Air Force One

The cool, morning breeze caressed his buttocks as he undid his trousers and squatted at the location he thought best suited his purpose, well out of sight from prying eyes but a vantage position where he could keep an eye on his truck, ‘AIR FORCE ONE’, his co-workers had nicknamed it. A parody of the real thing. It suited him though and catered to his many needs.

Osaze took the time out for major bowel activity to gather his thoughts. The time was 4.30am. A restless night he had experienced. He suspected it was the vegetable soup he had eaten that had upset his stomach coupled with his two-month old daughter’s bawling and the renewed hostilities between occupants of House 15, Adeyemi close. He had not been able to identify the combatants involved. Indeed, sleep had scoffed at him.

He grimaced at the stench of the material his stomach had disgorged. Thankfully, the part of the dumpsite he had chosen was deserted, facing the prestigious HOTEL ROYALE; a popular three-star hotel in Igando. It was a study in irony. He grinned sickly. On one side you had money being spent wantonly and on the other you had the dregs of society battling it out at the bottom of the food chain.

He shifted his weight to ease the blood flow to his legs and also to dislodge mosquitoes that seemed to have developed an affinity for his behind. He silently prayed that the stomach upheaval would not be a harbinger of worse things to come for the day. Somewhere afar off came the rumbling sound of thunder.

 

*********

 

‘Papa Adesuwa, This child is running temperature o!’ His wife called out to him as he made for the only chair in the room. He paused and mumbled incoherently, twiddling the buttons of his coverall and sat down.

‘I want to take her to the local government clinic tomorrow. Also…’ She continued, oblivious to the fact that he had barely responded. ‘…Baba landlord called for his rent. He says we are three months due. Not to mention that NEPA people and neighborhood security watch have been here to see you…’ Monica reeled on and on. Osaze closed his eyes, fatigued from a hard day’s work and let out a stream of air. It came out as a sigh.

‘No problem. God will provide. We shall take these issues one by one’.

He knew it was no use trying to be spiritual with her. She dreamt of the good life…always had. Yet he could afford none. They lived in a one-room apartment, sharing basic facilities with twelve other tenants. He had met Monica at her mother’s bukateria. It had been for sexual pleasures until she missed her period. Her mother had promptly bundled her bags and dropped her at his doorstep.

He told his parents back at the village that he was into iron business, which was not entirely untrue. He worked as a scavenger at the TI OLUWA NI ILE dumpsite in Igando, collecting scrap metal which was then sold to processing companies for recycling. The pay was not much but it guaranteed him food and shelter; better than the nights he had spent in Lagos when he first arrived from his village, Igbuzor, in Delta state. After so many menial jobs, he had settled for this one.

Mr. Sanjay, the production supervisor of AG manufacturing, the major buyers of his scrap metal had promised to facilitate work for him as a factory hand and had explained how the recycling process worked. He hoped he would be able to save enough to fend for his family and folks in the village and also realize his dream of becoming a technologist by enrolling at the Institute of Science and Technology, Yaba.

He sighed. If only wishes were horses. It was hard enough to dream but even crueler to wake up to the stark reality of seeming hopelessness.

 

*********

 

Life at the dumpsite was without a dull moment. Osaze had been an instant hit due to his truck, AIR FORCE ONE, which he had designed specially for the purpose. Whenever he was asked about the truck he always said that a man’s work tool should be his passport to the good life. Various graffiti adorned parts of the truck namely; ‘Who knows tomorrow?’ ‘No food for lazy man’ but the one he loved most was the one his friend, Kevwe, had painted on the front panel, ‘If you see me drive by…Holler at your boy!’. It was a catch phrase from a popular hip-hop song and it endeared him to fellow scavengers who milled around the site, searching for the elusive pot of gold.

 

*********

 

The thunder rumbled again, closer this time. He hoped it would not rain. It was always bad for business when it did. He cleaned himself, covering the mess he had made. He was about to rise when he heard a loud bang. Someone had crashed into his truck. The man was up in an instant, out of breath. Apparently he had not seen the truck in his rush. He looked around, presumably saw no one and dumped a polythene bag into the truck. He ran off.

Osaze could see that the man had come from the direction of the hotel and barely had time to think when a motorcycle zoomed past in pursuit of the man. He made out two occupants and ducked as almost immediately, he heard the sound of gunshots. He flattened himself to the ground as he realised seconds later, to his horror that the motorcycle was coming back in the direction of his truck. He heard one of the men say…

‘The package was not on him. He must have left it in the car or thrown it away as he ran. Pity he won’t be able to tell any more tales.’

The men spent some minutes around the site, searching frantically for the ‘package’. It must have been desperation that caused them to abandon their search as they knew that every minute spent would increase the risk of being caught.

‘Let’s go. You can drive the car and I’ll follow behind. The car’s still worth something’

They sped off in the direction of the hotel. Osaze was thoroughly bathed in sweat when he emerged minutes later. He checked his watch. 5a.m. The episode had taken a few minutes. He knew he had to leave the scene before the police arrived lest it become a case of mistaken identity. He wheeled his truck around and made for the general parking lot.

 

*******

 

The rain was pouring in torrents later. Thankfully the parking lot had been deserted as he retrieved the mysterious package from his truck and opened it. It was wrapped in black polythene nylon and his heart raced as he tore it. His eyes adjusted to the dim light and he made out dollar bills. Apparently, the man had hoped to escape his assailants and retrieve it later.

‘Twenty thousand dollars….Osanobua!’ He exclaimed as he stuffed the contents into his coverall….looking around to be sure he was still alone; his emotion a mixture of excitement and dread. It was a pity the man was dead. He shivered as a million thoughts raced through his head. He thought of the Police, ghosts, robbers, retribution, the Good Samaritan, the good life, honesty, poverty, Eldorado. The thoughts would not stop.

Minutes later, he stepped into the rain and was immediately soaked. He didn’t mind at all as the contents of his coverall gave him all the warmth he needed. As he splashed through the muddy waters, he unconsciously began to whistle a tune.

‘If you see me drive by…’

Senior David

Mum must have felt a change in my composure because my hand had tightened around hers on instinct and, being the ever vigilant one, she turned and gave me that look.

‘Hey honey, what’s the matter?’

I ran my tongue over my lips which seemed to have dried up in an instant. That didn’t help either. My palms had gone moist and clammy.

‘N…no…nothing mum.’ I stammered. ‘Maybe I’m just nervous at having to get my results for my promotional exams’.

We were headed towards the row of classes adjacent to the administrative block. There were students and parents everywhere; saying their goodbyes and moving their luggage about. It was the start of the holidays and everyone seemed eager to be on the move.

The object of my discomfort was descending down the stairs of the administrative building and headed towards us. He had spotted us first and smiled as he approached.

‘Good morning ma, you must be Joseph’s mum’, he managed a bow. ‘My name is David’. He spoke in that sing-song voice that endeared him to many.

Mum took to him in an instant. Who wouldn’t? David had the looks to die for. He was always impeccably dressed and was a striker on the school football team. He doubled as the assistant food prefect which made him quite popular among the junior students.

‘Hello young man, very nice to meet you. How are you doing?’

‘Hello Senior David’, I managed a murmur in greeting. Thankfully, mum didn’t notice.

‘Have you collected your results yet?’ mum asked David. He smiled, revealing a set of white teeth and ran adjusted his glasses.

‘I’ll do that in a bit ma. I had to see the vice-principal to run an errand for him.’

‘It’s alright. Please ensure I see you before we leave. I like to appreciate anyone who has made Joseph’s first year in secondary school quite interesting.’

Clouds formed on my face and I was sure in an instant lightning and thunder would follow. I tugged on my mum’s hand.

‘Mum, we had better get going. We don’t want to be left out now…do we?’

I caught David as he winked at me. My blood curdled.

Interesting indeed! If only my mum knew the half of it.

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

The slap roused me in an instant. I had fallen asleep in my chair and at night prep class too! This was considered an abomination among the students as the punishment to be meted out would depend on the mood of the class prefect.

The stress of having to stare at equations which seemed like Greek must have taken its toll on me coupled with the wraps of fufu I had consumed earlier before heading for class. Still, I could not the bothered as I would rather face punishment than endure another session with algebra. I ran my hand over my face to wipe away the trace of spittle which had started to dribble down my face

‘Joseph the dreamer’ the class prefect intoned and the whole class burst into laughter.

I was made to do a couple of frog-jumps outside the class for about ten minutes when I heard his voice

‘What sins have your committed? Surely you don’t strike me like the troublesome type’. David smiled at me.

‘I’m sorry senior David. I slept off in class.’

‘Well well…you know what they say. He pays the piper who calls the tune.’ David nodded at Soji, my class prefect, and a look of understanding seemed to pass between them. He thrust his books at me.

‘You’ll take my things to the prefect quarters. You know where it is? My room is number 4.

I could not believe my ears! Had I heard correctly? This was my punishment? I collected his books and made to leave but not before catching the looks of envy on my classmates faces. The privilege of visiting the prefects’ quarters didn’t come easy.

I made my way to the quarters and located David’s room with ease. His was the last in the block. I dropped the books and took time to study the layout of the room; pausing to admire the wall posters of the Real Madrid team, briefly running my hands over the faces of Ronaldo and Benzema.

‘Aaah! A fellow Madrid fan I see!’ David must have tip-toed into the room as I barely heard him sneak up on me. Perhaps his sneakers gave the added effect.

‘Sorry to snoop around sir. I must be heading back to class.’

‘It’s no bother. I’m sure you won’t be missed. Come and have a drink on me. At least I can show you my Madrid collections’.

I collected the half-empty can of fruit juice and helped myself to a cup. What an evening this was turning out to be.

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

It took a while before my eyes could adjust to the dimness of the room. The feel of the mattress on bare skin and the dampness on the room gave the indication that I didn’t have my clothes on. I tried to move my hands and legs and the tautness in my muscles and joints dawned on me. I was lying spread-eagled on my stomach!

My brain tried to process information as to how I got to be in this position but my sensory receptors had taken a holiday. I suspected that somehow I had been given a drug in my drink to induce that effect. I tried to shout for help but the rag stuffed in my mouth made a mockery of my efforts. I had to stop as I was starting to gag.

I tilted my head sideways to get a clearer view of the room. One thing was certain. I was still within the school grounds as I could hear the sound of bells. From the intensity it sounded like the last warning call for lights out. I struggled harder with my restraints.

The spring bed I was on was different from the bunk beds we had in the student dorm. It could only mean that I was still in the prefect’s quarters. It was a section of the student community we all looked forward to being in. it was a pity I was there in this state.

I felt hands grope me before I could see the face. I struggled harder but the restraints didn’t yield. The strong whiff of Vaseline hit me before I felt it being slapped all over my rectum.

‘Finally he stirs’. I heard the words come out in a slur.

I turned in the direction of the voice and in the dimness could make out David; naked as a new-born babe. What terrified me was the size of his member as he strode towards me. The way a cat would a cornered mouse.

‘Senior David please….please just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone.’ The words were eaten up by the rags.

White-hot pain shot through my buttocks straight to my brain as he slammed into me. Visons of my father on the pulpit condemning homosexuality heralded me as the blackness closed in on me.

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

I waved my result for anyone in the face of anyone who bothered to notice. Mum had fulfilled her promise of buying me the jumbo-sized ice-cream cone if I came first in my class. We were headed for where our car was parked when my mum shrieked.

‘Look who we have here. David! Have you seen your results?’

David cut a picture of a sheep which had lost its wool. His shoulders drooped and he had this pain in his eyes I had never seen before.

‘I failed my exams ma. My dad has threatened that I’ll have to repeat the school year here. I don’t think I can handle such disgrace. I’ll have to seek transfer to another school.’ He had this faraway look in his eyes; a lost puppy.

My mum could not help but pat him on the back.

‘Aww…so sorry to hear that. I’m sure it’s all for the best’.

She dipped her hand in her bag and extracted crisp naira notes and stuffed them in David’s hands. My eyes blazed fire.

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

Our car joined the line of cars waiting to be checked at the school exit gate. I was already looking forward to the holidays and could barely wait to begin.

‘There’s your friend, David. Such a pity. A fine fellow too. Wave goodbye to him…will you?’

I looked towards the solitary figure. The burden of the secret I carried and all the hate that had been buried underneath the scars I bore rose to the surface and I managed a grin.

‘I pray I never see you again’

It was best for both of us.

The First time…

The chill in the parlour was icy yet nothing compared to the numbness I felt in my bones. In a moment of insanity, I lifted the three-seater sofa to see if my brother, Frederick, was hiding underneath it.

‘He’s not in the house…and my laptop computer’s missing’. My brother, Magnus, had come bounding out of the room. His face was a mask of rage. I knew at that moment he would have committed murder and I felt his pain. The item contained his office work and research materials.

I moved outside and sat on the bench, trying to rationalise the unfolding events and desperately clutching on to the slimmest chance that this was all a sick dream I would wake up from. Yet the gate which was left ajar and the padlock thrown carelessly away mocked my plea. Frederick had left without telling anyone.

‘Chineke meeee!!! Fredericki egbu’om ooooo! (My God! Frederick has killed me!)’. Forgetting our woes in an instant, Magnus and I headed in the direction of the shriek. It was Mama. We met her sitting in her shop, distraught. I didn’t need to ask to know the worst had happened. One look at her safe deposit box was all I needed.

‘Ho….Ho…How…..m..mm..mmm..much?’ I managed to ask.

‘Two hundred thousand naira….I planned to go to the market today to replenish my stock….’

I suddenly developed a blinding headache.

**********************
If there ever was a poster boy for enfant terrible, It would be Fred. He had shown that rebellious streak right from an early age which had contributed in no small measure in aggravating Papa’s stroke condition; ultimately claiming the poor man three years ago. From school abandonment and petty thievery, he had moved out of the house and gone on to father two kids before he was barely nineteen. He was in and out of jobs faster than one changed a baby’s diapers.

Still, I had to give it to him. He was born with the instinct of a hustler; always looking to make a quick buck. Presently he was hellbent on travelling to Dubai, ferrying ‘impure stones’ as he called it. Mama had taken to praying without ceasing for him.

**********************
The breaking dawn did nothing to ease my plight. Mama was lying down muttering to herself. I knew she had borrowed the stolen money from her thrift society. Magnus was still missing his laptop and I was thirty thousand naira poorer.

Could a man rob his own flesh and blood? I thought to myself. Fred’s sins were numerous but this was the first time it really hurt. The days ahead would reveal what more stuff had been removed from the house.

I wished him well on his trip. He would get his recompense for sure. I was going to make sure I was waiting to serve it ice-cold.