Those whispers...(Lucifer Response)

_______________________________________________________________

This fiction is a rejoinder to the article titled "Puberty complaint"(url: http://bit.ly/IcKKE2 ) written by  aghoghosam.  
The original article was about a fourteen years old boy "Emeka Ohameze" who wrote to God, complaining about developing sexual desires. This  act (in his own opinion) goes against his faith in God. The story ended with a letter response from God.
I couldn't resist the temptation of thinking about a possible statement from Satan in a bid to secure his presence in the mind of the boy.
Please enjoy.....

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Emeka Ohameze,

No 19b Adebola Street,

Opposite Tope Falomo Gardens,

Agege,

Lagos Nigeria.

Dear Emeka,

I came across your letter, and couldn’t help feeling you would require my assistance. Your sexual desires running wild? That is my department.

As you get of age, I think you and I should get better acquainted.  I know you might have heard a lot of negative reviews about me, but you know better than to believe everything you hear. This is the real world, outside the confines of Pastor Francis church.  Be prepared for false doctrines ; be prepared for backbiters and those evil bearer whose only intention is to steal from you. I know there would be times you will condemn me because the world paints me as bad; yet I will wait patiently, knowing we will one day make up.

Pardon me, I haven’t formal introduced myself. Yes, history has labelled me evil because I led the 1^st revolution, but I have other name those close know me by. Because of my radiance and beauty, I am called the Morning Star. Latin speakers have a rather derogatory translation when they say my name; they call me “Lucifer”.

But there is more to me that just a name. I always stay close, willing to provide assistance in times of need. Your antiques are not new to me; I am always lurking somewhere in the background waiting for that right moment. Do you remember when Ifeoma attempted bullying you in Primary 3 and you stood up for yourself?  I was somewhere around, whispering...
(OK, maybe you went a little bit too far by stabbing her in the eye with your pencil; but there is no need to feel guilty about that.You got her off your back for good. Imagine if you hadn't; imagine how that would have destroyed your self-esteem ).

I have been around for long before your time, and seen many just like you. I have encountered staunch fanatics with strange beliefs backslide years after (when it became evident that their path had a different destination) then blame me for their misfortune. Haven’t your people read the Holy Book where it says that “God doesn’t dwell in buildings made by man”? Think about it, what have I got to do with everyone’s misfortune? I have problems of my own. My creator hasn't said a pleasant word to me centuries before your race was even conceptualized.

Make no mistake, I don’t think you should consider fornication; you are too young for that, and it is a sin just as Pastor Francis said. I think you should be ready to explore what this change is about; just as God said: “be curious”.

I think the best way to prepare yourself for what your body truly has to offer is to familiarise yourself with the female anatomy. You can start by doing something awkward; something that I will consider almost innocent: peeping at a nude Ibele tonight (remember, you overheard Ibele saying she takes her bath every night.. the toilet of her window is next to your room. I don’t think a peep is breaking any of the 10 commandments).

My young man, getting used to this body and its wild sexual drive is going to be tough, and I can assure you, most times out of control. It is a natural human instinct. Don't fight. I won't pre-empt you but I think if you should do as I said, you will be just fine.

This is the easy part. As life gets more complicated, you will get lost in discerning right from wrong. As you struggle to make sense of the world to produce that thought that can liberate you,  as you work to attain freedom to live right and be happy at the same time, take comfort is this knowledge; I will always be somewhere around, whispering...

Your’s sincerely,

The Light-Bearer.

Guy-Man-no-dey-come-Last finishing College, Igando, Lagos State

Do you have a good upbringing? Are you well trained & well schooled? Do you live in Lagos (or intend to live in Lagos State)?

If your answer is “Yes” to all the above questions, my response is “Really”? Reason why I asked that question is because settling into Lagos would be a major challenge for you.

But help is here!! Guy-Man-no-dey-come-Last finishing College, Igando, Lagos State is where you want to be.

Since time immemorial, living in Lagos has never been for the faint hearted. Researchers have stumbled upon documents of Lagosian using false bottoms in barrels of palm oil for sale to the white-man, as far back as the 15^th Century. Can you imagine what these people would have evolved to? The modern Lagosian is a madman!!

And that is where we come in. We assist you adjust to the Lagos scene. Be you a professional, a medical practitioner, an okada driver, a bus driver, a government official, a law enforcement agent and even a religious leader.

We have experts from all over the world trained in the act of irresponsible behaviours from some of the most unliveable cities in the world. From Harare, Dhaka, and even Baghdad, seasoned specialists are available to provide you with case studies and 1^st hand examples of tactics you can adopt to ensure your adjustment to living in Lagos is seamless.  

Our facilities are well equipped with state of the art gadgets capable of providing simulation of life in Lagos. After four to sixteen weeks of extensive training, you will learn how to:

1. Deal with police officer;
2. Earn a living doing nothing;
3. Show off an attitude that can piss your customers off;
4. Jump queues;
5. How to fart in public (without making a sound);
6. The best way to shakara (special courses on telling them “do know who I am”);
7. Brag (even when there is nothing to brag about);
8. Silence you conscience and do what benefits you (and only you).

We also conduct specialized training for professionals to include:

1. Effectively collect bribe (for law enforcement agents: we teach all the secrets things they don’t teach you in training school. Like how to collect eguje and make the “accused” think you are doing your job);
2.  Inflate prices (and use strange accents to backup the reasons for the exorbitant prices);
3. Bad time keeping (for artisans, we go further in perfecting the art cheating your clients well with fake parts and substandard goods);
4. Public transportation- the art of being an okada man, conductor and a danfo driver- [Due to the sensitivity of this sector, we also have voice coaching centres for the conductors and reckless driving techniques (for okada men and bus drivers)];
5. Health is wealth, indeed (Providing health with no compassion).

And a many more other trainings bound to make you perfectly Anyhow, thereby fit for Lagos.

Here is a comment from one of our satisfied customers:

“Hello all, My name is Peter Busayo-McPhillips. I am 39 years old. My secondary education was at Atlantic Hall, Lagos State, A-levels in Eton College, after which I attended the prestigious St Andrews University, United Kingdom and completed a Bachelor of Arts degree in the Classic. I come from a family of distinguished lawyers & professors.

After twenty years living in the United Kingdom and  France, I had to move back to Nigeria to join my sibling control the family's business (we mange a chain of hotel in 
Lagos, Port Harcourt & Abuja). 
It was tough integrating into the chaotic Nigerian system. People took advantage of my good behaviour and ethics. Not until I came to the Guy- man- no- dey- come- Last Finishing College Lagos.

Now I know how to shout “your father” in traffic.
I once bashed a danfo driver, gave him a slap and even screamed “do you know who I am” (when I was the one at fault). 
I now know how to stylishly switch on my hazard lights  & join the convoy of siren vehicles (to beat the traffic) . 
And even though I am married, I still provide Aristo services to two girls currently in the University.

Whilst living the United Kingdom, my dream was to change Nigeria. I hoped for the day Nigeria would rise to its rightful position as the Giant of Africa. That is no longer the case. All the money I make, is going towards the house I am building in Bishop’s Avenue- London. I support all the politicians (even when I am sure they don’t have a clue what they are doing) as long as they give me deals. I owe my employees six month wages. But who cares; it is all about the money for me!

Thank you Guy-man-no-dey- come-Last Finishing College Lagos; for saving my life”.

So there you have it.

Next time you meet a friends based abroad intending on relocating,  anytime you visit those butter children who attend those private (sort of boarding school) Universities who just got a job on the Island and wants your advice, when you encounter someone who wants to move to Lagos from other states within Nigeria, but hasn’t got a clue of how messed up this city is, spread the word:

“With Guy-man-no-dey-come-Last Finishing College, YOU CAN’T COME LAST IN LAGOS”.

Guy-man-no-dey-come-Last Finish College -Eko oni baje o!

Encounter with an Okada Rider

LOOKING FOR AN OKADA

“Okada...!! Kofo?”
“ Oga na N200”.

“From here to Kofo ke? Bro!! Na N100 I go pay”

“Oga , no way. Na N150 last. Dem dey catch okada for Ozumba. Na Adeola Odeku I go pass”

“I beg take N100”

Okada drives off, slowly…

“Oya wait.  I beg drive soffery”

“No wahala” was the response followed by the strong smell of palm-wine in his breath.

ON THE OKADA
Me to myself: “I had no choice; I couldn’t continue waiting at this time of the night for another bus. That naked mad man holding his winky sitting over there didn’t look extra friendly. He might decide he wants to touch my clothes”

Okada man to himself “oh boy, after I drop this man, I go buy palmwine from Nwanchukwu …..”

 Me to myself: “which sort of okada is this? There is almost no where for me to put my leg on. God I hope to I get there in one piece”

Okada man to himself “Dat Nwachukwu sef. Him papa. Why that guy no want give person jara. Na from that girl I go buy from next. Precious. The problem be say Precious own no de catch person sef. But e be like say she like prick. Okon give am sef…”

  Me to myself: “There is no substitute for this madness. See how he rides, doesn’t this guy understand brakes. Gosh man! I hope this guy doesn’t get to hit anything. This is preposterous. God I hate my boss. Always putting me under unnecessary pressure. This country is too hectic. Next time, late or no late, I will use my car”

Okada man to himself “Oh boy that girl must sabi do. See her yansh. That one shacks go finish man. I fit give am belle sef” He smiled to himself.

“Bros, se you hold change”

“Oga how much?”

“Na N1000”

“Oga I no get change oh!”

Okada man to himself “E good say I don hide all my change. All these aje butter boys. Im no go wan drag change with me. That N1,000. I fit get room for Gordon side, Precious, your orobo go precious today…”

Me to myself: “No way I am giving this drunkard more than the N150 we agreed for. Does he know how  hard I worked to get this money? This country is filled with quacks, who all they know how to do is ask and ask and ask”

“WE NEED CHANGE OH”

“Okada, park for there, under that tree”

“Oga, my money”

“Na only N1,000, I get, I no get change oh”

“Oga, you go forget the change oh! I dey run, you wan spoil my business. Abi, you wan give me the money make I go find change?”

“No way. You sabi person for here?  Na my area be this. Make I ask person for change”

“Bro" I say to the security man  "I beg you get change? I suppose pay this okada man N150 and na N1000 I get”

Security man to himself: “Idiot. Na when im need person, he go remember. Since I join this office e never give me nothing. He go dem waka dey go like say na im papa work. God go punish am. Make I give am N650. E fit kuruma forget balance, give me”

“Na only N650 I get, sir. You go take?”

 “Na! Ma worry mo so gbo?. Thank you”

Me to myself: “Obviously an undercutting ploy. Boy I can smell you from a mile. I see the way you look at me from a distance, giving me your “I_go_ school_ too” look and try to speak good English, and at the same time messing up your  tenses. Oga. Sorry, you_ just_ can’t_chop_me, sir. Not today”.

“Samuel" I say to the hawker who sells DVD just outside my office " I beg, you get change for N1,000?”

“Chai, I no get oh. I just give person all my small small change”.

DVD man to himself “this boy wey no too dey buy DVD. Na only 3 DVD he don buy out of which he return one say e no clear. All these people sef. Chai. Dem no wan lose N1”.

“Oga, please give me money make I dey go now” groans the okada man.

THE END OF OUR RELATIONSHIP

“Mallam, sanu. I beg, you get change?”.

“Yes, I get”.

Mallam to himself: “When this man go buy this im instant coffee? Na im dey buy pass before? Before na nice guy. E no dey complain about the N5 I dey put on top.”

Mallam gives me the change.

“Thank you”

“E don tey when you come greet your boy. I get am for coffee, plenty plenty”

“Na the diet wey I dey on. My doctor talk say make I no dey drink too much coffee”

Me to myself: “Rip off sucker. This thing goes for N25 in other places. I can get it for N20 if I buy in bulk.  See your hungry head, selling it for N30”

“That one good ooo! Make you greet madam for me”

Mallam to himself: “which kind diet, with this kind big belle.Bros,  I see when you dey buy digestive everyday from Goodies”

“Oga I wan dey go, I beg my money oh!”

I hand over the N150 to the okada rider. Put it in his pocket and rode away, bringing an end to our brief encounter/relationship.

Awa Naa (je eniyan) [We Too (Are somebody)]…

Madam Risi buka (“mama” as she is fondly called) is in a corner on Adio Street, just around New garage, an area in Bariga. The Buka is located at a short distance from the local government council, right opposite Prince Akinlaja Newspaper stand. Her shop is known to open Mondays to Saturdays from 4:30am to 12:00am and Sundays from 2 pm to 10pm. 

She has a strict routine which all her 12 employees have to live by. The day starts with a 30 minutes devotion during which they all have to recite Psalm 23, sing praises, and give testimonies. After the devotion, the shop opens for business with Rashidat frying the fish, akara and dodo just outside the door of the buka to entice its customers.

Mama’s buka is one of the most popular buka around the Bariga axis. Located in an uncompleted building, many are surprised at how the buka stands the envy of all the restaurant owners around, even Bimpe’s “Brotherly food” that is opposite the Apostolic Church at Jagunmolu Street. Bimpe’s husband, who works for Skye Bank, invested a lot to make her restaurant amazing and giving it all the perks of a modern buka. It felt new, and always had that smell of lavender. The sitting area, furnished with white plastic chairs can also boast of  three standing fans and table mats. All her employees wore blue and white uniforms. Bimpe’s shop was usually full during the church’s convention. It is only during that period that her restaurant has considerable traffic. For the rest of the year, the restaurant was empty and usually stayed the attraction of only Bariga’s “high-end” earners: drivers who work in one of the Oil Companies on the Island/white men, church owners and the children of big landlords. The common earners would troop into the simpler structure and enjoy the company of mama. 

Mama’s buka has two sections both with un-cemented floor. The main section, which covers over three quarters of the floor space, is sparsely furnished with six wooden benches and tables for customers. On each table was a plastic white bowl and blue stripped kettles for washing hands. The other section partitioned by a small wall with a narrow entrance was the make shift kitchen. As plumbing had not started the kitchen traffic (to include receiving water from the hawker’s wheel-barrows or disposal of waste) was done through the extremely odd looking 62 x 72 inches window overlooking the back of the house. Right next to this section, you will find the exit and a seat for the makeshift cashier. Next to the main entrance you see a small seat and wooden box (which doubles as a both table and cash box) for the cashier.

Mama is one woman who has aged so well. You can tell the obvious signs of beauty in her face, but her eyes tell stories of one who has done a lot of pondering. 
She has had to ponder on burning the candle at both ends to send Risi to Primary and Secondary School up to Osun State polytechnic, where Risi is to study Marketing;
Her thoughts are sometimes lost wondering which action to take against Risi’s irresponsible uncle Remi, who always seem to come up with some of the most outrageous money making scheme to get money out of her;
Sometimes she cannot help but worry about conniving employees, witty artisans and crafty sellers who seem to strive more to outsmart her rather than do the job they were employed to do;
 But most of the time, her thoughts are in her native home, her place of birth, where she spent the first 25 years of her life.

Never the less, she is a still a beautiful woman. Her hair is thick and in signature cornrows, usually wrapped in Ankara scarf. Her buba sits well, but the bottom of her iro is never proportionate in length due to mama’s old fashioned method of storing money. Her money is always stored within the bulge formed by the layers of her iro around the waist. For her fiftieth birthday, Risi bought mama a waist pouch. “Mama, you so gats to upgrade” she says in her “American” (thanks to DSTV) accent. Mama’s response to her was “omo mi, aso yi lo ran e lo si ile-iwe, bosi wu mi maa fi se iyawo fun e" (“My child, this cloth that sent you to secondary school, and if it pleases me I will celebrate your wedding in it”).

After the rush from 5:30am to 7:00am, mama leaves the buka, under the care of either one of her most senior employee, Famous or Bose and then off she goes to the market. She makes every effort to get back before 12:00pm and return to her post as the cashier. In the buka, it is around this time the day ripens; then the commuters arrive from the east trying to avoid the chaos of Oshodi,  and the people who work in the Bariga axis, the drivers, bricklayers, and the bus drivers all have one place destination; “Awa Naa” [which translates to mean “We too”].

Who named the buka “Awa Naa”? 

As the story goes, the name to her buka “Awa Naa” was a result of a move by the spirit during its dedication. It was held according to her Christian religious rites. These rites dictate that a pastor blesses anything you have, names it (based on the name you decide to give) and dedicates it to God. After which there is a small celebration with feasting. But the story of the name “Awa Naa” actually started before the dedication; it started when mama (whose real name is Toke Ajisafe) came to Lagos State. 

Toke is lady from Aba Adi, a small town not too far from Osogbo in Osun State. She was the daughter of Late Chief Akin Ajisafe. He like his father was a cocoa farmer, who, due to longstanding deals with the chocolate making companies like Cadbury, had made a lot of money which he used to purchase his chieftaincy title, married three wives and had sixteen children. 

Everyone thought she was a princess due to her naturally sweet smile, the complicated plaits on her hair, and the red beads she always wore. During the annual Osun-Osogbo festival along the River Osun, she always does the “mystical dance of the sacred forest”. It was during one of the festival celebration that she met Risi’s father (who she never married) while he was still a driver for some multinational company. He brought some oyinbo men for the festival.

Daleko Orisa, (Risi”s father) is an Ibadan man who told her all about Lagos. He spoke about the wide roads, the big buildings and the fashion style. As he had lived in Osogbo before, he frequently brought tourists from Lagos interested in visiting the attractions around their region. This brought him to their town frequently. Toke lost herself to this mysterious and charismatic man who spoke with the air of one that has seen the world. 

She got pregnant with Risi when she was 25 years old. It was upon receiving the news from her mother that her father vowed to publicly disown her as his daughter, a statement that led her to flee and run to Lagos. That was the last time she ever saw her father alive; she was present at his funeral.

She moved in with Daleko to his “face-me-I-face-you” apartment in Ebute-Metta. A year after the birth of Risi, the joint income they earned was able to afford them a self-contained apartment in Bariga where she lives till date.

For a long time after moving to Lagos, Toke could not get a job or a decent means of livelihood as she had no significant formal education or vocational skill. So she sold akara and fried yam. Daleko was out of town most of the time, leaving just enough money for her to cater for herself and the growing needs of Risi. She used some of the money he gave her to purchase a bigger “agbada” frying pan, spoon, and a big jerry can of vegetable oil. Because of her good nature, the mallams that hawked on her street became her friend. She used this friendship to purchase yam on credit. As business grew, she started visiting the market to buy beans and cooking condiment. With the money they made, she and Daleko were able to maintain a pretty simple home for themselves.

But alas, disaster struck. Daleko, became a tanker driver for an Independent petroleum marketer. He lost his life in a tanker fire incident along the Benin-Ore express way. Risi was only 3 years old. With the N500,000 received as compensation for the loss of her husband along with support from her few friends, she started a small poultry on the single plot of land in Bariga that belonged to Daleko, which was a stone throw from where she lived. The poultry expanded, but her efforts towards expansion reduced when Risi resumed secondary school. She decided to close shop shortly after a major incident in Risi’s final year. An outbreak of “lorun-lorun” (head twisting) disease killed almost all the chickens. Mama, worn down by the stress of managing the poultry and supporting her daughter in secondary school counted her losses and sold off what was left of the poultry. She added to the proceeds, her fifteen years saving ‘ajo’ money, and chose to invest in what she loves doing best, cooking.

The buka started as a simple shed made out of what used to be the poultry. It had mama doing all the main cooking, assisted by two workers. Mama’s “jara” (extra) and liveliness made her the talk of Bariga bus stop. Not long afterwards, the shed became too small for the boom forcing her to create the structure she has today. She still dreams of the day when her buka will compete with the Mr Biggs Village Kitchen in Bariga and the class of Mama Cass.

The small ceremony held on the ground of the buka hosted her church pastor, some of her friends and about a handful of customers. Mama had never been good with English. Risi had spent the day coaching mama on her speech and an agreed name for the buka “Manna of life”.

The dedication ceremony for the buka began with the pastor giving a short sermon to extol the virtues of mama. He later called on mama to give a short speech and the name of the Buka for him to bless. 
Mama upon hearing the speech was filled with flash-backs and thoughts raced through her mind “Se emi naa ni? Emi ni Oluwa ranti ? Oluwa e ma se o” (“Is this me? Is it me that God remembered? God thank you.”)
As these thoughts filled her mind, she was lost for words and became tearful and overwhelmed with emotion. What rolled out of a tearful Toke’s lips was the Yoruba song “♪Awa naa re Oluwa , Awa naa re Oluwa..a wa dupe ore atodun modun….♫”. 
She hummed the song on and on, crying all through, with her daughter holding her. The pastor, who had seen Toke through all her struggles, was visibly touched and so was the crowd.

The atmosphere became laden with mixed emotions. It was as if her words spoke of them, all strangers in a harsh Lagos, lacking the right social structure and struggling to make ends meet;
They were all present in that gathering; bus conductors, okada-riders, bricklayers, shoe-shiners and traffic hawkers;
These are people who the formal economy barely remembers, so they turn to the comforting arms of religion for solace;
These are people so pushed by families, hopes and expectation of a better tomorrow. The song couldn’t say it better….“WE TOO…. are somebody”

That was how mama’s buka got the name “Awa Naa”.

21st of July

It was his only chance to get out alive.

He jumped out the window, knowing the entrance to the flat was surrounded.

….And he ran like he had never run before!

The memories of the event populated his thoughts, confusing his steps as he ran along the streets: destination unknown!

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They had ransacked the whole place, collected all that was collectable and tied the couple together in the centre of the room

“ONLY N50,000? OH BOY THIS NA BAD JOB. SOLO, MAKE YOURSELF A MAN! WHEN LIFE GRABS YOUR BALLS, YOU BURST THE BALLS OF THE NEXT MAN. NA YOU GO EX THESE PEOPLE!!!” was the instruction of Emmanuel.

Solomon's shaking hands aimed and shot at the head a begging man. As the man stumbled, his wife screamed and he shot her too.

The whole thing took about 10 seconds, but that moment, felt like eternity…

The bullet left the barrel with a loud noise “bang” shooting through the air, heading for the target….

He remembered the words of Emmanuel as they planned the attack “the guy is like 32 sha. He lives around Igando. We know commandant for that area, so no be big issue. Tona na your car we go use”

The man had a look of plea in his face, as he witnessed his own death…..

“ No wahala. I suppose take the car go Cotonou go sell after. They say the maga na oil worker. Dem boys gats kishi. If that guy no prepare, he fit get N500,000 for house. Na small job. We fit carry Solo come” Tona added  

The bullet pierced into his skull, tearing open the flesh and blood vessels, lifting up the man from his feet….

“Yeae paripa… I don kill person. Na so person dey die?  Oh Boy I don become murderer! Solo, concentrate na him business jo, I gats to chop! Na these people get money pass, na dem spoil country for us! I gats to chop” he thought to himself

Bang! Bang! Bang! Was the sound of his gun as three bullets were squeezed from the barrel of his gun into the neck of the wife, permanently silencing her

“Solo, our elders say the one that befriends the Cobra and makes him play dead, is the one town crier would call the hero.” Was his dad last statement to him as he departed for Lagos

She slumped on to the body of her husband with no care of her nudity…her body….lifeless

“Solomon, you can’t do this forever! How those babes go dey look us? You no fit dey dey do mechanic work anymore. You pass that one well” was Samson’s luring line to Solo in every effort to entice his younger brother

A visibly shaken Solomon dropped the gun as his thoughts were interrupted by a gun shot, “RATATATATATATA!!!!”

…was the next thing he heard as the glass door (that covered the stairways) scattered next to him

“OPC PEOPLE DON LAND!!” Emmanuel screamed

Even as Emmanuel beckoned on him to wait, Solomon ran straight to the next room, which was a toilet and locked the door; his heart beating like it was about burse.

 He climbed out from the window’s toilet and jumped two storeys down on to the bonnet of a black sedan parked in the drive way.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They hadn’t thought OPC vigilante members would respond quickly,

they hadn’t thought the man would have only N50,000 in the house,

they…in fact they hadn’t thought about a lot of thing.

And Solomon was now an outlaw. He broke entry into a guarded property. He had the blood of two innocent people on his hands!!! 
This is not the life he every planned for!!

He ran aimlessly on the street hoping that he would see someone or something that he recognizes …..

  “BANG! BANG!! BANG!!!!”

Immediately he heard that sound, all the lights went out...........

Junkies

It gets windy at night
And when it does he goes to his favourite spot, somewhere along Jalingo Street,
He squats behind the abandoned blue sedan with his legs resting on the wall
He lights up the joint,
Opening the entrance to his Junkie Heaven

During the day, he encounters stares as he strolls in his only apparel, that torn brown sagging combat trousers that exposes his pubic to the view of all willing to see,
His collection of scrap, gathered during these strolls, are exchanged for money,
Money that is later used to buy dope and food
In the evening, he returns back to Jalingo Street,
For that spark that leads to Junkie Heaven.
And to begin his journey again…

But Tuesday was different,
Nobody could hear that sob, that sound of a tormented soul hovering back and forth experiencing ecstatic pleasures known only to those that indulge,
There wasn’t the usual clattering of cans and discarded mental as Hamad drags his most precious items in preparation of tomorrow’s supply
In two days, we all began to get worried on what befell dear Hamad
There are too many possibilities we could conceptualize
But as human, there are limits to the scenarios we can construct
Remember, rationality has boundaries

Boundaries that are further limited in the absence of our Hamad,
A reminder of the worse that can happen to a man
He puts in the minds of our offspring the idea of that thin line between humanity and the beast, forcing them to act in their best
Visualizing the lower limits of human evolution gets us up in the morning
It is with this knowledge that we developed mean to diligent manage our lives and construct our community
Hamad weakness, ignites us to aspire

In his desires to rise above his demons, he frequents the abode of the reformers with that cry for help
Their remedy to him is just enough to return back in a state, worse off that he started
At every attempt to break free, he is remind of the shackles on his wrist and disastrous covenants made during his years of innocence
They tell him of unattainable goals and targets he can’t achieve
And this forces him back to Jalingo street
A feat that keeps the reformer employed

Our search party went into action to find him lying by the riverside, overdosed
We gathered together and attended to his wounds
Against his will, he was treated and restored,
Restored to return back to his hopelessness
Which was our desire because:
- in it we find hope
-in it we find our desire to rise
- in his hopelessness we sparks our joint,
And opens the gate to our junkie heaven.