Scholar Femi - Complete Episodes

SCHOLAR FEMI… Episode

I stood there with over ninety nine thoughts jostling for attention in my mind. I quietly said “Allahu Akbar” after starting with the Iqama. I was fortunate to wake up early today. Ramadan fasting is twenty seven tonight, the night dubbed as “the most gracious night”. Far greater than a thousand nights and the Chief Imam of the school mosque had assured us that whatsoever we asked this night will surely come to pass. And I really have a lot of things to ask Baba God. I have too many request to tender.
For this reason I’d set my phone alarm at two a.m., far earlier than my usual time. I really need a one on one chat with God. I did wake up one a.m., an hour early. I quickly used that opportunity to plug my phone as PHCN served us a rare dose of electricity. I went out to get my keg and filled it with water. I quietly unlocked the door to the compound as I happen to be the only Muslim that reside in the compound and I didn’t want to alert my landlord less he starts screaming “who’s that? “. I took caution to walk out of the house.

I performed the normal ablution then I walked back indoor, leaving the door ajar. I checked my Ramadan Solat table, the night is twenty-seventh and it entails a dozen rakat with Six salama. I look at my waist and the little rod in my pants. These two are the real cause of my present dilemma. The reason why I need to talk to father God before things finally fall apart.

I mount my praying mat, said the Iqama and I followed it up with Suratu Fathia. The prayer book states that I have to follow the Fathia with ten Suratu Qodri. I was too lazy to do that so l lazily recite three. I was never a man that adhere strictly to manual. I perform the rukuh and I was already on Sujud. while kowtowing, the thoughts of Adiza flood my mind. That careless girl. Her carelessness is about to ruin my life. I just wish she had been more careful or I’d apply the necessary precautions.

Adiza is a schoolmate of though we’re not in the same level. Adiza is in her sophomore year on campus. A young girl with big ambition. Mind you, she is not my girlfriend or maybe we can say there’s no official girl in my life. But among the usual suspects accused of being my girlfriend, Ady stands out intellectually and in terms of her exquisite beauty. Ady came from a relatively rich family, she’s the baby of the family and she also happened to be the only girl. Her dad is a car dealer based in Abuja while her mum works in an insurance company. She once told me she would have celebrated her sixteen birthday as an undergraduate if not for ASUU’s protracted strike. If there’s anything like sweet sixteen then Ady is Perfect sixteen.

As a fresher, Adiza first bumped on me on campus while she was looking for the Library. As a gentleman, I took her there, gave her some tips about campus life while also helping her to register her library pass. We struck a friendship instantly.

As heaven will destine it, Adiza also happen to belong to my department. These further deepen our friendship. I automatically assumed the role of her Campus tutor. As a not too social guy, I maintained a formal approach in all my friendship with the opposite sex. I don’t want to be too close to anyone. I’m officially single and I’m not ready to change the status quo.

My mind quickly jogged back to present posture. I’ve spent almost two minutes just Sujuding. I quickly completed the second part then I stood up for the second rakat.

“Allahu Akbar”

The voice of Adiza is still clear in my head. She’d called me the previous night before I break my fasting to give me the shocking news. She can’t see her period and it’s now almost Four days late. I asked her how correct she thinks she was and maybe she has had it without remembering but inside me, I was dead scared. Ady is a lady bless with good memory and she rarely joke. In fact I can’t remember her cracking any jokes since we started our friendship. I know why I’m scared. The last and only time I’d spend the night at Adiza’s place was an impromptu event and many impromptu events also coincide or let’s say unplanned actions did happened that night. It rained. Heavy after we had watched Teen Wolf on Ady’s laptop.

My mind jogged back. I was beginning to doubt the validity of my nafilat. I decided to read my verses out loud so as to knock any thoughts frequenting my mind. I quickly rushed the second rakat. I salama.

I heaved a sigh of relief. I need a break to put my mind at ease. During Adiza’s call, she did also inform me that her mom is coming around to celebrate Salah with her. I could still remember she told me her mom keeps a copy of her menstrual period table at home. Her mom knows when she should be on her period and Ady have almost completed the whole Ramadan fasting uninterrupted by any menstrual flow. The thoughts of what my dad- “Old soldier” is going to do send frozen shivering down my spine.

I picked up my phone; dial Ady’s number off hand. The phone rang twice. She picked it at my third attempt.

“Hello dear”- she greeted from the other end.
“Hello? How is it now? Have you seen it yet?” I said, skipping the normal free night call ritual of prolong pleasantries spiced with carefully selected romantic dictions and other passion inducing
She giggled, unleashing that sweet laughter that sedates me whenever my anger mode activates. I tried sounding serious but the anger in me was refusing refueling.
“You mean you don’t know what I’m saying. Haven’t you seen your monthly visitor yet”- I tried speaking in parable.
“Visitor bawo?!, Mum is not coming until Salah now..I’m not expecting any visitor now or are you sending someone to come pick me this morning “- Ady replied, trying to doose the already tensed atmosphere.

This is one of what I love about Ady. A witty girl with romantic sense of humour. But I’m not in any mood for jokes. Our future is at stake here and she is still trying to hang us on the line. With her dad and all his Abuja connection, I’m staring at forever in Kirikiri maximum prison. Ever since this issue happened, I’ve graduated from being a normal person to becoming a seer, a doomed prophet. All I see is my head being guillotined.

“Ady” I managed to utter with my trademark diplomatic voice. “Have you seen your monthly period? Ramadan is almost twenty-seven days and you’re still fasting. What do you think is wrong?”
“Ehn, Femi. I haven’t seen it yet oooo. The symptoms are there. I’m just expecting the blood to come. It’s a matter of time. Moreover, the normal days count would have been over by now. You need not worry”
“I’m scared oooo. I’m scared to the bone. You know your mum is coming in three or four day’s time. What are we gonna do now”
“You ehn! why are you eager to see blood sef? You are now deputizing for my mum abi. Calculating my period. Moreover, my menses always come with this excruciating pain. I’d been glad to miss it for some days”

Ah! I felt like exploding in fear. Fear had gripped me so tight to it was milking sweats out of my body. My head was pounding and my eyes were getting blurry. I felt like the globe was rolling anti-clockwise on my back. I could see Old soldier’s face, smiling at the suffering I’ll face when all this secret come to light.

“You know the implication of this” I asked, trying to feign a manliness that was long buried in my trembling voice. I cleared my voice and decided to speak in slow tempo.
“Yes now. What else could it mean than I am pregnant and you are the lucky guy or would you deny me?”- Ady replied childishly.

My head was now really pounding. I felt like Ady just hanged me with an abortion belt and she is determined to see me take a free ride smoothly to hell.

“Ady baby! You are mere sixteen and you are looking forward to becoming Mrs. Tunde. Isn’t it too early” I asked, trying to press her moral button.
“Scholar Femi! upon everything you know, You’re still acting like you don’t know how much I love you and how I wish eternity could come and glue us together, forever ” she said, ending her statements with her usual loud smile.

I’m puzzled. I can’t understand this girl anymore. I’m barely twenty and you are talking of eternity. I’d spent half of those years catering for my aged grandmother before JAMB finally liberated me from the bondage. Yeah, I love you. Loving someone doesn’t mean you’re planning to spend eternity loving them. We all need a break. Moreover I’m too young to start seeking for Miss Right now. I still have two years to go. Two new session with new chicks with succubus faces.

“What of Shola? What will she say? ” I raised another question, trying to remind her that a month ago, I was dating her best friend. Trying to trigger the reality button in her cupid-arrow-pieced heart. “Don’t you think this will be too complex? How will we explain this now? How will I explain us to those friends I lied to that you’re my niece? Are you trying to destroy us? “

For the record, Shola is my Ex and Ady’s best friend. A stubborn lazy girl. All she cares about was delegating her assignments and school work to me. We were hooked up by this same Adiza. A month ago she was begging me to rescind my stance of breaking up with Shola, telling me how the future look too bright if only I can take a second look. How swift time change.

“Now you are bringing the past into this. Now you care about how Shola feel. You fucking don’t mind to ask what I’m going through here. You think I’m the one who’s supposed to act strong. I never told you I’m pregnant, all I said was, I haven’t seen my period yet. Does that necessarily mean I’m pregnant? You are there fidgeting like a cow sentenced to an hour in the cleaner” Ady ranted.

“Moreover I wasn’t the one that invited you to party. I didn’t serve you those Whiskies. I didn’t lock you outta your house and I shouldn’t be the one bearing the brunt of the blame game now. It’s my period; it’s not a Gulder ultimate search. I’ll find a way out of this myself. Stay outta my ear” Ady finally hanged the call.

I stood there puzzled. I was still holding the phone to my ear hoping I had say something when Addy was expressing herself out of frustration. She’d spoke so fast to the extent that her voice got stuck in my head, constantly replaying. That’s the first time she’s doing that. I guess she must be really pissed off by my childishness. I felt bad myself. Methinks this is the first time Ady have spoken for long uninterrupted by her favorite quote “Am I correct?” I know I’m annoying but I never thought I’d climax into this super annoying status.

I guess Ady is damned sure she’s right. I just behave like an asshole. I stared at the wall clock. Two a.m. I need to complete my nafilat before 3am so that I can have enough time to eat my breakfast. I tried reading the prayer book but the new twist in my pregnant saga was robbing me of the slightest grain of concentration. I need to apologize to Ady. This is a time we can’t afford any misunderstanding.

I decided to text her, maybe that will doze her anger. I checked my call credit. 102 naira. if I call her now, I won’t be able to continue our free night call. I concluded to risk it. If I don’t apologize now, they might be nothing to return to discuss later. I have to conjure an impressive text that will inspire her to call me back.

After about ten minutes of mental exercise, I finally send her a message. Hoping it’s impressive enough to placate Ady’s temper. Twenty minutes later, she didn’t call me. I wonder what is happening. What is wrong with this girl?

I finally decided to call her. let me sacrifice my remaining 97 naira to resolve this issue. I dialed her number and she picked.

I heard a weakened voice from the other end, “Hello Femi, I can’t find my inhaler “- her voice fades out.

“Hello, hello! “- I screamed into my phone mouth piece, trying to figure out the situation on ground.

I guess Ady is having an asthma attack. Look at what I’ve caused. I’m about to have someone’s blood on my neck and I don’t have any of her housemates’ number.

I checked my wallet; I still have her spare key. I stared at my phone, its 2:30. Ady’s hostel is 20 minutes walk from my lodge. Time to act the hero. But I’m no hero. I could still remember vividly tales, myth and warning given to us in our sophomore year about fierce looking vigilante that protect the all female hostel that Ady reside. I stood up, belt my trousers and head for the corridor with my phone and wallet clasp in one hand. I’m sneaking out. And I better not let my landlord know.

I tried opening the main door but it was making a squeaky sound that I feared would soon arose my landlord. I tried squeezing my body into the little space but I still couldn’t pass through. It was like a camel trying to pass through the eye of a niddle. I decided to open it wider. It gave out a loud squeak that was reciprocated by another loud masculine voice from the corridor.
“Tani yen?! Who is that? “

My brain froze. My heartbeat rose like the volume of an LG woofer while my mind haggle with my mouth on the next tenable lie I could utter.

I stood there trying to shuffle through my lies directory in order to perfect the right lie for this unplanned appearance of my landlord.

“I said who that is? “- The voice shouted, accompanied by a flip-flop sound of approaching slippers.

I cleared my throat, “It’s me sir”

“What are you doing outside, it’s not 4a.m yet”

“Yes sir”, trying to stare at my watch-less wrist in order to escape the questioning look of my landlord. “I woke up early sir. So I decided to wrap up everything. I might be unlucky to… to sleep off so I decided to start the,… the.. “

“Start what? “- My landlord further interrogate, flashing his torch light on my terrified face. “How that does translates to you opening the main gate. Why the main gate? What are you planning to do outside?

“Ehn!” -I ran a finger through my hair. I try calming my voice while I re-position my stance. “Concerning that, I was washing my hands when my room keys attached to my wallet dropped off the window. If it’s the keys alone I wouldn’t have any reason to open the gate”- I lied.

My landlord gave me a more discerning questioning look. Then he gave me a knod to open the gate while he flashed his torch to brighten my path. I walked to the window. Take a look at my landlord then pick a big stone then I dropped it in my pocket. I guess Ady is destined to die tonight. I walked back into the compound. My landlord stayed back to lock the door. I quietly trace my step back into my room.

“Thank you sir”- I try muttering before shutting myself in my darkness governed room.

I felt like a Zombie. My brain seems drained of ideas. Am I just gonna let Ady die like that. Oh my God. My trousers felt saggy, I remember the big flat stone I picked outside couple of minutes ago. I laughed at my ingenious acting skills. I picked the stone out of my pocket, wondering what to do with it. I opened my window. Yeah, concerning my window, my room has a window with no burglary irons or window panes. Yeah, I’m truly a genius.

I picked my phone; knot my charger around my neck like a talisman. I picked my cherished android phone and my ever useful Nokia 108. I was wondering how I’m going to enter my room after leaving through the window. I unlocked the door then place my CD player behind the door. That should stop it. I opened the window, hop down from the window and a silent thud follows. I shut the window and it made a loud bang.

“Tani yen for Christ sake “

That’s my landlord again. He’s definitely not gonna see me like this. I laughed while I made my way jogging through the moonlit darkness. I’m going to Ady’s lodge. I’m gonna be the hero. I can remember Mum telling me when I was younger, girls love their hero. They call them “charming knight”. I’m a charming knight jogging in the night to save my love. I gear up, jogging faster like I’m running an Olympic race.

I’ve been to Ady’s place before but definitely not around this time. I can still remember my first day at her hostel lodge. Her flat was palatial. She used to tell me she’s from a middle-class family. I guess I have to redefine my family description, if living in a flat with a twenty four inch flat screen TV, a refrigerator and a screen-touch laptop is her definition of middle-class, Omo I guess I’m from the peasant class.

There’s no doubt, I’m scholar Femi, the guy blessed with approximately two Thousand terabyte of unused brain space. I can technically remember anything. Jargons and everything. I remember she was bathing that day I’d visit; Ady had rushed down with soapy foams on her laps and face while she used her towel to cover the rest. I hate having to guess. Curiosity is the gas that fuels my scholarship. Since she had soap in her eyes and she was only able to open the door by divine intervention. I led her back to her bathroom, rinse her face then left her to finish whatsoever she was doing. Ady’s flat is very decent, how I wish Old Soldier can upgrade my status this high.

I’d made myself comfortable, rehearsing Africa History subconsciously. Ady came into the sitting room, pleaded for keeping me waiting. She asked what I would like to take and I said anything. Yeah, the only word you can say when you are being asked by a beautiful lady cloth in a translucent towel is “anything or nothing “. She brought a bottle of Fayrouz pear drink out of the refrigerator and a clean glass cup. I constantly stare at the soft drink like a gentleman waiting for a reminder that the soft drink is meant for me, I don’t want to embarrass myself by opening the bottle cork will my teeth. I guess she read my mind, brought an opener then open the drink herself. I was really enjoying the VIP treatment.

Ady was very comfortable with me not minding the fact that her towel was semi-soaked, after all I’m an Alfa, I’m Alfa Femi. Her one and only crush. She quickly zooms off to dress in her room. She said 5 minutes. I remember mum saying when a lady says five minutes, then you have to grab a pillow and take a two hour nap. I miss mom and here is Ady making me feel like I’m home again.

I was secretly sipping my served drink when I unknowingly faced the flat’s room. I couldn’t find Ady but I could see everything going on in the room. The mirror was reporting everything in a live coverage. I can see all the reflection; it was like watching Nicky Minaj on MTV, everything was so clear. She already put on pink pants. I don’t know why girls like pink. I find it hard to believe. I could see other things. My eyes felt like popping out of my skull as the gate of my mouth open wide to have a taste of the leftovers my eyes couldn’t capture. I didn’t bother much about her face. I’d seen that every day in school. I fixated my gaze on her chest, I could see those grape-like erected breast. The thought of those fresh fruits in my hands, one in my palm and the other in my mouth. I remember those days in primary school when I go to school with water bottle. I’m gonna suck her like a water bottle.

I was there. Revering in my fantasy. Something was beginning to grow in my trousers. I guess this is getting uncontrollable. It’s African History. We are treating African History. The topic is African Leaders. And it was Uthman Dan Fodio that led the Algerian war of Independence against the forces of Adolph Hitler in 1992 during the beginning of the cold war and this led to the breakup of Sudan and the death of Muanmar Ghadaffi and the election of Patience Jonathan as the first elected female president of Liberia. Chai. What am I thinking? Ady have formatted my brain system. My memory needs antivirus against this kind of viral thoughts.

“Stop there! Stop there before I blow your head off” a roaring voice commanded and my brain quickly re-programmed itself.

I was close to Ady’s house and this must be the infamous night-watchmen, the dreaded Vigilantes. I halted, trying to compose myself while also struggling to control my now sporadic heavy breathing. There are three of them; two were my age-mates while the third looked more like their uncle. They also wielded “Shaka-bula”, a locally made Dane gun that’s capable of firing one shot. The eldest was wielding two Shaka-bula while the others had lengthy koboko or horsewhips wrapped around their waist. Different Charms, black and red, and other rainbow -like charms.

I know my running into this legalize riffraff’s is big trouble and my macho-look will not help matter. I was wearing a sleeveless weaved top with a black cap and a black denim trousers. I looked just too thiefy and street like. My sleeve-less top was revealing my muscles. I look macho. Ramadan have also made me develop a temporary six packs in my tummy. Hunger is not something good. I looked like the perfect material to play the role of any law breaker.

“Good morning sir”- I tried gaining ground with my feigned British accents while also defending myself diplomatically while I try not to display any grain of fear.

“Morning thief” replied the youngest, “no matter where you’re coming from or what you have stolen, I’m glad to let you know this is your bus stop. You will be cleanse of the stealing that plague your lineage today”

“Today thief even get manna, E be like say today na im first operation and I promise it’s going to be the last” said the Eldest in a pigin laden statement. “Where you coming from and what are have you stolen”

About ninety lies juggle in my mind. All I have to do is pick the perfect one to save me from this current predicament.

“Daddy, I think he’s holding a gun and he has a juju around his neck “- one of the boys said to the eldest.

I guess it’s a family business. A father and two sons policing the ladies zone.

“Sir, I’m coming from a Laila tul Qodri. I’m just coming from a lecture sir “

“You are coming from a lecture and you are dressed like this “

“Daddy, I think he might be one of those Boko Haram “- said the youngest.

“Boko kini”.. I think this boy must be mad. “I don’t know why this man pikin no get better idea for head”- I thought in pigin.

“Where’s your tesbir? “-asked the experienced father

“ehnnnn “

“Who preached at the lecture “- another asked

Before I could utter anything in defence ,a sounding slap landed on my rough cheek, smothering every pimples left on my face. My eyes went blurry. I could see stars and the nine planets hovering round my head. Tears build up in my eyes. I tried maintaining that manly look. My eyes were spinning. The palm that slapped me must have been greased with diluted cement because the weight and the effects was so itchy and painful.

“Kneel down there”

I comply immediately. I don’t want to receive more slaps. The macho-man disappear immediately.

“Drop everything you have stolen”

I obeyed. I just kept obeying the instructions not minding who is barking them. I assume everything on me is stolen. I dropped everything, including my talismanic charger and the stone in my pocket.

The eldest son picked my Android phone. He was unable to unlock it.

“Okay, if this is your phone, oya unlock it “

Finally, a chance to save myself. I collected my phone, draw the first pattern. It echoed “pattern error”. I drew another and the effect was the same. I heaved a sigh. I guess I have underestimated the effects of that slap on my brain.

I took my time. I tried staring at the phone screen. My eyes were really blurry, I felt like I’m seeing spiralling visions. I said a little prayer. Draw another pattern.

“Attempt again in the next five minutes”

Another resounding slap landed on my face.

“I told you dad, he’s a thief “

I could hear inaudible sirens blowing in my ears. Am I dead? I’m really dead. I laid flat on the floor. The vigilantes close up on me and pointed their Shaka-bula at me in a more “self assured and ready to kill” manner.

“Who are you and where are you coming from “- the voices roar and echo in my ears while I lay motionless on the floor.

The voice in my head whispered “Ady, we’re dying together tonight”.

I seem glue to the floor, pain was pumping at the same pace as my heartbeat. I was wondering what next the devilish little night guard would say. He has always been the brain behind every crazy and stupid idea going on around here.
“Daddy, you can see he is a confam thief” – the young vigilante affirmed. “Let me go bring those tyres, I think we still have two left. That should be enough to rid the world of this bloodsucker”

Within minutes, the young vigilante rolled two tyres, one big trailer tyre and a small one.
“We should fold him in this big one then sprinkle him with some kerosene”
The young vigilante jogged off again. He jogged back with a keg and he starts sprinkling the smelly substance on me without his father order. He was shouting “burn, burn! Burn!! ” like some evil prophets as he sprinkle the liquid on my body. His father and his brother were glad to be spectators. After all, all evidence corroborates the young lad claim.

The smell of adulterated kerosene soon aroused my sleeping brain. I’m at the crossroads of death and I don’t even have a will yet. What will Old soldier say if he heard his son died a criminal? I tried standing up but my legs were shaky. I guess the adrenaline in me must have been diluted with fear.
“Please wait, Please! I’m not a thief “. I try pleading.
Another heavy slap landed on my face. This time I couldn’t even see where the slap was coming. It seems my body too has adapted to the beating. I felt less pain but I know for sure I’m in pain. My left eye is almost semi-blind as blood was already oozing out of my mouth.


“Okay, you are right. I am a thief”
“Now you see he is confessing” the young vigilante said, he feels vindicated now.
“But before you burn me, let me call the numbers of those phones for you”
Their father knodded in acceptance and I made sure I wasn’t forming any foreign accent again. I’ve received enough slaps to make me realize foreign accents don’t work here.
“Ok sir. Thank you sir.” The older son brought out his phone, quietly unlock it.
“Better don’t give him your phone, he might just run away with it “- the younger brother advised. I don’t know why this boy has been playing evil genius with his naive crazy suggestions. He brought out his phone, Nokia 2330 and he ordered me to scream out my number as he can’t stress his ears.

“Sero hate zero, too for, two for, four eight hate one”- I shouted my number with heavy Yoruba accent. He dialed it and my phone was soon ringing in his hand. I could see a cloud of anger mounting on his face.
“Oya, call the second phone number”- the now furious younger brother demanded.
“Wait! Let me just unlock the phone now.” I said with some good confidence. I never knew slaps could drain a man of his confidence and wisdom.
He handed over the phone why I made sure I unlock them with patience. The father seems relieved but I looked pretty messed up and miserable now.

“Can I go now “- I pleaded.
“No you can’t go, we are not through with the questioning”-the young devil shot back.
“Yeah. You can go now. Don’t ever walk at night again. You can see the danger. You can thank your ancestors for saving you when you get to your destination”- their father advised.
“What a wasted effort. See as you wasted all the kero on that innocent being. The kero we could have used to prepare tomorrow breakfast”- the older brother argue with his brother but I was not interested in their argument. I’ve received too much slaps than to be eavesdropping.

I quietly pick my things with a little feeling of resentment and vengeance. They can’t even say sorry. I left the junction, staggering all the way to Ady’s. My body rink of kero. Lot of explanation to make. Are those lunatics planning to roast me for breakfast before? I think that old man needs to watch his son. I could see a Shekhau in the making. I pray I don’t run across him in daylight, I really have plans for him. A plan that doesn’t include him walking back home with his legs.

I soon arrived at Ady’s house. The compound door is open. I guess something partyish must have happened here last night. I prayed Ady still have some life left in her when I enter her room. I dipped my hand in my pocket, brought out the key to unlock the door. The sitting room light was off so I had to use my phone light.

I went straight to the sitting room. I saw the reading lamp first, I switched it on. There’s Ady. She looks very tired. Her face was red like she applied tomato sauce as make up. It looks like we both received heavy beatings together. Her mouth was also wide open. I guess that’s how she survived this long. Well, I’m not a Medic but I know she needs oxygen now. I don’t want to touch her, at least not yet. She might be dead. I don’t want to put my finger print on any crime scene. With the help of the reading lamp I was able to locate the inhaler on her reading table. No wonder she couldn’t reach it. I actually don’t know how to use this stuff, I don’t know where to press them but I’m sure it’s somewhere around the face

I pressed some of the inhaler into her eyes, some into her nose and some into her mouth. If she is destined to survive, then that she would but if she’s not, no problem. I placed her properly on the bed. I switched on the standing fan. She’ll really need it. I’ve done all I could.

She can’t even see me. What am I going to eat now. This is really a bad night to be a hero. I received some unwarranted beatings and one still have to fast 24hours again. I can’t even sleep on the same bed with her. At least not in this month. The time is now 4am. Maybe I should check the fridge. I opened the fridge, pick up a bottle of family size coke. I opened the cock. Thoughts of everything that have happened replayed on my mind as I gulp the drink down my throat. Mum never warned me that heroes often go to bed with empty stomach. Old soldier must be very proud of me right now. I kept thinking till sleep crept into my veins.

“Thank you Femi”, a mature female voice sounded in my hair. “Thanks for saving my baby girl’s life. You are really our hero”
“Please who are you ma”- I tried looking into her face but she turned her back. Ady was lying on the bed with needle syringes attached to her hands.
“What is wrong with Ady ma’am” I asked.

“Well, to answer your questions. I’m Ady’s mum. My daughter has told me everything about you. How you helped her in settling down at school, her academic and how your indoor extracurricular activities have culminated in you impregnating my precious daughter”

I was stunned. The secret is finally out.
“Ma’am ”
“Don’t ma’am me you gold digger” Ady’s mum shot back. “Listen and listen good. You are never going to marry my daughter. I’m never going to allow my daughter to marry a wretched scumbag like you. I’ve got plans for her. Big plans. And those plans include me locking you away somewhere save till Ady finally forget about you, or maybe till she finally marry someone befitting of our status”

I can hear devilish laughter in background. I woke up from the scary dream with out shedding a sweat or unleashing scary any scream. The dream has been very illuminating. I need to find a solution. I will need it now. . I rose up from the rug I’d slept on. I checked Ady’s face. She look peaceful. What a beautiful girl. But your mom is trying to incarcerate me. She’s already threatening hell and doom. Well, I guess this won’t happen if I send you to hell first. I guess that’s the only solution your face could inspire.

I picked up the pillow I’d used the previous night. The little sleep have metamorphosed me from the hero I was pretending to be to something else, a murderous villain. After all she’s destined to die before. I only gave her some extra time.

I motion the pillow directly to her face. May God forgive me. I take a last look at her face. What a beauty. See you in hell darling.




My conscience was trying to checkmate my hands but my hands seems to have developed a new independent, quite unfamiliar. I looked into my darling’s eyes. She’s peaceful. Her chest was not even beating. Maybe it’s drunk with the rhythm of sleep. I tried moving my ears closer. I just can’t trust my eyes. Did this girl die overnight? Did I wrongly applied the inhaler?

I dropped the pillow. I don’t want to put more fingerprints on a crime scene. How am I going to explain this. I already devised lies to excused myself if I’d killed her myself. Is this a set up? But if she did killed herself on my behalf then I have to try all my possible best to revive or resurrects her. She just can’t die. At least not now. Not when I didn’t kill her, not when everyone is almost awake.

I tried applying pressure to her chest. I’ve watched someone do something like that on TV to a lady that was close to strolling to beyond. I was fasting, so I was careful with the amount of pressure applied on the breast. My eyes gaze at the semi-open cleavage. I dare not look twice. I looked at the fridge while my hands work her chest, hoping it will resuscitate her.

I finally told myself, this is not working. I gotta think of something else. Something new had to be done. I think I can pump oxygen into her heart through her mouth. I hope this is not a sin. I recite like twenty-one astagfirulah and move to bring life to the girl I was wishing death couples of minutes ago.

I stared at her lips. They look beautiful. How do I differentiate Kissing from oral resuscitation. There seems to be lot of things I don’t know that I think I did. I guess I’m going to pump air or maybe I’m going to suck it out. I waved all the thoughts and applied my lips to hers. Her lips were stiffened but not cold. I tried blowing in air but it wasn’t going through.

I gave her a kiss. A deep kiss. Fears was already encompassing any little space left by the dwindling hope in me. Ady is not reciprocating my kiss. I bit her on the lips tenderly. Tears was already building in my sleepy eyes. I kissed her for the last time while a drop of tears escape my eyes, hitting Ady’s beautiful face. That tears encoded my fears, my compassion, my love and my submission. I’m not a killer. I kissed her more deeper. I retract my lips, I guess she is gone. Her lips met mine. Quite different from what I have been doing to revive Ady.

I kissed her back. I kissed her more deeply. Is this Ady or her spirit or am I now living in my own self concorted imagination. My mind jump back into my body to control my body. I pushed Ady back.

“Chai! Do you want to kill me. I have not tasted sleep since 2am after you hanged up “- I lied while using my left palm to rub my lips. I quietly chant astagfirulah. I just kissed a girl passionately in semi-broad daylight, in the holy month of Ramadan. I pretended not to enjoy it.

“Why did you kiss me back, why can’t you just open your eyes or cough out or are they not fasting in the beyond”- I question.
Ady yawned. Her eyes were not white, I could remember I Flint them with inhaler. I know I’m a bit superstitious. I already thought Ady’s short period of unconsciousness was a chance for her to take a peep into the over-world.
“Did you see the Prophet? What of Jesus? Have they re-painted heaven from its previous color to pink? “- I carefully bombarded Ady with puzzle-like questions so as to be sure if I’m not dealing with a Zombie.
“Chill” she replied in her trademark style that was always always accompanied by an infectious smile. “Well dear. What happened. I wasn’t dead or was I? Everything is fuzzy right now. All I know is, You are here. so what’s happening? When did you arrived at here? And why did you kiss me?”

“Ehn, ehnnn”- I stammered, I don’t know where to start explaining. “I wasn’t kissing you, I was only trying to wake you up”
“That’s a hell way of waking someone up ”
I giggled, while Ady beckon me to come closer. Like someone under a spell, I moved. I move closer to where Ady was.
“Come finished what you started baby” Ady whispered, she gave me another Ady’s kiss. Those kinda kiss that erase all morals on your conscience.

“Oh Ady. It’s daylight”
“You ain’t a vampire I guess”
I smiled, pointing her the wall clock. it’s 5:20.
“Oooooo. I never knee its that early. Since when have you arrived”
“I’ve been here since pass 3″
“You kidding me right”- She asked, the look on her face changed. it’s gradually metamorphosing like an evening, slowly robbed of sunlight.

I went straight on the bed. I motioned my body against her slim frame. Hugging her entire body to mine. I could feel her heartbeats.
“I’m sorry for putting you through those stress” she said. Her voice now toned by the tears she was trying to suppress in her eyes. I gave her a gentle kiss, on her forehead. Making sure I evade that tempting lips. The kiss brought tranquilizing effect to both of us. I’ve received sounding slaps. She just escaped death. We both need not to be at our low ebbs. Someone has to act the comforter. I’m the man here. I’m the man. I repeatedly said this in my head.

“Don’t worry darling. Nothing can keep us apart. Not even death. Not even even space and time ” I lied, knowing fully well that every moment I spent with her is themed by the memory of that night, that red cold night and everything that could happen in the next couple of days.

Ady smiled again. All girls like hearing sweet words. We’re now lying close to one another. I run my hands into her braided hair, stroking it gently, igniting memories of a crazy past and sending sweet sensations of a dreaded present. I turned her over. I could see her clearly now. 180degree. She moved her hand to the left side of my face. She could feel the signature of thick slaps on my face. She withdrew her hand. I shut my eyes. I never planned on letting her see that. I thought the night should have erased those painful tatooed finger-prints mapped on my cheek.

“What happened”- Ady asked in that girly voice that beg for the truth.
“That ” I pointed at my cheek “it’s nothing “- I lied, even though that part of my face is impregnated with pains of unholy merger with unclean hands.

“What happened” Ady insisted.
“Okay. All right”- I paused, took a deep breath to narrate my own version of my sorry ordeal. “When I was coming here. I stumbled into your nightwatchs. I tried talking to them but they resolve to violence. Asking me to go. And you remember what I said to you. Nothing can come in between us. Not even them, so I said No. So the two of them charged at me. They tried punching and hitting me. And you know me. I dodge, docked. Delivering my own quantified punchs at their lips and targeted spots. You know a passionate man shouldn’t punch feeble souls with all force”
Ady knodded. With her mouth agape “So what happened, how did you end up with this”, she asked, pointing at the red side of my face.

I know. It’s not easy to lie to brilliant girls. You got to come up with something brilliant close to a perfect story.
“Ehn. Calm down. The first one tried to punch me but I docked. You know I watched a lot of Kung Fu movies. So I gave him some well timed punch, clattering his skull with my fist. He fell on the floor. I was beating the second guy when an unknown third guy, hulky, with like ten strokes of tribal marks engraved in each side of his face came. He brought big wood. A big one. he hit me one on the face”

“Ahhhhhh”
“Yes dear. It was painful. The two guys grabbed hold of me While I was trying to recover from the hit, the tribal marked man punch me repeatedly. it was painful oooooo. But I mustered a little strength. Just a little. I shrugged them off. Then I gave them the fastest run I ever run in my life. I wouldn’t have run ooo. But I have to make sure I reached here in time. I lost those men along the bend to your house. Ouch! All joints on my back aches”- I clutch to my back after recanting my own version of my midnight ordeal.

I smile inside of me. That was a sweet lie I just improverise. Through out my recanting of my ordeals, Ady’s mouth was agape. I guess she’s seeing a different version of me. A new version, forged and branded in the heat of a one night heroism. A heroic version, different from the scholaic one she is used to.

“Sorry darling” Ady said, giving the swollen part of my face a gentle caress. “All these for me ”
“Anything for my beautiful Ady baby” I smiled. if you can’t be a hero, you have to sound like one. Ady gave another passion inducing look. Before I could blink, our lips connect like two magnets kept at close reach.

“Oooo Ady. Don’t you I’m fasting. Or do you want me to fast sixty days because of today”
I was trying to pretend I wasn’t enjoying the moments. I guess this is one of the good pecks of being a hero.

“It’s nothing joh”- She teased “What of those wake-up deep kissing? is that not sin? Don’t worry, today is Laila tu Qodri, the angels are on earth. No one is seeing what we are doing”

She kissed me again. I kissed her back. She reciprocate the gesture. I could hear Celine Dion’s playing in the background. I silently chant astagfirulah. countless times. This is big time sin. My mind was seeking forgiveness while my lips was rebelling, my brain was humming a different tune.
“I drove all night… because of you.. is that all right “

Ady stopped.
“I think your phone is ringing”.. Ady picked up my phone and handed it over. Five missed calls. I checked the dial. “Old Soldier”

The phone rang again and I picked the call up in haste.
“Good morning sir ” – I tried composing myself.
“Good morning Mr Nightwalker. I heard you no longer sleep home. You have been partying all around and painting the school blue. By the way, who is girl breathing around your neck?”
“Well, don’t worry. I’m at the gate. Come open the main gate and explain everything to me”

“Ehn daddy”, my voice ceased, it was as if I’ve run bankrupt of lies. The file folder in my brain where I bank my lies seems to be depleted as it is not dispensing any suggestions.
“That’s my dad”, I whispered to Ady like she wasn’t the one that hand me the call in the first place. She quietly left the room to enable me to complete my conversation with dad. I once told her, when it comes to me and my Dad, it’s a bit more of hardcore lies, politricking and a lot of surprise twist.

“Come out now? or what’s taking you so long”- daddy shouted at the other end. I was beginning to formulate a way out. I trust my brain, in as much it’s this kind of game
I can’t lose. No time to strategies. I just have to give it my best shot.
“Daddy, I was just walking out of the mosque. Don’t you know Yesternight was Laila-tul-Qodri. I’m at the mosque doing some serious meditation and prayers. Give me like five minutes. I’ll be home soon “- I lied.

“Shebi you can hear, I told you my son can not be engaging in any kind of frivolous or wayward night-walking”- I could overheard Dad saying to someone I assume to be my Mom. “That’s my son joh. I trust you. It’s your mum that had some funny dreams. She said she dreamt you were wandering in a dark wilderness looking for something that was not lost”

“Hmmm, mummy. Tell her to put her mind at rest, I’m still your good boy, nothing to worry about down here ”
“Yeah, I trust you. I’ve got no worries. Just remain the good boy you have always been ”
“Yessah! By the way, let me speak to mum”
“Okay son! Don’t waste my credit ooo ”
“No p sir”. Dad handed the phone to Mum.

“Hello darling mi”- Mum voice broke the silence. I love hearing from mum. it’s more calm and easy. Especially with the fact that I don’t have to lie when conversing with her, this put my mind at ease and make every conversation we have an interesting one. In fact, Mum is a natural lie detector, she can smell lie, she speaks slowly but with tact. She speak with a kind of grace that deviate from dad’s Commando style.

“Hello mum!”
“How are you doing ”
“I’m fine ooo. How is everyone at home”
“They are fine, I hope you haven’t run out of food ”
I could hear dad mumbling something, I guess he was demanding for his phone. Dad have this view that women talk too much and they don’t know how to economize call credit.

“Hello, it’s me. Your mum have said everything she wants to say. If she have other things to say, she’ll call you on her phone. Do you have any idea of when we would be celebrating salah”
“No idea sir, it’s either when the fast is 28 or 29″, I said. The Muslim Ramadan fasting is one that usually involve a lot of ccontroversy especially the aspect of moon sighting. We started our own fasting a day late not knowing the moon have been sighted a day earlier. Even today that is 27th in our own locality is 28th somewhere else.

“Okay, no problem. Would you like to celebrate Salah in Lagos”
“Yessah”- I can’t dare miss that. I’ve missed Maami food. I can’t afford to miss those special delicacy for Salah.
“Ok, Today is market day I guess”
“Yessah”
“Okay, I’ll send you ten thousand naira, you should use eight thousand naira to get me roasted bush meat. You should be in Lagos tomorrow. You never can tell, the moon can be sighted anytime soon”
“Yessah!”- I smiled, bush meat for salah. This year is gonna be special. Dad ended the call. Wow, I now have ten thousand.

“Deeza! Deeza!!”- I called Ady from the bedroom.
“Yes dear”- Ady walked in with a familiar grace that usually amaze me every time I chose to watch her, her hair was well packed this time.
“Won’t you make your hair for Salah”
She smiled, “Where’s the money? ”
“Don’t worry, like how much will it cost to make the hair of your choice “- I asked in a self assured manner. After all, I’ve got ten thousand naira on the way from Lagos.

“Hahahaha, Oko-Iyawo. Ok, two thousand five will do”- Ady said amidst of smile and laughter.
“Just that”- I asked and Ady knodded. I opened my wallet and brought out my ATM “Okay, goto the bank and withdraw three thousand. You can use that to beautify yourself and to get yourself drinks on Salah day. I’ll be leaving for Lagos tomorrow “

“That’s bad ooo. I thought we would be celebrating salah together. I thought you said you are eager to meet my mum”
“Yes now. I am but Old soldier demand my presence in Lagos. You know Dad”. Ady knodded. I just lied. I wasn’t eager to see her mum Not with the clips of her mum in action that I just witnessed in my dreams. “By the way, how far about your period, how is it coming.”

“Concerning that, I’m seeing the symptoms but it’s not out yet. Don’t worry, every thing will be resolved. It’s a matter of time.”
“Yeah, it’s a matter of time. It’s time to go home. Dad sent me to go get him a goat. I’ll text you any solution I find. I might even have to bring the goat here. I don’t wanna attract unnecessary attention.”
“Okay. No problem.”

I gave Ady a hug , pack my things then head home. What a beautiful girl. How I wish Biola didn’t complicate our relationship. Ady had pushed me to date Biola. Telling me she enjoyed my explanation and physical built. She even told me Biola was crushing on me. I went for the hook straight and Biola did hook me. I can still feel the pain of our relationship.

I could remember vividly the night she broke up with me. She had given a flimsy excuse. She said I wasn’t the best in my department and I’m forming scholar. She also accused me preferential treatment of Ady. That Ady scored better grades. That I loved Ady more. She’s going out with Kola now. Kola is my level mate. We quarrel on everything, The only thing we agree on is that Madrid is richer than Barcelona, the other things, we argue and literally fight. Biola had left me for my arch-rival. Girls! Is there any man that can master them? Even if there is, I’m sure i’m not the one.

It was this anger, vengeance and pride that was equally distilled with jealousy that made me accept Ady’s invitation to that birthday party even though I know Im not the party type. The fact that Biola and Kola will be there means I have to be there. I have to prove to them I’m one step above them. I have to prove to Kola that I’m with the better girl, and he’s buying my leftovers.

I was close to the express road now. I need to figure out solution to this Ady issue. Maybe I should call Kemi. Kemi is a good friend of mine and we still exchange calls once in a while. I’m sure she can provide a medical explanation, if not solution to the current issue I’m facing.

I raised up my head to cross the road only to behold a strange face that was not so strange to me. A familiar stranger. The boy looked like the young vigilante that was determined to linch my skin yesterday. I guess it’s my own time to teach him some lesson. I allowed him to cross. He was dressed in the popular secondary school shirt and trousers with pair of sandals that was begging for retirement.

I allowed him to walk closer.
“Hello Mr Vigilante”- I greeted
“Good morning sir”- he replied without halting. I dragged him back.
“Oooooo! You don’t remember my face abi ”
“Rara ooo! I never see your face before “- he replied.
I dragged him closer enough to smell my shirt. “Do you remember the guy you sprinkle holy kero on last night ” . Before he could knod his head. I landed a slap on his cheek.

Enraged, He wrapped his fingers to form something that looked far from being a knuckle. He punched me in retaliation. I guess the guy really need some beating. I muster some strength and charged at him, I swept him off and throw him on the concreate slab. He cried in pain. I rushed and sat on him while I rain punch on his face. We were soon encycled by crowd of cheering fans. I looked at his face.

“Next time, watch the people you slap ” – I completed my statement with a punch. My hands were now aching me now. The boy have no single flesh on his face. All I’ve been punching is living skull. I’ll need a bandage after leaving this scene and I’m sure he’ll need more than first aid treatment. I spat on his face. “Bloody civilian “. I left him wrinkling in pain.

I head straight to the express road. I need to get home. I could hear the crowd cheering. This local folks love live performance. Their cheers ceased. I turned back. One of the crowd members was on the floor, something like white foam was ceaselessly coming out of his mouth. This Is a different drama.

I tried looking for the young vigilante, he was now holding something like a dangerous charm. He was swinging it with unequal dexterity. The crowd was silenced. I guess he’s looking for me. This charm must be tested and trusted, but what is a secondary student student doing with such potent charm. Is that part of their curriculum this days.

I dare not wait to find that answer. The battle is now spiritual. I’m an Alfa but I haven’t gone this far. I detest anything like charm but I believe in its existence and effectiveness. The evil vigilante was looking for me, he soon sighted me. I dare not wait. He charged at me like a cheetah running after a prey, and I responded by brisking away like a mosquito dodging a slap. I crossed the twin express road at a go. He run after me. it was like being chased be an evil madman. The now rejuvenated crowd cheered and joined the race. This drama is something they want to see to the end. Nobody care about the foaming guy on the floor, his existence is tied on the minutes it takes for the vigilante to catch me.




I ran. I ran as far as I could. I ran as far as my hungry legs could carry me but hunger was gradually pulling the brakes. The mad vigilante was unrelenting, he kept chasing me with the evil intentions of avenging his plummeted pride. He so believe in his charm like some brainwashed zombie. I could hear him ranting incantation, curses and exaggerated praises of himself.

The mad vigilante chased me for over 200 metres, I was gradually running out of steam. Maybe I should just pull the break and give a belated apology or maybe I should just face him once and for all. I finally gathered some strange strength. I still remembered old soldier’s saying, “In the end, we all have to decide, either to fight for our right or to shy away like coward. You would not always get the chance to choose your own death, but if you are lucky, make sure you follow the Samurai path: fight the death that loathe your soul and don’t die without fighting”

I swiftly turned my back and faced him. He was a bit shocked but he was still charging at me. He clung to the red stained fabric that housed the juju he so believed in and he was rolling the charm with much confidence now. Stupid thoughts roam my mind as I try to devise strategy to neutralize the metaphysical arsenal my antagonist banked on to avenge his deflated pride.

I dipped a hand in my pocket and fingered out my tesbih. This won’t work and I returned it back my pocket immediately. I was completely helpless. The crowd of mobs have encycled us again, they had waited for this, they wanted to watch the live feed before they face their daily business, after all it’s FOC.

I stared at the 21st century version of goliath, I unwrapped the phone charger around my neck. The plan was to invent my own charm. He was rolling his while I was mimicking him by rolling my phone charger. The crowds seems to be enjoying my ingenuity, after all we are like pawn-gladiators in the face of our ‘un-paying’ spectators.

The mad vigilante charged at me, and I charged at him too. I tried flinging my charger at him but the USB cord divorced from the USB head. Chai! see death. I turned back again trying to make an escape but he was very close by. I could feel his dirty breath suffocating me already but luckily for me he accidentally hit his leg on something I never noticed was there. I quickly turned back like a man on a counter attack and pounced on him. I grabbed his hands but he was religiously clinging to the charm. I punched him on the head and he let go. I took the charm and hit him.

I stared into his eyes, he was like a baptised devil. The charms had no effect on him. I stood up and examined the black magic in my hand. Maybe it has an expiry date. Maybe it has some buttons combination. I stared at him like Jack Bauer, I wanted to ask him how to use it. I smiled at the idea. I fling the rubbish into the filthy gutter that sideline the street. The crowd cheered and created an opening for me to take my leave from the center stage. The hero need to go home now. All kinds of eyes donated attention on the weakened body of the young vigilante. My heartbeat tripled as I walked home with a lethargic gait. It’s really gonna be a long walk home, only God knows what my landlord might have in stock.

The normal walk home that should take me three minutes took ten and unluckily the first person that welcomed me home was my landlord. I already anticipated his SSS style of interrogation. I know he would make a good detective if he’d wanted to.

“Bawo ni Femi” He greeted, “you left home quite early today.
I pinch myself. Can’t he just mind his business. “Good morning sir.”- I replied, trying to dodge his real question.
“Yes, good morning. I asked where have you been”- my landlord repeated.
“I was in my room all night, what happened?” I lied, trying to buy time to formulate a good lie.
“Were you in your room?”- He asked in a clear questioning manner. I guess he knew the truth and I’m sure he must have penned down my offense. The key was not to be in the defense. The key is to hijack the conversation and anchor it to a calm shore where I can leave his presence without any rancour.

“What exactly happened Sir?”- I asked, feigning ignorance.
“Didn’t you hear a loud thud after entering your room last night”
“Yes I heard. I guess someone was trying to jump in through my window but I scared him away sha ”
“Do you mean to say jump out”- he asked.
“Ahn Ahn! What do you mean? What are you you insinuating?”- I replied, trying to intimidate him with selected diction.

“I mean I checked your room after that loud bang on your window but I couldn’t find you in your room”. I guess he finally caught me. I scratched my head as I beg for divine inspiration or if possible, ideas from hell to defuse this tense conversation. My landlord eyes were at full current now, like an electric bulb that have embezzled too much megawatts than its belly could carry. I feared he might explode and start calling home that I’m dribbling towards wayward paths.

“O! it’s you. I didn’t know now. So you mean you didn’t see me”
“Yes! and I also flashed my torch to be sure it’s not an illusion. ”
“Well, do you salama before banging into my room. Did you even knock? “- I asked knowing fully well my landlord have a weakness for banging into ones room before knocking. It’s his house and I’d anticipate and permitted that for years. I know it’s gonna be to my advantage one day.

“Sir! You need to be current. So you are unaware that yesterday was Laila-tul-Qodri, I was vigorously praying now. Praying for you and I. Do you know how many angels I was engaged with in a prolonged conference conversation with both angels and spirit-alike. I guess when you banged in without uttering any greeting, the angels might have made me invisible to forestall your disturbance as I was ascending and transcending between different realms. I might not be on earth when you even barged in. “- I concluded my explanation by wiping my mouth. That was a sweet lie, my landlord was completely swept, not because he understood what I was saying but because he was doubting the sanity of my explanation. He moved closer to smell if there was something fishy or I’d join the band of weed smokers. He nod his head and I left his presence, I guess he sense I’m clean. I guess he perceived the smell of kerosene. I’m cooking something and he knows, he just don’t know what I have on fire.

I pushed the door to my room and light gradually sneak in. I lay flat on the rubber mat. I don’t have a mattress in my room, it makes me feel too comfortable. Comfort as old soldier said won’t inculcate any discipline into my stubborn soul.

Dad wants me to get him a goat for salah but I can’t go to the market now. The mad vigilante might be lurking somewhere with a more potent charm or with a lightening sharpen cutlass. I cherish my skin. Let me take a rest. I’ve really had an hectic day. I decided to text my course Rep. I’m not going to be in school today. I picked my phone to start texting. A new message flew in from Ady. “Thanks for everything”.

I doubt if she knew everything. I could still remember that night when she text me she was ready for the party. Just like today, I had my own motive but Ady was an angel with a sole purpose. We arrive at the party with other invited guests and students. it was really a party. The celebrant came out to welcome us, she apologized for not inviting me in the first place as she thought I was not the party type.

I’d consulted my closest buddy to dress for this party. If they are going to be here I’m surely going to here too. Everything I was wearing was borrowed, maybe with the exception of my boxers and singlet. Everything on the exterior was just for the night. I have to kill this party tonight. Ady didn’t disappoint too, Abuja babes rarely do. She had chose the perfect gown and jewelry combination with an infectious perfume.

We were showed our seats but I opted for a more secluded place. Bowls of palm wine was served to keep the grove going. The DJ was doing his thing while I was sipping the sour liquor to grease my body for whatever could happen during the party. I soon sight Bola, she was almost stark naked safe the little rags that was protect her nudity. . She was wearing a mini skirt that I doubt her younger sister would have troubles fitting in with a top that was like a bra attached to a short towel and she topped all these with a Nicki Minaj styled hair to cap the whole madness.

She look very ugly to me though she seem to be stealing the show. I sat there, sipping the new bullet energy drink I just ordered. I don’t know why her ugliness is just appearing to me now. Love is really blind and lust is dumb. I ordered for more bullet drink. I need to shoot this jealousy monster that is eating deep into my soul. I console myself with the bitter truth “If Bola like make she wear ordinary sandals come parti, ee no concern me”. I have a beautiful damsel beside me and she’s worth more than ten Bola casted in gold.

I took advantage of being semi tipsy and stared into Ady’s enchanting eyes.
“Ady! Do you know I never loved your friend”- I asked
“I know now and she know too”- Ady replied with blunt truth. “It’s clear it was not a love affair from the outset. It was business. Good grade and ego”.

I stared at her in amazement. “You definitely know who own my hearthe? “- I asked
“sure I do. Do you know her? “-she replied with a bright smile that was enough to illuminate our corner.
“Do you care to dance? There’s so much energy in air. We can find out the answer on the dance floor. Abi What do you think?

I opened my eyes. I’d cris-cross from thinking to a short dream. I need to freshen up before this kero smell become permanent on my skin. I also need to cook. I need good food. And I sure need to start strategizing on the right plan to explain the missing goat when I get to Lagos. Ady should better be smart. That money is not meant for her hair ooo. She’d better know the problem she urgently need to solve is not at the salon, only a pharmacist or a health worker can solve our current dilemma. i won’t be collecting my ATM. she should have as much as she want she should just be fast about it.

I picked my phone, I need to compose a reply to her last sms.
“It’s nothing dearie. Just make sure you do the right thing!”

I sat in the bus. Wondering how long it will take for one last passenger to fill the last seat on the bus so we can proceed with our journey to Lagos. I peeped into the bus side mirror. My eyes were red, red like someone failing Jamb for the first time. I tried controlling my breathing but it was of no use. My heart was beating like a faulty radio speaker struggling to dance to a bass tune, it was like oxygen was leaking out of my skin pores. I was a total wreck. I wiped my face with my palm. I was sitting on the front seat next to the driver. The man constantly gulps the glass of shekpe he was holding. Surely that should speed us home.

My mind stagger back to yesterday events, it was still crystal clear on my mind as those of the recent past days. Too many close encounters with death. Being soaked with kero and almost being experimented on with a charm. Life has really been generous. I took another look at the mirror. I’m totally different from the boy that left Badagry four months ago, a different me is going home today. I have definitely metamorphosed. School life has made me fitter than someone using the gym. I looked like a carving with chiseled visible muscles. I thought about Old soldier and my sparkling beautiful mama.

I finally jogged out of my subconscious mind. Two talkative women were seated at the next row behind me. They kept rambling and rambling and I almost felt like loaning them two dirty slaps each. I hate it when people talk without processing their speech through their cranium. I finally gave up resisting their yarns and turn down the volume of my phone music player. I don’t want to remove the ear phone for fear they might think I’m eavesdropping. Now I can hear them clearly. These co-travelers were discussing something similar to my case. I listened attentively like my life depends on it.

First Woman: And that’s how Baba Romoke smashed the scrotum of Kunle and the scrutum fluid burst like the liquid of a cherry mango.

I squirm, trying to contemplate such barbarity. How can a man be that wicked? The second woman echoed my thoughts.

Second Woman: But why nah? It was not as if Kunle forced Romoke to abort the pregnancy now. That’s too wicked of him.
The other woman replied, “You think that is wicked. I don’t think so. A boy from nowhere hijacked Romoke that her father had been training for ages, deceived her to believing that he loved her, deflowererd her, impregnated her and got her an abortion. If Baba Romoke had been my father, he would have beheaded the boy immediately instead of squashing his scrotal sack with a sledge hammer”.

I didn’t know when I chorus the second woman in screaming, “Ahhhhhhh”. The two women flashed me questioning looks. I bet they must be thinking I’m the typical “Amebo” breed. “But that’s harsh now”, I finally interjected, trying to deduce the unnecessary tension that is capable of deflating the vehicle’s tyres.

“Just imagine, with that kind of jungle justice, Kunle would be rendered impotent for life. What if he’s the destined husband of Romoke? Imagine the level of guilt the father is going to feel or let’s assume the father got arrested. That’s a serious crime you know”.

The women kept looking at me like I was some alien rambling in foreign tongue. What kind of boy is this? “Amebo oshi” they must be imagining in their scarfed head. The second woman finally broke the suffocating silence to the dislike of her co-chatter.

“I thought as much. That’s far too cruel. You don’t behead a child because he’s suffering migraine”, she said. The other woman shot back, “Well, if it had been me, I would have chop off the snake in his trousers. That’s a more humane treatment”.

I subconsciously clutched to my trousers. This woman must be a child of Baba Romoke. A female reincarnation of Hitler and Abacha combined. Imagine the volume of wickedness encased in her small body. She resumed her submission, “Well, in doing the abortion. Romoke lost her womb. Imagine such a young girl that just clocked 18. In fact, she barely escaped with her life. She was far too young for such thing”.

“Yeah! So I heard”, the second woman explain to my dismay. “And when Baba Romoke finally got to hear the full story from her dying daughter at the hospital. He got irate especially with the fact that Kunle has not visited since the sorry incident occurred. I heard he zoomed off on his motorbike, straight to Kunle’s father house. When he got there, he had to choose between using a saw or a sledge hammer. He settled for the lesser evil and chose the hammer instead”.

“Yes! that’s the truth”, the first woman interjected. “And how I wish he had used the saw but Baba Romoke did justice. He did the right thing. He had bumped into Kunle’s room with a sledge hammer in his hand, dragged the poor bastard outside and smashed his scrotum, the liquid content splash out immediately. He didn’t want to ruin his room rug that’s why he took him outside. Case resolved, equation balance”

My mouth was agape as I listen to the women’s barbaric account of Baba Romoke jungle justice. What will befall me if Addy was truly pregnant? What if Addy’s mother threats in my dream are real? My heartbeat rate skyrocketed as I try imagining the degree of pain Kunle must have felt. I finally turned back my head. It’s time I start planning on how to economize the one thousand naira to take me from school to Badagry. It’s really impossible but I have to pull this stunt. It’s a must I do this.

I plugged my earphones into my ear. I know what to do. The bus fare to Oshodi is seven hundred naira; hundred naira should take me to Mile two. I know what to do to get home from there to get home.

The thoughts of Addy ping-pong into my mind. What a poor little girl. I hope she spends the money well. I pray she have the courage to do the right thing.

The bus driver drank his last shot of shekpe and humped into the bus. He resurrected the bus back to life and he drove us madlessly on our way to Lagos. It was like we were heading to Samosas. We were all scared but no one dare complain as we were also all in a hurry. I know in my head, that This journey would end up in two places, either I end up in an hospital or mortuary, or I escape with my soul to the unpredictable Old soldier Court. What the future holds, I don’t know and I’m not curious to find out. I closed my eyes, it’s time to resume my nightmares.


*******************************************************************

After two hours, we arrived at Oshodi. I alighted and search for Mile 2 bus. The fair was a hundred naira but I ignored the public one to go search for a BRT, which should cost fifty naira only. I purchased a bus ticket and the bus head straight to Mile 2 and we arrived there after 20 minutes.

Mile 2 was a total disaster when I got there. The government road and rail project had rendered the un-motorable. Even the eyes can’t look at the place without bleeding. It was a total mess. I searched for a bus heading to Badagry. I know the fare range well. My plan was to pay two hundred to Agbara and feign sleeping till the bus takes me to my destination.

That was the plan and it was a brilliant one. I paid attention to it religiously. I paid the transport and chose a comfortable seat. I sat directly behind the driver’s seat. I resume my sleep immediately. What else can one do in this holy Ramadan than work, pray and sleep. The first two ain’t in my plans, I folded my hands at the driver’s backseat and resume my snore-less sleep

*******************************************************************
After almost three hours and half in a “slow motion” traffic, a strange hand tapped my back.
“Ogbeni, we don reach final bus stop”, a strange man yield. His mouth rink of cheap shekpe, a variant of local alcohol mixed with herbs.

I yawned, trying to gulp as much oxygen to resurrect my brain. I wiped my eyes with my left hand. “Sir, please where are we?” I asked the man I now assumed to be the conductor politely. He yelled again like he was talking to some deaf person, “Ogbeni, we’re in Seme border”.

Chai. A sudden surge of energy flowed through my veins. My pupils expanded like Shekhau’s. What the hell am I doing here? The bus have not only taken me farther than my destination, it has brought me far out of my country. I can see Benin Republic with my un-glassed eyes. I stepped out of the bus. No one to explain my plight to. I’m in a strange land, in a strange trouble and in a strange clime. Everything looks strange to me; I’m even feeling like a stranger in my own skin.

I closed my eyes. It’s almost 3 in the afternoon. My stomach sings the tune of hunger to my tired body. I can feel worm uprising about to breech the walls of my stomach. I guess it’s high time to be humble and honest. I looked around me, no smiling face; everyone is minding his or her business. Typical Lagos style.

A new bus was loading Agbara. I went there to see the bus driver. After some teasing and whining, the conductor showed me the driver; I explained my troubles to him. He looked at me with the questioning of a woman inspecting a second hand Okrika cloth. He finally agreed to help. I was given the front seat and this time around, I. made sure my eyes were wide open. No more sleeping, I’ve had enough for today.

After 40 minutes, the bus dropped me at Oko-afo and I used the remaining hundred naira note to get a bikeman to take me home. The ride home was blissful, filled with the thematic dust smell of Oko-afo road. I can’t wait to see my mum, but that I can’t say about dad. I can skip judgment day to avoid meeting eye ball to eye ball with him for now.

I finally arrived home to the welcoming embrace of my lovely mom and anticipating cousins. I looked weak, in fact sick. Mum was dotting, holding my hand and walking me home like I’m an honorable guest. Thank God Old Soldier is not in sight.

We stepped into the parlor and we were welcome by a thundering voice, “Where’s my bush meat”, the voice of Old soldier echoed and rammed my eardrums. I trembled. Who won’t be trembled at such roaring voice of Old soldier.

“E ku le sir”, I greeted. “I asked where is my bush meat?” Old soldier responded.
I stared into the floor. Like an undergraduate of English writing a compulsory French exam, I had already rehearse the lie I was going to tell, I did that when I was awake strategizing overnight.
“Daddy!” I started my explanation but before I was able to say anything, Old soldier faced my mum, “Can you see your son? I told you he was up to some mischief? I could see it coming”, He said, in a rather vindictive manner. I bow my head, like an Ewedu leave that was raped by solar heat.

“At least, let him talk?” Mum finally uttered. “OK ooo, Speak. I kukuma know it’s all going to be another lie”, Dad replied.
I still feel startled but mum’s intervention had injected me with a new energy. “Daddy, Actually, Actually”, I stammer. “Actually, I got the bush meat but it was seized at Oshodi. The police said it was infected with Ebola”, I concluded.

The mention of Ebola scared everyone. “Hope you were not infected”, asked Mum. “No ma’am” I replied. Old soldier looked at us the same Jesus must have flashed questioning look at Judas in biblical times. “Bring me your phone”, he ordered. I complied immediately.

As if he was a Seer. A new message hit my inbox, he opened it. A strange smile appeared on his face. He handed my phone to me, I checked the message, “Your account has been debited 5000 naira” the message reads. That must be the work of Addy. My brain froze. Every information in my head was lagging like an Android phone with 250mb RAM.

“So Son, you owe me an explanation. It’s either you explain how you spend my five thousand naira or you drop your backpack and we head back to Oshodi to reclaim my bush meat”, the voice of Old soldier rings and echo throughout the room. He was really pissed. Pissed like a pot forgotten on fire

I was wondering, “Is abortion that costly”. “Should I tell Old Soldier the truth”? I raise up my head. It’s already 5 o’clock on a Ramadan afternoon. Old soldier was already wearing his shoe. What should I do now? Are we truly going back to Oshodi?

The clock on the wall ticks loudly as the worm in my tummy resume their rebellion, it was as if I was sitting on a time bomb. A thought consume my mind, only God can save me now.



I tried detecting Old Soldier’s intention but Dad is a very unpredictable man. He has always been like that. You can’t even tell if he’s breathing or not. You just can’t tell what’s running in that khaki heart. I quietly take my bag in then join him in the sitting room.

“OK! Let’s go sir. I’m ready”, I said, trying to feign a courage I know is. not there.
“Good”, he replied and stood up. “Today is my friend, Baba Kemi Son’s naming ceremony. You know Tunde now, don’t you? “, he asked. I knod my head then replied, “Yes sir, I know Tunde”.

“The stupid boy impregnated one ugly orange hawker in his area. Such an embarrassment and his parents condone it and allowed him to marry her. Well I trust my son. I’m taking you there to show them how to nurture a son”, he bragged. I bow my head like someone who just loss his job. I’m no perfect son. In fact, I am the definition of imperfection. Mum and dad had trained me but the intoxicating freedom of campus life had re-modified my life. I’m like a rooted Android phone, the only thing I have left of my former self is my physical body. In fact, I am a stranger to the man I have become.

“Won’t you allow him to rest”, Maami protest. I know that was a futile attempt. In my house, Old Soldier is a god and when he speaks, it’s like an instruction from ‘Sango’. It’s better to heed and fall in line. “It’s not a big deal Mum, I’ll really like to see Tunde. it’s been a while I last saw him”, I said. Without my intervention, mum would have engaged Dad in a protracted debate that would still yield no positive results. What’s the need of wasting your breath to argue when it’s not going to change anything. I am still puzzled how the two of them survive together under the same roof.

I am even more puzzled how Tunde became an accidental father overnight. Tunde was and is still our coach, I mean my clique. We learnt everything we know from Tunde. He had attended a boarding school and was the one that introduced us to World of feminine pleasure. I wonder, So even the teacher can make mistakes, God is really targeting the bad boys.

I followed Dad as we walk our way to Baba Kemi’s house. Although the journey will take close to thirty minutes, Old Soldier had insisted we walked there. An umbrella of silence cascades above us as we walk to Baba Kemi’s. A lot was going through my mind but I have to catch up with Old Soldier as he was walking like he was on a victory march. I struggle to catch up. All these old men ‘sef’, don’t they know boys of our generation are not fit for this kind of stress. I was already breathing like someone who just completed “mission impossible” in Sambisa forest. The effect of the fasting was still hammering into my system. I’ve been through a lot.

Old soldier finally slowed down. I jogged to catch up with him . We are almost close to our destination, he stopped a motorcycle, “Ajarakoh”, he said. He haggled the price in his usual style, slashing the price into half then paying less than the initial price. The Okada agreed, We mount the bike and jet-off to the event venue. We soon arrived at our destination in less than a minute. All these old men ‘sha’, we trekked more than half the journey only to pay the same price for a ride to our destination. But I dare not question Old soldier, he’s a god and I’m a mere mortal. We drop from the bike and made our way to the event. I can hear the speaker cum preacher voice from afar. Old soldier was not walking fast this time.

“Tell me about your girlfriend”, he asked. I was startled. It was like an unexpected ice-filled bucket was poured on me. Old soldier flashed a probing look at me.
“I don’t have a girlfriend sir!”, I lied.
“Sharrap there. Are you telling me you are gay”, he asked with disdainful look on his face. “It’s not like that “, I replied shyfully. “I just haven’t met the kind of girl I like”.
“Better! “,he said, “Always remember, the beautiful ones are not born yet”, he concluded.

We finally walked into the event. I greeted the familiar faces and we took our seat. A lively pastor-preacher was at the forefront preaching. Dressed in white garment and flanked by two beautifully dressed sisters, by nature I was forced to listen to what he was preaching, not because he was saying something that appeal to my philosophy but because those two angelics choristers beside him serve as enough distraction from the hunger that was biting deep into my stomach and the problems I pray Addy have invented a solution to.

The man of God took his business serious. He was constantly yelling hell and brimstone, warning sinners that there won’t be petroleum scarcity in hell. The fire will be far better than the heat of Sahara desert. He was really passionate about what he was saying. A self-assured man, I quietly pray that Old soldier should allow us eat our supper here but I know my father. Him eating outside is as slim as Timaya singing blues, it was never his thing.

The pastor finally christened the baby and we were served in take-away plates. Old soldier refused to accept his so I collected two plates. That’s an insurance in case the food at home was not prepared in time.

It was almost six thirty when Old soldier signalled me to pack my things to continue our journey home. Another Mosaic trek lies ahead. We resumed our trekking and just like the Israelites, it was not a joking matter. My stomach gauge gradually swerve to empty, my legs reduced their gears as old soldier continue his match home. He didn’t even know I was far behind. Chai! Man has suffered.

I stopped to catch my breath while I search for a nice place to rest my head. I finally found a spot with a decent place to sit. I sat down on the bare floor, my eyes was directly fixated on the sun. Why is the sun crawling today? How come things always take time when one is anxious? The aroma of the food sneaked out of the take-away plates, constantly caressing my nose as I silently wait for the sun to set. In my mind, I quietly recite, “Subhanallah”. Asking God to give me the strength to complete this last Ramadan fast that is threatening to rip the life out of me.

I will wait, for the sun to sink in the sky. The sun gradually fade off ,and so was the light in my eyes. I dozed off on the street, ten minutes walk away from my home.

*********************************************************

“Femi! I know the truth”, an unfamiliar voice said.
“The truth about what ” , I asked.
“Kaya read your phone inbox and she told me everything”- The unfamiliar voice replied. I tried comprehending what is going on but I couldn’t deduce any sense from it. A strange metal kissed my neck.

“Son! Tell me the truth now before I blow your head off”. That sounded like Old Soldier. I tremble, so the truth is finally out. How am I going to explain myself?

“I’ll count one to three, if you don’t open your mouth and talk, I’m going to show you what I’m made of”.

I kept quiet. There is too many secrets I can’t let out now, not now, not ever. Let him kill him if he’s sure I’m guilty.

“One!”
“Two!”
“Two and half”
“Three”

A loud bang reverberates in my head as the bullets from the double barrel gun hit my neck. Something like red kept gushing out of my neck, I fell, like a tree to the bare floor. Everything else went blank.

Luckily for me, I woke up. Another terrible nightmare. I had dozed off and fell off the clean spot I was sitting, sun-gazing. I checked my phone. It’s 7:30 and I had ten missed calls, five from mum, two from Kaya and three from old soldier. I bet they must be very worried right now. I tried looking for the take-away plates of rice I was carrying the other time, it was nowhere to be found. Chai! I guess supernatural forces have mistook it as a sacrifice and carted away with it too. The god must be truly hungry too.

I rose up, dust my trousers and continued my walk home. Different strange thoughts hop through my mind. Am I actually too young to be a father? Can Old Soldier actually shoot me his son? Do I really love Addy? Is Addy’s mum as wicked as the Mussolini I saw in my nightmare?

The sight of my house finally disrupted the wave of questions circumventing my mind, the thoughts of the food and pleasure indoor brought nostalgic joy into my heart. I trust Maami. She doesn’t disappoint. I entered into the house and was welcomed by Old soldier. His greeting was followed by the expected interrogation which I gladly surmount. Mum must have heaved all the blame on him. I pity him too. It’s not easy dedicating the whole of your life to a country that would wait for your death before they remember you deserved a pension. Nigeria is truly a great country. Great at doing unusual illogical things.

I glanced through the table. It was like a decoration for a last supper. Mum served a mountain of Poundo yam and Efo riro, flanked with a 50 cl Coca-Cola bottle, 2 Oranges and One apple. A strange smile occupy my face. This is what I call home-coming.

I quickly adjusted my trousers belt, this is a meal that should be treated with the same urgency and seriousness with which one tackles Mr Akobi’s assignment. I sliced one of the orange and sucked it with the passion of a child grappling a breast. My younger sister and cousins sat in front of me with this look of Al-magjiri. I feel confused. Is it the degree of my hunger that amaze them or they are indirectly sending me a message not to forget to allocate them their share of my enviable supper. I care less, I’ll finish this meal and buy them biscuits from whatever money I’m able to loan out of Maami’s purse.

I dropped my phone on the table while I voraciously attack my meal. “Hunger is no man’s friend”. Kaya attempted picking my phone. I smiled. I already learned a lot from my last nightmare. All messages, chats or any incriminating file on my phone have been rightfully deleted. Like they say, “Precaution is better than regret”.

“Maami, come and see our wife”, Kaya ran out with my phone to show the picture of Addy to Mum. Girls of nowadays, can’t they just watch music videos and play games? Only God knows how she discovered my girlfriend. She soon came back with my phone and a happy look on her face.

“But Brother, you are a serial flirt ooooo”. The blood circulating my body froze, I looked at the small girl accusing me of being a flirt. I felt like stoning her the apple fruit on the table.

“Why do you think so Aburo”, I replied her with the confidence of someone who has nothing to hide.

“How come you have too many girls on your phone? After all, you are not a photographer or a paparazzi. “, Kaya asked. I Wanted to ask what’s the meaning of paparazzi but I felt like that would not be ideal. Big brothers should never display any sign of ignorance in the presence of their younger ones. I’m the perfect brother. And that’s what i’ll continue to pretend to be.

“Aburo! You know. I’m the Exco in charge of women affairs in my school. I’m very good with girls and that’s why they do ask me to take their pictures. You know, it’s a privilege reserved for few”- I lied. The lie didn’t sound convincing.

“Chebi na woman dey head women’s affair”- Kaya asked. Chai. Pikins of nowadays are making lying harder everyday. What else am I going to do to free me of Kaya torturing questions.

“You know. It’s not like I’m in charge of women affairs. My friends and I kind of run a small modelling company at school. Those girls are models”

“Including that girl that looked like Baba Suwe’s wife”- She asked, showing me the picture of a fat ugly girl I can’t even remember ever snapping.

“Yes she is. Oya take this apple and give me my phone”. She joyfully complied and zoom off with the apple before our cousins descend on her. I heaved a sigh of relief. Alhamdullilah. I only have one orange and a bottle of Coca-Cola left, the Poundo yam and efo riro equation have been judiciously solved simultaneously.

I adjusted my belt further. A loud belch escape my mouth. I thank Jah that no one was around to see me in such in such uncivilized manner. I checked my stomach, it looked approximately two-third of my entire body. That’s definitely the sign of good living.

My phone beeped. I flipped the screen immediately.
“Your account has been credited with N2,000 at FBN ATM 2, IKIRE. 3PM”

Are you kidding me! Is this girl trying to bankrupt me. If abortion is this costly, she should just return my money ooo. We’ll raise the kid together. A saner thought sift through my mind, Is seven thousand enough to raise a child? Well, Maami and Old soldier will help or what are they my parents for? I asked, transferring the responsibility of my mistakes to my parents. Lemme call this girl to hear the latest update. I hope the problem is solved now. I pray it’s so.

I punch her number off hand on my Nokia phone but it took forever before the call was picked from the other end.

“Hello”- A strange male voice reverberates from the other end.
“Hello” I replied wondering why another man is picking Addy’s phone. Is this girl seeing another man, I thought . “Please can I speak with the owner of this cell number”. I politely asked.

“I’m afraid you can’t sir. She’s in a critical situation in our hospital Sir”

My heart jumped out of my mouth. What could have went wrong.

“Is she bleeding”- I asked.
“How did you know that”

The sound of that sentence froze me to my seat. My temporary potbelly deflates instantly.

“How did you know Sir? Are you an eyewitness?”, The strange voice interrogate me. I quickly hung the call.

Ah! ‘I af killed pesin. Mo ti pa’yan’.

The man called me back. I refuse to pick. Addy is dying. How would I cover this murder from being traced to me. I have to start strategizing how to get back to banana city to tie up loose ends. I can’t afford to end up in Kirikiri. I just can’t afford that. If Addy must die, then she must do that without incriminating me with any statement. I have to do the needful.

I can’t believe I’m thinking this right now. I sha don’t wanna end up in prison. I must do the needful.

The bus arrived in Ikire quite early, around 10a.m. I was not super happy but at least I know I’m an inch closer to resolution ground. Whatever happens in the next one hour would determine if I will get to return back to classroom or I’ll be promoted straight to Kirikiri maximum prison. The prospect of the latter did not amuse me, I hate the term prison and I even detest everything associated to it including the fable blue prison uniform.

The bus driver stopped at Obada, an ancestral market not far from my residence. I alight from the bus with the bagco bag of garri and rice I brought from Lagos. The bag was as heavy as smuggling Kilimanjaro through the border. Mum stashed everything stash-able in the bag. I dragged the Bagco bag with my Hp bag down from the bus. It felt like an herculean task and I was assisted by one of the bus passengers to disembark my loads.

Today is salah day and the whole town is agog with beautifully dressed folks wearing broad smiles on their face. These same people have fasted for twenty-nine days non-stop, I can see the reason why they couldn’t wait for Eid-il-fitr to emancipate them from the regulations of Ramadan.

I was not badly dressed either, Old soldier had bought the same style of white jalabia for both of us, with designer Saudi cap to match. I wonder how he think buying a product with “made in Saudi Arabia” translate as the product coming from Arabia. This is Nigeria, a country whose ingenious have to give the credit of their works to countries the populace assumes to have mastered the craft in order to sell their products.

I quickly stopped a bike to take me to my bar lodge. The Okada rider was requesting for a hefty fee all in the name of salah. He was asking me to pay the sum of two hundred naira for the same distance I trek daily. Mba! No!. I objected, carry my bagco bag on my head, back my Hp bag and resume my navigation towards my second home.

Memories of how I got here replayed in my head. I’m scholar Femi, the assumed book-lord who is battling a career threatening incident. My best friend and soon-to-be girlfriend accidentally lost her period when she was with. Well, it was not as if I impregnated her, that has not been scientifically proven yet but the fact that Addy has fasted through out Ramadan is something to worry about. Ghost of whatever could have happened during the Fhati after-party still hunts me till date. I never really know what happened. Did something happened after we got home, drunk to the spine and dash for the bed? Did I subconsciously executed something diabolical when the cloak of darkness emboldened my drunk desires.

My mind jumped to another thought. How I masterminded my trip back to school. It was just about 3 hours after arriving in Badagry that I discovered Addy is dying, hopefully not from the money I gave her to look for her period wherever she can find it. The fear of jail and the guilt of murdering the only person that have ever truly loved and accepted me hunted me through out the night. The doctor constantly called to see if I’ll confess knowing the details about how Addy landed in their hospital but I was too smart to indict myself. Far too smart for my own good.

The next morning, I greeted dad and informed him I’m heading back to school. He thought it was a joke until I served him one of my cooked up lies. One of my lecturer, an atheist is conducting his test today and I’m not sure if I can score an “A” in that course so it’s better and safer I go for the class. Dad was reluctant but after two and more sophisticated lies, he bowed to my request. I was given an unusual five thousand naira in case of a price hike in transport fare.

I wore my salah clothes and mum packed whatever is packageable into a bagco bag. To her, hunger is the bad teacher that is capable of corrupting any soul. An hungry man is a man with the lowest moral. With my bagco and Hp bags, I left Badagry around 6, having woke up around 4:30. The trip down to school was marred by the horrible state of Oko-afo road. It was like the case of Pharaohic troops swallowed by the mammy water in the red sea, water from the road swallowed every moving bus that defies it. I was luckier, the Volkswagen bus I boarded was high enough, but not high enough for its floor to be flooded by the muddy water from the murky road. The irritating water dyed my slippers-palm and the ankle part of my trousers giving it a look of an handkerchief soaked in a chocolate drink. But this was no chocolate, the stench of the muddy water was not only horrible but doubly irritating.

Oshodi was even worse, the bus drivers on duty were beyond annoying and extorting. The transport fare was hiked far beyond any logical inflation rate, it was hyperflated. The transport fare to Ibadan have trippled from seven hundred and twenty naira to two thousand naira. I had no option but to follow the bus since I was in a hurry and I have a life to safe, and if necessary maim. From Ibadan, a bike ride took me to Gbagi, from where I boarded the bus that dropped me in Ikire.

Within five minutes of alighting from the Apomu-Ikire bus, I made my way to my bar lodge. Like every parts of Ikire on festive days, the bar was agog with different arrays of beer bottles wandering helplessly on the floor. The people have resumed their age-long habit. Ramadan was only a one month break to desist from earthly vices and temptation to these people. At the conclusion of the fasting session, majority this people resumes their bad habits, just like they have done every year. Such hypocrisy.

I ventured into the bar and was welcome home by shouts of “Femo Lala”. I’m familiar with these people. We both drank in this same bar countless times. Countless times until I met Addy. Addy had really changed me, for the better. I quietly greeted the guys back and head straight for my room. Addy have truly changed me and all I’ve done to reward her back was change her location from earth to beyond. Tons of tears flood inside me. I. have to see Addy, to beg for her forgiveness. To apologize for everything – for the bad thoughts and bad intentions, and every other bad things I might have ignorantly done.

The thought of being a daddy no longer scares me. Not that I’m old enough, but I’m not too young to accept responsibility for my actions and mistakes. I’m going to Central hospital, I’m going there to confess my feelings to Addy. I’ve always loved her. Right from the onset, even till now. I just don’t know why she have to be on the brink of death before I realized how much she meant to me.
I dropped my bag in my room and zoom off to the tied road to board a ride to Central hospital. The Okada man requested for a hundred naira which I paid on spot. I mounted the bike and together with the rider, we sped off to the hospital, hopefully not to see Addy for the last time.

We arrived at the hospital in record time. The gentle-looking Okada rider I paid was in fact a ghost-rider in a celestial sut’ana. I dismount immediately, I was glad I still had my life intact. The rate at which he sped makes me wonder if the motorcycle fuel had been spiced with Indian hemp or it is the rider who have an impatient demon in him. Only God knows even if he has a driving license. Why should I even care, none of them have it, I concluded.

From there, I went straight to the hospital reception. I asked of Addy. The attending nurse cross-checked the names on the patient list and informed me Addy is in room 43. I ran, as fast as my legs could carry me. Searching for room 43 was like the final episode of gulder ultimate search, intense and tiring.

I finally found the room, in the emergency section. I peeped through the window. There lies Addy, her tummy bandaged and some parts of her body. It felt like the pain in her body permeates mine, it felt like osmosis. I didn’t know when three drops of tears fell from my eyes in quick succession. Look at what I’ve done. Look at what I’ve done to my baby.

The “do not disturb” sign on the door did dissuade me from opening the door to take a closer look at my darling damsel. Different grades of bruises and plasters were also all over her body. What could be wrong? Did something worse happened? Other rethorical questions crawled into my head.

I was close to Addy’s bed now. She was at peace. Same way she was when I went into her room to rescue her the last time. I knelt beside her bed and clutch her hand. How come I never knew she meant this much to me?

“I’m sorry Addy! ”
“I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you”
“I’m sorry for leaving you and landing you in this state”
“I’m sorry for being selfish”
“I’m sorry for being arrogant and blind to realize I can’t do or be without you”.
“You know I love you, even though when I don’t know I love you until now. Even when I have not always showed it”
“Promise me you will come out this place alive and enjoy whatever the future has in store with me”
“I’m building my world around you now and I’ll need your wisdom and patience to get things right”
“I love you Addy. I’ve always loved you”

The fourth drop of tears slipped from my eye onto the bed sheet. I held firmly to Addy’s hand. I’m not letting her go this time.

I soon became aware that a man was standing by the room door all this while. Noticing I noticed him, the man walked in. He looked like the male version of Addy mum with engraved tribal marks on his face. I guess the marks were chiseled on his face by a man jealous of his handsomeness. He was also well dressed with the allure of affluent oozing around him.

“Good morning sir”- I greeted.
“Good morning son! I’m Addy’s dad” – he replied.

Oh! My future father in-laws. I quickly prostrated and greet him properly but the man preferred a simple handshake.

“I’ve been at the door for a while and I heard everything you said”-
“Oh! That! “- I stammer. “That was nothing “- I said, scratching my jaw to hide my shyness.
“I think it’s something to her”, The man responded. “Just make sure you take good care of my baby. OK?! ”
“Yessir! OK sir! ” I replied like a boy scout. Addy’s father took his leave, leaving me with my lovely bandaged girlfriend. She still looked sexy in bandages. Her beauty is not tied to clothes, her beauty is tied to her simple life. Timeless beauty A strange smile brim on her face. I guess she can hear me, telepathically.

A strange call suddenly came in. I checked my phone. It’s Old soldier.
“Hello Daddy”- I holler.
“Hello son, how’s the test going”- he asked.
“Ehn. The test”. I scratch my hair, wondering what to tell him now.
“We are yet to start the test sir”.- I lied.
“OK! Give the phone to one of your coursemates, let me speak to him”
Old soldier is up to his tactics again. Who am I going to give phone now.

“I’m not yet in the classroom sir. I’ll flash you when I’m there sir”- I said.
“I just hope you’re saying the truth this time.”- he sounded suspicious. ” Anyway, Barka de salah. Make sure you enjoyed your day”- he replied. I happily end the call.

Addy was awake this time.
“I heard everything”- she spoke. I wonder what she heard. Was it the part I was loving -loving or the part I was up to my usual lying. She smiled. Even in those bandages, she still looked great. A thousand questions crept into my head. What actually did she heard?

“How are you feeling now”- I asked.
“Not yet better but I’m good”- she replied. She look fragile and innocent. I’m really glad she’s alive but I wouldn’t like to bore her with questions. she need to sleep.

“I just came to check on you”- I said, then made my way to start going home. Another question rang through my system. What happened to the pregnancy? Where’s my seven thousand? Was the abortion successful?

Addy can read my mind. “Your money is with the doctor”- she said. I wonder if it’s not the same doctor that has been calling me since yesterday. I guess she would have to collect the money from him for me. “Ok now” – I replied.

“Thanks for coming. I really appreciate”.
“It’s nothing. Just get well soon”, I replied then plant a kiss on her bandaged head. I didn’t even bother to ask what happened. I’m sure there’s a lot to discuss when she is fully fit — top of the priority would be if she find me good enough to be her boyfriend. I smiled, then walked towards the door.

“What happened to your trousers”- Addy asked.
“I stepped on the chocolate drink I brought you. You know I was in a hurry”- I lied again. I felt guilty. I wanted to retract my statement. It seems hard to admit I lied.
“Just joking. I stepped into a mud”- I corrected.

“I know”- She said, bading me farewell with an Infectious and seductive smile. I shut the door. She knew I lied. I wonder how many lies she knew I had said to her. I feel miserable. I’ll not lie again, at least not to her. Old soldier call came in again. I refuse to pick it, I’m writing a test. I know that’s a lie but I’m reserving that for the evening. For now, all I have to do is think of how to spend the remaining two thousand naira in my pocket. There’s no feeling like having a new life after Ramadan.

A new girlfriend and the prospect of an incoming seven thousand, I think I like my new life. I quietly made my way out othe hospital. A smiling sun shine on my face as I breathe fresh oxygen into my system. There’s no feeling compare to a new positive beginning.

[THE END]