver outstanding results. He however has to his resume few houses burnt in the line of duty, smashed exotic automobile, exorbitant five star hotel bills, scores of smashed skulls and little fatal causality in what he termed ‘misguided slugs’. He is what you would call a pain in the ass but an excellent agent overall. Skilled in various martial arts, a sharp shooter, and an eloquent speaker who seem to have his way too easy with women (yet he never gave marriage and settling down a thought).

Adamu knew he had no choice. He pressed the intercom again. The short buzz tone came from the phone and then the click.

“Sarah, tell the driver to get ready, had there been any briefs from the ‘hawk’? Adamu spoke more like a whisper to the mouth piece of the intercom.

“No sir, the last brief received indicated he is somewhere in Cape Verde island on vacation” Sarah replied with a chuckle that could be heard at the other end of the inter com. The chuckle was well received, as an intelligent officer; Adamu knew the chuckle was the confirmation of Sarah’s flirtations affection toward the ‘hawk’. A fault of his since Sarah is the only direct contact the hawk has to the agency which he supervises. But that is not in business

“I do not care about his vacation. Detail him to report to homeland ASAP. I want him close and on a lease. There are internal issues I want him to handle. And call the defense ministry that I will be there in fifteen minutes” Adamu said

“Ok sir.” Sarah replied. And with that she hung up. Made a phone call to the defense head quarters and sent a message via a blackberry phone with a special pin code.

                                                                Chapter three

Hotel du Gboyad Is 34 miles outskirt of Minna metropolis, north of Bidda-Minna express road. Practically every 200 yard of the road that leads to the hotel is broken with port holes and lined with dark unguided side lanes. A reasonable traveler would think seriously before veering off the lonely road let alone lodge into the hotel. The private estate conceived primarily as a four star hotel and owned by a retired general in the Nigerian army covering an expanse of over 6 hectares of land. The hotel has seen better days considering the over grown weed that is visible from outside the rotten gates but tonight however the hotel will be hosting dignitaries or rather there will be an assembly of brothers, many of who held powerful position in Nigeria’s political, religious and economic life.

At around 2230hr the convoy of cars numbering about 25 came to a full halt at the gate of the hotel. An old security guard came out holding a lit flashlight and walked toward the lead car. He tapped at the window and the driver’s tinted window lowered silently. He pocked his head into the car after which he mumbled some few words and rush off to open the gate. As the convoy filed trough the guard returned to the guard house to pull a lever and the whole compound was engulfed instantly with bright Florescent light.

The convoy stopped in a large car park in front of the hotel and the driver of the led car, a powerfully built man with an afro, walked out toward the hotel entrance huge wooden door and with a little push the doors swung open. Other occupants of the car steeped out one by one and walked towards the door. They were ushered inside by the ‘afro man’ who directed them toward the stair that led to the penthouse suit on the third floor. The loyal security guard made an announcement that the place had been swept clean; meaning no bugs, no GPRS tracker or telecom signals can be effective 8 miles from their present location.

Tonight the hotel was, after a long time, living to its reputation rather ironically. It will host the movers and shakers of the northern agenda. Three past military head of state, two head of civil service, serving senators, party leaders, serving military chief, prominent traditional rulers, successful business men and powerful religious leaders and they were here to decide the unity of the country. A country they no longer feel at ease in a new republic that feels it has had enough of the leadership. They are unified by language, anger and hunger for power. They will all make a single decision tonight, a decision that is bound to shake the very foundation on which the unity of the country had been built. A decision that brings sorrow tears and bloods an army arrangement’s regular trademark. 

                                                               Chapter four

His first shot of the ‘sepe’ was not encouraging. The slush felt bitter on his tongue and the stench that came after told him it is cheap high he got this time. He should have smoked weed. The atmosphere seems a little dense through and he felt the high hit his brain fast. Stretching his aluminum cup toward a fat mangy woman

“Give me two more shot, mix am with alomo bitters Madame”

“No wahala, Panmo and fried meat dey oh!” she replied collecting the cup. He looked around and he sees the semblance of a typical African bar. Low benches facing a platform where lantern neon lighted liquors are placed. Bottled liquor of various textures and color. Red, brown, green, grey, slimy alcohol juice, bloody herbal remedy, you name it. This exhibition is mostly in front of a shack where the occupant are sole proprietor of the business, it is there they live, eat, breed and make money. It serves as a meeting point also for frustrated daily earners. Okada drivers, bricklayers, spill over student, unemployed youths, sacked workers and unsuccessful criminals all meet to discuss politics and the way forward.  

At 1600hrs, the customers are yet to arrive for the day; he was alone except for an okada driver who seems lost in his own thoughts. He lifted his head to see the barmaid approach, extending his arm he collected his drink in the same aluminum cup he had earlier submitted to be refilled.

“Cigar dey too oh bros” the barmaid told him as she departed toward her shack. He smiled and shook his head watching her depart as she flirtatiously shake her big hips. He took another try at the shoot, this time drowning the two shots with a single gulp. His mind drift to the task ahead. His people have been victimized for decades. After the discovery of oil in the region around the 70’s, big multinational companies have rushed in to have their bite of the cake. With fraudulent allocation of oil blocs Competitive exploitation was the order of the day. The land bleed and the people cried. The oil spillage polluted their water and destroyed crops messing up their means of livelihood. The youth picked up arms in reprisal to the inhuman and unjust way the government had been handling the situation. After months of killing and costal disturbance the militant youths were granted amnesty by the government. After the laying down of arms the youths were given scholarships to study abroad. He had been a beneficiary, studying chemical engineering in South Africa. His memories of hostilities were dismissing and he was settling down into civility while acquiring higher education in exile until he got signals from his ex warlord and commander. He had been summoned the old ‘egbesu’ style which indicated urgency. A tilapia fish had a red snail shell in its mouth. The snail shell had been dipped in blood, animal blood and the tilapia’s tail had been tied with a palm leaf. An ancient code for a warrior to report to duty pronto he picked the next available flight home and headed for the creeks to meet up with his comrades and commander. The welcome party was obviously absent when he landed at the portharcourt airport. Walking out of the lobby, he hailed a cab to where he will spend his time in the city. He found an affordable hotel in town, thanks to the cab driver who drove him to a comfortable hotel in the inner part of the city. He checked in at the reception under an alias and was helped into his room by a bell boy who emphatically told him about the air condition. He said the air condition sparks when active for more than four hours. He instructed the customer to switch it off every four hour interval or when he wants to leave the room. With the instruction given and the tip collected the bell boy departed with a smile, thanking the customer profusely. He took his showers and changed into something clean and suitable. He picked his phone and placed a call to his zonal militant head, he has to register his presence in the zone. For security reasons they say. The zonal head hailed his coming back and instructed him to wait at the Gbkoda dockside around 1600hr, he will be contacted from there. He checked his watch, the time is now 1635hr and he is still at the dockside drinking ‘sepe’ and waiting for his contact. He knew the contact will be here it might take time but he will surely come. Failure to obey directives in their militant cult attracts death penalty and after years of arms struggle none of them want to die. Not now that the amnesty programme is paying good money. He was about to take a leak when a tall huge man entered, bald with eyes blood shoot. His shoulders spanned about a mile. He wore baggie camouflage pants, brown timberland boots and a tight fitted black tee shirt with the inscription ‘my oga at the top’ and showing bare arms full of knotted muscles. The man stepped in front of him and shook his hands in the cultic fashion he was familiar with. Turning around the man said

‘Follow me”. Paying the barmaid her money he followed the huge man and they departed.

                                                                    Chapter five

The hawk’s small plane landed smoothly on the asphalt of the lone private runway and came to a stop, its twin props winding down. A black Toyota pajero jeep pulled up to the aircraft and a young lanky man in police uniform got out and helped the hawk with his bags. As the pajero jeep rolled along, the hawk and the police escort has a casual tête-à-tête about the state of the nation and how humanity in its insanity have upgraded from using flints as a weapon to using weapons of mass destruction in its warfare against each other. The rush hour traffic has eased and it took about thirty minutes to reach the agency’s headquarters near the center of the city. They departed with a hand shake and a promise to each other to keep in touch if the need arises. Promise neither of them intends to keep. The escort waved as he drove off and all the hawk could do was to shake his head frantically since his hands were full with the bags. He walked inside the building and dropped the bags at the reception. The receptionist stood to raise objection to his intrusion but the hawk was too quick to listen. He had dashed toward the elevator door on the left side of the building and while the receptionist was yelling “excuse me sir” he stepped inside the elevator and closed the door after him.

Adamu’s office was on the top floor. His secretary, Sarah, sat in an outside office. The Hawk’s entrance into Sarah’s office brought smile to her face. She gestured at a leather settee across the room smiling. The hawk sat down calmly on the leather seat offered.

“…Coffee, sir?” Sarah asked politely.

“You can make that a long island iced tea, sugar” the hawk replied with a wink

“Unfortunately sir, alcohol is prohibited in the premises sir” Sarah replied rolling her eyeballs. She smiled shook her head and went back to her typing. The hawk loosened his suit button and relaxed a little bit more in the cozy settee. His gaze on her increased her heart beat. She shyly avoided eye contact with him but her few peeky view of him was rewarded with a wink from him. The phone rank and she picked the phone and spoke into the mouth piece.

“Yes sir, yes sir…ok sir” she hung up and nodded to the hawk to go inside. He stood up and pantomimed the ‘makosa dance’; the act of grinding hips together with his hand gesturing smacking the bottom. She tried to stifle her chuckle looking at him do what always make her smile. As the hawk was about reaching the door, it swung open with the director starring at him; in his stupidity. He straightened up button his suit and tucked in his tie. Sarah feigned seriousness and returned back to her typing. The hawk walked inside and the Director slammed the door after him.

“I am yet to see an unserious agent like you” Adamu said

“Boss, that was a physical demonstration of the taekwondo kata, it takes a lot to master that martial art skill sir” the hawk replied. Adamu’s face twisted in disbelief. He offered the hawk one of the two chairs in front of his walnut desk and pointed to a brown envelope with the inscription ‘strictly confidential’. As he settles behind the desk the Director ordered him to read it. The hawk broke the presidential seal on it produced some documents and began to read, throwing the office into silence for more than fifteen minutes. He raised his head in disbelief looked at Adamu and said “sir, this is serious oh!”

Adamu nodded in complete agreement. The hawk retuned back to his reading and another five minutes of silence. Exhaling deeply he raised his head to confirm his inquisitive shock on the face of his boss.

“Sir what is the military doing about this? And since the organization ‘loko haram’ has been gazette by the president as a terrorist organization why not wage a full fledge war on the insurgents?” asked the Hawk. Adamu looked at his wrist watch and rather reluctantly started to brief the hawk personally.

“The military has been on their toes but this terror group has defied fighting by the regular code of conduct, they hate rules and contravened the Geneva Convention concerning military conflicts. They recruit underage children, kill worshiper in their place of worship, attack state security positions they even attempted the UN building in the nation’s capital. And even though the president has declared the group’s activities as illegal and act of terrorism, he would not want to use a toothpick to disturb an hornet’s nest”   Adamu said while trying to read the expression on the hawks face. The hawk looked even more intrigued.

“And why can’t the president do that? He is immune to any political sting by the provision of the laws of the land. He looked puzzled and tapping the document now lying on the desk before him.

“The issue at hand has a longer history than what it is made to look like. In the 1980’s, a certain northern general, we will call him maradonna for easy reference, dethroned his friend via a bloodless coup de tat. He began ruling and his rule epitomize corruption, arms dealing and illicit drug trade. He ruled for close to a decade and while promising to enshrine democracy, faltered and rather stupidly failed to hand over power to a powerful billionaire westerner who won an election tagged the freest and fairest election in the country’s history. When he, the winner, rightfully claimed his mandate he was arrested and detained without trial. In the general’s bid to compensate the west he ‘steeped aside’ and chose an old hag from the west. The new president was quickly and easily disposed by another General from the same north. The new general was a fanatical extremist who choose to fraternize with his likes. In just 5yrs in power he was able to steal and stash over 180 billion dollars in various European banks. To suppress any form of opposition, a national security board was inaugurated in 1995 with the main task of creating a formidable hit squad. There were two groups created the royal guards and the killer squad. The royal guard consisted of 300men trained in North Korea and charged with the responsibility of intelligence gathering, selfless protection of the commander in chief, identification of opposition. This group was headed by a certain lieutenant kirilla. The second group, the killer squad is responsible for repelling any threat to the seat of power. Torture, kidnapping, assassination were tools used in the realization of their primary objective. The killer squad consists of 75 men trained in Libya and headed by an army sergeant called Roger. The two groups were headed by a major Mustapha who also dubbed as the chief security officer to the commander in chief. This group were so impressive during their training in Libya it prompted the Libyan leader to come to Nigeria in May 1997 and seek a collation/alliance with his Nigerian counterpart. Their dream to crush any form of imperial threat against the continent could be realized with the alliance. The Libyan leader was awarded the medal of grand commander of the armed forces by the Nigerian general and the prospect of subsequent world conquest became achievable. Unfortunately the general died (or assassinated) abruptly before the realization of the dream leaving in the hands of the CSO information to various European bank accounts where the loot are kept and the command of a highly trained elite squad (the Libyan leader was killed like a common criminal by the imperialist years later). The CSO, major Mustapha, being the first to know about the death communicated to the northern agenda and the agreement to switch to a democratic government was concluded over night. The CSO was subsequently arrested on murder charges and the sent to prison.

“Murder charge? Is he not licensed to kill as a CSO?” asked the hawk.

“Well he is, but he has to be curtailed somehow, someway. He had too much national security information and you know as they say knowledge is power”. Adamu replied.

“Anyway, the Maradonna Genaral, who only steeped aside, felt it was time to walk his way back to the seat of power once again. In his usual ‘Maradonic’ way he endorsed another northern General to hold on to power interim while he formed a political party with a strong northern support, he lobbied an old unpredictable western warlord, who prior was in prison for treason, to rule for a specific period on the agreement that he will return  power to the north. He agreed but like most African heads of state he chose to stay for a life time. With pressure from the north after spending close to a decade he cleverly gave power to an ailing northerner with a southern vice in an election that was widely rigged. Few months in power the president died (or assassinated as the case maybe, rumors of him inhaling a poisonous microphone during his campaign filled the air) and his vice automatically came to power”.

The hawk shifted in his seat and his attention seems even more aroused.

“Now is the intriguing part” said adamu

“The south felt they have been deprived of the affairs of the state for too long considering the fact that they produce the major revenue for the nation with the power firmly in their grip they intend to stay long and I mean very long. So secretly they formed a new national order. An old sea dog with stolen money was given presidential pardon, a western Nobel laureate was recruited (he and 8 others formed the first wing of the educated youth revolutionary gang. A secret society that has now fully developed into a standing army with various cells, or dock as they call it, in the nation and Diaspora) and all ex-militants were encouraged to come home and defend the order. This arrangement did not go down well with the northern agenda who vowed to take back power by any means possible. Now, without pointing fingers the loko haram reflect concerns by these northern elite, that the southern administration wants to end an informal agreement to alternate power among them, in fact they fear they might be excluded from any possibility of future control of the state “Adamu said

“Which is the reason for the insurgency, right?” asked the hawk.

“It is safe to assume that, however, it seem the presidency actually ordered some attacks too secretly. The Independence Day bombings are being looked into. There are so many cover ups and this is where you come in”. Adamu remained quiet for some minutes.

“Your objective Is to get hold of the official documents of the formidable squad inaugurated in 1995 and headed by major Mustapha, with the comprehensive list of all personnel involved, identify their modus operandi and means of funding and lastly infiltrate the new national order and know their motive. Identify their hierarchy and how they source for findings and from who and where and all international support.

The hawk stood straight, took the document and saluted his boss. As he walked toward the door Adamu said “be careful my friend” and with a final gaze the hawk smiled and was gone.

                                                                     Chapter six

Sarah had almost reached the parking lot before deciding to check for her car keys in the hand bag running her fingers through she got the keys out and thought “what the hell, a little brush up might do” she reached her fingers inside her hand bag once again to get her Elizabeth Arden make-up kit. She has to look her best. The hawk has text her to meet him up at Hilton hotel later that day. Her fingers ran trough aimlessly without touching the usual life line. She peered into her bag and realizing she left it on her desk turning abruptly she headed back to the office to get her stuff. It is Elizabeth Arden for crying out loud. She hastens her steps and entered the reception downstairs without looking up and headed for the elevator. Within minutes she was on the seventh floor of the director’s office. As her strides almost became a trot, she reached the door and tried her keys only to realize that door had been opened and someone was inside. She was still in a state of confusion when a manly figure collided with her, as she fell off balance she held unto the figure by instincts and they both came crashing to the floor. The man stood up, a dark complexioned man with oblong face; he kept a goatee and mustache. He stood up and appeared to be looking for something. Apparently something had fallen from his hands. As he was searching around frantically, Sarah, trying to adjust to the impact of the fall, straightened up and she saw a tiny device on the floor. Very tiny, the size of a paper clip. And as she picked it up from the floor she could make out tiny words written on it ‘Edic-mini A31’. As she was peering closely on the device, the man looked and realized she was holding what he was looking for.

“That is mine, Madame, can I have it” the stranger asked and for the first time, she saw his eye. They were red like water color. He kept the eye contact and asked again for emphasis.

“Madame, abeg na me get that thing wey you hold” he said again

“Who are you?” asked Sarah while stretching her hands to give him his property. He helped her up and collected the device. Avoiding eye contact and rather shyly he answered

“I be the new cleaner for the office, since I no go come tomorrow I say make I clean office after work today.” The strangers said. And before she could say Jack Robinson he was gone, down the hallway into the elevator. Sarah walked inside the office and swore she has never seen him before despite her years at the agency. He must have gotten the extra keys downstairs from the janitor’s room. She saw her Elizabeth Arden on the desk just as she had placed it, she looked inside the director’s room and everything appeared normal yet something about the cleaner is suspicious. She pressed a key on her computer and typed in the word ‘Edic-mimiA31’ and the result she saw on the screen with images left her mouth wide opened. The mission has been compromised. But how could they infiltrate so easy? Is she the best position to tell the hawk about this? She sat down motionless, her nerves went weak.

 By then the stranger had entered a range rover SUV just outside the agency building. The information he held should be worth millions in naira, maybe he could even bill them in dollar. Since his clients are rich. And in his palm he has what they would pay handsomely for. He opened his hand and lying in his palm is the Russian spy micro phone recorder. The ‘Edic-mini a31’. The gadget can record for 300 hours from a 25 feet distance and dynamic range of -64db and all it weighs is 0.01lbs. He had kept it under the director’s desk in the wee hours of the morning and with the positioning and power of the device. He knew all the recordings will be clearer than Fela Anikulapo truth.

CHAPTER SEVEN
"Tonight the consensus of the military and civilians has come together to take a decision that will change the course of history forever. A decision that will preserve our culture, guarantee our creed and secure the lives and property of our people" yelled the maradonia general. The auditorium was silent with everyone in attendance listening attentively to the general.
 "the beauty of our land and it's preservation is entirely our responsibility and our religion should not be compromised by exposure to alien ideas and infidel communication". the maradona allowed silence and the roaring applause to sank in before he continued his speech.
"presiding over affairs of this nation is not a matter of choice for us in the north, it is our exclusive right. by historical antecedent , sheik Dan folio's conquest began from the desert and he was headed for the sea, were it not for the interference of the imperialist we should be lounging in our father's victory by now. what Sheikh Dan Folio have conquered is much more than what is left. if we, as sons , cannot conclude our father's heroic efforts we should be sympathetic enough to preserve what is left. we have seen the interruption of our colonial friends and they have come and gone, leaving us independent to continue what should by now be a finished conquest.
with that the maradona General speech was halted by a tremendously loud ovation. he bowed and took his seat with his gaze sternly fixed to his audience. The second speaker was a northern emir, who went on and on about the great deeds of the northern leaders assassinated by the 'eastern' revolution in the 1960's. he went further to quote the fears of his eminence the late premier of the north from an interview conducted by the BBbC  in 1964, and how with his foresight he has predicted and started out a nothernized policy to curb the domination of the north.
"In as much as this country remain united it must be 'a northerner first' in all key position.He intends the policy to be permanent and urged all northerner to be alive to their responsibility. And for that he was assassinated by the easterners. so now we must inculcate our grandeur of victory to the coming generation. with that said the emir requested for a quranic verse to be recited and after which everyone used both hands to cover thier face in affirmation to the prayers. 'AMIN' was chorused. The Emir sat down and the third speaker stood up. A tall slim figure, with a darken spot that ran down his forehead. the shiny eyes of a fearless intellect peered through his glasses, endowed by a three piece suit, a proper bow tie gentleman. An arrogant figure being a true blue blood,a royal prince.He is reputed to have beheaded an igbo trader in broad day light for desecrating the holy book.A top czar in the nation financial sector before his suspension for blowing the whistle on the government, exposing a fraud of over 20 billion dollars. he has since retreated into the palace from where he is in regular communication with  field officers in charge of  attacks and communication-which rested on a system of couriers, especially women and Fulani nomads, who have vast knowledge of the ancient slave route used via Cameron and republic of Tchad to Nigeria.
clearing his throat, his command of English impressive.
"Asalamu alekum jama duka hausawa, i am honored to stand before you my fellow brother. as our eldersand rulers have rightly said, a decision has been reached. and we all gathered here must agree with me that this country is a failed state. but what do you call a failed state? a country that can not boast of constant power supply is a failure. A country that export what it bought and import what it has, is a failed state. Then how do you categorize our country as failed or what yard stick is used for it's failure?" he paused to look at the faces starring back at him and judged their reaction before continuing his speech.
"when people say a country has failed, it's like saying a man whose throat is slit, died. he did not die, he was executed and murdered . people have failed this country, infidels have trampled on the tears, sweat and blood of our heroes, illiterate vermin have stolen our money to enrich themselves. Dumbos with vested intrest have failed us"
"So what does it take for us, as soldiers of Islam, to address the issue? what does it take for you and I to say we are tired of this infidel generation. I, have vowed to live, fight and die, if need be, for islam. i am convinced sharia is the truth, the way and only solution to curb the decadence in this generation. now, are we going to be one committed, intelligent and patriotic jihadist who will leave his name in the Islamic hall of fame?. some of our brothers have proved themselves worthy of eternal bliss. Mohammed Mangada was younger than most of us gathered here today yet he gave his life for his belief, he struck at the very heart of the infidel without fear and now he rests peacefully in Aljahna. Another brave warrior is Umar abdul mutallabbada, who faced even a greater threat than we do and he was devoted to his creed. may the peace of Allah be with them. these are youth with zeal for Allah and my prayer is they will inspire you to do much more than they did. so there is one thing i have,one message i have for all my Muslim brothers: is to remember that the problem of this country are enormous and the solution rather simple."
we must recognize that at the core of the problem are infidels who profit from the poverty and undergrowth of the state. these infidels must be overcome with whatever we have at our disposal and even our very self if we have to. As long as they remain entrenched, so long as we don not overcome our fear of them and oust them . we are not going to find a solution to this problem and we will fail, on our part, to reach full potential and the islamize  this beautiful country  we are born to rule".
The ovation was so loud they did not observe that among them is an informer of the government who is detailed to monitor the Emir and brief the government on the best how to assassinate him. he sent a text message promptly too
'i am in the market, with the company. solving the problem will require requisite expertise'

MY FRIEND, DEATH

At the first breath
We became friends
Playing with each other in the years of innocence
Then, the fear was unknown
He plays with me every night
To remind me of the day i will 
Leave this market place.
one day i must follow
My friend to another world.
When my waste would have become dust.

IFE

Diamonds in the creek eyes,

Evergreen beauty of an African queen

Drenched with natures adornment of a peacock,

God’s endorsed black beauty spot

Reflecting the glorified pretty face.

Radiantly smooth skin like the palm oil of Ile-Ife .

I salute your virtue. IBA.

MY BABY (read like twinkle twinkle little star)

I smile to see my baby wink

Tiny eyelids to sleep.

If only the bed spread were mink

Her sleep would have been deep.

Instead she smiled her pinnky lip

With dimples on her cheek

In love she held her finger tip

Content with what was ever meek.

untitled

The sky is bright and clear with the sun showing all its rays in splendor. On the dusty road that leads to Imope town’s square, dust plumes are raised by two school boys in khaki shorts and stripped shirts. Both drained in sweat from the intense heat of the day yet walk racing eagerly to be home in time for lunch. They were sure it would be the last time they would be walking the dusty road for a long time.

“You do not deserve that first position, Ayuba” Ola said

“And who told you that, eh? I worked hard for what I got “Ayuba replied

Ayuba and Ola have been friends since childhood; both about the same age. Growing up together in Imope town has given them the privilege of sharing the same love for suburban adventure, climbing hills , hiking and hunting bush rats and partridges with catapult. The bound they share is close.

Ola the bigger of the two is a stocky fellow with a calm look, warm, buoyant and lively. Ola has an unusual capacity of enjoying himself and passes his fun loving spirit to those around him especially his friend Ayuba who feels he has a brother in Ola rather than a friend. Ayuba on the other hand is an analytical self-sacrificing perfectionist with a strong emotional nature. This was their last day in school they just finished their final annual prize giving day.

Ayuba had been given the highly contended regional scholarship to study at the prestigious University of Ilori, in far away wara state, a day journey from Imope town. The prospect of leaving home to study in a city with strange culture and new friends excite him but the thoughts of leaving home, his friends and all that is familiar gives him a jolt of fright. Ola’s voice brought him back from his day dream.

“You said what?” Ayuba asked.

“I said you got it because you are the teacher’s best friend.

“I got what?” Ayuba replied, he was still not attentive to Ola’s sayings.

“The first position and the scholarship” Ola replied back almost yelling.

“You know I spent my time reading by candle light at night, so I insist I got what I deserve. You are at liberty to choose your friends too, my friend.” Ayuba replied with a tone of seriousness.

This sent Ola roaring with laughter. It caught Ayuba by surprise because he did not see anything humorous in what he just said.

“You read at night? Ah! Ayuba, how can that be? Said Ola still laughing

“And what is wrong with my reading at night?” Ayuba asked firmly.

“Noting, it is just that you can only read if your parents are dead and not at each other’s throats.” Replied Ola, holding his belly, laughing.

“Ah! Ola that is not fair. How can you say that to me” Ayuba replied rather coldly.

“Oops! I am sorry if I hurt you but you know you parents public fight is no more news in Imope”

“I know but coming from your mouth, makes me feel bad. Haba”

They were few meters from the house while the conversation was on; suddenly Ola held his index finger over his lips

“Sshh, Ayuba, Quiet. Can you hear that?

This sudden change in mood made Ayuba apprehensive but he complied and kept quiet to listen. Just ahead they could see Ayuba’s house and surely noise was coming from the direction of the house. They walked closer to the noisy house in silence.

“You are dead today; you will leave my house today, useless woman “Ayuba’s father Mr Ibrahim was shouting on top of his voice.

“Which yeye house? Is it this one? This decayed, dilapidated thing you call a house? Eh! Go to town and see what your mates are building, foolish man. You have an anthill for a house yet you are there bragging, stupid idiot.”Lashed back  Mrs.Ibrahim.

Ayuba stopped dead in his tracks. He felt too weak to walk on anymore. The whole town knows about his parent constant fighting and it is really embarrassing him. Half of the jobless inhabitant of the town had gathered in front of their house. Some advocating and pleading for peace, some laughing at the display of matured stupidity, the remaining are onlookers who are used to seeing the duo’s disagreement all they did was clap their hand in a funny way suggesting senselessness.

“Ayuba, what will you do now?.” Ola asked rather rhetorically

“Honestly, Ola I do not know”.

“You have to talk to your parent. They can’t go on living like this they are adults for crying out loud.” Ayuba said.

“look Ola I have done all I can do, to no avail, what else am I to do?”

“you will have to try again and again . you keep trying and never give up” Ola replied emphatically.

“you know Ola, sometimes I feel like I should just flee from home and never return”

Now that statement took Ola by surprise for he had always seen Ayuba as strong willed with no iota of weakness, now having him admit weakness was something new and perhaps hurtful. He turned to look at his friend. Ayuba’s eyes were filled with tears and he felt sorry for him. He wished he could do something to permanently take the pains in Ayuba’s life away. The truth however, is he can do nothing but to pray for and motivate his friend to reach for hope besides he had his own pains.

“Haba, Ayuba don’t talk like that, let’s go to your house and see things ourselves”. Ola said

Slowly they walk toward Ayuba’s house. Ayuba tried to remain calm but his emotions gave way and he began to weep.

                                                                       Chapter two

Bang , bang. The loud bang on the door woke him up from his sleep. He had not been sure if it was a knock on the door or a gunshot from the vigilante parading the streets. He sat upright on the sofa he had been sleeping on and tried to regain consciousness from his interrupted sleep. He looked at the wall clock hanging on the wall in front of him. The time was 1:27am. He must have dozed off waiting on his father. The loud knock came again this time he was certain.

“Ayuba, Ayuba, you dullard come and open this goddamn door or I break it down” shouted Mr.Ibrahim.

He rose from the sofa, took few steps toward the door, reached for the bolt and opened the door ajar. The stench of hard undiluted liquor hit his nostrils, his father was drunk, very drunk again. He shook his head and felt sorry for him.

“You fool, how can you sleep so deep, don’t you know I will be coming home tonight? Abi your mother told you I am dead, which is not unusual.”

“I’m sorry father, how was I to know you had not fallen inside a gutter again?”Ayuba said

“Hen, what did you say?” Mr Ibrahim said

“I said I am sorry father, should have know better you will come home late”

“So what if I come late? Cant I come to my house anytime I want?” he replied back rather aggressively

“I am sorry father” soberly Ayuba withdrew from his aggressive father

“like mother, like son. Where is your mother and brother, Hassan? Mr Ibrahim asked.

“Hassan is asleep and mummy is not yet back. I don’t think she will be coming tonight.”

“Hen, hen you mother is not back abi. Kai, this harlot I pray she never comes back to this house, else I will kill her myself” with the threat Mr Ibrahim staggered toward his room.

“Daddy, Ayuba called out to his father, who turned around rather reluctantly.

“What is the problem now, Ayuba, what? He brawled.

“Nothing serious daddy, hum, I just want to show you my report card. I was first overall in the region and I have been offered admission on scholarship to study Geology in the prestigious university of ilori.” Ayuba excitedly rushing to get the admission letter that was a stool near the sofa.

“hummm, that is good for you , as for me I’m tired and I want to sleep” roaring with laughter he staggered and entered his room slamming the door behind him.

Ayuba stood transfixed to the same spot. His father won’t even look at it. He had spent nights and days studying really hard trying to impress his father with his grades and now that he is with a scholarship his father wont as much as glance at it.

His father had not always been like this. He had been a loving father. He remembered his father even brought him a bike for him when he got the first position in his primary 6 examination. The problem started about three years ago when his father was laid off from government work without benefits or gratuity. He had tried to secure another job to no avail. Only the fortunate ones get jobs these day and the ones with the right connections get the good jobs. He knew he could not blame his father, for he took to alcohol out of frustration which was not an excuse. He was angry his father had no faith in his success.

Tears roll down his cheek, he is hurt by his parent nonchalant attitude to his success. His father just bullshited his hard work. His mother left home following the quarrel she had with the father, which was not unusual. He looked down on the mat in this sitting room there lies his brother, Hassan, barely nine years old sleeping soundly ignorant of the emotional turmoil he Is going through. He often thought of what will become of Hassan when he leaves for school. His sprit has been dampened by his home.

“I shall make it, come what may happen” Ayuba found himself rather loudly in tears. This was his life and he was going to make something good out of it. How he is going to do it is unknown to him but he was sure he will do it.

“I shall be successful” Ayuba affirmed again, louder this time.

                                                  Chapter three

The feel of his tongue between her moist thighs was cool beyond words. She could hear his grunt and heightened breath. His fingers griped her breast roughly and twisted the nipples gently sending waves of erotic excitement through her body. She looked down the head whose tongue is causing her so much pleasured discomfort. Their eyes meet at that instance. He, eager to confirm if his flirtatious tongue was giving the guaranteed satisfaction (considering the increased level of moisture) while was she checking out the source of her excitement. But what she saw in his eyes was not what she was expecting. She closed her eye and stretched forward her fingers and gave him a gentle crease on the head. She could feel something vibrating between her thighs, swelling and travelling through her entire body with a speed she could not fathom. She started wriggling her body to meet up with the waves of excitement she was surfing on, drifting her slowly to cloud seven. Her body starts to quake uncontrollably, her moans increased, her appeal for more pleasure intensified. She held his head tighter to her wet virgina with her legs spread wide apart. She never felt this good. Her body seems to be transported to another world in delightful ecstasy with wetness forming rivulets between her thighs. She uttered a load moan and it stopped abruptly.

She looked down to see the man smiling at her. She smiled back, shyly. This is crazy she told herself with her eyes closed she sank back into the bed, relaxed and fulfilled. She let her thoughts drift. She was jolted back to reality when she heard the male voice tell her something. She opened her eyes and was quite surprised to see the man before her in his birthday suit with his penis pointing at her. This, she told herself, was way too big for what she bargained for. The man spoke again

“It is time, Gloria Baby” rolling his tongue to sound and look seductive.

“Time for what?” she replied. Her gaze still fixed on the big rod of feminine submission before her.

“Time to do the real thing girl, time to get jiggy with it” he replied.

She rose and sat sitting on the bed with the tip of her toes touching the marbled floor. She took a scornful look at him and shook her head. She reached for her robe by her bedside chair and covered herself with it, the nipples still seductively erect even under the protection of the silken cloth used.

“Get out”. She said

He looked confused. His eyes twitched and his mouth opened. This gesture gave Gloria a trill and she felt in control once more.

“It seem you don’t know your level, Tayo, I am your boss” Gloria said

“Burh, burh but you called me here to get funky with you, why stop now dear? Tayo replied.

The reply sent her laughing out loud.

“Who is your dear? Uh, You are noting but my own personal toy and driver. You are under my father’s payroll. I called you here to my room because I need you to do something for me and you have done very well, now your service is no longer required. So get out of here that is an order”. Gloria said with a tone of finality and her finger pointing to the door.

Slowly he picked up his clothes, wore them without a word turned his back on her and walked out of the door.

She stood up from the bed walked to the door and locked it firmly behind him. She walked up to her desk in the far corner of the room opened one of the drawers and brought out a well rolled marijuana stick. She lit it and inhaled a large substantial drag of the substance. She looked around her room and could see noting but luxury. Her room is large, large enough to host Jesus and his twelve disciples only if they would have another last supper. From the plastered ceilings to the expensive 24 carat gold plated chandelier. Her home theater system could get her in touch with the world with the click of a button. She took another long drag of the marijuana and could feel the effect taking its toll. She strolled from her desk to stand in front of her 6ft by 4ft mirror. She peeled the silken robe from her body and starred at herself. She smiled, how beautiful can a woman get? With long dark hair reaching her back in its pony tail style, her eyes dazzled like diamonds although red from the effects of the marijuana. Her skin smooth like the palm oil of  ile-ife. Her breast was full and robust with the nipples firm and pointing, in very good proportion to her flat belly and apple shaped bottom supported by lovely hips. Hips like the gazelle of the savannah. Her pubic region is a bit swollen (thanks to Tayo) with hairs forming itself in neat well arranged lines. The region looks like a freshly rain beaten mango every hungry man would love to ravish. Her gaze caught a portrait of herself on the wall opposite her. Her room was filled with such expensive paintings. She dragged the marijuana again starring at the mirror. She is proud of who she is.  The only child of Otunba Balogun. She was knows she is rich for life. She can have anything at anytime she wants it. Yet she longs for something money can’t buy, Love. She had prayer for that day when her true love will come in shining amour to save her from the dungeon she calls home. Her prayers will surely be answered; her mother told her God does not sleep. She prays silently again to God not to let her wait in vain. She will remain the way she is until the prayer is answered. She will remain a virgin.

                                                               Chapter four

At 7:35am a knock came on the door not fully awake she walked sluggishly to the door and opened it for her father’s faithful steward, Adamu. He was expected. A daily routine which had been kept every single day since her mother’s died. Adamu bowed humbly to Gloria. He rose with his head erect and chin up announcing that breakfast was served and her father request her presence at once at the table.

“Thank you Adamu, I will join him soon” Gloria said

“I am sorry but this time it is urgent and you have to follow me immediately” Adamu replied with a tone of urgency in his voice. This reply sent chills down her spine. This obviously is not part of the routine. Urgency was never a part of it.

“Why the hurry, Adamu, I hope noting is wrong you are making me nervous” Gloria said with seriousness written all over her face

“Noting Madame, Otunba just want to see you before he leaves for his trip” Adamu assured her.

She stepped back inside her room walked to the bed side drawer and pulled out a hair brush to brush her hair. She was skeptic about her father’s summons. Had he known about her little rumble in the hay with Tayo, the driver? Or he finally decided to send her to Europe to further her studies and handle her mother business empire over there. The more she asks herself these question the more confused she became. Dropping the hair brush she walked to the mirror to see how she looks, perfect. She smiled at her reflection. With long elegant strides she got to the door opened it looking at Adamu she beckoned on him to tag along and together they walked the long corridor leading to the dining room. The corridor walls were filled with family pictures. Herself, her father and late mother. All featured on lovely images and different pose, reflecting their past lives. As they pass the last phase of the corridor, facing them directly on the door frame leading to the dining room is her mother’s picture framed in gold. There you can see the painting come to life reflecting her glory when she was alive. Olori Moji Balogun, the only surviving daughter of a mega oil tycoon father and a successful textile merchant mother. She shocked everyone when she said she was going to marry a whore house manager, Elele Balogun. She stuck to her gun despite her father’s disapproval to the marriage. She died a controversial death five years after the marriage. She was survived by one daughter, Gloria, a split image of her mother. She knew the story because her grandfather told her. Although she has faint memory of her mother her presence seems to be around her almost all the time.

She passed the door way to enter into the dining hall. A rather large hall, the size of a standard lawn tennis court, where parties are often held. She could see her father at the end of the table, sitting calmly reading papers and sipping a cocktail. Her dad’s drinking habit can be annoying but drinking in the morning meant something was wrong. She saw a young handsome male sitting on his father’s left side starring hard at her. She ignored him, went to her father and gave him a hug and a soft kiss on the check.

“Good morning, dad, how are you today? She said

“fine my dear, just a little fatigued because of my busy schedule these last few days and I still have a transatlantic plane to board in few hours”  Otunba said.

“Dad maybe you should take it slow and make time out for a vacation or a cruise or something like that. You can even jump off a cliff, with a parachute of course.” She said

He ignored the suggestion with a wave of hand and continued reading his paper. Gloria found a seat and settled in, pouring herself a cup of warm milk. She had barely taken a sip before her father held her hands looked into her eyes. She felt cold that instant

“What is it, daddy? you making me scared. Talk to me”   she had the notion that something serious was about to be said. Otunba inhaled deeply and held her hand tighter

“Since the death of your mother, may her soul rest in peace, have I not taken good care of you?” otunba asked.

“Yes you have tried father, why?” Gloria’s face became quizzical because her father had spoken to her like this, once, all her life and that was when she was arrested for drunk driving without a valid license. He had been really unhappy about her behavior; she had dragged the name ‘Balogun’ through the mud. She was grounded and for three straight months she was not allowed to use the phone. Now, he was talking with the same tone of seriousness as he did then. He inhaled heavily and exhaled with force. He allowed like thirty seconds of silence before he spoke again.

“Gloria, do you know this man sitted on this table with us” Otunba said pointing to the young man seated on his left side. The young man had been quiet, facing his bowl of cereal. Gloria looked at the young man again surprised at the turn of things but shook her head confirming her ignorance of his affiliation.

“This young man seated her with me is your brother. Your step-brother, Jude. He just flew in from the states where he had been with his mother. I told him to come home and help in the family business” he said. It took like a minute before the words hit her. She tried to look at her father in the eye but he avoided it by pretending he was sipping his cocktail. She glanced at the mysterious step brother again. He was almost the same age as her, maybe a year or two older but not more, she was sure. She held her mouth opened ajar, speechless. She felt noting but instant hatred for him wishing she could just kill him right away. She manage to mumble a few words out

“How come you never told me anything about a brother until now? How come grand pa never talked about him?” she said.

“I told you, don’t talk to me about your grandfather” he brawled at her.

“Why don’t you like grandpa? Why won’t you let me see him? Who is this stranger and what is he doing here?  Gloria yelled.

“I am sorry my dear daughter, but some things are better said at the right time and this is the right time. So you better get acquainted with reality. And I do not hate your Grandfather; I just don’t want you bothering the old man.” He said

” is he complaining dad?” she said with a voice laden with emotion.

“ok we will talk about this when I am back from new York .” otunba replied not wanting to see her daughters tears. He stood up from his seat drank his cocktail in one large gulp and with a pat on her shoulder, he assured her of his love.

“you should show your brother around the house and keep him company till I am back from my trip. That reminds me, here you got a letter”. He produced a letter that was in between the newspaper he was holding. Collecting the bulky letter from her father, she opened it , written boldly on it was her admission letter. She had been admitted to study Chemistry in the prestigious university of ilori. She smiled as so did her father. Raising her chin she meet eye ball to eye ball with her step brother. She knew they were never going to get along.

                                                                        Chapter five

He had taken the first bus out of Imope Township. The bus departed at about 5:00am bound for Eruku from where he will board another bus going to ilori. Closing his eyes, Ayuba mumbled few words of prayer as the bus began to move, leaving behind him all that that is dear. He had dozed off in the wee hour of the journey. The ray of sunlight through the car window pane woke him from his slumber. He blinked rapidly to adjust his visual consciousness. The morning was now bright and clear. The woman close to him had dozed off too, with saliva tickling down her big lip all the way down her neck. He sat back with a sigh. He dipped his hand into his pant’s left side pocket and brought out a piece of paper with the description of the address he is expected to lodge written boldly on it a supposed relative, he had been told and he is expected to be of good behavior once he is there. His father had given him 1500 naira as pocket money. Putting the piece of paper back into his pocket, he turned his face to look at the scenery outside. Despite the fast motion of the bus he could still the suburban landscape. With carpet of greenery stretching for miles before his eye. His nostril inhaled the sweet smell of incense bearing trees; his eyes caught a hawk flapping its wings mid air in preparation for a fatal swoop on a prey. The horrible stench of fart made him turn around with a squeezed face. The woman seated next to him is awake now. Her foul breath and egg rotten stinking fart made him throw his head back outside the car window. The stench got him irritated and thinking deeper about life, life is so much like a fart. We all have our own foul stench locked up inside, our little secrets and hidden pains. Taboo that drives us into solitude. Others only know the smell when in your moment of weakness it is revealed even though theirs may be worse. Recovering from the trauma of the makeshift gas chamber, ayuba’s, mind drifts back to his brother at home with his alcoholic father. He says a silent prayer for his mother’s return. At least that will rescue his brother from starvation.

He got to ilori after the Muslim jumat prayer ended. Muslim devotee troupe out in their scores from the central market (which is the city motor park area too) forming a busy commercial scene. He fumbled with his luggage trying to grant independence to the piece of paper squeezed in his palms. He hailed a cab down, a green and yellow painted salon car. Giving the driver the paper with the description he was beckoned inside. With his luggage secured in the truck of the car he settled down in the back seat and watched the driver engaged the gear and accelerated. Few turns and curses (to other drivers) the driver stopped in front of a huge black gate after about fifteen minutes of driving trough the city. He stepped out with his luggage and paid the driver his money. He walked to the gate and knocked gently. He was answered initially by a dog who barked incessantly, until he heard someone speak from the other end of the gate. A young female voice

“Who is that? “Shouted the unknown female character

“ It is me, Ayuba Ibrahim, from Imope. I am here to see Dr Akin. I am expected” replied Ayuba, shouting too.

Then silence, even the dogs barking was gone. Metal squeaked and the gate was swung opened by a beautiful girl in her early teen whose smile was breathtaking.

“Professor Akin not Dr. my dad is now a professor” replied the girl pleasantly.

“Oh! Sorry. I do not know. Is he home?” Ayuba asked

“No but come on in, let me help with the bags” she said

Helping him with the light weight bag, she ushered him into a modest bungalow beautified with flowers and a well mowed lawn.

“I am ife Akin, what is your name?” she asked as they walked inside the house.

                                                           Chapter six

Otunba sank deeper into the cushioned leather seat of his new jaguar. A vintage car he just acquired for $135,000. He is living the good life and believe it or not good life does not come cheap. Sacrifices had to be made sometimes with sweat, other times with blood. Feeling tipsy from the cocktail (he had a long island iced tea) he drank for breakfast; he sat deeper into the comfort of the cozy seat. His driver turned around to look at him behind the steering wheel.

“Good morning, oga ,how your night sir?”

“Fine, Sule. How your family? Otunba replied in Pidgin English.

“dem fine sir, except for my wife. She sick small again.” Sule replied

“Sule,sule. How many times your wife dey sick in a month? Otuba said

Otunba is tired of his driver consistent tale about his wife or children (thank God his mother is late) sickness just to extort money from him to drink ‘sepe’ or carry ‘olosho’ (call girls). Ironically he is his friend and confidant and had been with him more than a decade.

“Anyway that is your own problems not mine. Your wife’s health is your responsibility. I want you to take me to the airport I have a flight to catch” Otunba replied in a bossy tone.

“Yes sir”

Sule started the engine and glided out of the archway toward the gate. Otunba smiled, he was feeling contented with the response he was getting from his new car. Everything was smooth and silent except for the tick-tock of sule’s cheap wrist watch. Otunba looks out through the tinted window on his expensive estate, seeing the freshly mowed lawn with flowers blooming in beautiful colours. The interlocking tiles around the central fountain were over grown with algae green which added its own aesthetics to the overall scenery. Everything showed good taste, just the way he likes it. He never dreamt of this wealth in life yet he is now ranked one of the ten richest men in the country. The owner an international oil exploration company operating in the gulf of guinea with production capacity of 43,000 bpd and net profit of 400million. He thought back at his life when he was just a little boy with noting except his good looks and zealous determination to be rich. His mother told him he got his good looks from his father. He never knew who his father was but he heard tales. Tales of his father being a solider that died gallantly in the Nigerian civil war many years ago. He knows it is a lie and that his father is unknown because his mother is a whore.

His mother’s love however, was the only love he grew up to know. Growing in the inner city brothel where he shared the room with his mother. A ‘face me I face you’ house where every occupant was given a room facing another occupant’s room directly. The type of house where conversation is heard behind the wall and every cooking is identified via the aroma. The house where all 18 occupants share two toilet and bathroom. This is the place he grew up to know care and love. Growing up for Otunba was fun filed. From queue at the bathroom door every morning, to the influx of male customer at night. Music was non- stop from about 4:00pm to the wee hours of the morning. During these hours his mother is mostly busy with her customers so he stays in the company of his co-tenants, mostly females. Their cloths were never fully covered, exposing laps navels and most part of their breast. With heavy made up faces they were professionals in the game of seduction, like their geisha counterpart in Japan only cheaper.

Otunba grew up knowing how to seduce. He understood women’s weakness of boredom and loneliness. He knew spending time with a woman is worth more than spending money for them. If you spend enough time you will be duly compensated, in cash or in kind. Begin in the company of these strumpets turned him into a Casanova of some sought. He never felt ashamed to call them aunty or pull at their mini- skirts demanding attention. They spoilt him with goodies, chocolate, biscuits, ice cream and sometimes showers with them naked.

His memories of elementary school were vauge. He however remembered his first time. He remembered being woken up by his mother early to have his bath and eat. His mother dressed him in uniforms he had earlier tried on the previous evening. He was held by hand and led out of the house with a water bottle dangling from his neck. He cried as they walked through oke-odo road where they got an okada (commercial motorcycle) going to st. Joseph primary school. A man who appeared to be in charge of the infant section was at the gate already waiting to receive them as the okada stopped for them to alight. The man had with him other children his age, about five of them. His mother approached the man with him tagging along and they spoke for few moments. She handed him over to the man and she waved good bye and left him behind. He cried, crying at the top of his voice begging to be with his mother instead of the poker faced man. The man led the children to a hall where colored maps, pictures and cartoon character were pasted on the walls. The table and chairs were in neat rows with crayons placed on them. He sat down quietly and settled in his own chair as directed by the poker faced man. He was still whimpering when a girl sat next to him offering him her chocolate. He shook his head expressing his unwillingness to receive gifts but she stretched her hands insisting with her gestures that he must have it. He collected it from her and looked up and said ‘thank you’ shyly. They meet eyeball to eyeball and he felt her tiny hands clean his tears away. Her hands were warm and soft. She made him feel better. Thankfully he had found a new friend and a new reason to come to school daily.

A jolt brought him back from his sub conscious state. These Nigerian roads are terrible with port holes as large as industrial suck away.

“We don reach airport sir” sule announced

Otunba opened the alligator skin brief case beside him and checked his passport and ticket.

“sule, you go follow me inside until I check in, then you go house go drop the car. Is that clear?” otunba instructed

Sule nodded and took a right turn heading straight to the airport lobby  

                                                                                                                              

NEW DAWN

The tears of years long,

When will it be wiped?

Thoughts gone far back at deeds wrong

Piercing like bee sting.

When will I sing?

Bring me drums,

Roll them out, for the new dawn

Shall bring joy to my soul,

Refreshing, it shall be

Like the shades of the Odan tree.