Leokad,
a popular book distributor in Aba, Abia state, ordered for 200 copies each of
my books—Giant in a Hut and Billy the Island Goat. On Tuesday morning, I was at
Izuchukwu Motors at Jibowu to do a waybill. When I walked into the office, I
was not comfortable with the silence that hung in the air. The office was a
funeral and whoever coughed was sent to the gallows. Izuchukwu Motors have
never been this silent. I approached Peter, the receptionist at the table. Peter
tried to impress me with an exaggerated smile as we shook hands and exchanged
pleasantries but it was easy to tell that he was in the same pool as others who
seemed to swear an oath not to talk when Oga is around. He was not alone on the
table. Peter is bare five feet tall. By his side was a man who is almost two
times his height. He was dark and had a strong square jaw. He wore a shirt that
had seen better days and his faded jean trousers worth nothing. But the man held
a phone that was the size of an Olympic stadium.
I
ignored the poor soul. “Leokad needs these books. Please make sure he gets them
tomorrow,” I told Peter.
“Have
you started promoting?” Peter asked me. His face broke into a gap toothed
smile.
“NO.
We are still supplying,” I replied. “I think I will start promoting by June!”
“Good.”
He nodded almost a million times. He lowered his head to prepare the documents.
I
frowned and cleared my throat. “Mr Peter,” I said. “Tell your company to open
an office around Ojo or Festac. Jibowu is too far from my office…”
Namita Sonthalia-At the Threshold of Love. A Gripping Tale About Love and Friendship Seen from an Indian Perspective.
Peter
raised his head. But before he could respond, the man that sat next to him raised
his hand and interrupted our conversation because his Olympic sized stadium phone
rang. As he answered the call, I felt embarrassed. Why will a man like me interrupt
my conversation by the mere wave of his hand? I wanted to react immediately but
I decided to hear one or two things from Peter before I blow hot. So I
swallowed hard and walked briskly to the other side where I could be closer to
probe the hell out of Peter. Then I leaned on the counter and asked, “WHO IS
HE? WHY HIM GO SAY MAKE WE NOW TALK?”
No Black in Heaven by John Chizoba Vincent
Free Book: Ghost of Dalmos
“HOW?
I NO UNDERSTAND. WHICH OGA?” I probed with one eye on the man who was still on
the phone. He was enjoying the telephone conversation but we were weighed down by
the weight of his voice.
“THAT
IS IZUCHUKWU! THE OWNER OF IZUCHUKWU MOTORS! You can meet him. Discuss your
challenges with him!”
My
jaws dropped. My eyes and mouth were widened in surprise. I looked at Izuchukwu
and shook my head because I was not completely disappointed. I am blessed. I
have met very wealthy people. They are hardly materialistic. Most times, they appear
simple and casual. But in their simplicity, they are very domineering. Everything
answers to them. They work extremely hard to keep a low profile and be away
from the public. That is why you will meet the owner of Chisco Motors at one of
his offices nationwide and still will never recognize him.
Izuchukwu
is a terrible man on the phone. With his baritone voice, he doesn’t need a
public address system to speak to the entire Lagos! He was on the phone forever
and I could not wait. I turned to Peter and announced my leave because I also
have my business to attend to.
Lagos
is a small world. If you are smart, you can never be stranded in the city of
Lagos. So I walked back to Jibowu to connect a vehicle that could take me to
Mushin, the notorious town that never sleeps. Mushin can be clothed in blood in
a matter of minutes. Mushin gives you everything—fame and fortune, curse and
death!
My
birth certificate shows I was born in Mushin. I love the street but I am not
notorious. The street is my heaven because it raised me. If you are on the
street, don’t join the crowd. If they are heading to the south, turn to the
north. The most important thing is to stay in touch. Make sure you are not left
behind. If you go with the crowd in a place like Mushin, you will be destroyed.
If you master the street and possess it, you will have a good life! The street
is complex. There is no regimented life. It gives you life in different shades.
You could wake up to a violent morning and then embrace a blissful night on the
same day. You can make a lot of money in the morning and still go to bed broke.
Yes,
you can get killed in Mushin if you don’t mind your business. The people who
rule the town don’t give a damn about what you think. They are real tough
cookies. I have seen rival gangs kill each other and people desert the streets
for days for fear of being killed.
Finally,
I arrived at Mushin. I hit the side walk and made for the vehicle that will
take me to Ilasa. I forgot my hands in my pocket. In my mind, I was alone in
Lagos. The city was me and I was the city. I enjoy walking alone, especially
with my hands in my pocket. But something out of this world knocked me back to
reality. Two beautiful ladies were approaching me from the side walk. They were
pure artistry, beauty and elegance. One had a good height and the other was
barely reached my shoulder. But what she lost in height was made up in hips and
bursts. She was the full package. That’s my kind of woman. I am hardly turned
on by slim women. So I fixed my gaze on the lady with the full package.
As
my mind worked on the beauty, she glanced to the left. Before I could blink,
she dashed into the shop. Then I noticed she strapped a baby to the back. I
smiled. “Your man is enjoying,” I thought.
Her friend followed her into the shop. As I approached the shop, I slowed down
so that I can have a final view of the beautiful creature that nature threw at
me. I was disappointed when I saw the
lady in a fight with two other people as her baby cried out loud on her back.
Her friend was trying to pull her away but the lady was too strong even with
the baby on her back. She took on the man and the woman in the shop as if there
was no tomorrow. When she was finally dragged out of the shop by neighbours, I took
her aside to a corner where I could have a proper of this beauty. “Why did you
go in there to fight?” I asked as if I was actually going to solve her problem.
She
breathed deeply and replied, “That man in there is my husband! We are married.
I have three children for him. This is one of them,” she turned for me to see
the one on her back.
“Eh-hen,”
I nodded. “That is still not enough for you to go into another person’s shop to
fight your husband and the woman.”
She
looked at me and her innocent look broke my heart. “Oga,” she continued. “My
husband doesn’t feed his children. Every time he tells me he has no money. But
he rented that shop for that woman.”
“The
woman you just fought?” I asked.
“Yes.
She is his girlfriend. I have the receipt of the shop in the house. It’s with
me! Initially I did not want to fight her. But when I grabbed my husband, he
asked her to fight me.”
Speechless!
I scratched my head and took her to a bench where she sat down. Then I walked
back to the shop to catch a glance of the man in the mess. The man and his
girlfriend have been battered by the light skinned lady. She had no injuries on
her body but that could not be said of her husband and his new girlfriend who
had cuts and bruises all over their bodies. This lady is not only beautiful; she is a
super woman.
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