On The Streets Of Lagos - C

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"Your papa, he find you come". "I no know say e bin dey come, na you he find come o!" 

She went on about how Ajepe had been in the room earlier where he had come to talk to her about a scheme. Seven-Seven they called it. But one of her customers had hinted on it being a scam and she had no interest. She had vehemently told this to Ajepe and asked him to leave. He raised his voice saying she must be on board and brought out a knife. She thought she could handle the knife but as she made a run for it, he pinned her to a side of the room and pressed the knife to her side. With the knife to her side, he tore he clothes with the clear intentions of making her a prey to his selfish desires. It was at that an intruder came calling, one neither of them expected. He struggled with Ajepe who succeeded in driving the knife through his belly, sent him tumbling backwards and smashed his head in with a wooden structure.

 He then broke bottles the old crate just beneath the drinking pot outside and began to tear up her skin with those. The neighbors who had heard shouts of a fight had thought it was the regular garage disagreement and did not come calling until it was too late. Ajepe killed his father, fled the scene and mother dragged herself after him in her own blood.

“Where is he Maami?” I asked in a shaky voice

“He don go”

Eeeyahh, Yekpa, chai, all the pity exclamations from the crowd fell deaf to my ears.

What will I do? Will someone just help me here?
“Help her, I screamed, someone please help me get her to a Doctor”

“No be me”

 “Eh, I don jakpa”

“EEH! Dead body matter!”

“Police Station, I no fit o”

“Na english you still dey speak” came the replies.

Then I began to cry. “Help my mother, please I beg you” but the crowd soon reduced to a few onlookers. Her shoulders were going slack, I tried to lift her up alone, I couldn’t. I cried bitterly, jerking her up with dying gasps as rewards.                  

At this time, flies were all over to my father’s remains. No one cared, the onlookers looked at a distance. Baba Aladura had been right, Ajepe was bad news. Oh, I’d give anything to shout it like Maami did back in the day but I was lost in my tears, blinded by the torrents until I felt wetness on my lap where my head hung low in melancholy. It was raining, even the rain in her glory mocked me. I watched as the rain washed away what was my father’s brain. I could not decide which was better; the flies or a simple wash down. 

Unannounced rain in Lagos were the hardest, this was one of such. It goes on for so long that you’d keep wondering if our sins were really that much. I tried all the more, to move my mother but she was gone. Lost too much blood I reckon. Finally, I summoned the strength and crawled up into a ball under the rain, might as well go with you lot I said to myself. I laid there for what may have been an eternity, shivering as the rain furiously poured down. Eventually, the cold became rather unbearable and my teeth continued to make a shattering noise. My eyes lids kept dropping s and I welcomed the slumber. In the last moments, my half-closed lids caught a scene as thunder struck upon an old, worn inscription board I had never really noticed until now. It read: WE-KOM- TO DE STRI-TS OF LA-GOS-. I grew too tired to fight anymore and even in my final moments, the streets betrayed me; could have at least written those in correct English.