Once Upon a Time in Lagos: Episode 13

 

That night, I slept on the trunk a fallen tree at the foot of the hillside. I was lucky I was in an African country, where the weather is very friendly and warm throughout the year. I would have frozen to death if I had  tried  this in America. I had earlier left Mr. Reddington’s little black book, my watch and my packet of cigarette at Emmanuel Obaseki’s house. The only thing I have with me is my money and about a pound of bread which I managed to squeeze into my trousers pocket.

For my dinner, I ate a half of the bread and I folded my arms across my chest to keep myself warm while I slept.  I was feeling really happy with myself, for I was beginning to enjoy this hide-and-sick game with the police and my enemies. So far I had been very lucky. The newspaper vendor, Mr. Akin, Chief Tunde, Mr. Emmanuel Obaseki, and the stupid Deji, were indeed all pieces of  good fortune. The fact that I have been a success with all of them gave me a feeling that I was going to pull through this thing.

My immediate problem now was that I was very hungry. As I lay down on the trunk of the fallen tree, I had kept turning around, for the little bread I ate earlier merely emphasized the aching void, with the memory of all the delicious Nigerian meals I had thought so little of in Lagos. There were Adeyemi’s deep fried bean cakes called akara. He often made them in the mornings using peeled brown beans, ground and blended with onions and spices, and then fried them in vegetable oils – how I often  enjoyed eating them  with bread! There were the skewers of intricately spiced and grilled meat called suya they serve every evening at the Lagos Colonial Sports Club, for which my mouth lusted. My thoughts hovered over all varieties of Nigerian foods, and finally settled on the thin, very spicy broth called pepper soup. Nigerians prepare it with a chock-full of assorted cuts of meat or fish and spice it more with a local scented vegetable called uziza. It is very delicious, and while longing hopelessly for these Nigerian meals, I fell asleep. 

When I woke up about an hour after dawn, I was feeling both cold and stiff, for the early morning times are usually chilly in Nigeria. It took me a while to remember where I was. My sleep was indeed a deep one. I, however became very alert after I saw a big shoulder of hill and my boots placed beside a nearby shrub. I immediately jumped up and looked down into the valley, and that one look was enough to make me start putting on my boots in hurry. The reason was that I saw some men below, not more than a quarter of a mile off, and they were spaced out on the hillside. I had no doubt in my mind that they were looking for me. I wasn’t surprised that Deji had not been slow in looking for his revenge.

Leaving the fallen tree, I followed a shallow trench which slanted up the hill face. This led me into a narrow gully by way of which I walked to the top of the ridge. When I reached there I looked back and saw that I was not yet visible to my pursuers. They were patiently looking all over the hillside while gradually moving upwards.

I ran for maybe half a mile, making sure that I kept behind the skyline. I continued running till I reached above the topmost part  of the hill. Then I showed myself to my pursuers. I immediately heard loud voices coming up from below as my pursuers changed the direction of their line of search. Using myself as a decoy, I pretended to retreat over the skyline, but immediately changed course and went back the way I had come. Within a few minutes I was standing behind the ridge overlooking my sleeping place, the fallen tree trunk. From my location, I could see my pursuers streaming up the hill at the top of the narrow valley, convinced that they were heading towards my direction.

I knew then that I had to act fast. So I chose a ridge that cut through the one that I was on, and in a couple of minutes I had put a narrow valley between me and my pursuers. All these maneuvers was a good exercise for me and I could feel my blood getting warm. Not only that, I began to enjoy myself again, and felt confident enough to stop briefly and finish the remnants of my bread.

Because I don’t know this area at all, I had no idea what to do. I had trusted the strength of my legs, but I was well aware that my pursuers have a very big advantage over me: this is their village and they are very familiar with the lie of this forest. So, even though I had the strength of my youth, the fact that I’m not from this area would be a big setback for me. In front of me was a collection of small hills, rising very high towards the south. I looked northwards and saw that it was mainly broad ridges covered with shrubs and light vegetation. I followed that direction and the ridges seemed to sink after a mile or two to a moor. I continued walking and soon I saw the heads of my pursuers. When they saw me, they started shouting again, and their voice even became more louder when I waved my hand. I didn’t know why I did that, but then I had no good explanation for a lot of things I have done lately. The truth is that, because I was still winning , the whole thing feels like a game that we play in my high school days.

The pursuit continued, and very soon it doesn’t fill like a game anymore. When I looked behind it seemed as if the whole village were looking for my head. I saw that only six men were following me directly. I concluded that, perhaps, the others are forming a circle to cut me off. If there had been a cover it would have been very easy to lose them. My hope of winning this chase is to find a way to get quickly reach the moor, and to do that, I had to run really fast. Before my pursuers appeared on the skyline behind me I had already gotten off the ridges and down into the moor. Soon I reached a dirt road and, I kept running with no idea where I was going.

As I continued to run, I saw another dirt road on my left side which had well-kept hedges on both sides. The road led to a house, and I began to wonder the type of person that might live in this lonely place. Usually, Nigerians seldom live in isolated places like this. They generally live in towns or villages where houses and compounds are closed together, often clustered around a central point. But this house is all by itself, with nothing around it but trees and forests.

I did a quick thinking. My luck have be good so far, and this lonely house may be a good hideout that might extend my luck. The fact that there were trees around it meant there’s a cover for me. Yet I have to be very careful, I said to myself. I did not follow the dirt road directly. Instead, I carefully  walked behind the hedges and trees that flanked it on the right so that I could have a good cover. It was a good move and soon I reached lawn surrounding the house. I looked back and concluded that I was out of sight of the pursuit, which made me feel better.

As I continued to walk towards the house, a flock of birds rose at my approach. The house before me was a simple bungalow that long veranda. Sitting in the veranda watching me was an elderly gentleman who appeared to be reading a newspaper. When I entered the veranda I saw that he had other books around him. He was as bald as a glass bottle and had glasses with thick lenses stuck on the end of his nose. He neither moved nor say anything when I arrived. He simply raised his eyebrows and waited on me to speak. Following the tradition of Nigerians, which requires young people to greet the elderly first before making any request, I said, “Good morning, sir.”

I knew then that it won’t be an easy job to convince this stranger who I was and what I had wanted. It will even be a tougher job to gain his trust. The funny things is that I had only a few minutes to do that.

“Morning, son,” he said. “You seem to be in a hurry.”

I wanted to go ahead and explain to him my situation, but there was something about his eyes that made me pause. I tried to speak, but I could not find a word. I simply stared at him and mumbled something that I myself could not hear.

“What is the problem, son?” he said again.

I pointed towards the window. Through it one could see across the moor through a gap in the trees flanking the house. Following my direction, he saw figures of my pursuers about half miles away.

“Oh, I see,” he said. He picked up what looked like a binoculars and patiently observed the figures.

He turned to me and said, “So you are running away from justice. We will talk about the details later. I will help you. Go into my study and you will see a door that leads to a room at the back of my house. Go into that room and close the door. I won’t let these villagers or the police to invade my privacy. You will be perfectly safe here.”

After he said that, he continued reading again.

I followed his instructions, and soon found myself in a dark room which smelt of chemicals. The only source of light in the room was a tiny window high up in the wall. As soon as I entered the room, the door behind me closed with a click – you know, a click like the door of a safe. I have, once again, been given another safe haven. But, for some reasons, I wasn’t comfortable. There was something about this elderly gentleman that made me nervous. He had been too ready and willing  to hide me, almost as if he was expecting me. And, I don’t trust what I saw when I looked in his eyes. I could not explain why, but his eyes set off an alarm bell in my mind.

The room remained quiet and, for all I knew, my pursuers might be searching the house. So I had no choice to forget how hungry I was and remain silent. But I started thinking. Yes, the elderly gentleman’s  eyes were scary, and yes, I don’t trust him. But he could scarcely refuse me a meal. I also started thinking about the kind of meal he might have here. He’s probably a widow, for what kind of wife would want to live in this lonely place where there’s no other ladies to gossip with. If I’m right, the type of meals he might have here would be rice-and-beans, bread, beverages, yam porridge and other meals that can be easily and quickly prepared by men. While all these were going on in my mind, I heard a click and the door stood open.

I came into the sunlight and saw the elderly gentleman sitting in the couch  in the room he called his study. While looking at me, he said, “You need not worry again. They have gone.”

I was very surprised.

“Gone where?” I asked.

“Who knows?” he replied. “All I can tell you is that I convinced them that you have crossed the hill.”

“Wow!” I said. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am. I will…”

“Not important,” he said, raising his hand. “I wouldn’t let the police or anybody come between me and an important man like you. This is indeed a lucky morning for you, Mr. Jideofor Okorie.”

 

 

 

END OF EPISODE 13

P.S. Stay tuned for Episode 14, which  will be published here next Sunday.