THE GREAT OVERSIGHT

a novel
by Daniel Akinmade
Emejulu

Copyright 2015

Gbigbe ile oku fun elomiran ko je ki eniyan o mo pe awon ota n

gbe ile okuu ti oluwaa re naa.
Digging the grave of another makes you unaware of discernible enemies
digging one for you.
Ancient Yoruba Proverb

Chapter One

Blackgold Island could only be reached by one bridgea span

infamous for three reasons. First, half of it gleamed with a sophisticated
glow of perfection. Illuminated by the brightest form of light bulbs, it was
a triumph of skillful European engineering. Everything looked new.
Everything looked expensive. On the other half of the bridge, none of the
light bulbs worked, and its filth was apparentto more than one of the
human senseseven at night. Cleaning contractors came from far and
wide, but none were able to remove the filth. Second, the locals knew the
bridge because it carried white people and other foreigners in luxury cars
lots of them. So every market day, the beggars on Blackgold Island

would get as close to the incoming cars as they could. The foreigners
traveled in long convoys with mind-splitting sirens and special police
forces who pointed their big guns menacingly out of their cars, so begging
was never as promising as it seemed. Finally, the bridge was known
because of its extraordinary length, coming all the way from Gateway
State, where everyone who worked on Blackgold Island lived. Such was its
length that the thought of having to climb the bridge acted as a
reminder to the Nigerian chauffeurstasked with driving the foreigners
every daythat they needed to intensify their search for alternative
employment.
Upon arriving at Blackgold Islandat the end of the bridgethe first
thing that instantly stuck out (apart from the beggars) was the Islands
creatures. They were found in curious places. Fish flapped on land, as if
they were minutes away from death, but whenever the locals pushed the
fish back into the dark-colored streams, they would spring back onto the
land and continue to flap crude oil off themselves. Monkeys floated in the
streams, and the way their faces sunk beneath the water surface
suggested that their stillness would be permanent. There were fallen trees
beside most monkeysdrifting along the still waters, being moved by an
unseen force. Porcupines and civets dangled from the branches of the
trees not fallen, but they were secure. They had visibly been shot dead,
but were so high into their trees that none of the hunters who had shot
them could afford to buy the type of climbing rope or raffia-belt that would
assure a safe climb to retrieve them. So each time one of the bush-meat
fell down, there would be a vicious scramble among the locals.

The living animals on the Island were scarce. They all had abnormal
body contours, which gave the equatorial jungle a cursed ambiance. Every
morning rush hour, an army of brown mongrel dogswith half their faces
missingsituated themselves in between the lanes of traffic, as the luxury
cars came off the bridge and made their way further into the Island. Half
of the dogs had extra legs, growing below their jaws or down from their
tales. With half of their mouths, they barked ceaselessly at the passing
cars, and jumped up so they would see the foreigners as they came into
work every day.
The oldest living creature on Blackgold Island was the piapiac bird.
One of her wings was missing. She often chirped about the constant pain
it caused her, akin to a screw driver being permanently etched into an eye
socket. A gas-flaring pipe, one vertically standing, towering structure,
which released hellish flames at its topin a way that made it a
skyscraping candlehad set her ablaze. She blamed her aging eyesight
for missing the flames, and also the fact that Blackgold Islands clouds
were themselves, the color of fire.
Her survival was a miracle. For even when she plunged into a
nearby stream, the floating deposits of crude oil set the entire stream
alight. The piapiac flew back out instantly, and smelt billows of smoke
wafting out of her beakfrom where they choked her and scorched every
tiny organ inside. She spotted a bucket full of water belonging to a
neighboring family. As she fluttered towards their clean water, they
viciously fought her away. But they were visibly afraid of the flames
consuming her. That split-second before she nose-dived in, the moment

she saw the reflection of her body, ablaze and frantic, left an indelible
picture in her mind. Every detail of her life flashed before her in that green
bucket.
For the reason of her miraculous survival, together with her
extraordinary longevity, she enjoyed a form of reverence from the other
animals that would normally be reserved for idols. The piapiac however,
abhorred the attention from the other animals. She kept much distance
from them all, and hoped they would never understand her ways. She
withdrew herself in this way for she joined a secret cult shortly after her
accident, and was instantly ordained as a superior witch. The cult had
warned the piapiac: If her membership of the cult or the tasks they had
given her were ever disclosed, then they would make her blind. She
feared that if they did so, she may unwittingly set fire to herself by
crossing over a gas-flaring pipe again. So she needed privacy as she went
about the duties they assigned her.
She joined the cult for one main reason. After the accident, she felt
a great sense of urgency for solving the problems on the Island. She knew
that the cult held a form of power that could help with the cause. Their
strength was sourced from the anguish and bitterness of the Islands
prematurely deceased. She found this out the morning after the accident,
when she discovered the blessing of having one wing: It gave her the
ability to tweet with the voices of this secret cult from earth. She heard
they held meetings in the spiritual realms that lay six-feet-under the earth
of Blackgold Island, amidst the congregation of the dead.

At her first meeting, the principal members of the cult introduced

themselves. The dead monkeys with spines bending leftwards stood out
first, waving to her ceaselessly. Then the lifeless fish with blue fur, instead
of scales, nodded respectfully. A gang of long-legged alligators explained
their legs grew an inch every year, for the eighty-three they had been in
purgatory. The piapiac noticed more members, heading towards the
meeting, in their soulless forms. They sifted through the earths breathless
undergroundtowards herwith tired strides that gently parted the dense
togetherness of the soil in their way. Soon, there were enough creatures
present to have a raucous party. They assembled in a circle, standing side
by side as equal kings of the underworld. Altogether, they congregated
under the roots of one tree. The trees roots spread themselves so deeply
into the underground soil they appeared more like a displaced grandoctopus. Everyone did their best to stand upright, under the roots, and
then look up to its shoots. Though, for one reason or another, the desire to
stand upright proved difficult for all.
The piapiac struggled to rise to her feet. Struggled, because
standing up was a balancing act that really required two-wings. She finally
gained balance on her feet, but as she came to a stand, her nose hit one
of the tentacles of the roots. Without intending to, she inhaled some of the
soil around it. A hologram instantly came within her plain sight, as if she
was watching a television set placed in the midst of the cult members; a
television set that only she was privy to.
She saw visuals dating back two centuries: Of a curious battle
fought between scores of Blackgold Island indigenes and white men who

were trying to take them overseasin chains. The picture suddenly

changed to a naked, large-breasted womanlocated in background of the
battlewho wore the low placed haircut of a male. Next to the lady was a
man lying on the ground. Red-pearls gushed out of an ugly slash in his
throat, flowing down in one continuum, creating half-of-a-necklace. The
piapiac perceived the copper-like smell of his blood, fragranced with the
pungent sweat of a warrior. The woman caught some of his blood in her
palms; her tears rained down on the blood, almost automatically. She
rubbed her husbands blood and her tears into the soilciting ritualistic
incantations as she did so. The hologram disappeared.
Her mind returned to the meeting, and the piapiac refocused on the
stench of the soil that coated the tentacles of the great roots. She now
recognized it. This was the same stench wafting from the blood of the
warriors neck. The lady had cursed the soil the cult was congregating in.
The soil these great roots had grown from was the site of a malediction.
She paused, and then pondered. Which of the Islands trees was this? Oh
yes, this was the tree that grew to one of the most soaring heights on the
Island, despite the fact that the suns rays didnt fall on this corner of the
Island for the majority of any given year, despite that it was slanted in two
places.
The piapiac had to give the meeting her full attention. The roots of
the tree started telling the unspeakable story of the cult, addressing the
piapiac directly. We have been waiting for decades, the roots said. The
cult has awaited a catalyst who will utilize the might of our collective
bitternesswhich for too long has been imprisoned in the underworldby

carrying out specified rituals on earth. These rituals would provoke our
combined energy. We would send the energy to the forces that empower
usour godsjust like a prayer, who would then invoke an oracle. The
oracle will fight the agents of injustice on the Island and beyond: The
foreigners.
The piapiac agreed to be the one to carry out the rituals. As soon
as she agreed, the roots ordained her as a witch. The other members put
her through the rites of passage. The roots must have occupied the
highest echelon of power within the cult, she thought. This had to be why
everyone assembled beneath its great tentacles in the first place. This
had to be why the each one of the induction rituals were entirely
dependent on the rootslike when the monkey bit into his own arm, in
order to draw blood, and then mixed it in his palms with some soil from
the roots, before placing the concoction down her beakor like when the
alligator bathed her in vile smelling puke, only after gagging himself, by
taking one of the roots tentacles so deep into his mouth it reshaped the
dimensions of his stomach.
When the rites of passage concluded, the roots told the piapiac the
conditions attached to her new calling. If any other party found out about
the details of her mission, their knowledge would severe the nexus
between the rituals she would be perfuming on earth, and the frequencies
they would be emittingto galvanize the oraclefrom the underworld.
The trouble such a severance would cause them, would incur their
combined wrath.

On returning to the world, the piapiac had the responsibility of

cursing foreigners who were contributing to the problems on the Island.
She would have to follow them, and take notes until it was clear they
could be deemed guilty in the eyes of the cult. To successfully place a hex
on someone she had fully investigated in this way, she would have to be
with the individualfrom the moment their luxury car embarked on the
bridgeuntil they arrived at their actual place of work. On such a journey,
she needed to mark the person, their car, and their office, by perching on
all three. For the last part of the ritual, she would need to chirp elegies to
the rising sun; elegies about the atrocities the foreigner was responsible
for, so that the universe could channel the message to the cult in the
underworld. And then the cult would then pass the order on to their gods
to invoke an oracle.
So every day, the piapiac joined the half-faced mongrel dogs as they
harassed the cars coming off the bridge. She would flap herself up with
just the one wing so that she could see into the eyes of the foreigners,
and look for guilt with rare abilities bestowed to her as a superior witch.
Spotting guilt in the eyes, as she searched in this way, would help her
narrow down the persons to investigate.
She followed the morning traffic. The foreigners came off the bridge
and went further into the Island. She desperately struggled for eyecontact, hovering above the hoods of passing cars, also keeping an eye on
the road to make sure she didnt back into anything. The next thing she
would see as she followed them off the bridge, past the dead animals
littering the welcoming scenes, was the shantytown of Blackgold Island.

This part of the Island was so deep in the heart of the African
equatorial jungle it usually inspired foreigners on their way to work to
make comparisons with the Amazon Rainforest. The piapiac however, was
very well travelled and so disliked such comparisons. For this jungle,
unlike the Amazon, was inhabited by humans, living in shanty houses. For
this reason, she always regarded it as a shantytown first and a jungle
second. Plus, she knew each of the many distinct tribes that lived in the
shantytown: in thousands of slum-houses that sat on a network of rivers
and creeks and swamps. Because much of the grounds were so marshy
and prone to flooding, the people built their houses on piles which
elevated them. The piapiac thought this was unwise, because every
morning, to reach their houses, she saw people having to use narrow and
very shaky wooden catwalks, with waters gushing underneath. The
catwalks were supported by stiltslogs of uneven lengthso whenever
she switched glances between foreigners, in different cars, she could see
an elderly person on the horizon falling into the gushing waters, upon
attempting to enter their homes.
She often perched on the shanty houses to rest her wing, to regain
energy. The houses were wood framed and rectangular. The walls were
made of mats, woven from the fronds and ribs of palm leaves. The roofs
were made of rusting corrugated iron. The sight of such iron roofs
depressed her. For it inspired her to think about how unsightly the
community of roofs looked from above. She would shake off this thought
and take flight again, and soon catch up with another car.

The foreign workers, who came in daily, from Gateway State, didnt
look her even as they passed through the shantytown jungle. She had
learned to expect this. Most of them refused to glance out of their
windows at all. Their convoy would drive them past the unfortunate sights,
further into the Island. They would either be reading newspapers or
working on their laptops. This made the eye contact impossible. Twenty
minutes in, they would arrive at the part of Blackgold Island, which they
set out for. The part that several oil companies had made their home.
Their offices, oil-drills, pipelines and gas flaring pipes were mainly on this
part of the Island. The shanty people who had seen it referred to it as
London, despite the fact none of them had left Nigeria.
On this part of the Island, exotic palm trees had grown so far into
the clouds that the piapiac struggled to fly above the reach of their
collective umbrella. She flew to such altitudes to relish the sight of the
ominous twilight that was casted upon the jungle all the time, especially
the sky above London.
***
Oracle plunged from a cloud with the irreversible speed of a fallen
angel. Her back drew closer to the ground by the second, and her arms
rowed the air as if it was waterall the way down. She wanted to stop
howling with fright. And when she turned away from the heavens to face
the ground, her robe acted as a cape, slowing her descent. So she smiled.
She landed on a busy roadin a cavernous pothole, filled with murky
bronze water that swallowed the tires of passing motorcycle-taxis, and
human legs making their way through it. Oracle looked to the right. She

shook her head. On her left, she sensed a mans pain in a hut one mile
away. His pain excited her core; she wanted to embrace it. And so, she
climbed upon a hut, with rusting corrugated iron for a roof. Then she leapt
from the roof of the hut to another, and then another. She ran in this way,
until she was out of breath. She got to her target hut, sat on its roof and
listened.
Efe, you knew she would die, a firm male voice said. So please,
stop all this crying.
Doctor, how can you say that? My mother was the only person I
had. Efe wept with great anguish in his breath.
I know of rich people that have struggled with Leukemia treatments
how much more someone like you who refused to raise money.
Oracle jumped down from the roof and looked into the window. Efe
was knelt by his mothers bedside, vibrating the walls of the hut with his
screaming.
Efe, you are giving me a headache. The doctor released a
painkiller from its sachet
and swallowed it. Look, everybody who came here to visit her told me
she went to Oloibiri stream. Now, my own question to you is, was it
laziness or stubbornness that forced her to go there? Everyone knows to
avoid it. Efe hugged his mother. Do you know how much benzene is in
that water? In fact, you wont even know what Im talking about! The
doctor stormed out of the patient room.
Oracle wondered why he stopped in his tracks outside. Efe, please
remove this smelling fishnet when you go. Only you would trade in fish

with this amount of oil covering it. Anyway, when the people you sell it to
are dying, dont bring them to me.
Oracle walked into the room. A nurse placed two stained bed sheets
over Efes mothers face. Oracle embraced Efe from behind with both
hands, uttering silent words into his left-ear, The people of Swaziland say
that if you do not cry about your pain, they will kill you and say you
enjoyed it. Efe, cry with me. For I know and love your pain. Let the oil
companies that did this hear us cry. My husband, marry me, and let them
feel our pain. Remember, the peaceful approach will get us nothing. Think
about Nek Oras. Efe broke away from her arms. He leaned out of a
square hole in the wall, taking in fresh air. Blackgold Islands regional
politicians smiled at him from their campaign posters. Oracles hands
ignited, with an illuminated lava glow. Then with both hands, she broke
open her own chest, and went in. Her hands wrestled around, trying to
grip something inside her core.
She kept sight of Efe, still looking up to a sky that was marred with
fumes. He wiped his tears and nodded like an infant, as if he were hopeful
about tomorrow. I must run for office and do what these politicians are
not, he said aloud. Oracles hands secured what they were seeking. She
removed her hands from inside her chest, revealing a palm-sized, oil
soaked roach. She enclosed it in her left hand. It was dead, but it legs
were still scratching her palms. With one finger on her free hand, she
drilled an opening into Efes skull, and then forced the roach into the
opening. With this roach, I wed thee Efe, she said aloud. Till death do
us part.

The next morning, Oracle let herself into Efes room even before he
woke up. She sat on his mattress, waiting for him to rise. Yeay! Efe
bellowed, sitting up in his bed. My chest is on fire. He felt around his
chest. Oracle laughed to herself, wondering why he was exaggerating. For
she could see past his shirt, and admitted to him that his chest had
changed from how he last understood it: It was burnt and disfigured, it
had collapsed inwards. But where was the fire? she joked.
She stroked his back in a manner akin to a mother who was trying to
get wind out of her baby. When Efe spoke after her doing so, his words
came out as incantations. Oracle understood the incantations: He was
praising her for what she was doing in his life. She nodded at him and
smiled. She was especially glad he was speaking with the husky intonation
of a demon.
He frantically ran out of his room, visibly unsure of his destination.
Oracle followed after him on all fours as if she was a cat. They met Mama
Tonye along the way. She told Efe his eyes had changed. She brought out
a mirror from her purse and handed it over to him. Oracle stood up,
behind Efe, and peered into the mirror too. The blood vessels in Efes eyes
were obtrusive, painting the clear whiteness with strokes of red. And there
were two neon pink balls, which were settled in the inner corner of each of
his eyes; they had assumed the size of a cashew nut. Efe made the sort of
gasping sounds expected of someone unable to talk.
With his freehand, he lifted his shirt up as though he was dying to
see the so called fire on his chest. Oracle counted seven distinct patches

of depigmented skin staring back at him in the mirror, making his torso
both brown and white. Together with the deformation to the bone
structure of his chest area, which gave the impression it had been blasted
inwards with a bulldozer, Efes body was the artwork of a demon. Oracle
laughed as Mama Tonye ran away from Efe.
When he finished talking with Mama Tonye, Efe didnt go to the
doctor or a pastor, as she advised before running away. Oracle spoke into
Efes ear, Find me another husband.
Efe ran through the shantytown, one alleyway after the other. The
alleys met at intersecting junctions, which Efe navigated through so deftly
Oracle lost her bearings altogether. She marveled as he took turns into
narrow pathways with the sort of split-second precision that prevented
even his clothes from grazing the walls. He clearly had someone specific
in mind.
Oracle was out of breath when they finally arrived at a shack made
of tin. The family residing in the shack had cut out jagged square holes in
the tin walls, to act as windows and placed a filthy beige curtain inside
perhaps to thwart the entry of the insects assembled on the curtains
outdoor aspect. Efe stopped short of knocking on the door, and just
peeped into the lucent curtain. He scanned the inside of their house from
different angles with a furtive air to his movements. Oracle watched him
from six feet away, hearing only the sound of a television set in the shack.
An overweight ladywearing a white t-shirt and a multicolored
cloth-wrapper around her waistabruptly threw the door open. She
merely spat water out onto the ground with a casualness that indicated it

was a routine. Oracle caught her eyes grow bigger at the sight of Efe
peeking into her home. Efe, what are you doing? she barked. Efe
jumped to an alert stand. If you wanted to see Osaki you ought to have
just knocked. You know that. Are you not best-friends? Efe didnt respond;
he faced the floor. Anyway, he has gone to the farm. I thought you would
be there with him since these people have spoilt your fish market. You can
come in and wait for him, since Im expecting him to bring back some
yams for lunch. By the way, sorry about your mum. I pray her soul rests in
peace. Efe didnt go in. He didnt even speak.
Efe went into a nearby bushOracle followed. They waited there. At
sunset, the fellow Oracle presumed to be Osaki was whistling a morose
Ijaw song and carrying a basket of yam tubers, which was dripping with oil
every ten seconds. Efe spotted him coming. Oracle noticed him retreating
further into the bush. Efe raised himself up on tiptoe, and widened his
eyes like he was about to pounce. He launched himself onto Osakis back
and in one motion, pushed him down until they both thumped to the
ground. Osakis face landed with a drum-sounding impact, which raised
dust. The yam tubers fell dramatically and spread themselves all around
Osakis body.
Efe hoisted himself to his feet with two pushups. He then lifted
Osaki, but only to place him in a one arm headlock, so that Osakis head
was faced to the ground. In this way he dragged Osaki, slanted at a fortyfive degree angle, his feet scraping the earth. Efe was moving like a
nervous wreck himselflooking around obsessively, as if everything he
saw made him scared. Oracle nodded ceaselessly. She took her place in

front of them, and then crawled with the prowess of a tiger, directing the
way. Osaki, dont worry, she heard Efe say. I am taking you to SHE. I am
taking you to SHE, he kept on. It will be ok.

They finally arrived at a sky reaching tree, which was slanted in two
places. The tree stood amid a cluster of rundown bungalows, so that
without the tree the bungalows would have been umbrellaless. Oracle
came out of her tiger position and stood upright, before the tree. She
glanced back at Efe, who was placing Osaki down on the ground, looking
to her for instruction. Oracle turned to the tree and licked at its bark. The
ruggedness was so severe it gashed her tongue in four places. She sprung
back as her blood-pearls trickled down the trees bark, eventually
smashing against the earth. The splinters in her tongue distracted her.
There was a cheeky locomotion of the splinters toward each other, until
she felt them form a star-shaped object in the flesh her tongue. The
splinters, bound in their star shape, pushed down her throat and then
shuttled upwards, through four arteries and four veins in her skull,
spinning all the way to the top of her brain, where she felt them lodge.
She shuddered with feelings of malaise, feeling as though she was about
to throw up everything in her skull. The star whirled hysterically, inducing
a hallucinatory experience. And just then, a vision surrounded Oracle, as if
she was in the midst of a motion picture: the derelict bungalowsunder
the trees umbrellahad become the home of her husbands. The tree
protected the bungalows, and all the husbands she brought into them. Her
husbands were carrying out her mission with the same level of mystery

the tree possessed. The arrangement worked out like it was set in nirvana.
Osaki, my husband to be, dont worry, she said, gradually regaining her
sense of true perception. For I can see the vision. Indeed I had seen the
vision a while ago, she said.
As Oracle came out of the trance fully, she pondered on the tree and
all she knew about it. World renowned foresters had come from abroad to
classify it, but despite their collective expertise, they consistently failed to
ascertain her species, order and even her family. After fifty years of trying,
they all gave up. And for this reason the tree was the object of Oracles
constant astonishment. But of recent, she needed more from the tree than
a mere source of fascination. And so, a little while ago, and in the absence
of any human witnesses, Oracle extracted a vow. Not just from the tree,
but from the branches of the tree. The branches swore to shield every one
of the bungalows under their far-reaching arms. All her husbands would be
untouchable, they promised. The branches would blind humans from afar,
so that the bungalows would be impossible to find.
Even those who would try locating the enclave by water would meet
the blinding glare of the trees leaves, which would hypnotize them
towards an inlet that would lead them to a creek. The creek would take
them through a time consuming bend, with giant foliage blocking their
view of the bungalows. They would end up at a swamp. And then pass
through a rivulet. This was how they would hopelessly navigate the
labyrinths of Blackgold Island. Oracle guffawed the day she heard the tree
say this, nodding ceaselessly all the while. In return, Oracle promised to
come to the tree every fortnight and shed blood that would help nourish

the tree, for it had complained that the cursed blood it normally thrived on
was losing its vitality. The widow of an untaken warrior, killed as far back
as the slave trade era, offered the blood.
Oracle studied her blood as it dried into the soil of the tree. But the
sound of Osaki regaining consciousness drew her eyes. Then she turned to
see Efes reaction. He was oblivious, using a piece of chalk to write RingLeda on the walls of one the many bungalows. Osaki got up. He ran up to
Efe and pushed him. Efe, it was you! What are you doing? Whats all this
rubbish? Osaki looked around, trying to contextualize everything. Efe!
he continued shouting. Efe didnt reply. Osaki kept calling his name, and
pushing him, expressing his confusion and annoyance. Efe! With the
fourth push, Oracle gripped Osakis head from behind. He froze, but didnt
look back. Oracle turned him around.
She became transfixed on his eyes, and in them, saw her own
reflectionfor the first time. She was wearing a silk robe, which was a rich
shade of purple. Though, she could see that a hood came with the robe,
and was covering about half of her face. How then can I see my
reflection? She removed the hood. There were three eyes on her face,
forming an ugly triangle. Her attention shifted from her eyes to the rest of
her face. Fish tails, and human reproductive organs, were emerging and
then retreating back into her flesh, moving along on the surface of her
skin with a life of their own. She gasped, and then surmised that her
appearance was the reason Osaki was trying to scream, but was too
choked to do so. He fixated on her shoulders, as if he wanted to avoid any

possibility of eye contact. Her heart broke, for this was his response to her
marriage proposal.
Oracle leaned in towards Osakis ear. She whispered incantations in
a smooth, almost romantic fashion. Soon, Osaki was drooling as if his
mouth was a faucet. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. He fainted.
Oracle caught him before he hit the ground, and then carried him like a
newborn baby. She turned to Efe. Very well done, she said. Continue to
bring me more husbands like this. One by one, we will become the Action
to Stop Oil Corruption, ASOC. She placed Osaki into Efes arms, like he
was now Efes baby.

In the weeks to come, Osaki proved himself to be a baby indeed. He

released oil-workers kidnapped by ASOC without permission. With an
aerosol can and a lighter, Efe put a third-degree burn on Osakis thigh, on
a night that the moon was absent from the sky. This, Efe said, was how
Osaki would be forced to grow up. Osaki said he hadnt seen the problem
with releasing the fat Indonesian man, and the talkative Malaysian
woman. They were only mid-profile workers, clearly not the big ogas. And
their respective oil companies had paid their ransom. In fact, one Mr. Supo
Valentine-Castro had even delivered the weapons theyd ordered with the
ransom money.
But it was the principle, Efe said. And as she watched on from the
invisible realms, Oracle agreed with Efe: Hostages should only be released
on his command. Osaki and Efe had gotten into a brutal fight that day. Efe
won. Even after several hulks held Osaki down, in order for Efe to burn his

thigh, Osaki still didnt accept his error. Efe was still wrong. Osaki
vocalized his discontent, saying he just wished he could have beaten Efe
up to substantiate his rightness. Then he dared to fight Efe again. The
hulks held Osaki by each limb so that he was lying on thin-air with his face
to the sun. They then summoned Oracle from the invisible realms. This
marked the end of the matter.
In his mid-air position, Oracle pulled Osakis camouflage pants down
to his ankles, and then brought his boxer-shorts down to his knees. She
lifted up his penis with one hand. Then with her other hand, she fetched a
wire-thin-cordfrom a pocket on her robesand lashed his testicles. She
waited until hearing the whack of the cable as it wrapped around his hip
and licked his butt, before lashing him again. Only the strong will survive
what is coming Osaki, she yelled. The weak will have to die. His
scrotum reddened and inflamed instantly. She lashed him twenty three
times. One lash for each year he had been alive. He fainted.
ASOC metamorphosed from a group of undernourished shantytown
youth into an unmistakable army. They were the only people on Blackgold
Island with turbo speedboats. They dominated the waters of the Island,
intent on bringing about a new order: The locals needed to be sorted out,
before they could execute their mission against the foreigners. Most of the
locals navigated the waters with poorly made dugout canoes, and when
they heard a speedboat afar, Oracle noticed that they would flee. For they
had come to realize that an encounter with an ASOC speedboateach one
packed full with hulks and titans: men with the physique of Ancient Greek
godscame with forceful recruiting or deadly consequence.

Oracle loved it when her husbands would tear off the shirt of a new
recruit and forcibly put a fluorescent colored shirt on him. She had given
Efe the shirts. Putting them on an eligible bachelor was her invitation to
appear in the human realm, and then whisper her marriage vows into the
fellows ear. In addition to the shirts, they all had to wear army
camouflage pants, and balaclavas, so that their group had a sense of
aesthetic unity. They were the sort of balaclavas that covered the entire
face and only revealed unfriendly eyebrows and red eye balls that inspired
fear. Efe was the only one in the group who wore a crimson balaclava
which harmonized well with his eyeswhile most others wore purple ones.
A few of them used white face paint; they were of a very low rank. Every
one of them had ammunition rounds draped over their shirts, as though
they were inspired by Rambo films. Lifting their assault riflesand some
rocket launchersinto the sky with one hand, they all sang mantras in
perfect sync; mantras which she ghost-whispered to them.
***
At the early lights of dawn on the Island, the piapiac perched on a
tree in London. She faced the dark lights and tweeted with the voices of
the secret cult. They summoned her to a meeting that night, at their usual
rendezvous point, six-feet beneath the surface of the earth.
The piapiac turned up to the meeting early, for she had bad news to
relay. Before anyone else could speak, she cleared her throat and started,
Great roots of the mysterious tree, the one who gives sustenance to the
prematurely deceased of the underworld, I salute you. But I am afraid to
say that I have not made much progress in my search for guilty foreigners.

Not because there are none, but because they make no eye contact with
me. They are so oblivious to life on the Island, that on their way to work
every morning I cant even get a peek into their eyes to search for guilt.
And great roots, I cant follow everyone I suspect for I have only one wing
and tire easily. But The piapiac felt one of the roots wrap around her
beak, stopping her from speaking. The meeting came to dramatic pause.
Their attention was seized by a white man, a human being, on the horizon
a horizon only those six-feet under the earth were privy to.
The white man blinked himself into full consciousness. He was lying
down on his back, immersed in their total darkness. The silence was
heavy. The piapiac sensed the roots detangle from around her beak. Can
he see us? she asked in a whisper.
What is he doing in the realms of the underworld? a dead monkey
piped.
Keep shut! the roots of the tree responded. All of you.
The piapiac heard the white man draw in a sharp breath. He
touched the skin under his fingernails and winced. She saw needles
etched under each one, breaking each of his nails in half.
Hello, he called out. Am I in a hospital? Can someone come in?
The piapiac noticed his words echoed hollowly, she could see his higherself realizing something was wrong.
He swung his legs to the right, where they smacked against cheapsounding wood. He tried the same maneuver to the left, with the same
result. When he tried to sit up, his head collided painfully with another
surface. The piapiac flinched for his sake. He raised his right hand to wipe

the liquid oozing from every pore on his face. His left hand followed too.
He sniffed the area around his wrists. Handcuffs? he exclaimed.
A beam of light suddenly appeared near his waist, and then moved
about, vibrating. A melody played.
He maneuvered his hands toward the cell phone. His fingers
clutched it, just barely, and he jabbed at its buttons. Then he flung the
phone beside his left ear so quickly that it smacked the side of his face. A
burst of malicious laughter erupted from the speakers.
Hello. Hello. Who is it? the white man snapped. There was no reply
only more laughter.
Seven heartbeats later, the laughter turned into coughing, then
finally speech. Mr. Spencer, my Oyinbo friend, a husky male voice said.
Are you enjoying your casket?
Casket? Spencer kicked and thumped the inside of his prison.
Spencer, I forgot to ask you something. Do you know what my
name means? asked the same voice.
Please, let me out. I will do anything, just name it. Please Sir!
Spencer shouted.
I am Efemini, the voice continued. Well, Efe for short. But it
means show the world how wealthy you will be. And you know, in my
twenty-two years, I havent even experienced joy. Efe hissed. Well, apart
from now, because Im more than happy right now.
Please! Spencer raised his head, to project his voice. The piapiac
saw a red liquid trickling down from his hairline and into his mouth, which

he licked. I promise. You will gain so much more, if you just dig me out.
Dig me out, please!
Spencer. I think you know how this is going to end.
Spencer banged and kicked the walls of his casket, though with
reduced energy. The piapiac thought about how irksome the warmth
would have been, how the overpowering wave of sweaty smells must
have been responsible for his coughs. His blinks became longer; and the
piapiac was aware these were the sort of blinks that offered a permanent
invitation to the underworld. He mustered strength for a double-fisted
pummel, which broke an opening in the upper surface of the casket, just
above his head. An avalanche of debris made its way in, gushing into his
nostrils and eyes, and overflowing in his mouth. She saw it rush down his
esophagus, and then pile up in the inner walls of his lungs. It kept doing
so, until Spencer could no longer cough out the rubble.
My dependants, look up, the roots of the tree murmured. Look
directly up from Spencers grave, to the realms of the mortals. You will
soon understand why I called for this meeting.
The piapiac looked away from Spencers corpse upwards, until she
set eyes on Efe. He was stood tall on Spencers grave and still had a cell
phone in hand. He was king of the mountain, enjoying the morbid stillness
around him. A group of boys stared at him, as if awe-struck by their king.
They were in a field with only three trees, all of which had fallen.
The piapiac surmised the field must have been ashamed of itself. Its grass
was covered by a black sheen that made it look as if someone had poured
gallons of black paint over the entire grassland, and then placed a pinch

of glitter on each blade of grass. This produced a significant amount of

sparkling. For the field was the size of a football pitch. Wise roots, a
dead mongrel asked, I didnt know there were two graveyards on the
Island? When did this one come about? The piapiac too, was confused to
see that the field also doubled as a graveyard, with empty graves
positioned all throughout the fieldapart from Spencers.
I will tell you when we can talk, the roots snapped. For now, I
want you all to concentrate on Efe.
The piapiac did not concentrate of Efe. She pondered on this new
graveyard, and couldnt stop her mind from going back to when cityplanners put things together, over five decades ago. No one imagined the
first and only graveyards capacity would be so quickly assumed. Then,
life on the Blackgold Island was abundant. Men thrived as fishers, their
families made fortunes as farmers and their children were superlative
hunters. It was total bliss. There were no foreigners. Now, however, things
had fallen apart. She knew the graves of almost all the indigenous people
of the Islandwho had died of starvation, food and water poisoning, in
violent outbreaks with armed security and of totally broken spirits. She
wondered: Could Efe have created this graveyard with his men? And was
it intended for the foreigners or for the indigenes?
Efe drew her attention at last, as he sprang off Spencers grave. The
piapiac noticed the debris beneath his feet was sinking. When he was on
firm ground, Efe leaned over Spencers grave and pushed his cell phone
deep into the sinking debris, as if to symbolize finished business.

My dependants it is safe to talk, the roots said. I called this

meeting because the eldest one of you all, who continues to travel the
road between earth and the underworld, is too late. Piapiac, you spoke,
without invitation to do so, about how you have failed.
I am sorry great roots, the piapiac added. It is because I have
been unable to make any eye contact since
It does not matter, the roots snapped. Oracle is on the earth
already. What you all just saw, that was Oracles doing. I wanted you all
here to see it.
Great roots, I do not mean to challenge your utterances, the
piapiac whimpered, but I thought Oracle could only surface on the earth
when I completed the rituals. When I provoked the anger of the
underworld. I thought the underworlds rage needed be provoked, so that
such energy would be sent to the forces, our gods, and they would then
invoke her.
The roots of the indiscernible tree explained that one evening, a
new branch broke out of another branch at the crown of his height. It
broke out for a purpose. It was born to observe a nearby stream, for the
roots sensed a spiritual current brooding within the stream. Although the
stream was both black and colored with refuse, the branch was still able
to see through the lowest depth of the stream, all the way to the soil
grounding it. And it was what the branch saw, hours after its birth that
was just finally relayed to the roots of the indiscernible tree, and inspired
the call for a meeting.

It took quite some weeks for the news to travel from the newborn
branch at the crown of the tree to the roots. But every part of the tree told
the story to another, until it eventually tricked down. The story went like
this: One night, some soil at the bottom of its stream of interest broke,
and then shifted apart as if related ends of separate magnets inspired the
divergence. A whirling entity sprang from the crack. It mixed with crude oil
residue in the stream and engulfed a dead mackerel fish with a spin. Its
eddies accelerated in pace, and soon the ominous swirling gave birth to
an idiosyncratic current, which rose to the top most level of the stream,
with the appearance of a houses foundationgyrating on the water.
The image created by its movements was a unified one; the way the
force of water stuck togetherdifferent from the rest of the water in the
streamgave it an eccentric identity. The entity climbed from the water
yet remained positioned in the stream all the whileuntil it attained a
height above the tree. The vision was reminiscent of the famous Jet dEau
attraction in Switzerland. It generated unholy winds, which rocked the tree
and almost removed the newborn branch. The spirit within the waterborne entity congealed into a female human figure, leaving some of the
water behind in the stream. It fluttered into the airspelling out Oracle
on the way up.
Oracle landed on a cloud, causing it to stop moving. She looked up
to the heavens and exhaled, Oh heavens, I seek you. For I have not been
empowered to do as I wish by my own forces. I awaited a catalyst, whose
rituals would bestow me with power, but I have waited in vain. So I stand
here, rejecting my forces and seeking you.

You have been accepted, said the heavens. You are accepted up
here, because you still have beauty in your heart. I will use youon
Blackgold Islandin my own way. I will use you to
Oracle interrupted, I wish to kill the foreigners on the Island. They
are the agents of death and injustice. I can take no more of their ways.
Use me for that.
Vengeance is mine, the heavens replied. Until then, I will rule
patiently and with mercy. Oracle went into a fit of fury, hopping between
the clouds in tantrum. Each of the clouds would form a red lining, and cry,
as she landed on themuntil rains were hitting the earth with the speed
of bullets. Oracle fell from the clouds in this way, until she left the
branchs sight.
Oracle was impatient, the roots concluded. By seeking the
heavens, she annoyed the forces empowering us in the underworld. She
has since come back, begging for forgiveness. But they needed the soul of
a foreigner to be offered as sacrificeto reconcile. So she used Spencer,
for he was spiritually unprotected and fell into the hands of her men.
Piapiac, because you wasted much time in your quest to mark guilty
foreigners, and the forces were mindful of Oracles growing impatience,
they changed their laws: Because they need Oracle, as much as she
needs them. Now, they will allow her to strike any foreigner, evidence of
guilty or not. The only condition is that she must await new ones to arrive
from overseas. The foreigners here, on the Island, whom you failed to
mark, must be spared. Otherwise, she will enrage the heavens who told
her to leave them alone. But the forces ordered her to make strong

examples of those yet to come, so that those here will flee. They have not
confined her to seek vengeance for the Island aloneshe is now the
princess of the power of all the air in Nigeria.
***
Yvette Saunders lived in England in a supremely placed house on
Chigwell Hill Road, with her husband, Clive Coombes. She refused to
change her name to Coombes when they married, and even insisted their
children would bear her own surname. Yvette always wanted kids. She
even named her first pregnancy, just weeks in. But when she discovered
Roger had Downs syndrome she aborted him and never tried again. She
decided to live alone with Clive, and channel their money towards a house
in Chigwell. The town of Chigwell was a dwelling place for nouveau riche
families and couples. But the people who lived in Chigwell were the type
of nouveau riche that were no longer being called nouveau riche.
Yvette drew back her bedroom drapes. The sun rose above her front
lawn and glistened against the grass. Afraid to run up the electricity bill,
she wanted its rays to creep into her window so she left the drapes drawn.
Then fetched her Chanel Diamond purse and held it up the above her
headby the windowappraising the purse rather than admiring it.
Yvette! Clive called. Yvette! Come watch. Its about Nigeria!
She didnt budge; she kissed her teeth. Everything about Clive
repulsed her. The way he spoke without taking in a breath, the cigarette
smells concomitant with his presence, and most of all his face.
Yvette, come quick! Its almost done! She continued ignoring him
and carried seven Diego Dolcini boxes from her walk-in closet over to her

side of their bed. After she placed the shoe boxes down on the floor, she
quickly turned up the Antonio Salieri symphony playing on the Bang &
Olufsen radio on her nightstand. She tried the Diego Dolcini shoes on, one
after another, putting some into the suitcase.
She heard Clive rushing towards their bedroom. He pushed the door
open with great forceforce she was expecting. She jerked her chest
forward to portray surprise.
Didnt you hear me? he said. Ive been calling you to watch a
news report. Those rebels are really getting out of control. They almost
just bombed a team of news reporters. I just think we should put this
Nigeria thing off for a while more.
She scanned the length of his body upwards and downwards. Are
we really in a situation where, for the third day running, you are
maintaining absolute negativity? she replied, bobbing her head in a
circular motion. She continued packing her suitcase. Ive told you, those
savages only target people in the oil sector. Ive looked into it. Delaying
this is a bad idea.
How can monitoring things for a few weeks be a bad idea? I can so
easily just hold the booking.
She flung a pair of shoes into the standing items on her dressing
table. As the paraphernalia on the table scattered, she slammed her right
palm down on the Armani Casa emblem on her nightstand. We dont
have two more bloody weeks. You moron! She moved her eyes, slowly,
from his face to his knees so that she was speaking to his lower self.

Were going. Trust me, she lowered her tone, this thing we call a
marriage depends on this trip.
She went over to her walk-in closet and struggled to retrieve
another suitcase, which was placed well above her head. Clive rushed
over and caught a falling valise that was about to hit her, then brought
down the suitcase she actually had in mind. She snatched it and walked
back towards the bed, and as she indiscriminately pulled clothes from her
closet.
Listen Yvette, relax, he said softly, holding her shoulders. I know
its been rough but we dont need this trip. Were going to come out of
this. Everything is going to be fine, alright?
You said that before! she brushed him aside, heading for the
suitcase with another pile. Then we got a loan on this damn house that
was paid for with cash. Embarrassing. Do you know how Harriet uses that
against me?
Yvette, I can do this. Dont you trust me anymore? he asked.
Let me see, she marched over to the bed and threw her clothes in.
We are over two million pounds in debt. A possession order on the house
just came in from the bank. And the only plan I have to save us is the one
you want to kill. She nodded and grinned, and made eye contact. Yes
Clive, I trust you.
Dont talk to me like that Yvette, he came over to the bed. Im
going to sit down and come up with a plan and get us out of this. I can still
turn things around at the firm; everyone in the stock market is going
through this. You know that.

Sit down and come up with a plan? she laughed mirthlessly. Do

you remember that we have to answer to bankruptcy orders in a matter of
weeks? Probably not. We are already two months behind in membership
fees at the social club. Next week, well owe three months. Ive been
taking it like a man, because someone here has to. But Clive, I will not
keep sneaking out at night to work odd shifts for chicken change, all the
way across the countywhile you sit behind your desk and come up with
ridiculous plans.
Yvette, this is what Im trying to do, for you. I dont like what
youve had to do these last few months. Lets just stay and Ill handle
everything, youre my responsibility, not Chief Mustafas.
She threw a shoe box into the suitcase. Hes offering us the only
way forward now. As I said, were going to Nigeria for him; this marriage
depends on this trip.
Clive went mute for six heartbeats. I still thinkat least we should
just send Spencer there first. Just to check on everything.
She laughed sarcastically, stretching the suitcase out on her bed.
Clive, the problem with this marriage is that you feel youre smarter than
I am. You think I dont know you sent Spencer there already? So that he
could say Chief Mustafas campaigns a disaster, and we should stay here,
in this mess? She sang her question sarcastically, and then continued
placing piles of folded clothes in the suitcase. Well, I knew you sent him.
And I waited till he got there before I called him. He no longer works for
us.

You fired him? Clive snapped. Yvette, its our firm. And thats
someones son youre dealing with.
No, I didnt fire him, she said with an exhale. I just got him
something more productive to do. And please, dont give me that crap
about hes someones child. You exploited him in the first place by sending
him there.
A heavy silence fell upon Clive, as if he conceded her point. He sat
on the bed and stared blankly at the floor. What kind of work did you get
him? he finally asked.
Old friend, from the LSE, works in the Nigerian oil-sector. She
spoke with half her energy, fixated on the clothes she was folding. He
needed someone to put together a security team to fend off rebels who
might interrupt his oil operations. She placed another shoe box in the
suitcase. I put Spencer in touch with him. Advised him to start his search
off with those very rebels on Blackgold Island. Theyre barbaric and
hungry for money.
Yvette, you just said that foreigners working in the oil industry are
in danger. Clive rose up from his bed and stood in her way. Why would
you put Spencer in harms way like that?
Clive, she squared up to him, you are afraid of going to Nigeria
for a once-in-a-life-time investment opportunity, which I found, because
you think its unsafe. But you sent Spencer there, didnt you? Why would
you put him in harms way like that?
Clive remained silent for a while, as if he was thinking about his next
line of argument. He shook his head and grunted, Honey, its totally

different. Its only wise to have him go there and assess Chiefs campaign
objectively. Hes the best person to tell us if its worth investing in. Not
you, not Chief. Dont forget, hes got a degree in African Politics and he got

A First-Class Honors from the University of Birmingham, Yvette

interjected, Right? I know. Well its still a stupid idea. Once again,
Spencers degree means nothing. Chief Mustafas campaign doesnt need
any more assessment than what Ive done. She burst into tears and fell
to a crouched position on the floor. Im not arguing with you about all
this. I want you to just accept what Im saying. She wailed from the floor
conveying the agony of someone being struck with a leather belt. Are you
happy now? Why do you have to infect everything with your negativity?
Her crying increased in pitch, and dragged her speech. Oh, just piss off,
Clive. Yvette shouted furiously. Clive, I said piss off! Dont even say
anythingjust piss off or you will be slapped. She rose up slightly from
the floor, sobbing morbidly, and then wilted down again.
When he left the room, Yvette put on a straight face on cue. She
applied her mascarawith a contented smilein her dressing table mirror.
Yvette always wore deep red lipstick on her thin lips. Her eyebrows were
equally faint, almost non-existent, yet managed to make her intimidating.
And her penchant for white pearl earrings that hung stiffly below her ears
added to her cold image. The shoulder-length flip was her staple hairstyle;
it always furnished her with a classy look, even when she hadnt brushed
it. And her endless collection of recherch suits, usually navy blue or
black, spoke of a fine executive pedigree.

When she finished getting ready, Yvette found Clive outside. He was
standing ditheringly in driveway, as if unsure of which car she wanted to
go to the social club with. Without speaking, Yvette opened the passenger
door of their Jaguar XJ and slammed it. She flung the car keys on the
drivers seat and turned the radio up to its loudest. This was how she
made sure they would converse.
When they parked at their social club, Yvette hopped out and
slammed the door of their Jaguar XJ. Yvette stormed off, before he
switched off the engine. She found rose-mallow plants hugging the clubs
yard sign, masking some of its words. So Yvette called a gardener over so
that his pliers could give Evening Armadillos of Chigwell a view of its
entering members. Mrs. Saunders, good evening, the doorman greeted
her. She didnt reply.
Within a minute of checking notices in the lobby, she saw her name
listed as an organizer of the polo games for the Armadillo men at the
Riviera Golf Resort in San Marino. Looking round, to spot someone she
would tell she couldnt do it, she saw her husband walking across the
lobby. His distant whistling turned into bad breath. Yvette tapped buttons
on her phone, pretending she was text messaging. I hope youre
prepared for this mens poker game? Last time was just embarrassing; you
dont have to keep reminding these ladies that I didnt marry well, she
said aloud.
Yvette noticed Harriet from the corner of her eyeswatching them
argue from a distance. Yvette and Harriet had a relationship of mutual

hatred. Yvette often said that although Harriet founded the Evening
Armadillos with her husband, she was the reason the club was significant.
Yvette knew Harriet was afraid of her. The Armadillo ladies often told her
that Harriet missed a heartbeatand furtively took a deep breath
whenever Yvettes name was mentioned. Harriet loved staring at Yvette
from afar. And whenever she did, Yvette would act oblivious and put on a
performance for her.
Yvette towered above the ladies hobbling around in the lobby. They
promptly moved aside for her, even without looking behind to see who it
was. Everyone knew Yvettes Imperial Majesty perfume. It created the
same effect at dinner queues. At $215,000 per bottle, Harriet couldnt
afford Imperial Majestyso Yvette rubbed this in her face as many times
as she could. Then, Yvette glanced at the notices, but her mind wasnt
really on them. She pictured Harriet still staring at her, and then casted
her mind back to when she first bought the cologne. Harriet became so
desperate to make a comeback somehow, for they had been in a longstanding competition for undisputed superiority among the Armadillo
women. So she told Yvette that it had a foul smell, when Yvette brought it
to the Chelsea Flower Show and put in on before the rest of the ladies.
That day, the ladies nonetheless continued admiring Yvettte's
perfume. Harriet must have desperately coveted the spotlight. Because
she rushed homespending four hours away from the annual flower show
and came back with a homemade croquembouche. It worked. Everyone
marveled at it, leaving Yvette isolated in one corner of a chic garden.
Yvette felt a profound jealously rising in her, but played cool. She went

over to join them. She stood sideways looking at the croquembouche for
five heartbeats. She said it was ghastly. She said Marie-Antoine Carme
was turning over in his grave. And just like that, the women broke out in
laughter and passed their own disparaging remarks. Harriet never
recovered; everyone knew.
The only worry Yvette had was the sleepless visage inscribed on her
face of recent. Harriet could notice, and would take any opportunity to
bring it up publically. Even the pricey La Mer foundation that Yvette had
showed off, at Harriets luncheon last month, couldnt conceal her
sleeplessness. And there was always the contrasting pallor on her neck,
not hidden by the makeup, for she knew her finances demanded that she
use the product frugally. Though, Yvette took comfort in the fact that her
piercing green eyes helped to keep most stares away.
Yvette took off her eyeglasses and then instantly put them on again,
as she kept pretending to read notices. Yvette kept readjusted them,
hoping Harriet would remember the story behind her acquiring them: At
Harriets birthday dinner, Harriet told all the ladies she was going to bid
for the eyeglasses at a charitable auction. They belong to her favorite
actress, a British Academy-award winner. Yvette replied that she knew the
actress very well, and had tried the eyeglasses on once before; they
would look better on her, she said. Looking at them now, through the
glass panels covering one notice, Yvette knew they didnt. The thick black
rims that ran across the top and bottom of each lens made Yvettes
appear a more stern blue. Together with the strands of gray hair above

both ears and her unhealthy complexion, the glasses gave Yvette
Saunders the look of an immortal sage.
Yvette sensed Harriet coming over to her and Clive, Oh look, its
my favorite couple. Yvette, I was just thinking about you. You know why?
she asked.
Harriet, were off to Nigeria soonso Im afraid organizing this San
Marino game, is a dance Im going to have to sit out.
Nigeria! For a holiday? She giggled. My son Jerry has recently
moved there. I dont know whatever for, but I must put you in touch.
Actually, Stuart and I are getting away too, but of course to Saint
Barthlemy, not exactly Africa is it? She grinned and batted her eyelids in
an exaggerated way. Were even just coming from Coutts. Have you seen
their new travelers checks? She strummed her Gucci pashmina, virtually
hugging herself.
Harriet, you know how I identify a woman with wisdom? Its about
knowing the difference between having something to say and just wanting
to say something, Yvette said, and then turned to Clive. Who said
Nigeria was a holiday? Did I? So why would she talk like that, and laugh so
foolishly in front of everyone? Clive looked discomforted. Yvette turned
back to Harriet, Its a Saunders & Coombes project, Harriet. And they
dont use those travelers checks in Nigeria. But what you really want to
know is, if were still rich enough to have an account with Coutts. So why
dont you just ask me how Saint Barthlemy was last month? And Ill say it
was ok, nothing special! Yvette could feel the veins on her forehead
throbbing.

Harriet placed three of her fingers on her forehead, as if she was

trying to form a thought. Have I already asked how long are you going
for? she went on as if nothing had happened.
Clive stepped in. Were probably going to be there for a while, its a
major assignment, he responded.
Harriet clapped once. Yvette! The shopping trip isnt on Avenue des
Champs-lyses anymore. I changed it to the MODA mall in Bahrain. Can
you believe that awful slob, Marionette, suggested Paris yet again? She is
just so pass. Yvette stared her down, staying mute.
Harriet lifted her sleeve to check in with her de Grisogono
timepiece. She wobbled her head, as if she were making some time
calculations. Harriets was brandishing her de Grisogono timepiece as a
painful reminder of the last shopping trip the Armadillo ladies made to
Geneva. Yvette couldnt make it. She gave an excuse about pre-scheduled
travel plans to go shopping in Dubai.
Do excuse me, Harried said firmly. Im sure well see later.
Harriet pranced over to her husband Stuart, shooing away a waiter with
canaps on her way.
On their way home from the club, Yvette turned the car radio down.
Clive took his eyes off the road, and looked at the radio, and then Yvette.
She sensed a pathetic excitement rising in him. He dusted crumbs off his
goatee beard, as if to prepare for a conversation. I had to leave the poker
room, after youd won, she played with the buttons on her cell phone as
she spoke. Chief Mustafa sent me another text message. He really wants
to how much money were putting into his campaign. He wants to know,

now. She turned to Clive. I dont know why youve been so blind about
this opportunity. When he becomes President
Blind? Clive paid the road his full attention again. Yvette, frankly,
I dont know why youre even asking me. Havent you realized I cant ever
get my point across to you? I cant. So lets just send him every pound we
have, right this minute. He grunted as kissed his teeth, continuing to
drive.
Dont mention my name in that patronizing way Clive. Yvette
snapped, looking out of her window.
Clive parked at the side of the road, as though he wanted to give
the row his full attention. You refused to let Spencer assess his campaign.
I said, ok then, how about we go there and assess things ourselves. Its
only wise Yvette, seen as this is the last bit of money we have. But no, you
dont want to assess anymore, you just want to go blindly ahead with this.
Im the one with eyes here, Yvette.
Clive, stop it. You sound like you have loads and loads of money to
lose. She said loads and loads with a singing voice. And for crying out
loud, even if Chief loses the damn election, its not like you have any ideas
to get us out of this mess. Her exhale created a patch of mist on her
window. Besides, Chief only knows how to win, hes not you.
Well, he definitely is a winner because he avoided marrying you in
the end. He laughed sarcastically. Yvette erupted in tears, and became
angered as Clive ignored them. Face it, this idea of yours, he snapped,
this whole thing, its just corrupt Yvette. I mean, lets say he does win,
Im still not sure Im comfortable with how hes planning to reward us. Just

last week, on the phone, he promised multiple government contracts,

worth billions and billions of naira? How do you think that will look? Yvette
I know things are hard, but weve got to be
Her crying became more intense, When will you ever stop
upsetting me, Clive? Why are you putting me through this abuse? The
crying jerked her speech. Its just full-fledged domestic abuse with you,
and I wont be bullied because Im a positive person. She whimpered and
wiped her tears with one hand. And lets see if you still call it my idea,
when he does win and wants to know whose name to award government
contracts in.
***
Ling-Tai was driving too fast. Her stick shift vibrated, as it operated
in fifth gear. She could see her business partnerseated in the passenger
seatglancing at the speedometer, and then putting on her seatbelt. LingTai then peeked into the side mirror. No one was chasing them: The only
things visible were the fume from her exhaust pipe. They were on the
outskirts of Shanghai, speeding through a hamlet. The trees shone with a
green regality, even though the darkness of the night was at its pinnacle.
Ling-Tai took one sharp turn after another, despite the absence of
streetlights. The sharp turns led them deeper and deeper into the woods.
I said, slow down now! She heard her partner shout.
Ling-Tai continued speeding for nine minutes. Then she slammed on
the breaks, hearing her car tires shriek even before she fully suppressed
the pedal. The car came to a halt beside a row of trees. Ling-Tai furiously
reached for the glove box and snatched a cigarette pack and a lighter. She

lit the cigarette without looking down at it; she held an intense eye
contact with her partner. Her partners cell phone rang from her purse.
Her partner ignored it and maintained eye-contact instead; her eyes
glowed with apprehension. Ling-Tai nodded and made fanciful smoke rings
with her first exhale, each of them framed her partners face. She refused
to say anything until she finished the cigarette.
Look, I dont know what youre doing, but I want you to take me
back, her partner said, looking around nervously. Ill find my way home.
Just relax, Ling-Tai replied, fixated on the steering wheel. I need
to talk to you.
But you said the realtor needs us to be at the property in ten
minutes. I mean, where is this place anyway? I dont think we should
move our office anywhere near here. She could hear discomfort in her
partners voice, with shaky undercurrents of someone trying to play cool.
Please, just take me back. Im really dizzy. I dont feel well.
Ling-Tai went into her pocket and rummaged around. Were still
going. Her voice was stern. Though, she wore a ruminating smile. Let
me just get you one of these. It should put you at ease. Ling-Tai came out
of her pocket, with a pinch of dragons beard sweet.
I dont want any. Lets just go back into town, please. Ill find my
way home, honestly. Ling-Tai chewed the sweet herself, and looked into
her rearview mirror. There was not a living soul in sight or even the sound
of a barking dog, just trees. Ok, dont worry if you cant. Her partner
pulled up her door lock, and then swung the door open. Ill just find my
way home from here. The engine was still on, and so the open door

caused the car to release a series of beeps. Her partner reached for her
hand bag between her legs, and put one leg out of the car. Ling-Tai held
her other thigh to the seat.
Weve been breaking even for too long. Ive heard what youve
been saying these past few weeks, but the bottom line is the counterfeits
are half as cheap. I want to know if youll change your mind. With her
freehand, Ling-Tai stubbed her cigarette into her chair. You see, Im
interested in making a profit. The question is, are you?
Not this way. Her partner blinked rapidly. Actually, I mean yes. I
want to. She nodded five times. Please, can we just talk about this
tomorrow? She stepped further out of the car, again. Ling-Tai yanked her
back in with a firm grip of some hair.
Ok, Im sorry. I shouldnt have done that. Ling-Tai said, but still
held onto her hair. Her partner came back into the car and shut the door,
as if to alleviate the situation. Trust me, the counterfeits are harmless,
Ling-Tai went on. Were mostly just stretching each tablet with some
chalk. Its not like were killing anyone. Ling-Tai prodded her temple with
one finger. Think. Just think.
Her partner nodded, acknowledging every sentence. She hid both
her lips inside her mouth with a tense bite, as she nodded. Her mobile
phone rang once more. She went to answer it.
Dont touch it! Ling-Tai yelled.
Oh please, Ill be real quick, she replied softly. Its Tan. He just
wants a bedtime story. The phone kept ringing, nearing its final round of
dingles. Ill just tell him to call back. She reached for her purse with a

stubborn casualness. With her freehand hidden, Ling-Tai fetched a revolver

from her door pocket, and pressed it against her partners earlobe so
mercilessly the area reddened at once. They both froze. Ling-Tai inhaled
preparing to speak, You think Im dumb? Tan wants a bedtime story? she
chuckled. Considering you didnt even see the caller ID, could you really
have known it was Tan, or could it be that you just want to tell whoever it
was, that youre with me? And before you answer, remember that I know
you have the same ringtone for everyone.
Ling-Tai motioned with the barrel, instructing her partner to step out
of the car. The phone kept ringing. Her partner left it in her purse and
stepped out. Ling-Tai also climbed down swiftly, keeping her gun aimed. In
a blink, her partner ducked and was sprinting into the concealing woods of
the night. Ling-Tai fired two gun shots. They sounded through the air, but
she still heard her partners footsteps running about.
Ling-Tai went into the woods after her. Her stilettos crunched twigs
on the ground, as she searched left and right. About five minutes into the
hunt, she spotted an owl on a rather low tree branch. Tell me where she
is, she asked of the owl. Although there was some light from the cars
side beam, it wasnt providing much help to find where shed escaped to.
But then Ling-Tai heard fearful breaths nearby, and then spoke to her
partner in Mandarindaring her to come out. She shuffled between the
trees, posing with her gun like an American police detective. She went in a
circle, and then headed back toward her car. Ling-Tai quickly moved aside
of a tree blocking her view, and pulled her trigger four times. It scattered

a group of golden pheasants, and when they flew higher into the air she
could see her partner slumped over the hood of her car.
Ling-Tai marched back to her car. Her gait was calibrated, as always,
to give the impression that something was springing her up from the
ground with each step. Youve gone and splashed all this on my car.
Youre a silly girl. Ling-Tai put the gun inside the elastic on her pants, so
that she felt it press against her own skin. Then she turned her partner
over on her hood, and backhanded her repeatedly. At the fifth strike, a
tooth flew out and drew blood with it. Ling-Tai landed a sixth and seventh
backhand. Her partner fell to the floor; she was keeping a pacifist-like
silence. The blood sprinkled down her legs, suggesting the bullet had
pierced her in the thigh. Ling-Tai fetched a long rope from her trunk
looking around all the while. She placed the rope around her neck, like a
fur-scarf and then went back to her partner. She dragged her partner back
into the woods, and noticed a blood trail from her partners bloody thigh
followed along on the ground.
They were soon deep in the heart of the woods. Ling-Tai dropped the
rope on her partners chest. The way her chest thumped so intensely
made it seem like the rope was moving on its own. As Ling-Tai went to
retrieve her revolver from her pants, it fired off a shot. Her partners face
expressed great hope. Ling-Tai didnt feel any different. And when she
looked down, there was merely a smoking hole in her pants. Ling-Tai
aimed the gun at her partner, but kept using her free hand to obsessively
pick at the hole in her pantsthis was her favorite pantsuit; even her

partner liked it, and she had worn it for a photo shoot with Shanghai
Socialite magazine.
The fashion editor had seen Ling-Tai at three separate events, all in
one weekevents intended for Chinese billionaireswhich she was not.
And on their third encounter, hed seen enough of her pantsuit collection
to finally have to say something, to arrange to feature them in his column.
Her pantsuits were all white, all streaked with artistic but moderate gold
embroidery. The usual sight of Ling-Tai, in any one of her suits, gave every
appearance of holiness. The regal black shirts that she complemented her
suits with all had special collars that climbed up to her ears, and then
went down, to create a v-neck that exposed much cleavage.
Hang yourself! Ling-Tai ordered. Use that tree. She tilted her
head to point to the tree, and hated that she stammered
uncharacteristically, when she said the word use. She was shaking more
so than her partner, and was struggling to keep the gun aimed straight.
Her partner rose up to her knees. She made a plea, in Mandarin. Her voice
was shaken by tears crashing down her face.
No, no, no. You shouldnt die crying, Ling-Tai laughed nervously.
What do you want me to say? Yes, I believe you, you now agree? Now
youve said it in Mandarin, well just see at work tomorrow. She went into
hysterics again, but her partner was nodding with all sense of imploration.
Ling-Tai made it a point to speak English, virtually all the time. Even
when she was spoken to in Mandarin; even though shed been back in
China for over ten years; and even despite the fact that Mandarin was her
native tongue. Doing this, automatically led people to ask why she only

spoke in English. And this question gave her the needed pretext to boast
about studying Pharmacy at her highly-esteemed University in Australia.
There hadnt been a person whom shed said this to who wasnt either
impressed or envious, so she had no plans to stop speaking English.
She disliked her uniquely Asian features; shed undergone eyelid
surgery to create a fold between her eyebrows and lashes. This was how
the Australians looked. And if she could have done something about her
eyebrows themselveswhich were both arched, like upwards hills trying
to meet each other as if to make a complete hillshe would have, as they
made her appear both clueless and anxious. But Ling-Tai still managed to
remain in touch with China in ways not too dissimilar from local politicians.
She knew the important, inner-city manufacturers, and had frequently
laughed with them both in their warehouses and over dinner at their
homes. She only used strong smelling Chinese scents, bought at local
fragrance houses and traditional soaps.

Four days after the hanging, police officers stormed Ling-Tais home.
They bundled her into their car and took her to the station with handcuffs
and leg chains. When they got to the station, they landed heavy slaps on
her in succession. None of the slaps wiped off her ruminating smile
nothing ever did. Ling-Tai turned her face to one of them. He was visibly
enraged. Sit down, he shouted in an unnecessarily loud way.
She sat down, watching him yank off her handcuffs, and then place
Velcro straps attached to the chair over them so that he pinned both her
forearms to the armrests. His colleague switched on two computers. They

prompted her arm straps to vibrate in three quick bursts. The computer
showed her pulse, releasing sequenced beeps that pervaded the room.
The policemen landed another slap on her, which left behind the
same burning sensation of a fire. Her pulled apart her bangs and then
inspected her forehead. He then took his index fingers and ran them along
either side of her facefrom her bangs down to her chin. I just drew a
perfect triangle! Your face is a triangle. He laughed. She felt the smile
come off her face.
Is your name Ling-Tai? his colleague asked.
Yes, she said tearfully.
He examined his computer screen, and then offered a nod to the
policeman. Do you own Jing Medicine? he asked.
Yes, she quickly said, before another sequenced beep.
He pointed to her ornate black pendant with red highlights. What is
that? he asked.
Its a reminder. The policeman slapped the back of her neck,
perhaps angered by her abrupt reply.
About what? his colleague inquired.
My vow to God. I must be very rich, no longer a victim, no longer
insecure.
He took a few puzzled looks at his computer screen before turning
back to her. Why do you have facial hair? Why do you have short hair?
You look like man.
Ling-Tai sighed aloud. Ive asked myself the same question for a
long time, she replied, with a straight face. They laughed both gleefully.

Did you kill your business partner? his colleague asked.

No.
She went back to the cell. Before night fell, they both came to tell
her she had given truthful answers. And she was free to leave.

Ling-Tai went back to the hamlet her business partner hung herself
in. Though, this time she actually wanted to find the well-hidden
warehouse of a counterfeit drug supplier. She loved the fellow who owned
the warehouse the moment she met him. He was extraordinarily
perceptive. And although old, he was impressively agile. She liked what
she saw in his warehouse, as he led her down one cobweb-laden aisle
after another. Im just worried about the State Food and Drug
Administration. There is all this talk in the newspapers about random
inspections, Ling-Tai said. The supplier cart wheeled his way down an
aisle in his dimly lit warehouse. Do you know anyone that has been
caught? she asked.
He laughed uncontrollably. S.F.D.A? He stood upright and shook
his head. They dont do those checks. But once again, it would be easier
if you took them abroad; theyre practically instructed to ignore exports.
He played with one of the dusty boxes on a steel shelf.
That means there is still some danger, if I sell them here.
He lifted his ponytail to a great height above his head. Youre
paranoid. Its natural the first time. But I promise, you wont hear from
anyone. He flicked his ponytail; it was light gray and gave him a
seasoned look.

They reached the end of the lengthy aisle, then turned around to
face it. Ling-Tai discreetly counted all the aisles in his warehouse. There
were too many to count.
Her supplier continued, Theres no ring on your wedding finger, so
why dont you just take them abroad? Children? He lifted his head, and
squinted as he awaited her answer, as though he could see through her.
I dont have any, no one notices me. But when I become rich I will
attract a husband, and then have children. Have you watched The
Secret? He erupted with plastic laughter. Ling-Tai gawked at him stoically.
No it really works, Im telling you. Ok, when the police were questioning
me about her. I just refused to picture that whole evening, even the sight
of her hanging herself. I just envisioned instead, a millionaire lifestyle, and
look. She stretched her arms out.
He grunted to himself as he wiped his monocle on his grubby shirt.
You know, everyone who comes here ends up rich. He breathed on the
monocle and then watched it demystify. You should do this. I bet that
future husband will thank you. He walked over to a red door with a large
glass panel, and then opened it. He directed Ling-Tai to go ahead of him.

The next time Ling-Tai was asked to sit down it was in a much
smaller place, with only three walls. Strips of lightcreated by steel
shuttersadorned one of the walls. A prison warden pushed her into the
cell and she staggered towards the small bench. There was a Black
woman sitting on the bench already, scanning Ling-Tai. Ling-Tai paid the
woman no attention. The rail shutters slammed, and with that, images of

her arrest and the seizure of her counterfeit drugs, played over and over
in her mind.
She struck up a conversation with the woman and was quickly
beguiled. How many times will you ask me? the woman said. Im telling
you, Ive lived there. All those people that sell fake drugs in Lagos, they
make money.
Whats your name again? Ling-Tai asked. Another warden opened
their door and muttered at the woman. He slammed the shutters and
walked away.
My names Simi. They shook hands. Did you hear that? Half an
hour. My lawyer must be good! Simi went on boastfully, getting up from
the bench.
Ling-Tais eyes wandered to all corners of the cell, as she formed
quick thoughts.
Please, I need you, Ling-Tai cried. I need you to help me move my
business to Lagos. They didnt seize everything; I still have more to sell.
Simi shook her head firmly. Madam, Im sorry, but no. I dont know
you and Im about to be released. Sorry. She refastened her hair with a
band, facing away from Ling-Tai. Then she broke out singing celebratory
gospel music and clapping her hands.
Ling-Tai stood up. Even for $100,000? She got off the bench and
walked over to Simi. When I say I need your help, Im talking about the
type of help that makes you a $100,000 richer. Simi paused and turned
to Ling-Tai, as if interested to hear more. You just said youve always
wanted to go back to Nigeria! Why not go back with money? The warden

passed by. Ling-Tai knew he wasnt able to speak English. She had cursed
him earlier and he did not respond. My supplier has my last batch. Youll
go to him, tell him I sent you. Well ship it to Lagos and just start! Its that
easy. She grinned.
Simi came out of her listening pose before speaking, So, your
supplier. They havent caught him yet?
No, and they wont. Hes untouchable. She rubbed Simis
shoulders. But you see the important thing is that he never delivered the
last batch I ordered. They seized everything and arrested me before he
delivered it. It could fill two shipping containers. Its money waiting to be
made!
Simi removed her thumbnail from her mouth. Youre talking as if
youve been released. You are still a prisoner. It doesnt make sense. She
withdrew from Ling-Tais hold.
Ling-Tai paced the cell. Ill sell some of the drugs back to him, she
said. With that money, hell get it to my lawyer for bail.
Simi paused for a while, as if she was impressed. Are you sure he
will?
Yes, he will. I know our relationship. And I know he feels guilty. He
forced me into this.
Ok. But you said earlier that youre assets are frozen, what will we
do for money in Nigeria? I mean, apart from a plane ticket, therell be so
many costs. Shipping even! And I dont even have a house there
anymore.

Ill need you to cover all that. But we wont be there long. I
promise, and I will pay you back. Everything you spend, Ling-Tai replied.
In addition to my $100,000?
Ling-Tai nodded. And Simi was deep in contemplation, staring into
the far wall. Ling-Tai studied everything about Simi. It was like shed set
eyes on the harbinger of her long-awaited good fortune. The first thing
that stuck out about Simi was her busty chest. It was far bigger than LingTais. She wondered why Simi wasnt wearing a more robust bra. Then it
was her hair and makeup. It was altogether tawdry and unconvincing. The
obvious wig she had on, merely served as an exhibition for poor quality
strands of horsehair. Plus, it was blond. How unrealistic? Since when did
black people have blonde hair? If any, she ought to have worn a black wig,
made from human hair, Ling-Tai thought. Finally, it was her clothes,
especially the miniskirt. They werent just tightafter all, Ling-Tai only
wore slim-fitting pant suitsbut Simi was too big for them. So much so,
that she was minutes away from the sort of raiment outburst expected of
the Incredible Hulk. Ling-Tai thought about how easy, how flattering it
would have been if Simi just wore the correct size; she wasnt even that
fat! And although Simi wasnt the sort of person she would normally
attribute any intelligence to, let alone usefulness, she quickly dismissed
her judging criterion. They were, considering everything, clearly wrong. As
she watched Simi sign out of the police station, Ling-Tai felt great hope
growing in her heart: hope in Simi, hope in the plan, hope for her future.
***

Edna Mayfield took her first breath on June 10, 1956, in Houston,
Texas. She was born into a family which was headed by an oil-tycoon
father, who was himself the only child of another oil-tycoon father. Her
lineage, in fact, provided the definition of generational wealth in Texas.
Edna inherited this legacy of privilege, but also harbored an uncommon
emotional baggage from the time she first learnt how to communicate
with humans as a toddler. Her father used every opportunity to scold her
for killing her mother during childbirth. In retaliation, Edna displayed
uncontrollable rebelliousness toward her fatherthroughout her youth.
Out of desperation, he sent her to live with her grandfather.
Edna idolized her grandfather. Together, they often walked through
the nature trails in his ranch. On such an occasion, and at the age of
thirteen, Edna saw a family of green lights floating through the air. The
lights appeared as tiny shimmering ballswith white sparks surrounding
themand talked to her whenever they appeared. They spoke to her
about Nigeria and the discovery of oil there on the hour she was born.
They spoke about a great calling she had to the Nigerian land, and the
significance of an oracle to her destiny there. She could never make
sense of the messages, and neither could her grandfather, who she
confided in. The lights continued relaying these messages to her
throughout her teenage years. They abruptly disappeared when she was
nineteen.
Even after they disappeared, Edna couldnt forget about the lights.
Every day, she reflected on them. Then one evening, they left her
thoughts entirely: during an ecstatically divine lovemaking session with

her promising boyfriend at College. The more she made love to him, she
discovered, the longer the thoughts stayed away. Further distractions,
from the lights, continued to pile on. First, her father committed suicide
just before she graduatedsaying, in a letter, that part of his reason for
doing so was that it was a sight he didnt want to see. Second, when her
grand-father retired, Edna took full ownership of the familys legacy oil
company, Haghell, at twenty-nine. Third, just before she inherited Haghell,
shed gotten married to her promising boyfriend and had just delivered
their daughter.
There was little room in the theater of her thoughts for the lights
from her youth. Ednas mind mostly pondered on the reduced competence
with which she ran Haghell. Though, it proved to be sufficient enough to
keep the organization coasting for twenty-five years. Later, she mostly
thought about the tempestuous relationship she had with her only child,
Rene. She often compared it to the one she had with her fatherthe one
she vowed not to have with her own offspring. But now, in order to
console herself, she reasoned that Rene had been alive for as long as she
had been in charge of Haghell, so Rene ought to have understood the
sacrifices she madeagainst quality time. Moreover, the effort to keep
Haghell coasting was all for Rene, she ought to have been grateful.
However, after twenty-five years, Haghells coasting streak had
come to an end. Now, the organization was sinking with stubborn resolve.
Ednas life hit a point her foes described as a midlife crisis. She heard
them say the tiny teardrop tattoo she recently got under her right eye,
provided the emblematic picture of this crisis. For it was the kind a

murderer put on their face to apologize for their crime. The

gossipmongers linked the tattoo to her husband, who had died in an
incident judged to be suicide. Ednas feelings were deeply injured by the
speculation her tattoo had engendered. In court, she had argued that the
tattoo was intended to announce the death of her beloved grandfather,
and the end of her glee. The court case had dealt a heavy blow to Edna
and Haghell. For even though she was acquitted, the lawyers fees added
more gravity to the Haghells resolution to sink.
Even after the trial, talk about Edna murdering her husband
continued to overshadow the ruling, spreading through Texas like a flood
submerging the rightful place of land. Edna, realizing she could afford to
do so after the trial, decided to embrace the rumors. In so many ways, she
entered the shoes people loved to believed to be befitting of her: She
remarked on her blog that she lied in court about the reason for her
tattoo; she stormed the homes of her foes, when she knew they would be
gossiping about her, and in two-minutes would make outrageous
statements confirming theirs; then, she dropped her husbands surname,
and reused her maiden name instead, Mayfield. Though, a painful
loneliness settled in her when she did, for she became the only Mayfield
she knew. And the only family she had, Rene, was more like a stranger,
pursuing a PhD thousands of miles away, in Boston, Massachusetts.
There were costs of playing up to this persona, which her staff
members advised her against. Haghells public relations were in jeopardy,
and soon there were heightened concerns for her personal security. Half of
her husbands family cursed Edna, calling on God to avenge his death.

The other half, people with little to lose, she often said, made plans to kill
Edna themselves. Edna was not worried by them. She moved on with her
life. Though, she went to the gym every day. Despite the recent marking
of her fifty-fourth birthday, she was able to lift twice her weight at the
gym. She owned nine guns and got a license, so that she could carry
some of them around with her in her pick-up truck.
But now, as Haghell neared bankruptcy, Edna resolved to stop
Haghells sinking. She went about repairing the damage she had caused.
On the professional circuit, she attended business conferences in full
force, aggressively seeking lucrative opportunities. She attended over
dozens, searching for anything.

Edna was at a conference for oil executives, helping herself to some

canaps, when Minister Offoh approached her. He made her an offer that
was too good to be true. I am not lying, he said, in conclusion. Please
dont make all this noise. Why are you smashing your plate like this?
Seconds after he started speaking, the green shimmering lights
from her teenage years had appearedfor the first time in over thirty
years. Edna didnt realize her canaps plate had slipped out of her hands,
until she sensed a cleaner crouched beneath her, sweeping it away.
Her eyes feasted on the lights. She heard them say the same things
they always had. They vanished abruptly. She took her sights off the air
space they had been occupying, and gradually came back to the room,
looking around at everyone. Conference attendees were peeking over at
them, commenting. Minister Offoh fidgeted with his briefcase, as if

embarrassed by the attention. What are you all staring at? she said, still
looking around for any vestiges of the lights.
They both rushed down a corridor with doors lining either side. Edna
picked a room and went in first. When Minister Offoh came in, she locked
the door behind them. The room was empty, but for a computer in a farcorner and a dressed table with beverages resting on it. Why dont you
believe me? Minister Offoh cried.
Because what you offered me out there is totally corrupt, she
snapped. And the manner youre proposing it in, is just too brazen. She
opened a Shiner bock bottle from the dressed table and downed it,
keeping her eyes on him as she did. He reached into his pocket and was
ruffling with his groin compulsively.
Yes, of course it is! This is how we do business in Nigeria. The only
reason Im here is to find a partner-in-crime, his voice had an excited
musical intonation. And honestly, I want it to be you.
The alcohol rushed to her head, numbing her mind as she tried to
understand his words, tried to understand him. She slammed the empty
bottle onto the table. This is just like one of those stings you watch on
ABC 20/20. You, the stinger, say you work for the African government. And
you have this great deal for me, the fool. And everyones watching,
waiting to see if Ill fall for it. She forced out a bout of fake laughter.
But you picked this room, Minister Offoh said with a raised voice.
And you can even check my suitcase. There are no bugs in here. My offer
is very real! He extended his suitcase to her. Edna stayed put, merely
glancing at the suitcase. Okay, go to that computer, type in Nigerian

Ministry for Petroleum, you will see my face on every page of our
website.
Edna went over to computer in the corner of the room, she scanned
through the webpage. She highlighted his name, and then pasted it into
Google. Hes not lying.
Okay, so why have you singled me out? she asked, turning to face
him.
I heard about your wicked ways. From your court case. That makes
you perfect for me. A Nigerianwho worked for Haghellnow reports to
me. Minister Offoh came closer to her. He was still scratching his testicles
from inside his pocket. I know you lost a lot, and business is even harder
now. This is a goldmine Im offering you, oil mine actually, he grinned.
You should be grateful to me, woman. He removed his hands from his
pockets, and plucked at his private parts, through the cloth on his
trousers.
Edna stood up from the computer. She fixated on Minister Offohs
foreheada stare she had learned would elicit intimidationthen she
raised her middle finger until it was fully aligned with his nose. She paced
to the door and unlocked it. As she opened it to leave, she felt it moving
back its shut position, before she heard it bang. A rush of air slapped her
face. She looked up. His caramel colored hands were holding the door in
place. She watched as he used them to push her aside, and then shielded
the door with his back.
Ok, Im sorry, he said. But just listen to me.

Edna felt her heartbeat throbbing on veins of her forehead. She

gripped his kaftan and ran his back into the door, and then into a Salvador
Dali painting on the far wall.
Minister Offoh surveyed her chiseled biceps, and then looked from
the ground to her eye-level, as if hed just noticed they were the same
respectable height. He took a fearful gulp, but Edna was taken aback as a
forceful push sent her to the floor. He sat on top of her, rather intimately,
pinning her upper body with his butt, and her hands with his. Woman,
what is wrong with you? he asked. Edna freed one of her hands, and
landed an uppercut to his jaw. His fila cap dropped off and he dismounted
her. She sat up and swiftly reached for his penis. It felt taut in her hand,
but she wrenched it so that it formed a letter-u, towards his belly button.
She glared at him, boastful and angry.
He offered praying hands to her. Madam, please. Please, release
me! She raised her middle finger once more. Ok, Madam, please. To be
honest eenh, let me just tell you everything. I am desperate. We need a
lot of barrels lifted, quickly. Our election is coming up; our President needs
the money. Hell get seventy percent from each barrel you sell; but I
promise thirty is still a lot. She let go of Minister Offohs manhood,
intrigued. He scratched at his groin restlessly, as he rose up. From what
Ive been told, I know you can handle this. The last man I dealt with
promised me a house in London, but his company withdrew just because
some small boys protested at his hotel party and temporarily kidnapped
one of his employees, he said.
Whats in it for you? she asked.

I want you to buy me a mansion here in River Oaks. I love Tex-ass.

You will use your own money and put it in your name, for now. Small price
to pay, abi? He prompted Edna to fetch his briefcase, which hed placed
on the dressed table. Minister Offoh lined up the combination, and the
locks sprang open. A commanding knock landed on the door. Actually,
can we talk about this in your office? he asked.
Edna led the way to her pickup truck, and Minister Offoh trailed
behind. She noticed conference attendeeswho were just arriving for the
afternoon sessionstaring at her new arm tattoos, passing comments
under their breaths. From now on, she would to only wear white tank-tops
to expose her rebellious biker tattoos. And rugged jeans, so that together
with her low-cut hairstyle, and sinewy frame, she would conjure up the
hellraising personality of Sigourney Weaver in Alien 3the faintest
undertones of a killer she could still afford to embrace.
Edna hopped into her pickup truck. Minister Offoh opened the front
passenger door, but she started the engine before he climbed in. When
she looked over at him, he was still standing outside, clearing the empty
Paulo Merlot bottles shed left on the passenger seatto the chairs
behind.

Minister Offoh took a seat in her office. Edna bolted the door. She
noticed he was trying hard not to gawk at the surroundings, but there was
plenty to see. He sighted some Polaroid pictures of abject children taped
around her computer monitor. He raised an eyebrow. Edna ran over and
peeled them off, placing them into a side drawer. A charity I send money

to helps these kids. They send these to me now and again, so I know how
theyre getting on.
Minister Offoh gave her a lot to think about. She would ponder on
his proposal for days after he left her office. Then, the following week, to
clear her head, Edna made a trip to Boston to see her daughter. She would
come to a decision after some quality time with her daughter. Her
daughters opinion might even help her decide, for she wasnt a kid
anymore, Edna admitted, and such exchanges could even help bridge the
gulf between them.
So once again, thats Woodbine Road! Edna said, as the taxi driver
got into the vehicle, having just placed her hold-all bags in his trunk. Its
in Belmont! She got comfortable in the taxi.
What brings you to Boston? the taxi-driver asked.
My daughter goes to College here. Edna took a second glance at
every liquor store they passed until they reached her daughters. Loud
music welcomed Edna to her daughters house, as she got out of the taxi
and paid the driver. She looked up to her daughters room window,
sensing the rising tide of her blood pressure. The taxi driver made a wise
crack she didnt fully listen to, as he placed her hold-all bags in the
doorway. Edna let herself in, jogging up to her daughters room on entry.
Rene, look at the time, why arent you at school? she asked, as
she opened the room door. When she got a good look inside, Ednas heart
rate skyrocketed. There were two frolicking physiques underneath the
bedcover, which had clearly prevented them from seeing Edna. Also, the

volume at which Ushers Love You Gently was playing hadnt allowed
them to even hear her entry.
Edna yanked off the bedcover, keen to discover the identity of
second person. Rene was perfectly nude, sprawled on the bed, swanking
her hour-glass figure. The other, was a twenty-something year old
Hispanic fellow with curly auburn hair. The only clothing he had on were
black silk boxer shorts that were lowered, so that Edna stood confronted
with the full site of his wiry butt. Oh, hell no! Get out of my house, she
yelled, noticing a helpless shock land on both their faces.
The fellow dismounted Rene, unearthing the site of his neverending, strapped-on condom. Like a soldier, sparked off by the site of his
comrades blood, Edna reached out for the fellow, jumping onto the
nearest side of the bed which Rene was occupying. Before she could
grasp him, he rolled off the other side, stood to his feet and ran a circle
around Edna. He pulled up his boxer shorts, as he scuttled out of the door,
slamming it behind him.
Edna fixated on Rene, mute. Rene used the bedcover to wrap her
nakedness, remaining on the bed. The door flung open, and the fellow
dashed back in to pick up his denim jeans from the floor. Edna sent her
right foot hurling into the air, until it landed between his bum cheeks,
causing him to stagger as he ran back out. Mum, stop! Rene rushed
out of bed and towards her mother, spitting a ball of forced catarrh at her.
Edna sidestepped the air ball in time; just a speck caught the teardrop
tattoo on her cheek.

Rene! Youspatatme? Rene turned to flee, but Edna

trapped some of her hair in a clenched fist. With that fist, she flung
Renes head towards the bed. Edna watched as Rene tripped on the
bedclothes wrapping her, and stumbled. Edna felt the impact herself,
when the back of Renes head connected with the nightstand. She
brushed hair off her fingers, as she watched and waited for Rene to
move. But it was only the bedcover that was wrapped around her that
rolled off, exposing Rene fully.

Edna paced the hospital waiting room, restlessly, as Rene

undertook tests. The doctor eventually called her into his room. Rene
was already seated on one of the chairs, half awake. Edna hugged her and
sat on the chair beside hers. The doctor assured Edna that no serious
injuries had been caused. Oh thank God!
but I noticed something in Renes CAT scan that concerned me,
the doctor said. He spread Renes file open on his desk, and then placed
interlinked fingers on the papers. He spoke with a deep exhale, She has a
few swollen lymph nodes in her neck. But well send her in for a biopsy
right away. He uncrossed his legs under his table and faced Renes
chair. Rene, have you noticed any change in your appetite recently? Or
any fatigue, fevers or weight-loss?
Ednas eyes glued to Rene. Rene pushed back her bangs and
stuttered, Wait. What is it you think I have? she asked.
I dont want you to panic. This could be any number of things, he
said, leaning in as if to reassure her.

Is one of those things cancer? Rene placed her hands carefully

on the table, varnished nails gleaming.
Her doctor paused. Then he nodded, twice, very slightly, It could be
lymphoma, but Im hoping the biopsy will rule that out. Edna observed
there was balm in every word he spoke, and every glance he gave held a
message of comfort. Nevertheless, she experienced an out-of-body
moment. She saw herself in the nightmarewhich unfolded so casually
speechless and helpless. Deep cracks were forming in her spirit, she
sensed them adjoining with the cracks that had settled there earlier,
cracks meted out by all the painful deaths of recent. She too was being
consumed by a deathly plague.

The next morning, Edna snuck into Renes room. The car keys on
Renes night-stand jingled as she picked them up. She turned to her
daughter, happy to see that Rene kept on snoring. She drove to the
doctors office, whizzed into a parking spot and ran into the building.
It was bad news. Edna fell to her seat; the one Rene had sat on the
day before. She browsed through estimates for advanced treatment
methods, aware that Renes doctor was keenly awaiting her reaction. Ill
be honest, the doctor confessed, when you both left last night, I did
some research on you.
And by me, you mean my murder trial? Edna flung the papers
onto his table. Listen, Ididnot come here to be judged by you.
He raised his palms at her, pleadingly, Hear me out, please. I was
going through the files. And I noticed you and Rene didnt have insurance

for a while. I figured that was the period that coincided with your trial and
your companys troubles.
But were on a new plan now, Edna heard her voice rise. So it
should cover all this! She pointed to the treatment estimates on his
table.
I saw it and its a good plan, he said, nodding confidently. But its
obvious from the reports that Rene had lymphomabefore this new plan.
They are going to find out, his eyebrows raised authoritatively.
So you feel that our insurance provider wont cover any of it? she
asked, closing her eyes to contain her rage, to brace for the worst.
Im almost certain. The pre-existing conditions clause. I just think
you should be ready to raise the money somehow. Treatments for nonHodgkins are quite costly.
Edna returned to her daughters car, set to drive back to Renes.
But for hours, she wept miserably. The voices of the shimmering lights
spoke to her, but she couldnt find them anywhere. And their message
was more cryptic than usual, for they merely chanted the words,
destiny, Nigeria, and birth-date with the same echoing resonance
customarily heard at soccer games. From the digital display on the
dashboard, Edna noted that the voices randomly ceased after four
minutes. Then she brought out Minster Offohs business card and kept
reading it over.

When she got back to her office in Houston, Texas, Edna quickly
retained a realtor to find a mansion in River Oaks for Minister Offoh. Within
an hour, he called her back.
Theres no chain and its just what you want. Six bedrooms,
swimming pool. Do you want to see it? the realtor asked.
Edna hesitated, Sounds great. I want you to just keep a lookout. I
actually wont be ready to buy it for a few months, but Ill want it then.
Edna, are you sure you dont want to act on this one? Its really
popular. I even had a man all the way from Africa asking me about it a
week ago. No lie.
Edna became transfixed on the chair, in her office, which Minister
Offoh had sat on. Its him! Actually, I need to talk to you. Can I come over
now? she asked.
When she got there, Edna told the realtor they would need to keep
Minister Offoh stalled, until he assigned the contract to her, and until
shed lifted enough oil in Nigeria to buy him the house. She was broke,
and so they needed to make him believe he would definitely get his
property, and that the timing delays were beyond anyones control, or she
was in trouble.
After the realtor promised to do this, Edna returned to her office. A
phone call came in from Minister Offoh. I just got off the phone with my
realtor. Hes searched everywhere in Houston, but says there wont be
anything for some months.
Ah-ah, then when will you start paying for the house? Minister
Offoh had the annoyed inflection of a child. His speech became disjointed

and emotion-laden, No! But did we not agree that I must get the keys to
my mansion when you are halfway through with the lifting? You will surely
be halfway through before some months. So youre basically saying I
wont get my mansion until something becomes available? Is that what we
agreed?
Hey big man, stop crying. Youre going to get it, but right now, all
youll find on the market are crummy foreclosure homes. Do you want one
of those? she asked
Most certainly not. But I am still not satisfied.
Edna wasnt prepared for any more probing. Please could you hold,
I need the toilet. She placed the receiver on her desk, and then sent a
Blackberry message to her realtor.

Please call himright now. Hes really on my case. I need him off the phone. Ill
owe you. Thanks!

She saw it had been delivered, and read, and so she got back on the
phone. Im back! And look Ill get everything sorted.
Minister Offoh sighed, But when I came to Houston, I saw a
beautiful mansion. I have even seen more on realtor.com since then.
There are many properties, I can even he paused. Edna please, I will
call you back, someone is calling my other line.
Edna wasnt expecting Offoh to call back. Her Blackberry phone
rang, her realtors caller ID showed. I just spoke to Offoh, he said. I told
him its sold. And theyll all be sold, till youre ready.

Do you think hell wait? Edna inquired.

Oh yes. I told him that when his gift comes on the market, Ill tell
him to call its anonymous buyer. They shared a quick laugh.
What if he goes to another realtor?
I think youre being paranoid. Hes a Minister in his country. He
doesnt have all the time in the world. And hes not an idiot. He knows its
shady, so getting two people involved is already too much. His words
offered great comfort. Guys like that, that dont play buy the roles, they
tend not to go crazy if you cheatem a little; as long as he gets it in the
end, I think hell be fine.
Edna released a loud sigh. I owe you, she said.
You do.

Talauchi yi kan wa halinka kube.

Financial hardship acts as an excuse for desperate acts and disarms
critics.
Ancient Hausa Proverb

Chapter Two

Oracle laid down on a protected road in Abuja, Nigeria, sprawled on

a stretch of sun cooked tarmac. She knew a significant fortress was built
on the road. So significant, it was the only house on the entire street. Only
the four walls of the house could be seen from outside, because they
boxed it in and surpassed the height of the house itself. Barbed wire coils
ran all the way along the top of the walls, so there was only one way in:
Through a mighty gate, which was so grand in size it could have easily
replaced the gates of any royal palace. Though, because it was totally
opaque, rigidly iron and ominously dark, it would have been more suited
to a maximum security prison.
Despite being unable to see within, Oracle imagined the villa itself
would be a marvel. After all, it was the residence of the Vice-President of
Nigeria, Chief Mustafa. This was why armed policemen, in various styles of
green and black uniformreflecting all possible rankswere patrolling
outside. She crawled along the road, then her tongue lashed out and
swallowed a swarm of flies hovering inches away. When she got the
fortress, she stood up.
Oracle danced around the four great walls of his fortress. The
dancing was a spiritual offering to a bigger deity, whom she was asking
for help for what she was about to do. At the right point, she paused to
hike up one wall and then licked barbed wire at its top. She took a firm
grip of the painful coils, and then studied the security aides guarding the
villas grounds. There must have been twenty of them, plain-clothed.
Oracle climbed down again, and then went over to the fortresss gate. She
bit viciously into her wrist; the veins felt like spaghetti in her mouth. She

shook her bloody wrist so that the blood poured on the ground in front of
the gate. Lying on her stomach, she pushed herself backwards, now and
then striking the ground with her hands. A trail of blood ran from the gate,
in her direction.
The fortresss gate flung open. The entire unit of security aides
rushed out in eerie muteness, their feet tracking her blood trail. The
policemen patrolling the outsides also followed suit. They all swarmed an
oversized Abuja tree, and then climbed to the highest branches. They all
munched the trees leaves blissfully, holding onto tightly to branches.
Oracle surveyed the villas large grounds, fully adorned with
tropically-green palm trees. There were countless green-white-green flags
rooted in the earth, aspiring for the heavens. The winds rattled the flags
musically, against their gold poles. The flags themselves merely served as
decoration for a breathtaking water fountainwhich sprang effortlessly to
the height of the villaby encircling its cascading wonder. There was a
titanic emblem adorning the villas front walla red eagle astride two
white horses: The Nigerian coat-of-arms. Yes, the villa was as majestic as
she imagined. Over twenty black cars, with sirens atop, were parked on
the grounds. All were latest models of Mercedes, Peugeots, Land Cruisers,
Range Rovers, or Hilux vans by Toyota. One of the vehicles was totally
covered. But they were all side-by-side, their rear-bumpers touching the
same marvelous expanse of a wallunder custom fitting shades that
boastfully displayed the fleet with the same magical shine expected at a
showroom.

She sprinkled water from the fountain over each of the cars,
concluding by wiping her wet hands on an Office of the Vice-President
seal that replaced the front license tag of a Range Rover. She noticed two
more security aides. They strolled outside casually, from the main house.
Small boy, how did you get here? one of them said, rushing towards her.
As he raised his hands to give her a strong push, Oracle reached into his
mouth with an immolated forehand.
His colleague was approaching. With the other hand she reached
toward him. A green mamba came out of it, ripped out his tongue and
dropped it onto the ground. She ordered the snake to turn back into a
hand. The security guard without a tongue ran in circles, as though he
were mad. He kept running until he smashed his chest into the windshield
of one of the parked cars. Oracle watched as it shattered, and he fell into
the car. Oracles third eye fastened on a domestic servant, witnessing
everything. She left him as he sprinted quietly back into the main house.
She focused on the internally flaming security aidewho still had her
hand in his mouth. After extracting her fiery hand from his windpipe, she
stripped him naked.
***
Chief Mustafa led his friends and political allies into the main sitting
room in the State House with a rotating wave of his hand. They murmured
their way toward expensive Italian chairs assembled in a u-shape, and
interspersed with tall plants. Yvette spoke to no one. She sat quietly and
absorbed it all. They all made rash landings which thumped his plush
leather chairs. Chief Mustafa drew the drapes on the bay window and

turned to face his guests, seated in a u-shape, facing him too. Yvette
remembered this was his favorite positionthe stage. He took his slippers
off, and then fetched two wineglasses from a nearby side-table, clearly
intending to chime them. But his flatulence silenced the room. He put the
wineglasses down on the floor, and flapped the air behind his rear end,
grinning. Anyway, these are my guests who just came in from England.
Yvette here, Ive known since our university days. I hope none of you have
forgotten that I too attended the London School of Economics? You know
that by now, abi? He hunted the room for any impressed faces. Yvette
did too. There were many.
He cackled and went on. Anyway, you will hear me calling her my
own Yvette-tete. Clives face contracted, awkwardly, when he heard my
own Yvette-tete. Yvette knew he was insulted by this affectionate name,
but over the years, he played its significance down. Along with her
husband, Clive, Chief Mustafa went on, Yvette-tete will be supporting
my campaign. They have even donated very generously already. The
sitting room door suddenly flew open, smashing into the wall directly
behind it.
A domestic worker staggered in. He was stooped low, panting, and
fell onto Chief Mustafas black and red focal rug, shifting it out harmony
with the rooms furniture. The guests yelped in surprise. Some crossed
their hearts with both palms; others sprang up from their seats and
moved away from him. The domestic worker scrambled to his feet and
gave Chief Mustafa a quick bow. He then pointed outside. Sorry, Chief

ThereThere is He gasped hysterically between words. Chief Mustafa

stared at the trembling man, as if hed never met him.
Yvette stood up as well, interested to hear the fellow out. The
domestic worker noticed her paying him interest. He held his stammers
and stumbled over to her. He leaned one shaky hand on her shoulder for
support, and pointed outside with the other. Yvette slapped him, forcing
saliva and sweat to fly off his face like a splash out of a pond.
What type of embarrassment is this? Chief Mustafa roared. You
bloody imbecile! Yvette shook off guests that gathered to console her.
You have the effrontery to barge into my personal sitting room with utter
crassitude? He thumped his chest with an open palm, as he said my
personal sitting room.
Chief, why dont we call your security men to rough-handle him the
hell out of here? one of the women said, with casual vindictiveness. Chief
Mustafa thrust his feet into his diamond-encrusted sandals and headed
towards the door, but was stopped in his tracks as the sound of a window
shattered with a deafening crash. Yvette faced the bay window, the
backdrop to the stage Chief Mustafa had just been on. A naked and lifeless
body slid between the curtains hed just drawn, into the sitting room. The
body rolled over onto the crystal wineglasses hed put on the floor. The
wineglass snapped in half and stabbed the naked fellow in the abdomen.
Blood and yellow pus gushed out, both forming a pool of mixed colors on
the floor.
One of the guests vomited. Clive released a high-pitch scream,
which effortlessly topped everyone elses. With the thump of his fist

against a wall, Chief Mustafa muted all the screaming. His traditional
bangle snapped. Its carnelians rained down on the marble floor,
dramatically underscoring the silence with fierce thuds. He stepped over
the body, thrust the curtains aside, and walked out through the broken
window. Chief Mustafa always walked with a trademark limp that was so
thespian Yvette routinely drummed along to in her mind.
His security men and police officers came running into the State
House, from outside the gates. Their garments were doused in sweat, and
they had leaves stuck in their afros, and hanging in their mouths. The last
guard shut the gate behind him. They sprinted towards Chief Mustafa and
encircled him, gasping at the sight of the broken bay window, stunned by
their motionless colleague who was buried in the windshield of one car.
What just happened? Chief Mustafas tone was demanding. He
snatched a pistol from one of the security men, and then he paced the
circle they made around him. Yvette wondered why Chief Mustafa could
never speak without exposing all his teeth. He only had five, and they
gave his voice a vibrating pitch. Will somebody start talking, or, doI
needto start shooting? He aimed the pistol at one of the guards
foreheads. Yvette worried for the guard. She refocused on Chief Mustafa.
A community of ever crying pores on his face created an impression
normally associated with heavy rain. After rummaging through his favorite
pocketthe one stress-balls lived inhe came out with a handkerchief.
He evened out the wetness on his face. Then he squeezed a waterfall out
of it onto his concrete grounds, keeping eye contact with each man in his
circle the whole time.

Yvette came out through the broken window, moving closer in. She
heard Clive and the guests following her out. The security aides dared not
make eye-contact with Chief Mustafa. They kept their sights on his
agbadas exquisite shine, as people generally did. Every day, they were
starched and ironed for hours. How can you tell me you dont know what
happened? Does that not make you a five-star asshole? he asked one of
the guards, pointing his gun at the ruined bay window.
Yvette had never seen Chief Mustafa with a gun in hand, so the
unfolding scene aroused mixed feelings. She found herself studying ever
part of him closely, as if she needed to reassure herself she knew the man
standing some feet away.
Chief Mustafa stood with a slightly hunched back. It gave him a
discerning look. He bore a powerful scar on his face. It was a diagonal line,
travelling from one side of his forehead to the bottom of his ear at the
opposite end of his face. He always insisted that it was surgical, but it
looked more sinister. The bottom half of his face was of a contrasting
darkness to the top-half. It conjured up images of him using exactly the
same razor for decades. You bastards dont want to talk? You punks want
to see what I will do, abi? He raised himself on tiptoe, and side-stepped
to each of them, so the anger on his face could be properly seen by each
guard. Chief Mustafa had reached a stage where he was now proud of his
Napoleon complex. He even styled himself as a short African political
juggernaut, with a mighty tall impression.
Chief, sorry to interrupt. I think you should see this, a guest said.
Yvette looked over to see the guest brandishing a cell phone. Chief

Mustafa kept one hand wrapped around a security guards Adams apple.
He dismissively waved a backhand at the senator calling out to him. The
senator showed Yvette his cell phone.
Chief, you should really see this. Yvette said. Its from him.
Chief Mustafa turned his neck in stages. Do you mean His
Excellency? Actually, I hate calling him that. I mean, that useless
President? She raised her eye brows twice. What is the fool saying? he
asked, letting go of the security man.
70 million? Chief, it looks generic; Im sure its been sent to every
senator, she heard herself say.
Yvette, for goodness sakes, you are being too cryptic! Just tell me
what the hell it says, word for word, Chief Mustafa replied, strumming his
chinstrap beard so hard that hair fell to the ground.
Well, if your senator friend here votes for his third-term bill, next
week. Hell be paid seventy million.
Jesus. 70 million naira! Let me see that, Chief Mustafa exclaimed,
walking over to her.
Its gone. Honestly, it just left the screen now, she said, offering
the cell phone to him, but he didnt take it from her. Instead, he smiled.
Ah! Now I see. NowIsee. He backed away from the guests, so
that he could face them all, as if on another stage. You dont get it? Its
very simple, just look. He pointed at his shattered bay windows, and then
his mesmerized security guards. He wants to frustrate me with juju.
Thats what all this was. He chuckled. You see, with that sort of mass
bribery, he feels he has won this battle of the third-term bill! He paced up

and down, facing the ground as he spoke. Think about it. He actually
believes that illegitimatecorruptmurderousbill has already been
passed, and that is already back in power for a third-term.
Yvette noticed the guests shaking their heads with great
remonstration. Murmurs of assent trickled among them. He went on, So
because he feels hes won, he wants to spit in my face with these juju
antics. This is classic Art of War! by San Zhu, he said, smiling at them
all.
Even though she had her reservations about juju, Yvette nodded in
agreement with all the guests, most of who were clapping. Great analysis
Chief! A very tenable theory! said an elderly male voice, with a NigerianBritish accent. Just marvelous reasoning! said another male voice.
Oya, take, take, take! Chief Mustafa dangled the gun in front of a
security guard, like the guard had initially burdened him with it. My
friends what he doesnt realize is that, I too have read San Zhu and
millions of other books on power. He glanced upwards as he said
millions of others, like someone who couldnt name anymore. And even
if he has read more books about war and power than me, for goodness
sake, Iamthebook. The guests cheered him on. Chief Mustafa
snapped his fingers at one of the chauffeurs in the far corner of the
compound. The fellow rose up from a bench. Prepare that car for me. Im
going out now. He was pointing at the only covered car in the fleet. The
chauffer nodded, heading over to it. Ladies, gentlemen, lets move over
to the car.

Chief Mustafa led the way to the vehicle. He kept shouting at the
chauffer. This car, this one. Prepare it for me. Oya, do quick! He tapped
its hood, repeatedly, through the perfectly fitting, navy-blue cover that
masked it completely. His eyebrows jumped as he spoke to the chauffeur.
Yvette stood furthest away, letting the other guests spread themselves
around Chief Mustafa.
Yvette surmised the chauffeur must have been irritated by all the
shouting, especially as there was nothing to prepare. Though, he was
doing a good job of not letting his irritation show. In fact, he nodded
ceaselessly as if his head had decided to say yes without ever stopping.
Yvette hated when Chief Mustafa used the instruction word, Oya. Shed
gathered it was the sign of a mannerless individual.
The car had been parked in the State House compound for over
three weeks. Although, the instruction were to have it covered at all times,
until Chief Mustafa said otherwise. Despite this, she once heard his
chauffeurs gossiping about how it was better than a Mercedes. This was
significant. For in Nigeria, a Mercedes Benz, regardless of its model,
inspired serious respect for the owner.
So when the chauffer went ahead and uncovered the car before
Chief Mustafa and the guestsa Diamond Black Rolls Royce Phantomit
invoked sharp intakes of breath. Chief Mustafa sent his eyes around,
checking on their reactions. Yvette concluded that Chief Mustafa bought
this to attain something greater than respect; he must have been hoping
this would result in a permanent state of human worship.

The guests left, stating they would leave matters in Chief Mustafas
capable hands. Clive however, wanted out. He demanded to be on the
next flight to London. Chief Mustafa arranged for one of his chauffeurs to
take Clive to Nnamdi Azikiwe Airport. Yvette was so enraged she didnt
see him off. Instead, she set off with Chief Mustafa, in the Rolls Royce.
They set off for his private mansion in a close by neighborhood, Ministers
Hill. Chief Mustafa often said Ministers Hill was the pice de rsistance of
real estate in Abujafor the average house dared to ask suitors for
$6million, and high-ranking government officials, who mostly occupied the
hill, dared find the will and the way to pay it.
***
Ling-Tai indulged on the scenes out of the planes window as it
descended into Lagos. The settlement they closely trailed over was the
Lagos equivalent of Brazils favelas, she thought. But together with the
brown rivers on the site that were as plentiful as the slum houses, and the
unruly traffic lanes on the roads, with street hawkers and dot-size cars she
could vividly make out as un-road worthy, this locale offered a unique
welcome to the many charms of Africa. Youll need to have some money
ready for the people at immigration. Simis voice was low.
Ling-Tai felt her eyebrows tense. But the guy we met near Pudong
has done everything, she fetched her passport and handed it over to
Simi. He says they wont know.
Yes, the passport is definitely good, Simi continued quietly. But
the visa, thats what Im worried about. She went through the pages. I

just read an article on Naijaweb.com, about new equipment we have to

detect these things. So to be safe, just prepare a bribe they cant refuse.
They landed and disembarked. A uniformed lady behind the
immigration counter propped her eyeglasses down. The lady must have
been in her late-fifties; gray hairs competed with the otherwise black afro
holding up her beret. She signaled at Ling-Tai to come forward. As she
headed for the counter, Ling-Tai glanced at Simi, noticing her fingers,
crossed.
Madam, this passport is fake! the lady said, with an eerie whisper.
She rubbed one of her thumbs across the top of her fingers and nodded
suggestively. Ling-Tai handed the lady the envelope that came with her
plane ticket. The lady opened it, counting the dollars in its pouch without
removing them. Madam, you better add another fifty dollars, she said,
grimacing. Ling-Tai took the envelope back, put another bill in, from her
purse, and then handed it back. Ok, you can go. Welcome to Lagos, the
lady said.
Even before getting her baggage, Ling-Tai wanted to see Lagos. She
walked towards the exit sign, keeping an eye on Simi. Simi stood by the
baggage carousel, clearly not recognizing any passing suitcases. She
passed a unit of policemen who were guarding the exit. Their eyes hooked
on her, and they conferred with each other. Your bags, one of them
asked. Where are they? he sounded more calculating than concerned.
I dont have them. Just want to look, she retorted. He nodded.
She set foot out of the air-conditioned building. Nigerias heat,
pouring through the open doors, encased her in a bespoke, irremovable

blanket. Hundreds of folk were waiting behind a barricade, facing the

exiting passengers directly. Their crass shouting numbed her mind at
once. Two identical walkways were laid out before herone to the right
the other to her leftleading passengers out and away, from the airport.
On the right, her eyes caught a man in a tattered shirt, covered in engine
oil. He latched onto a travelers wrists as he shouted, Madam, lets go to
my taxi. The ladys male companion fought off the taxi man, but a throng
of other taxi men appeared from the sky and engulfed them.
Ling-Tai glanced in the opposite direction, the other walkway. Three
men shouting in Yorubaa distinct sound she recognized from videos Simi
showed her on YouTubegrappled for control of suitcases on a trolley. The
suitcases belonged to people she had greeted on the plane. No, we dont
need any help. Go away, they responded. Their baggage spilled from the
trolley. An altercation ensued. Ling-Tai noticed about dozens more idle
people calling to her with the sounds of snakelike hissing, exaggerated
noises of puckering up, and some merely shouted ace. She ran back to
Simi.
Where have you been? Simi said. I was worried, and I had to load
all these myself.
Theres a problem outside. Everyone who goes out is being
attacked. And now theyre waiting for me.
Simi put a blank look on her face. She headed towards the same
exit, wheeling their trolley. Lets go and see. Im sure they just want
money.

A hand thumped the last suitcase Simi had piled on the trolley.
Madam, open all of these bags. Now-now! Ling-Tai stood back, taking in
a full view of his M16 rifle. There must have been twenty more armed
policemen behind him. The metallic coat of arms glued onto his beret
almost fell off as he leaned over their trolley and removed dustleft there
by the baggage carouselwith more hammering, Did you hear me? I said
open these bags. This was the fellow who just asked about her bags.
Simi rushed a note out of her purse and placed it in his hand. He
changed. Ah, welcome Madam. Please enjoy your stay, the two of you
can go, he said sheepishly. Ling-Tai nudged Simi, then tilted her head to
point outside. Simi nodded. Please sir, escort us through these crowds. To
a good cab driver, Simi requested of the police officer.
No problem, he replied, still grinning. But first, you will take off all
the tags from your suitcases. They know this airline is for rich people.

They were escorted to a Honda; it was in mint condition. The

policeman shut Ling-Tais door and saluted their car as it pulled away.
Sorry oh. My air conditioner is not working today; but we can wind down
the windows. And please, lock your doors, the chauffeur said. Ling-Tai
watched as Simi locked her own door; she did the same.
Ling-Tai became worried. Shed read, on a Nigerian blog, that air
conditioning in cars was always a prized commodity in Lagos. Primarily
because of the cancerous heat rays Lagos dished out with little effort
especially in traffic jams. Also, it was a status symbol. Those who moved
around in cars with the windows up were really saying that they had

money. Not only enough money to own a car with air conditioning, but
also to maintain it. She could see that those with their windows wound
down were perpetually drenched in sweat for the duration of their
journeys. They were of a different pocketbook. She couldnt believe she
was one with them. Then, there were those who didnt have air
conditioning, but wound their windows up anyway; either to pretend that
they did, or to shut out the millions of car honks and street hawkers, or for
security.
k s area boys nbi y?Simi asked, and then turned to Ling-Tai.
Im asking about area boys in this district, if there are any.
Ah! K s, b tile wa, won a fe iru eniyan bayen. he replied,
pouting his lips in the direction of a black Mercedes W204 with closed
windows.
Simi nodded. He says there arent any, and even if there were, they
would prefer to get someone like that.
They reached a particularly chaotic road, with carbon monoxide
coming out of too many exhaust pipes, wafting into the car. The fumes
came in quantities normally associated with bomb explosions, charging
into Ling-Tais nostrils with the same audacity as fresh breeze. The fumes
lined the walls of her throat, and then a bitter sensation flowed down to
her lungs, inspiring a headache. She coughed ceaselessly, hearing Simi
apologize in the background. But the dominant sound was the various
tones of honking, which were themselves competing with wailing pitches
from street hawkers. An okada bike darted past their car, taking some

paint with it. Ling-Tai jumped off her seat in fright. Simi was holding in
laughter.
Pure water. Please buy pure water, a street hawker shouted. She
was a young girl. The baby saddled onto her back, scanned the grimy
bucket on his sisters head, which was pushing in her neck deeper into her
shoulders.
Simi wound down her side window. Come, give me one. The girl
sprinted in order to keep up with the moving car. The infant bounced in
the cloth binding him to his sisters back. They made the exchange and
the girl disappeared. Simi bit into the transparent polythene bag, about
the size of handheld water-bomb, and drank from it at once. It deflated
like a balloon, as she drank. She finished it in seconds. I would have
gotten you one of those, but its not really pure. Youll be sick if you drink
it. Ling-Tai grinned sarcastically in response.
The sidewalk on the street they were on had been taken over by
women seated under umbrellas that protected them from the many
angles of the suns beams. There were tables under their umbrellas too
each of them displaying something different: bundled spinach, bread,
tomato and fish. The women faced the passing traffic, and also the
pedestrians theyd forced to walk on the highway.

Even before the hotel, their first stop was the Customs Office. They
rushed in and waited for hours, among others, to see a Customs Officer.
The man emerged from a backroom, with the lackadaisical strides of
someone whod eaten a meal that was too heavy. He surveyed the line of

people waiting, but he didnt come over to the counter. He crashed into
his seat. Then he fiddled aimlessly with documents on his desk, languidly
moving as he picked-and-then-dropped the documents. Ling-Tai concluded
half of his brain must have been removed at some point in his life.
When he eventually got round to them, he uttered only four words in
a minute. Ive tracked your shipment. Its on its way. But things dont
happen that quickly. Well even have to do serious inspection upon arrival,
and please tell your friend to stop eying me, he said to Simi.
Ling-Tai interjected. Eye you? What does that even mean? Anyway
listen when it gets here I dont want you or any of your men to touch it.
Its very important stuff.
And who do you think you are talking to? The man rose up,
leaning menacingly across the table. Madam, do you know who I am?
His colleagues walked over, brushed his epaulettes to settle him down.
No. No, let me tell her. I am a customs officer of 15 years standing, so
you cant come to my country and talk to me anyhow. What rubbish.
Ling-Tai stormed out, heading back to their taxi. But then she
stopped outside the door, deciding to eavesdrop on them. She would
occasionally peek into the crack in the door.
Stupid woman! The Customs Officer went back to his computer
screen, with a tantrum exuding in his body language. Let me looked at
the details of this your shipment. It took him too long. Ok, one name
here is a Mr.. Its a Chinese name, I cant pronounce it, he leaned into
his screen.
Thats my supplier. Simi said.

Ok! And the only other name on this shipment record is Simi. Is
that not you?
Yes, sir, she replied.
So what is even her business? Yeye woman! He issued a
reverberating hiss. Simi rubbed her palms together, as if begging him for
pardon.
Moments later, she saw Simi standing up. She rushed back to the
taxi, and sat in the same seat. Simi came out. Ive sorted it out. But were
going to have to pay him a serious bribe, when it does come. Thats in
addition to what I just gave him. She turned to their chauffeur. Please
just take us to the hotel now.
No problem. Where is it? he asked.
Simi brought out their printed reservation and read it out.
I know that place, he said. Victoria Island, eenh! You people get
money.
En route to their hotel, they were stuck in a battlefield of a wider
war that was Lagos traffic. The traffic warden stumbled through the
clutter. He jabbed one finger into his temple to signal the chauffeurs
breaking his straight car lines, while vying for the fastest lane. Youare
abastard. God punish you, he shouted, as cars darted past him. Ling-Tai
was surprised his voice was so audible, even though he was four cars
ahead. He was pounding car hoods with his knuckles.
The chauffer switched off the engine, but kept a firm grip on his
keys. Two vans boorishly encroached upon his headlights, at either end,
vying for his place. He sat up, restarted his engine, and maintained his

place in the moving line. A molue truck, bearing the slogans Trust in
God, Think of Tomorrow, and Water no get Enemy came in front of
them, taking their place in the line, before anyone could blink. The molue
had originally been painted a garish yellow, but now dirt and rusting iron
and graffiti coated its exteriors. It had no door, or glasses in the windows,
and was so grossly overloaded with passengers, goods and rams, that
people were hanging out of its myriad openings.
Their driver continued telling Simi a traffic jam story hed started
earlier. They spoke in Yoruba. After a while, Simi hissed and clapped her
hands, in a way that portrayed amusement and doubt. Anyway, mister
driver, you didnt tell us your name, she said.
I am Deolu.
Deolu, how did you get this nice car? Ling-Tai inquired.
The hotel I used to work in, they gave it to me, for saving the life of
one Oyinbo man.
Are you sure you didnt just steal if from them? Simi asked,
breaking out in laughter. He didnt reply. Simi came in close to Ling-Tais
ears and asked a smart question, Ling-tai thought. She nodded. Simi
withdrew and then made Deolu a job offer. He accepted.
***
Further ahead of them, Oracle fell from the skies. Oops, she said,
noticing tiny cracks surface beneath her feet, as she landed. Her spine
also bent to a ninety degree angle when she landed. She fixed it back in
place with one arm. Oracle then moved in towards the exhausted traffic
warden. She inspected the back of his shirt.

He was stretching the fingers on his right hand as far apart as

possible, then he extended his entire arm forwards as if he were pushing
an invisible persons chest. Waka! Waka for your mama! It will not be well
with you, he said, directing his insulting gesture to a car violating his
rules. Oracle placed both her palms under his armpits, from behind,
intending to carry him.
Oracle pushed the traffic warden towards a danfo, then hurled him
onto its roof. She spat on his nose, imprecating him with her liquids. He
anger vanished. He laughed and then trampled on its roof, as though he
was in a childish fit. The baffled passengers leaped out of the danfo,
looking up to see him too. He drew energy from their attention, stripping
himself to his boxer shorts like an exhibitionist. Oracle giggled.
The passengers shouted warnings to him. They were pointing to an
overhead power line, inches from his ears. Oracle followed their pointing.
She isolated a single transmission line and strummed it, curious about its
ability to evoke such fear. She turned to the warden, and held a firm grip
of the back of his neck. She pushed his throat against the transmission
line, sending sparks through his carcass. She giggled awkwardly, basking
in the sight of the sickened faces surrounding her.
By this time, Oracle could see Ling-Tai and Simis car approaching.
She removed the warden from the transmission line, and then hurled his
burnt corpse down. It crashed into their windshield, and even though the
glass remained within the frame, it shattered into pieces and nestled his
body like a hammock. Ling-Tai screamed, taking no breaths. Oracle ran to

put her ear against Ling-Tais side window. She twitched gladly after each
scream.
***
Nausea rose up from Ednas stomach toward her mouth, she took
hold of a vomit bag. The private jet Minister Offoh arranged for her banked
continuallyto the left and rightas it plummeted towards Nigerian soil.
The plane came out of thick clouds, and she admired the countrys
coastline. God himself sculpted wondrous curves along the expanse of
land that was Nigerias lower, coastal border, and then placed the sea
side-by-side with it so that they kept each other company for as far down
as Edna could see.
The plane dipped, and her attention was drawn to an island the
plane hovered over. Millions of trees settled on the island, forming an
exotic canopy over the island, making everything there a secret. Though,
a few gaps in the continuum of trees collective cover afforded her a view
of shanty houses. The size of the island was the reason it stood out of
from the sea, she thought. It could have been mistaken for another
country if she hadnt seen the sturdy bridge that spanned the waters,
between the island, and the Nigerian border. Is that Blackgold Island?
she shouted out to the flight attendant.
She turned back to look for the fellow. He was strapped in his own
chair, but glanced out of his window. He nodded his head ceaselessly,
wearing a somber expression all the while. But madam, you know were
landing in Gateway State. Thats where you have the airport, he said with
a mellow Nigerian accent. Its likely your house will be in Gateway too.

She turned back to the window, raising her backhand to acknowledge his
answer.

Edna took slow strides down from the planes staircase, toward the
tarmac. Her eyes dwelt on the skies above, as she went down. Clouds the
color of fire were masking the heavens, casting a hellish redness and
purpleness on the land. There was a Mercedes Benz waiting on the
tarmac. In front of it was a Peugeot station wagonwhich had Police
inscribed on the side, sirens atop, and two armed officers steeping out to
greet her. But it was the faces of the policemen and the chauffeurs she
was interested in. She searched them for any signs of concern about the
sky above. They were all undistracted, rushing towards her with perfectly
broad smiles.
Madam, welcome to Gateway State. Welcome to Nigeria, the
sweaty policemen exclaimed on top of each other. They both saluted her.
The chauffer came over and prostrated. Then he headed towards the
plane for her baggage. One of the policemen rushed to the Mercedes Benz
E-Class and opened its back door for her, saluting again. She went in and
waited for them to load her baggage in the trunk. The clouds of fire were
still there, giving everyone and everything a more colorful appearance.
The chauffers driving made Edna buckle up for the first time in
years. Their full blast speed didnt allowed her enjoy the sights and
sounds of Gateway State. Madam, sorry. We are almost there, the
chauffer said.

Actually, lets go on a tour, Edna said, checking her leather-strap

watch. I want to quickly see the highlights.
Gateway State was perceivably small, more of a town. But it was not
the picture of Africa she had in mind. It was a place of such awesome
wonder, she thought at once, about relocating when Rene healed. The
chauffeur said the sun kept them company all year. Only boulevards, with
petite but exotic palm-trees, transported vehicles throughout the States
networksno simple roads or streets existed. Mansions, reminiscent of
those in Holmby Hills, took up most of the State. They were guarded by
lofty, see-through gates, which afforded views of the most heavenly
gardens on earth. Agama lizards circled the sidewalks, sharing it with
foreign pedestrians in after-work-clothes. Many of them were holding
shopping bags from high-fashion designer houses. Together with the
community of birds circling through the clouds of fire, the scenery was
tropically enthralling. The sidewalks offered a microcosm of the world,
with more complexions on display than one would find at the United
Nations Office in Vienna. Police and special armed security forces, were
scattered throughoutpatrolling the streets in platoons large enough for a
five year war effort.
Then, they got to the bridgethe bridge to Blackgold Island. It was
heavily barricaded with toll-gates and policemen. Madam, were not
heading down there now. But I just wanted you to see it, the chauffer
said. Weve been instructed to take you directly to your house. But we
can go down there tomorrowto see your office. She could hear waters

gushing beneath the bridge, even though she couldnt see them, even
though all her car windows were wound up.
They eventually arrived at a cul-de-sac. The station wagon pulled up
outside a gate that was so beleaguered with ivy plants Edna didnt
realized there was a hidden house hidden behind ituntil someone inside
pulled open the gates, and her car followed. She got down from the car,
bent on finding the home phone. The chauffeur tried to bring the
swimming pool to her attention. But she ignored him and marched in. A
housemaid showed her to the phone. She dialed Renes cell number right
away. Her heart glowed with joy when she heard Renes voice.
Mum! Hows Nigeria?
Rene, has Dr. Zackman started chemo with you yet?
Yes, she said abruptly. Now you answer me.
Rene tell me how it went? What was it like? Is it making you feel
sick?
Mom, I know youcalledme, but were not going to be talking
about chemo. Its depressing! So please just answer my dying request,
and tell me how Nigeria is. Rene laughed.
Edna let out some mirthless laughter, and then sighed.
Everythings fine. Its way hotter than Texas. Offoh got me a real nice
place.
Oh really. How nice is nice?
No, Im serious. Ive got this really classified type mansion to
myself. A huge pool. And Ive also got quite a police escort. Mommys
living a rock star honey. I wish you could come. Just then, the second

reason she called Rene came to her mind. Rene, I asked Offoh for an
advance before I left, told him about your situation. And he gave me a
good amount. So I paid some to the hospital. Actually, Dr. Zackman had
sent me a Blackberry message saying your chemo would start
Mum I said no chemo talk!
I know. Thats not where I was going. I was going to say, and I put
some of it in your Wells Fargo account as well, so could you check online,
now, to see if its cleared? Ill wait.
Edna waited. Moments in, she saw the chauffer and the housemaid
taking her luggage upstairs. She hoped they would not unpack her things.
There were items in there that were too private. Dont unpack my stuff,
ok? she shouted at them.
Rene, has your online thing loaded yet?
Its just come up. Mom! I cant believe how much you sent me.
Thank you so much. Hows business?
I havent started, Rene. Just got here. But Im gonna get a look at
everything soon, and figure out how many people Ill need from the office
in Texas. Unfortunately, I have to work with some localsnot looking
forward to it. But when I figure out how many guys I need from Texas, they
should be in next week. Edna could tell Rene wasnt paying attention.
Then she heard Renes doorbell ringing in the background. Mom Ive got
to run, but I love you.
Yes Rene. Now stay away from those boys, okay?

The next morning, Edna set off for early. On arriving at Blackgold
Island, her eyes stayed on the mongrel dogs at the end of the bridge
with only half their faces. One of them had its fourth leg growing from the
jaw. It barked hysterically, galloping towards her car with all its might. Her
convoy was moving too fast, she felt the front-right tire snap its spine, and
then the back-right tire crush it into the ground. She didnt look back.
Edna mused on scores of orangutans floating on the waters in
perfect stillness. Fallen trees were scattered everywhere: some in water,
some on land, and others stretched between bothas if undecided about
where to be buried. Mini-shark flapped on land, forcing a blackish liquid off
their scales. She caught sight of the beggars, mostly children, motioning
at her from afar. The land mass they were stood on was so overcome with
mountains of refuse the scenery was multicoloredonly green in the
backdropand the children occasionally fell off the litter hills when
avalanches of refuse sifted off the outermost layer.
They soon arrived in London, another part of Nigeria that could
rival the infrastructure in Texas. They pulled up outside a towering
building, which she instantly assumed was the one Minister Offoh had
promised her two floors in. Madam, the chauffer said. Well escort you
insideto the receptionist. She will show you to the 7th and 8th floors.
She took another look at the tower. Just then, drilling contractors,
with oil-smeared faces and yellow helmets, emerged from the revolving
doors. They all stared into the car as they came out. Some of them hailed
greetings at her chauffer. Madam, those are you men, the chauffeur
said, chuckling back at them. They have been excited to meet you since

yesterday. The drill men were bowing down, and then walked over to a
cluster of tank trucks parked nearby. She thought about the need to have
the Haghell logo embossed on their yellow helmets.
You know what? Lets go see the oilfields now! she said hastily. Is
that where theyre heading? Tell them to meet us there. Or lead the way.
As they headed towards the oilfields, they lost the tankers in traffic.
But the chauffer drove with the silent assurance of one who knew the way.
Soon, they got to a lively road with crawling traffic and street hawkers
selling all sorts. Fire! Fire! There is fire under your car, said a voice
outside. They dropped their opened up goodie boxes and polythene bags
laden with canned drinks and ice-cubesall pointing under her
Mercedes. Fire! Fire! they continued. Haay! That tanker spilt oil on this
road. Big fire under your car! the street hawkers yelled.
Edna felt a wave of warmth surfing beneath her feet. Lets frigging
stop! She yelled at the driver.
A walkie-talkie inside her Mercedes fuzzed. Bravo delta twelve,
bravo delta twelve, instructing double Charlie to evacuate with party.
Evacuate now! Over.
Both cars stopped. Edna dived out of her Mercedes, running further
away from it than her driver, and then turned to looked under her car.
What were they talking about?
***
Oracle freed herself from the engine pipes underneath Ednas car.
She fell the ground, and then rolled out from under the car. Her clothes
were ignited with purple fire, which was of a lighter shade of purple than

her silk robe. She chuckled and made her way to the street-hawkersstill
gaping at the flames on her cloth. Her fingers touched each of their faces
as if they were keys on a piano. She then coughed into each of their open
goodie boxes and polythene bags, desperate to bring something up each
time.
Afterwards, Oracle turned to the policeman. He was lying flat on his
chest, though away from the car, as he searched underneath it. What is
wrong with you people? he shouted, standing back up. Then he walked
over to Edna. False alarm Madam. Just oil. No danger. Lets keep going.
He led her back over to the Mercedes. Then he saluted Edna,
holding the door open with his other hand. As Edna sat down, the street
hawkers reached deep into their carriers and boxes. Four locally made
pistolssuddenly pointed at his neckstopped the policeman from
closing her door. Oracle admired the scene, her hands calmly placed in
the robes pockets. Ednas chauffer was also surrendering to gunman.
Edna too had frozen. One of the street-hawkers pulled Edna out, causing
her knees to land on the ground. It was so forceful a landing, her jeans
split open at the knees, staining the sand with blood.
Edna was resting on her knees, lined up on the floor next to her
orderlies. All their hands were raised in the air. Oracle went over to Edna,
puffed some sand into the air, caught its storm in her hands, and then
hurled it towards Ednas eyeballs. Edna went for her eyes instantly. The
street hawkers misjudged her reflexes and reacted instantly, with a
ferocious kick to her shoulder that floored her. Oracle giggled as the street
hawkers whizzed off in the cars.

Haay! The chauffer bellowed. Armed-robbers! He rolled on the

floor. Oracle turned to see him better. Edna rose up too. She was visibly
trying to contextualize the whole incident.
Madam, one of the policemen said. Im sorry about that. Well
flag a taxi down and take you back home. I think its best we call it a day,
until the Minister provides new vehicles.
Oracle left the scene, running after the tank trucks. Efe, she yelled
out, sprinting down the road. My husbands, and Efe, please meet me at
their oilfield.
When she got to the oilfield, heavy showers were falling. She stood
thirty feet away from it, looking up at the drilling contractors. She could
make them out by their yellow helmets, which moved around the oilfield
like unassisted flying objects. The drilling contractors were full of activity,
running frantically around the platforms, shouting meaningless
instructions at each other. The oilfield was made of steel, forming multiple
levels and platforms, and constructed together with industry equipment. It
stretched from the ground to a position that blocked some of the clouds.
Oracle heard the roach she used to wed Efe, offering words of
comfort to her. She turned behind, in the direction its voice travelled from.
Efe was quietly approaching the oilfield. A host of ASOC giants slinked
beside Efe. Their feet treaded softly to the beat of the loud raindrops
masking their steps. One giant slipped on the grass, and his AK-47
released two shots, breaking the peace in the air.
Yeay! ASOC! Run. Run. Run, shouted a drill man. With that, the
team of drill men deserted the oilfield for their tank truck, turning

occasionally to check on Efe and his boys. Oracle went behind Efe and
pushed him. He sprinted after them, and all the giants followed. Oracle
followed.
Osaki outpaced them all by a large gap. Oracle chuckled, as Osaki
gripped a portly drill man by his collar and yanked him backwards; his
shoulders hit the muddy ground, throwing up a splash. The rest of the drill
men got away.
Go. Go. Go. We have to leave him, said another drill man, just
before their tank truck sped off.

That evening, at Ednas house, news of the drill mans kidnapping

depressed her support staff. Ednas chauffer was sat on a bench in the
compound, along with the gatemen and her policemen. Oracle sat among
them, listening to varied accounts of the kidnapping. God works in
mysterious ways! the chauffer said. We were on our way there! If those
hawkers, or do I call them armed robbers, had not stolen the car, and
thereby forced us home, God knows, they may have kidnapped madam
too! Thank God ooh!
As they deliberated on the matter, a window on the front aspect of
the house opened. Then, the drapes parted. Ednas head became visible,
behind burglarproof iron bars, that were cemented along the windows so
that would human entry was impossible. Hey you, the dude that was
driving today. Come up here, she said. Alone! The chauffer got up and
ran toward the house. Oracle was tempted to follow, but she stayed put.

The mindless chatter among Ednas workers became intolerable.

Oracle thought about leaving them, and heading for Edna. But then the
chauffeur was leaving the house, coming towards them. They all hushed,
eager to hear what he had been called for. He kept turning back towards
Ednas bedroom window on his way over to them. Can you imagine? She
wanted us to start going to Blackgold Island at this time, he whispered.
She still wanted to see the oilfields. At once, Oracle perceived he was
lying. She grew intrigued as to why.
Ah-ah! Does she not know it is dangerous by night? That they even
kidnapped one of her men today! one of the gatemen replied. Wetin
day do that woman. (What is wrong with her?). He heaved his shoulders
and clicked his fingers as if to expel his disbelief.
She knows all of that! The chauffer didnt join them on the bench,
he progress towards the main gate. I really dont know whats wrong with
her.
You inko? Where are you going? said one of the policemen.
I want to find food. Dont worry you people can sleep. I will lock the
gate from outside. I will let myself in. He took the padlock from one of
them. Oracle decided to wait for him to return.
An hour later, the chauffeur unlocked the padlock to let himself back
into Ednas compound. He checked on all the policemen. They were
snoring blissfully. He came in fully. A young-looking girl clutched on to his
hands for dear life. He stroked the coarsely knotted plaits channeling the
entire length of her head. Her widely opened eyes shone with fright. He

kept one finger over his lips to instruct her. Then, they crept with her
toward the house.
The young-girl distracted Oracle. She had a spiritual significance
that oozed from every pore, and sent chilling messages to Oracles core.
She stood up in a trance, and followed them.
They got to Ednas bedroom door, undisturbed. Edna opened up.
She grabbed the girls hand, yanked her inside, and slammed the door.
The chauffer sat on the floor, his back to the door. He spoke to himself in
his language, but his voice made it clear he was on the verge of tears.
Edna locked the door instantly, so Oracle placed her ear on it.
She listened as Edna tore off the girls clothes. Her helpless
screaming convicted the chauffer who rocked himself against the door
with rage. Oracle wanted to tell him to stop, for the sound of his back
against the door was creating more noise. But she still heard sounds of
scampering feet, followed by a loud crash onto bed-springs. The young girl
kept crying. A cameras shutter sounded repeatedly, and came with
printing sounds after each snap.
For three hours, this went on. Then, Edna opened her door. The
chauffer rose up. A robe was placed over Ednas body, but it wasnt
tightened so it revealed stretches of nakedness at her cleavage and legs.
She shoved the young girl into the chauffers stomach. Her torn clothes
had been put back on her, but now as shredded material revealing too
much of her bony frame.
He took her hand, and then walked her to a guest bathroom. She
gasped each time he wiped the blood trickling down her legs with a new

roll of tissue. Her head was rested on the wall as she cried, holding onto
her stomach with one hand as though it hurt to cry. He was on his knees,
throwing blood stained tissues into the toilet. Even though they didnt
speak to each other, Oracle felt they were communicating. Because he
wiped the blood gushing down one leg, until she took it away, and placed
the other leg in front of him. They made their way back to his car. None of
the guards woke up on their way out. He drove to her a lifeless road and
parked. She opened the door and ran away.

Oli fo'nu oko kpa ma gbaluka ebe.

In the midst of a disaster the real issues will remain unidentified.
Ancient Igala Proverb

Chapter Three

They arrived at Chief Mustafas private house on Ministers Hill,

Abuja. There was a traffic circle in the compound, directly in front of the
main entrance door. His convoy went round the circle, dropping them off

with seamless precision. Yvette stepped out of the Rolls Royce, studying
the surroundings. Although not as stately as the Official House, it had the
understated sophistication of a humble monarchs domicile: Its
magnificence was more evident in the detail than the grandeur. The
entrance door was triumphant, with built-in spotlights beaming in different
directions, altogether creating an impression of Chief Mustafas face
even with the scar. Within the traffic circle, lay a Japanese garden, with
waters gushing through the plants and granite stones, playfully. The
waters occasionally shot bullets far across the compound, into the far
away swimming pool, intentionally bringing it to attention. The swimming
pool was the shape of Nigeriacurvaceous and majestic.
She followed behind him, as he led the way into the house. There
was an intriguing dimness inside. For the house was only lit by miniature
ceiling lights, carefully placed by the walls, above Rembrandt paintings
including his depiction of the Hidden Treasure parableand also above
potted palm trees which had stuffed Indian tigers hugging their barks like
loved ones. Each of the tigers made eye contact with her as she walked
through the corridor.
Chief Mustafa blasted his bedroom door open. There was no paint on
the walls. Instead, they were covered with, signature brown, Louis Vuitton
wallpaper, which was so distended the walls had the semblance of four
giant cushions, meeting only at the corners. He limped to his bed, but
didnt sit or lie down on it. He hobbled around as if looking from
something. Yvette grew puzzled. Then, he suddenly fell to the floor beside
his bed, and slid underneath it, disappearing from her sight.

Just come like that, his voice echoed. Yvette went over, lifted up
his bed skirt and looked under the bed, but she couldnt see him
anywhere. It was all the color of a chasm. Yvette, Im here. Please hurry
up! A click was followed by a sudden light, which illuminated the bed
skirt theatrically. While admiring the effect this created, she felt his coarse
palm crush her fingers together. His touch was a painful handshake, and
with this grip, he pulled her under the bed skirt.
Ouch! Chief, that bloody hurt. She massaged her crushed hand.
Sorry, darling, he guffawed. Im so sorry.
She marveled at the secrecy of his chamber. They were underneath
the bed, yet standing at full height. And, they still needed to make their
way down a long staircase. He hurried down, missing every other stair,
with a discernable familiarity. Following behind, she tripped and just
caught the handrail in time. Sorry oh. Are you okay? You have to be
careful with these stairs. He laughed. At the bottom of the staircase was
a corridor. They walked to its end, and met a single door.
Chief Mustafa put his ear to the door. Then he came away, and
picked up a calabash sitting beside the door. The calabash was closed at
the top. He slammed it to the floor, causing its broken pieces to spread
the length of the corridors grounds. A bundle of keys sprung out from the
ruins. Please pick them, he said, exhaling as though hed been on a
treadmill for an hour. Bending to pick up a fat key bundle, Yvette turned
her face away from the rising ashes, smelling of mud and fire. Chief
Mustafa took the keys from her, went to the forbidding-looking door and
unlocked it.

When Yvette saw what was behind, excitement surged through her.
The fresh smell of money was overwhelming. It was a rectangular room
and could have easily parked thirty cars.
Yvette, please close your mouth and help me bring one of those,
Chief Mustafa said. There was a pile of crisply folded Ghana-Must-Go bags
in the corner of the room.
Is this what I sent you? she asked, looking around.
Ah no! Some of it is over there, with the rest of my naira notes. I
changed it to naira. But most of that came from the Central Bank. What I
asked to print for me years ago.
Stacks of foreign and local currencies in the room towered above
their heights. Even if combined. The tightly packed stacks extended
throughout the width of the room and touched both of the far walls. They
were all so compact, Yvette thought, the walls must have been moments
away from collapsing outwards. And over that side, the dollars and euros,
that is the fruit of my time in Customs. Please, lets start. He stroked his
belly, which was heavily pregnant with decades of good food.
Yvette started packing a bag with dictionary-thick wads of cash. The
notes in each wad kept escaping from their paper bundle holders, as they
fell in. How many people know about this room?
He shook his head in response.
In the middle of packing a Ghana-Must-Go bag, Chief Mustafa
abruptly rose up and headed for the door. Im going to go to the toilet.
When Im back, well set off. Yvette wanted to tell him she needed the

toilet too, but he stormed out before she could. She would go when he
returned.
Yvette continued with packing her bag. She stuffed some more cash
into his, to complete it, and then packed two more bags. As she zipped
them all up, the door creaked behind her. Ill just dash to the ladies
myself, if thats okay? Yvette couldnt smell any soap or cleaning agent.
She peeked at his hands, checking for signs.
She switched on the lights for the toilet, and then opened the door.
It was brightly lit. She moved in, closing the door behind her. The leftover
smell surged into her nostrils with an unwelcome determination. She
rushed back out and shut the door. Chief Mustafa did that? She never
envisaged that anyones feces could smell this bad. Nothing would make
her go back in. This was emotionally scarring, and prompted a fit of
wrenching coughs. It was like a speck of it was in her throat, inciting
nausea. This didnt make sense, for even in the few seconds shed been in
the toilet, shed observed his panoply of air-fresheners.

Chief Mustafas convoy blasted through the muted streets of

Ministers Hill, with deafening volume. They swung around corner after
corner. Yvette glanced back to see his foreboding SUVs winging out and
back into their procession with a grace that could only have been
replicated by jets in the skyat an Air Force parade. They passed a unit of
helmeted policemen, who visibly snapped to attention on noticing them.
The policemen saluted each flag on the hood of each vehicle. They held
their salutes in place, as the Rolls Royce passed, with its gleaming Spirit of

Ecstasy mascot twinkling from the hood. Yvette relished the pomp and
circumstance. Soon, their sirens arrived outside the gates of another
fortressat the very top of Ministers Hillcommanding it to open.
Wow! This is his house? Yvette asked.
Almost as nice as mine, abi? And its not state owned. Its all his.
Chief Mustafa smiled. Yvette, I am very serious, let me do the talking.
Senator and I have a good relationship, and he hates English people. He
experienced a lot of clever racism in London, and to top it all, your people
deported him and his family on Christmas Day.
But how sure are you about him? she asked.
He will help! I am one hundred percent sure, Chief Mustapha
snapped. Do you know he supports Aston Villa? If he were on the sleazyManchester-United bandwagon, then he would not be inclined to take our
side. Think about it.
They came out and walked towards the senators villa. The entrance
doors were giraffe high and formed an arch at the top. They were made
entirely of translucent, Viennese architectural glass and adorned with
about a thousand five karat gold cubes, which formed the words Senator
For Life. Two doormen, who were in hotel style uniform, struggled to pull
back the doors. They were led to an air-conditioned sitting room. The
sitting room could have taken up a basketball court. The floor was richly
endowed with marble. A champagne and ivory color scheme ran
throughout the room, from the upholstery, to the different sizes of
cushions, to the carved African relics dotted round the room. Then there

was a painting on the ceiling, evocative of Michelangelos work in the

Sistine Chapel with black people instead.
The senator came down a staircase, which had diamond stones
coating the entire banisters, making them flashing stars. The stairs led
him squarely into the middle of the sitting room. He was in his pajamas. A
bottle of Baileys Irish Cream was in one hand. A glass of the drink was in
his other; it was a borosilicate wineglass with a glistening diamond in its
stem. Yvette had seen the same wineglass in Harriets house and recalled
her saying it cost $3,500.
Chief-Chief, he said playfully. They shared a laugh. The senator
placed the bottle and his wineglass on the stairs, and then ran into Chief
Mustafa, engulfing him with a boorish hug. Yvette observed that Chief
Mustafa never actually uttered any words, whenever he came into contact
with people. It was a social habit he wasnt aware he had. He would just
laugh awkwardly and wait for them to say something, and then something
else that would usher the conversation past the point of small talk, and his
unnerving laughter.
Who do we have here? The senator came over to Yvette. A rare
beauty from the Northern Hemisphere? But where exactly? His head
made circles, guessing. Dont tell me. I am highly cultured and very well
travelled, so I can place anybodys nationality. Just wait. He squinted,
fixated on her eyes. You are an American! He looked at Chief and
guffawed. You know how much I love Americans! So you brought me
one. He faced Yvette again. His breath was laden with alcohol. The land
of Obama! You Americans are virtually colorblind. And you have very big

hearts, unlike those heartless, spineless, colonizing Brits. He slumped

into a chair. 99 percent of English people function with their minds alone,
they rarely use their hearts. They are more limited than they know.
Yvette and Chief Mustafa remained standing, nodding along.
Five of Chief Mustafas men came in. They were carrying heavy
Ghana-Must-Go bags, and dropped them beside Chief Mustafa.
What do we have here? the senator asked. He sat up.
A hundred million naira. Yvette said, with her best American
accent.
Chief Mustafa drummed her shoulders, as if to shut her up.
Senator, by the end of this week, youre going to end up with 170 million
naira. One hundred from me. Seventy million from the President. And all
you have to do is honor our friendship. Honor the one who is paying you
more. Senator, I want you to make everyone take his dirty money, and still
vote against that asinine bill!
The senator unfolded his arms and smiled. These next weeks will
get action ooh! We will still talk, but you have spoken well. The senator
laughed infectiously and went back to pick up his glass of Baileys.
Chief Mustafa helped him fetch the wineglass. Senator! My own
senator! You this man, you control that house ooh. Chief Mustafa giggled,
and then folded the human-height, wide-open sleeves of his agbada onto
each shoulder. Yvette remembered that hed given a name to this regal
act he loved executing, one-thousand-five-hundred, he called it. Though,
he kept this name to himself and Yvette. It was too sappy to catch on, he
said. Yvette could always interpret a message from his one-thousand-five-

hundred, based on the way he did it. On this occasion, the manner of
folding meant, Im very happy with you. And myself too!
Yvette put on a beaming smile as Chief Mustafa went on, Im telling
you, everybody knows you control that house. From the Speaker to the
Sweepers, you run the show. He cackled, rocking his sizeable head. The
senator laughed back.
But Chief, you know I am not the only influential one? What about
the rest of the big 10?
Chief Mustafa raised a finger. I know! Were actually on our way to
all their houses. This very night! They laughed again. Yvette kept a
simple smile.
***
Hours after they left, the senator remained seated, staring at the
Ghana-Must-Go bags. He strummed his jaw-line so that his thumb and
forefinger met at the chin. Oracle stood behind his chair, massaging his
shoulders. So these are your problems, senator? she said sarcastically.
He poured the remainder of his Baileys Irish cream into the wineglass,
jerking the bottle to make sure every last drop went in. Suleiman! he
called out. One of the doormen in uniform jogged over to him. Put these
bags in my room. Call the other fellow to help you. What is his name
again? Anyway see, make sure you guys put all of them under my bed.
The doorman disappeared, as senator downed the last glass.
The senator rose up, gradually, facing the direction of the doormen.
Under my bed, I say. She let go of him. Oracle wondered if he was
heading to bed. But then he fetched a pack of Benson & Hedges from the

central coffee table. He must be stepping outside. Just as he stood up, the
senator collapsed into his seat again, as though a rope attached to him
and the chair pulled him back. Goodness! Am I that tipsy? he asked,
giggling. He dropped the cigarette pack on the table, and then dragged
his feet toward the stairs, clutching firmly to the railings as he made his
way up.
The doorman reappeared with his colleague. They took hold of the
Ghana-Must-Go bags, and went upstairs. Oracle saw slices of her lung
hopping excitedly in each of the bags, slices the size of a pinky finger. A
pungent stench exuded with the hop of each slice. The smell permeated
the bags, seeping into the airwaves of Abujaforming a continuing streak
that travelled all the way from Minister Offohs secret chambers. She
reflected on what a good idea it was to have been with Yvette while she
packed the bags, to have reached into her own mouth and ripped out
some of the flesh from her lung. For it was only because she threw shreds
of her flesh into each of the bags, that she could now track them, and
catch up with the senators.
Oracle climbed up the stairs, searching for the senators room.
When she finally opened the right door, the nightstand lamps on either
side of the bed were still oneven though he and his wife lay motionless
on the bed. As she took steps towards the bed, looking under it, the
senators wife woke up. She looked around. Oracle froze in her tracks.
Who is that? his wife asked, but then switched off her own lamp and
dropped back to sleep.

Oracle unzipped one of the Ghana-Must-Go bags under his bed. Her
tongue rummaged through it. She felt something the size of a mini-carrot
rush down her esophagus, and then sensed her lungs grow slightly bigger.
When she had done this with each of the bags, she gripped a doublebarreled shotgun, hidden between the bags.
She kissed it, and then swallowed half of the barrel so that its sound
would be muted. She took aim at senators face. The unforgiving force of
the shotguns recoil caused her to stagger backwards. But the senators
merely scratched his cheek, as if a gnat tickled him on the spot where the
bullet had bounced off. Oracle squealed with tamed madness. She held
the gun as though she wanted to break it. Then, she reached into her
hood, ripped flesh off the back of her neck, and hurled it on her silk robe,
with increased fury each instance.
Calming down, she aimed at the senator again and fired. He
scratched himself again. This time, she noticed his traditional bangle
gleaming brightly. She dropped the gun, and went over to him. She
gnashed her teeth on his bangle. It stayed put. She stretched it with both
hands, and then summoned more fingers to come out of her hands and
help. It remained intact. She paced his room in protest, conjuring up
another plan.
Oracle expelled a solid lump of feces. She caught it in one hand as it
left her anus, and then raised it in front of her face. She forced out gale
winds, which gushed out of her lips with no effort, and scattered the
brown-waste across the senators room. A syringe stayed behind in her
hand. Its needle didnt sparkle. Oracle whispered to the liquid in the

needle as she wobbled towards the senator, I need you to act in good
time. Go straight to his heart. You hear me? Straight to his heart.
She stuck the needle into his eye, rupturing a capillary. Oracle held
down the pump until all its liquid coursed through the veins in his eyes.
She gripped her bottom lip with her teeth, as she relished the sight. She
rushed out of his room, setting out to sniff out more slices of her lung
from the bags given to the rest of the big 10. She needed them all by
midnight.
***
Yvette, like Chief Mustafa, became worried. A significant amount of
time had passed and none of their senators were making the sort of
progress they expected. Chief Mustafas Secret Security Service men
remarked that none of the big 10 had been seen in Parliament for some
days. They had not been picking their phones.
Yvette suggested Chief Mustafa call their wives. His face lit up, and
he called them in reverse order of how he delivered the bags, putting the
phone on loudspeaker each time. The last phone call was the most
frustrating for Yvette.
He has been very ill! the senators wife said. Serious vomiting
and chest pain. It could be the amount of meetings hes held for your
sake. The doctor just wants to keep an eye on him.
Arrant nonsense! Nonsense and ingredients, Chief Mustafa replied.
Woman, he is too important to be bed-riddennot this week.
Your Excellency, please let him rest. Please. Im sure he has
aroused enough opposition to the Presidents bill already. I dont think he

will get that third-term. So please, since hes really worked so hard let him

No rest! Chief Mustafa broke his home phones dial by crashlanding the receiver. No rest, I say. Nothing like that.
Yvette massaged Chief Mustafas agbada, her bony fingers rustling
the stiff hair on his back. He stood up. Limping back and forth, pacing the
length of his executive parlor.
Chief, but theres just no way all ten of our senators can be ill.
Whats really happening?
I know. I know. Just see all the phone calls, this one is diseased,
that one too is diseased. He waved his hands as if he were conducting a
symphony. Fuck, he shouted. Chief Mustafa often used nouns like fuck
and shit when he spoke. Yvette resented cursing. The whole purpose of
being educated, she believed, was so that one could express themselves
in words of greater complexity than four characters, but she never
expressed this to him.
Could the President have paid our senators even more to
malinger? she asked.
No! Im certain that he doesnt know about this. And I trust theyve
even started. They just havent finished! Oh God, why is this happening to
me? He turned to his life-size official portrait, and then mused on the
portraits of former Vice-Presidents also hanging on the wall in the parlor.
Chief, theyre probably all in that hospitalthe one we drove past
the other day. You said its the best in Abuja.
Thats very likely. But what is your point?

Get one of your men to go find out about the doctor in charge.
Well call them and see what they have to say about a discharge date.
Excellent! Chief Mustafa ran out of the executive parlor.
One hour later, he stormed back in, slamming the door. Yvette was
surfing the net. I have the number! he said, flinging the paper in his
hand on the desk. She got off his chair as it was clear he wanted to sit
behind the desk himself: He gathered much of his agbadas cloth with
both handsnear the groin area. And then sat down, and picked up the
paper. He went to pick the phone receiver but then sighed, Oh, I forgot,
this has spoilt. Ive asked one of these boys should to come fix it.
As a quaint wall clock sang its noon melody, the sheepish knock of a
child fell on the door. When Yvette opened it, she found a muscular
technician, prostrating over and over again. Its enough jare! Chief
Mustafa barked. Just hurry up.
The technician walked over, took the broken phone from the glass
desk and put it in his metal box. He removed the plastic wrap from a
brand new one, connected it and then placed it on the glass desk. Before
he could make a trial call, Chief Mustafa used the sole of his diamondencrusted sandals to propel the fellow out by his rear end.
He soon got a doctor on the phone, activating the loudspeaker
midway. Im sorry, Your Excellency. God knows. Im really sorry, but
theyve all shown early warnings of a heart attack. Please, they just have
to be kept here for monitoring. Chief please I really beg for your
understanding. Right now, I am even sandwiching the phone between one

ear and my shoulder, so that I can pray to God with both hands. Pray that
you will understand.
Mr. Doctor, you are buffoon! A total ignoramus! Now you lis-tin to
me. I have closed my eyes and I will count to three. If I re-open my eyes
and you have not released all of themI will wipe you out. Chief Mustafa
backhanded the air with his freehand as he said wipe you out. He turned
to Yvette and spoke to her, even though the doctor was still on the line.
Ah-ah! Just look at this quack doctor trying tototojeopardize
something that is bigger than his entire lineage! He placed the receiver
down, calmly, as if the doctor had somehow agreed to his demands
already, agreed through silence. Chief Mustafa paced the room,
massaging the stress balls in his pocket. The man is a brainless ass
wipe! he yelled. Then he uttered three words in a native language.
Absolutely no one in Nigeria knew Chief Mustafas native tongue or
tribal heritage. To help keep it that way, he eliminated his parents and
grandparents. And he never conversed in any Nigerian language. Never.
He only ever used short expressions, usually when he was angry, but then
he even did so in several languages. He only ever wore agbadas, because
agbadas were worn by far too many tribes to offer anyone special insight
as to his ethnic origins. Over the years, formal dinners were thrown just to
help shed light on this matter. Knowing that most people naturally opted
for their native foods, organizers would offer distinct tribal dishes on the
menu. Chief Mustafa however, would order one plate, with very small
portions of various foods like amala-and-ewedu and tuwo-da-miya, so that
organizers were left perplexed time after time.

But in Nigeria, religious affiliation usually gave people away, or at

least significantly narrowed them down, tribally speaking. Chief Mustafa
had long known this. So, as a university graduate, he denounced both
Christianity and IslamNigerias majority religions. Yvette remembered
that their friends advised that this would be unwise for his desired future
in politics. But he argued that a secular stance would make him a neutral
option when he did run for President. Yvette knew he wasnt truly secular.
He consulted native doctors now and then, and she had read in a book
that they would in turn consult with deities.
His name was the last clue anyone could work with, because
Nigerian names shed illuminating light on the question of ones extraction.
However, just before he started at the London School of Economics, he
created Chief Mustafa speciallyin time for the registrar to put it down
as the official name. Yvette remembered him saying so on enrollment
week. To the extent Chief Mustafa was a Nigerian name, it led people to
assume he had both Yoruba and Hausa affiliations, respectively. He loved
how well this worked. For he wanted acceptance from the two tribes he
perceived as the ruling political elites.
***
Ling-Tai marveled at the sight of smartly dressed mensuitable
enough for any boardroom in the worldsweeping the storage facility so
thoroughly. They were using traditional Nigerian brooms: Each one made
up of a thousand hay-thin straws, which were as long a swimmers arm,
and then bound together by a thick elastic band that defined its handle.
They reached under its rusty iron shelves, ensuring their straw brooms

caught every possible speck of dust. Her counterfeits were arranged

neatly on the shelvesin their boxes.
Sweat fell from their faces, landing on the floor like water out of a
bottle. They hadnt even rolled up their sleeves, and dust coated their
suits with a film of brownness. Please, allow us to stop! one of them
yelled. I beg you. Three other men, wearing sinister masks and t-shirts
they were about to burst out of swept along with them. Hatred and
reluctance exuded from all their faces as they swept.
A heap of filth was amassed in one corner. All of them were guided
by their straw-brooms, all the way to it. Each time they reached this heap,
they would walk to other ends of the room, and begin again. Free us,
please! someone cried.
The stores only janitor stood tall. He masticated a chew-stick,
barbarically. His skin tone was swarthy, but his pupils couldnt be whiter.
Several tribal marks had scarred both his cheeks with vertical stripes, the
length of a pen. Ling-Tai imagined they could only have been put there
with the degree of inclemency that would warrant a human rights violation
inquest. The marks, Simi said, implied that he hailed from the wild bushes
of Ipoti Statean environment known to be the home of scientifically
unclassified animals and trees that conversed with humans.
He used an oil-lantern to isolate each sweeper, and then lashed
their backs with an old koboko, forcing slits into their clothes. Some of the
men had skin showing in their slits, the koboko having broken through the
layersfrom their suits to their vests. Their crying screams couldnt be
heard by anyone. They were too far from civilization. These ones have

been sweeping since yesterday, the janitor said, with his chewing stick
flailing.
Who are they? Ling-Tai asked, blinking her eyes to get a glimpse of
each of them.
The janitor lashed one mans neck with so much accuracy it
removed the mans identification pass, and drew blood from his neck. The
janitor picked it up and showed it to Ling-Tai. They are from NAFDAC. The
drug inspection agency. He lifted his lantern up to the identification pass.
Ling-Tai didnt look at the identification pass. Instead, she noticed tiny cuts
of razors, etched along the length of each whip in his koboko.
But how did they find this place? Simi asked.
I have also been wondering, he said. Someone had to have told
them.
As Simi argued with him in Yoruba, Ling-Tai scanned the collection of
straw brooms nailed onto every wall. They were arranged in a diagonal
line from the top corner of each wall to its bottom corner. She returned
their conversation as they went back to English.
Ok, just look at that man. Let me show you something, the janitor
said. He lifted his lantern near one of the masked men, and whipped a slit
into his bulging shirt. Lines of running blood emerged from openings the
koboko made in his shirt. Why are you and your friends here? the janitor
shouted.
Please stop! the man wailed. We came to steal these drugs.
Please let us go. His broom started another cycle.

The janitor returned to Ling-Tai. You see, somebody has exposed

this place and all of them have been refusing to say who. But dont worry,
anybody that comes here will pick up one of these brooms as well.
Ling-Tai sliced the air under her jaw four fingers on one hand. Will
they die?
Ah no, they cannot die in this state. No matter the pain I put them
through, he replied. For instance, these robbers have been sweeping for
four market days. His koboko curled in the air, before it lashed one of
them in the skull.
Please excuse us. Simi, can I talk to you outside? Ling-Tai asked,
pointing towards their parked car.
They could hear him still bolting the facility, even as they walked out
of his gated compound. Ling-Tai leaned against their Honda. Who the hell
was that? Ling-Tai asked.
For goodness sake, cant you understand? Must I spell everything
out?
Dont shout at me. No one shouts at me, Ling-Tai said, fiddling
with her pendant.
Simi kept shouting. I told you the person I found was a ritualist, you
probably werent listening, as usual.
You didnt tell me that, Ling-Tai snapped back, then looked towards
their Hondas windshieldwhich had been repaired since that madman
committed suicide on it.

I told you, Simi snapped back. Besides, do you know anyone else
that will agree to hide everything? Trust me, what you saw was good
news.
Ling-Tai unfolded her arms and entered their car.
Were already late. Im going to give him some cash and tell him
were leaving, Simi said aloud. Deolu, start the car.

A swarming population of tradesmen and hustlers of all kinds made

Alaba market the most dense and chaotic place in the world. Their Honda
stood in the middle of the chaos, on a road besieged with street hawkers.
Simi said the market would have wholesalers interested in their drugs.
They were on the outskirts of the market, feet away from the parking lot.
But the traffic wasnt budging. Simi and Ling-Tai remained on the same
spotin their carfor three hours. The street hawkers pressed against
their cars exterior as they walked past. Some male street-hawkers
brandished The Entertainer, Ovation and True Love magazines at
Ling-Tais window.
Lets get down and walk, Simi said.
Are you crazy? Ling-Tai looked around. All the way?
Its not far. Just hold my hand. Well be fine, Simi said. Deolu,
keep your phone handy. Ill let you know where to find us.
A million voices stabbed at Ling-Tais ears as she stepped out.
Hustlers instantly blocked their path, their clothes thoroughly drenched
with body fluids. A crusty palm gripped Ling-Tais free hand. Madam

China, come to my shop. I get better Chinese food, said one of them. He
was pushed away by another.
Na lie. Follow me instead. I get fine Rolex watch. The fellow used
one arm to hug Ling-Tais head. She shook off him. Simi warned them to
keep clear, then moved on still clutching Ling-Tai firmly.
Things got quieter, more civilized. Then, a horde of paraplegic men
resting their pelvises on skateboardswheeled themselves over.
Madams, please help us. We beg you in the name of God. Their throats
croaked with so much shake, it croaked Ling-Tais throat as well. Simi bent
over and handed a 500-naira note to their ringleader. r b. (Your
shame in life will be covered). God bless you both, the ringleader prayed.
Stop staring or they will come back, Simi said. They kept on
walking.
Simi fetched a piece of paper from her bag, glanced at it, and then
led the way to a particular market store. The entrance door was more like
a gate: a series of corroded iron bars welded together, creating the
semblance of prison shutters. It had to be touched, pulled outwards at one
axis. Simi opened it.
The store itself was narrow, but the walls stretched far down. As she
stepped in, Ling-Tai spotted a large and worn out mattress spread at the
back. A teenage boy was sleeping on it. Sunrays hit against the iron gates,
landing on the floor and on the walls. A market man emerged from the
back. His head was circular and his teeth were in perfect condition.

Simi broke out Yoruba, presumably greeting him. They appeared to

be going through the necessary rituals of small talk, before coming down
to business.
Thats our last price, Simi said. You either take it or we go.
Madam, but youre not trying to help me. I cant buy a batch from
you at that price. Counterfeits are risky now. What if they come and seize
everything? You know NAFDAC is making it hard. Oya, sell to me for half of
that.
Simi raised one palm high and waved it energetically in his face.
Please dont use NAFDAC. Please, because we have been selling boxes at
twice this price. Im just pitying your children. So if youre not ready I will
go. She made out as if she was about to leave.
Ok. Ok. Ill take fifty boxes. Ah-ah. Madam you no easy sha. He
giggled. Anyway, write the address of your store for me. I will send my
son to pick them, this evening, he said.
Simi found a pen in her bag. She jotted into an open notebook,
wobbling his desk in the process.
Ling-Tai thought about the janitors ability to charm unwelcome
guests. And the man at our storeroom will be expecting him, right? LingTai asked aloud.
Simi ripped the page out of his notebook. She scrunched the page
into a ball. Oh, I forgot! Mister man, you will have to follow us there. Your
son cant come alone. Can you come now?
He turned his dirty look away as Simi looked up to him. Bayo. Bayo.
Bayo wake up, he yelled.

The teenage boy on the mattress hurried towards them. Although he

possessed ample facial hair, his growth had been stunted. All he had on
was a very long t-shirt. It reached the top of his shins, and come across as
something that had mopped thousands of floors. His exposed legs were
both rife with scars. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and then held them open
as if to become fully awake. They glowed with the same amber ruddiness
of urine.
Ok, he will follow you people, with our van, the man said, walking
outdoors to point out a vehicle. Ling-Tai saw it. The words CLEAN ME had
been fingered onto its side aspect. Bayo conferred with his dad in Yoruba,
who then turned to Simi. Abeg, tell your chauffeur not to lose him. My
son doesnt have many driving experience.
Market children walking past, with empty baskets on their heads,
spotted Ling-Tai. Oyinbo pepper. Come and see Oyinbo person. Made in
China, they sang, laughing. More were beckoned to take a look. Simi ran
to the loudest boy and bludgeoned his back with a closed fist. They all
scattered in fright.
***
The bridge was packed with fast moving vehicles. Oracle stood in
the between traffic lanes, watching cars pass by. She dogged okada bikes
sharing her spacein between the lanes. She sensed Ling-Tai was near.
Her heart almost burst with excitement. She hunted for her in each of the
cars driving by. Some minutes later, Oracle nodded. Ling-Tais car was
approaching, with Simi seated next to her at the back.

She let their car pass her by, and then jogged after them. Then, she
noticed a van following closely behind Ling-Tais car. A young boy was
driving it. The van drew her attention, for she could smell its attachment
to Ling-Tai. She slowed down, and thought about whom best to go after.
She followed the van, marching beside the boys window. His
window was wound down. She listened as he argued with other vehicles,
vying for his space in the traffic lane. Why now? Cant you see I was
following that car? he cried. He craned his neck and searched the
congested bridge.
Oracle looked into his window, keeping one eye on the moving
traffic ahead. With one foot, he held his brakes down; the other eagerly
awaited any movement. She held the vans side-mirror of the van with one
hand, and stretched the other hand to grip the back of the van. She threw
it forward. And his bumper smacked into the car ahead. Its owner didnt
come out; as if she were driving a lemon, she continued to race for a
position in rapidly moving lanes. Oracle stayed by his window side, until
traffic gathered again. A different car was ahead of the van. With his foot
still pressing the brake pedal all the way down, she pushed his van
forward in the same way. The front bumper demolished the taillight of a
car ahead.
What is happening? he yelled. He put his gearstick in park and
lifted his hand brake. She jerked his van forwards twice more. He switched
off his engine. But she took a firmer grip and charged the van through the
narrow lane between cars, intended for traffic-evading motorbikes and
okadas. Vehicles on either side of his vans rage were gored out of his

path and sent towards the bridges sides. Yeay, he shouted, placing both
hands on his head. His foot switched between both pedals.
With her continued hold of the van, they soon reached traffic-free
ground. Oracle could see cars were now liberated, whizzing to their
destinations. She spotted Ling-Tais car on the horizon. With a faster
sprint, she blasted his van into Ling-Tais and Simis Honda. Oracle kept
hold of his van, smashing it through the bridges side barricade. I am
going to die! the boy yelled. She let go of the van, and watched it
plummeted toward the shamrock-colored river, until it was out of sight.
She ran over to Ling-Tais car, which was spiralingwith all four tires
still grounded. Green vomit hurled out of Simis mouth, gushing towards
Ling-Tai face. Oracle giggled. Ling-Tai must have seen the vomit, despite
all the dizziness. Because she shut her eyes and sealed her lips together.
The puke still struck her cleavage, and it covered her nose completely,
forcing Ling-Tai to snort some in.
Before it wound to a halt, Oracle pushed their car again, upwards
and forwards. Their right headlight struck the barricade at the side of the
bride, sending the metal bars to the water beneath. The front-right tire
leaned over the bridge as if it wanted to see the metal bars plummet. The
car lopsided as the tire hung over the bridge, dangerously inviting them to
plunge into the river. Jesus! their chauffer screamed. At the shout of the
name Jesus Oracle ran away. She grew incensed when she turned back
to see them, for they were escaping through the doors that were safe.

That evening, Oracle let herself into the compound where their
janitor stored their counterfeits. She came with a hefty jerrycan in one
hand, and looked around as she entered the gates. The main building was
perfectly rectangular, with bare gray bricks that gave the construct an
uncompleted semblance. It was on one level and without windows, so she
was unsure whether to think of it as a bungalow or a warehouse. Grass
surrounded the building, making the compound altogether very
unsuspiciousa place of with just grass, a building, enclosed by four walls
and an entrance gate.
She opened the jerrycan, turning it downwards so that the liquid
gushed to the earth with enthusiasm. The smell of kerosene excited
Oracle, for it conjured up thoughts of firehellish fires. She surrounded
the store facility with the kerosene, forming a rectangular streak of wet
grass. She lifted the jerrycan to the storage facilitys walls, creating wet
patches and jagged patterns. With the remainder, she streamed the door
as well, which splashed noisily against the surface. Then she went into the
pocket of her robe, seeking the matchbox.
The door to the store facility flung open. Tani ye? (Who is that?).
The janitor opened the door. But he didnt come out. He merely stuck one
broom out of the door, waving it like a samurai sword.
Oracle screamed so forcefully her entire robe came off. She put it
back on, scuffing her feet towards the exit gate, taking countless glances
at his door, replaying her ordeal. She crawled out of his compound on all
fours, to a nearby river. Her body penetrated the river creating a powerful
splash.

She slept in the river that night, regaining energy from the waters
her source of strength and her place of birth. The next morning, she came
out at the end of the river. She wrenched her robes with both hands,
sending water beads of differing sizes to the concrete floor. She was after
Deolu, their chauffeur, and spotted him walking into an office with
NAFDAC at the heading. For minutes, she thought about what NAFDAC
stood for, what the organization was about. She went in after him, and
soon found him deep in conversation with officials in the office.
How do you know? asked a stout man in silver uniform.
How else? Deolu said, heaving his shoulders. I heard them talking
about it in the car. Ive even seen where they keep them. Some of your
men are there!
My goodness! So my men are not missing after all, the stout man
faced his colleagues, all of whom were bemused.
Theyre not missing, Deolu said. But as I said, if you send any of
your men there, then they will also become enchanted!
Wait a minute, I dont like the fact you are saying we should not go
there and seize the drugs. The stout man squinted his eyes and frowned.
Are you sure that youre not involved?
Of course not. Deolu fired back. Am I not here?
The man pondered over everything for a while. Ok wait. About how
much have they sold up till now? he asked, fetching a notepad.
A lot! Big boxes, like this. He illustrated a size with one hand.

But if youre saying that we shouldnt go there, then what are you
suggesting?
Come to the hotel, Deolu suggested. And come with police.
You must be very mad, the fellow replied. You want to trap me in
enchantment? I will end up carrying broom and sweeping the hotel, abi?
Oga no! I swear! He never comes to the hotel. Im saying come to
the hotel because if you arrest them there. Then, they can help you figure
out how to get hold of the counterfeits. How to get the janitor away from
the store so you guys can move in.
The man shook his head obstinately. Deolu or whatever you call
yourself. You say youre not involved, abi? Then you must drive both of
them here within two days. Are you not their driver? I will have police
waiting. If you dont do so, I will have you tracked down and h-arrested.
Oracle could tell Deolu was perturbed. Ok. No problem. I will do it,
he said, unconvincingly. I will do it. For some moments, he became mute
and just stood with his arms crossed. But see, that man will probably be
in the car, because he follows us most of the time. And he keeps brooms
and his koboko with him, Deolu replied. So if I bring him here, and he
realizes it is a trap, he may enchant
Igwalusi! Horror landed on the mans face. He crossed himself, as
a Roman Catholic would and turned to his colleagues. They all shook their
heads vigorously. Sir, lets go to the hotel and arrest them! said one
voice. Because Im not ready for him to come here, force me to carry
broom and then I become mad. In that moment, Oracle considered Deolu
the enemy of her enemies, and decided to spare him of her plans.

***
Oracle rushed through the wetlands and mangrove forests of
Blackgold Islandheading for ASOCs base. A bat landed on her shoulder
as she waded through one stream. She inhaled it with one of her nostrils,
making sucking sounds until she felt it squirming down her esophagus.
She soon got to ASOCs base, and immediately started licking the tree
that shielded all the bungalows, until its rugged bark drew out blood that
trickled to the trees base. Oracle went to Efes bungalow. She got to his
room door and just passed through it.
A drill man was inside, blindfolded. His face shone with tears and
perspiration. Four of her husbandsin purple balaclavasstood behind
the drill man, aiming their rifles at him. A dried flow of blood emanating
from the top left corner of his hairline stained his face. Efe was sleeping on
his mattress.
Oracle revealed herself. The hulks went into an uproar of gladness.
Efes eyes sprung open, blood shut. He leapt out of his mattress, towards
her. The sight of the two cashew nut size balls, laden in the inner corners
of his eyes, aroused her.
Our wife, Efe said. What was it that brought you to us?
Oracle stayed mute. She paced the room, giggling, and occasionally
posturing with one hand under her jaw, projecting the image of someone
deep in thought. My husbands, do you believe that Edna ordered Haghell
men to pass poisonous liquids through the old pipelines on her site. Old
pipelines that had long ago been shut down because of the big holes in

them. She has poisoned the few clean streams of the shantytown. They
hulks shouted in disbelief.
My wife, Efe said. How do you know?
Of course, the forces told my core. And the great tree just
confirmed it now, as I gave it my tongue. She turned to the drill man,
who bobbed his head in the way of someone who was puzzled by her
words. Oracle slapped the back of his head, producing a booming clap.
And then she refused to give the chiefs of the shantytowns compensation
for their people, when they went to her. The hulks shook their heads in
disgust, hissing. So my husbands, we will break into the newest Haghell
pipeline, and take hundreds of barrels from her. Not just you folksgather
all my husbands for this project. When we sell the oil, we will pay the
townspeople their compensation on her behalf. They cheered raucously.

At midnight, Oracle arrived at Haghells block of land. ASOC was

already there; their speedboats were dotted all around, occupying the
entirety of the surrounding waters. Two speedboats in motion headed
towards her. She grew curious. Efe jumped out of one speedboat. And
Osaki leapt from another. About twenty more giants followed them.
Reassurance settled in her heart.
Can you see the pipelines? Osaki said. Theyre over there.
Oracle watched them all running at Osakis instruction, in a scattered
manner. They drifted towards the pipelines from different angles. Efe
strolled behind. Five gas-flaring pipes were positioned on the neighboring
block of land, emitting flames that mimicked the hissing sound of tropical

rainfall. Oracle admired her husbandswith their balaclavas, bright shirts

and rifles. For they were so dramatically lit by the flames, they resembled
animated creations of graphic design, against the nighttime backdrop.
As she followed them toward the pipelines, her attention was taken
by a pack of menin military uniformsprawled on the ground ahead of
her, motionless. She stepped over the men, observing their bodies, ridden
with bullets. She counted them, dozen after dozen, mostly middle-aged
men with wedding rings on. Oracle giggled. Their rifles lay on the grass
too, with coatings of rust and duct tape obscuring the metal. Blood
trickled from four holes in the forehead of a particular man, casing his
entire face, before sinking to the ground.
As she looked further on, their berets littered the scene. Oh no! She
broke out in tears. Some of her husbands lay on the ground as well. Over
ten of them. The white face paint they had on contrasted with bright-red
oxygenated blood. Efe must have seen them too, because he was
vomiting, on one of them, and citing departure incantationsto bid his
brother farewell. Osaki wailed, crashing onto his knees. The others tried to
restrain him. The rifles of her deceased husbands twinkled, standing out
from the night grass. Oracle noticed military men, still aiming rifles toward
her dead husbands, from a neighboring oil of land. She was happy they
too had since been killed.
She came to terms with her first experience of widowhood. Efe and
the others consoled themselves too, and eventually reached a pipeline
that was so fat, it started from the ground and reached the height of the
waists of the hulks. More of her husbands, in purple balaclavas, were

already there, stood behind the pipeline. They stood in a line up. Guys,
how far? Efe asked. Most of them were mute, a few nodded once.
My Lord, the fight was not easy, one of the hulks behind the
pipeline said. But I reminded everyone. Before we got off the boats, that
those men are fighting for their salaries. And we are fighting for justice.
Cheers of approbation rose up. Oracle went over to the hulks side of the
pipeline. Circle holes had been broken into the pipeline, as if by a largeended drill. There were tubes stuck into each of the holes. The lineup of
men held onto the tubes, leading them into steel barrels.
Giants in white face paint stood behind the lineup of hulks in purple
balaclavas. Each of the hulks had two giants that assisted with changing
the barrels when full. The giants were ready and waiting with empty
barrels. Take it away, said the hulks. Then, the giant would struggle to
take the filled barrel and replace them with empty ones. Its spilling on
my shirt. Do quickly now, a hulk shouted, as oil gushed out of his tube,
damaging the grass as well.
Oracle wondered why Efe was surveying the site with his arms
crossed. But she chose not to come in. Efe walked over to Osaki, who had
joined in with the lifting of barrels. Osaki, coordinate everything.
Everybody should join in. And just make as many trips back to camp as
necessary. Efe walked over to a steel barrel and drummed it playfully.
Within the next four hours, I want you people to have filled a hundred
thousand barrels! If the Cobras for Justice are taking fifty thousand every
day, then we must double them! A hundred thousand. Shay you people

are listening to me? Small grunts of dissatisfaction went around. Efe went
back towards his speedboat.
Osaki laughed brashly. Efe turned around. Ma guy, is something
funny?
Our lord, Osaki said sarcastically, easing out his laugh. And you
inko? Where are you going?
Im going to rest, of course. Im tired.
Osaki removed his balaclava and looked at a few others, as if he
were seeking their support. Please, what is he tired from doing? Sleeping
the whole day? Laughter rose up. See, you cant expect us to stay up all
night doing this, while you go and sleep.
Efe took off his balaclava and ran towards Osaki. He swung his hand
at Osaki, using his entire body to give the blow momentum, but Osaki
ducked. Three giants in white face paint rushed to stand between them.
You are challenging me? Efe shouted. My wife said we should do
exactly what I have instructed!
Several hulks in purple balaclavas gathered around them. More
stood behind Osaki, only two were behind Efe. Its a lie! Osaki argued.
My wife only said that we should take hundreds, not thousands. It is to
pay off the shantytowns, not for another mansion for Efe. Haba! Efe,
money will kill you.
Shut up, mumu. I said shut up, Efe said, without a counter
argument. Look at this idiot. Efe headed for his own speedboat.

Our brothers have just died. All you can think of is money. Next
time our wife comes I will tell her about this rubbish, Osaki said to
everyone, as Efe left. Oracle hated them both in that moment.
***
The next morning, Edna got to her office in London, and eagerly
waited for the secretary to bring her the newspaper. She went over to the
window. A piapiac bird on a nearby tree was tweeting to the sun. As Edna
wondered how the piapiac came to have one wing, a knock fell on the
door. She took a copy of the Blackgold Island Tribune away from her
secretary, slamming the door in her face at once. A bottle of Guinness
the real delivery she awaitedhad been wrapped in the newspaper. This
was the arrangement she made with her secretary the first day they met
she would need alcohol supplied in this way, every day. But from
tomorrow, she thought, she would ask the lady to bring in the whole crate,
patently. Why the need to hide it?
Edna downed the bottle in sixty seconds flat. Then, she switched on
her computer and entered her username and password, opening her email
account.
08:42 (35 minutes ago)
To: edna.mayfield@haghell.com
Subject: Rene Mayfield
Document attached
Dear Edna,
I have some news for you. I really would have preferred to relay this
over the phone, but I havent been able to get through to you recently.

Edna, it is with regret I inform you that Rene has not responded well to
the chemotherapy sessions. My team is now considering hematopoietic
stem cell transplantation, radiation or advanced immunotherapy.
I would like to talk you through these procedures, and also discuss
costs. Ill try and call you tomorrow afternoon (your time) or you can feel
free to call me, on my cell, when you get this. Also, please find attached
the invoice; it details Renes bill since your last payment.
Best,
----Dr. Steven Zackman.
(S.B) Stanford, 1985; (S.M) Stanford, 1987; (M.D.) Stanford (1994)

There was a gentle tap at her door. Theyre for the board meeting,
madam, her secretary said.
Well, Edna yelled back. Tell them, Im not ready to go yet. She
heard her own voice, broken, tearful. A cold baptism of pain washed over
her. She longed to give Rene a tight hug in that moment, and hug that
would rid her of the disease. Money matters came into her mind next, and
then the board meeting.
Edna sat at the head of a boardroom table. But she was actually
sitting on the table itself, her back to all the people in the boardroom. Her
right foot rested on the chair meant for her. She felt tipsy, and swiveled
the chair from left to right with her foot, as she listened to one of her
Nigerian employees. Madam, theyre not really asking for that much.
And Ive checked to make sure it was actually our pipelines that were

leaking into their streams. All of the lines from 31 to 65 are very old. I
dont know when or why they were set to use again. But anyway, it
affected their entire stream quite badly. Lets just pay the town chiefs so
as to shut them all up.
Edna jumped off the table and strolled over to the speaking man.
She gripped his tie from behind, and then lifted him out of his seat. Say
that again, Edna said, with a smile that dared him to speak. His face
became disgruntled and he pushed away her grip.
Just pay them, he shouted, squaring up to her. For goodness
sakes, all the money youre making. I saw the damage myself! That
stream is their fish, that fish is their livelihood. Were in the wrong, full
stop.
She felt her fist rise up, almost by itself. It charged towards his lips
with a speed that made it impossible to duck. She dealt him a blow so
hard he reclined and sat on the table. She could almost feel the rush of air
coming out of his upper gums, as she spotted two red teeth on the floor.
The people around the table twittered in shock. He caught the flow
of blood pouring out of his mouth. Edna dragged him to the door by his
collar, and then flung him out. The door closed with a reverberating slam,
causing vibrations throughout the room. Edna resumed her earlier position
on the table. She allowed the silence to stay for some moments. Does
anyone else care to have a mental breakdown?
She turned. They all shook their heads. No, madam, said many
voices.

Moments later, the boardroom door swung open, interrupting their

meeting. A stout drill-man stumbled in with both hands above his head.
Yeay-pa, he shouted. His chest crash-landed onto the table. He
dramatically slid off the table and sat on his heels. He repeatedly flipped
over his hands to expose his palms, as if to elicit sympathy. Jesus, they
almost finished me. His uniform had been soiled and smelled of urine. His
shirt had been ripped in many places, revealing his hairy chest. Although
he had no blindfolds on, a thick line around his eyes made it clear that he
had worn one for a long while. Oh my goodness. He broke down in tears,
which didnt harmonize well with the decades of life experience inscribed
on his face.
Edna rushed over to him, gritting her teeth. Please dont get
annoyed, he said, surrendering his hand. Madam please, they sent me
message for you.
Those suckers have a message for me? she asked.
He nodded, gasping loudly with exhaustion. Everyone stood up from
their seats and gawked at him. A young man used his handkerchief to
wipe the drill mans face. Talk! she shouted.
They almost killed me! If not for God! They took me one day that I
was on the field
Just get to the message. Edna snapped.
He shuddered in fright. Oh ok, they said I should tell you that since
you refused to give the shantytown chiefs compensation for the people,
after dirtying their streams, they have taken thousands of barrels from
you and will pay the townspeople the compensation themselves.

Edna punched the wall. Damn it. The skin on her knuckles peeled
off, stinging like four wasp bites.
And they said that if you ignore them in future, he broke into more
sobbing and shook his head as if what he was about to say was horrific.
Go on damn it!
They will kidnap you and do bad thing. He spoke as if he was
singing and then burst into full tears.
Edna placed her bruised hand on her hip. The blood seeped out of
her knuckles. She noticed one of the ladies in the room gawking at it, and
then rush out.
The drill man continued, I could hear them bringing in barrels
throughout the whole night, till this morning. He continued.
Everyone in the room shook their heads. Someone get that damn
Major Boniface on the phone. Where was he when this was happening?
Edna yelled.
The drill man raised his head. Major Boniface? he asked. Madam,
I heard them boasting this morning about how they killed him and his
men.
You know what? Edna said aloud. Someone tell my secretary to
get a news reporter down here, right now. A young gentleman, who had
sat next to the fellow she punched, fled the room. Edna turned back to the
drill man, biting her lips, calculating. Those ASOC suckers, did you
manage to make out which stream they use?
He kept mute, establishing a defiant silence that enraged her. She
backhanded him twice, leaving some of the blood on her knuckles on his

cheeks. Mostly Ukpan stream, he cried. But I know that innocent people
also use it.
Who are you Mother Theresa? The lady who had left the room
darted back in and wrapped a bandage around Ednas bright red hand.
Edna interrupted two men at the far end of the table who were
murmuring to each other. Hey jackass, jackass, thats you in the blue
shirt. One of the men looked at her, mouth open, as others in the room
hid their chuckles. The waste fluids we talked about yesterday. Have your
men take them to their stream, and just throw them in there. And be
subtle with it. Because I dont want them to see it in the water and not
drink from it. He appeared reluctant. Go there right now. Take
policemen.

Within half an hour, the reporter her secretary fetched had arrived.
Edna saw himthrough the glass wallwaiting outside the boardroom. He
had a tape recorder in one hand, and a clipboard in the other with
Blackgold Island Tribune printed on its back. He kept glancing in
between the blinds on the rooms glass wall, as if he wasnt sure that it
was safe to come in. Edna invited him in herself. His rucksack was so
overwhelming it was about to send his spine to the floor. He sat down and
got himself ready. Edna sat on her trademark spot on the table again, but
twisted herself slightly towards him.
You seem to me like a man of rectitude, she said. So answer me
this. Is it right to destroy a pipeline, have it leak into your own peoples
damn stream, then ask for compensationfor them? Is that right by you?

The man shook his head. Well the first thing I said is what ASOC has just
done, broken my pipelines. The second thing is what theyre gonna do
next, come to me and ask for compensation. He started writing, speedily.
And you dont even need to get their side of the story, I have it. Theyre
going to tell you I recently used some old pipelines, with holes in them,
which leaked into some streams. Edna leapt off the table and walked
over to him. But the truth is, we had sealed the holes in those pipelines
and shut them down. They broke into those old pipelines because there
were no military men patrolling them, and they thought oil was still
running through. Those greedy fucks are bent on stealing and selling that
stuff. But you see, when they broke in, poisonous liquids were still left in
there. And thats what they found. And thats how the streams were
polluted. Put this in your paper: the only reason these leaks happen is
because theyre greedy. That its the only reason! Would you give them
anything? He sighed and shook his head again, writing more notes. Its
sabotage! And I care too much about your country to support that kind of
terrorist, exploitative process.
He stopped writing and raised his head. But Madam, do you have
any evidence that they have destroyed any of the pipelines youve alluded
to?
Edna jumped off her table. Do I have evidence? You want
evidence? She picked up the drill man up by his collar. He rose with
difficulty.
This man is gonna take you to the pipelines right now. Get your
camera ready, loads of evidence there. You can even ask him all about it.

She clicked her fingers. Someone get a couple of policemen to go with

them. And tell my secretary to get this man of rectitude a hundred dollars
for his trouble. Edna opened the door for the reporter. As I said, these
suckers are not to be pitied. Were dealing with human garbage here.
He paused at the doorway. Before I go, please let me ask you about
the shanty people? Theyre not doing the bunkering and theyve
peacefully protested here about the spills, with no result, he said,
pointing downstairs.
Oh yeah, them. I do feel sorry for them. But they should be
protesting to ASOC. I didnt break open any of those pipelines. And if you
think about it, everything works out just fine. Because since ASOC has just
stolen oil, from me, and those poor shanty people are gonna be made rich
with that very oil money, Im starting to think I dont actually feel sorry for
them anymore. You get my drift? She slammed the door.

Eze mbe si na ihe ya ji-achiri ihe egwu ya aga njem, bu maka ya

ezu ndiegwu.
A wise tortoise always travels with its musical instrument in case it meets
other musicians.
Ancient Igbo Proverb

Chapter Four

The President was celebrating his birthday. The garden party at the
Official State House was filled with a contagious buzz. The buzz grasped
Yvette even as she approached the party, taking in its many scenes from
inside the Rolls Royce. Were not going to stay long, Chief Mustafa said.
Its just to show face, he concluded. Their Rolls Royce parked on the
grass, just a few feet away from all the seated guests. Then, the police
vehicles encircled their Rolls Royce, before coming to a halt themselves,
as though the intention was to protect it from harm. A horde of policemen
rushed to Chief Mustafas door, opening it and saluting. He stepped out,
drawing absolutely everyones attention.
Traditional buskersin ancient kaftans and agbadasrushed to
Chief Mustafa. Their talking drums announced his presence with dramatic
effect. The drummers walked alongside Chief Mustafa, Yvette tagged
behind. The drumbeats were of a rare and deep sound. Chief Mustafa
whispered into her ear as they walked together, saying something about
the drummers picking up on the energy that flowed out of his body, and
channeling it into their talking drums.
Elaborate marquees were spread throughout the garden. Every
marquee boasted a panoply of circular dining tables. As they made their

way to their seats, Yvette paid much attention to the white slipcovers and
artfully tied ribbons on their chairsboth designed by Armani Casa. Then,
she focused on the spotlights, which were carefully placed around the
guest tables. They fought against the purple setting Abujas evening
casted.
A jazz band deafened the guests; its tree-sized speakers were
shaking the entire State House. Despite the buzz in their eardrums, most
guests boogied towards the concrete dance floor as the band played their
rendition of Sir. Shina Peterss Omo Mbo, and then Sir.Victor Uwaifos
Joromi. Soon, most of the tables were empty. Yvette smiled at some of
the dancing. And then she beheld the view of Abujas most rustic
mountain, Aso Rock, which adorned the horizon above the dancing guests.
When Chief Mustafa picked a table, the dancing stopped. Even the
drummers stopped drumming. The jazz band stopped playing, introducing
a silence Abujas evening had forgotten. Everyone froze for a moment.
The muteness dragged on and people exchanged uneasy looks.
Chief Mustafa remained standing, behind their table. Yvette
wondered. Why wouldnt they sit down? Why the silence? He bent over
and whispered into her ear. Can you imagine that? The President
specifically instructed them not to play the anthem for me. Thats the
custom. Thats what everyone was waiting for. He smiled back at all the
faces, which were inscribed with pity.
A bald-headed mandressed in an agbada that shone brighter than
Chief Mustafasemerged from the State House. Aside from knowing his
face from Google Images, Wikipedia and in newspapers, the authority of

his bearing alone confirmed matters to Yvette. Chief Mustafa hissed. A

special rank of policemen formed a circle around the Presidentno less
than forty armed-men, wearing black decorated dress-shirts and green
pants, their heads covered with green berets. Each one had a more
imposing rifle in hand than the next.
The President took his place at the high table, where he could see
everything, Yvette imagined. His armed forces lined up behind him, posing
with their Uzi sub-machines guns and bazookas. Guests placed one palm
on their hearts. The national anthem finally brought sound back to the
world. Yvette sang very little.
They both sat down, taking in the jazz band, the dancing guests,
and the chirping of a million insects in the bushes. Yvette-tete, let me go
somewhere. Get ready, well leave when I come back, Chief Mustafa said,
standing up.
Where are you going? she asked.
Youll see, he said, with closed eyes, like an all-knowing father.
Waiters, in white shirts and black bow ties, moved in between the
tables. They were carrying trays as rectangular as plasma screens
televisions, with as many as six plates on each. The plates were
tantalizing, with choice dishes such as pounded yam and efo, jollof rice
and fried rice served with chicken and moin-moin, and suya dishes with
plantain and onions. One of the waiters almost bumped into Chief
Mustafa, as he was talking to Yvette. Chief Mustafa knocked the back of
his head with a tight fist. He refaced Yvette. Make sure you dont eat any

of this bullshit food. Remember, the big 10 all had lunch with him, shortly
before they died. Any plate you or I pick will be a custom made one.
Chief Mustafa limped his way to the high table. The President rose
majestically and stretched out his arms. His special forces shuffled aside
to accommodate Chief Mustafas path. When he reached the President,
they embraced. The Presidents hands drummed Chief Mustafas back. He
squeezed the President harder and beat his back as well. They spoke while
embracing and thumping each others back for six minutes. Yvette looked
around to see if anyone was looking at them too; everyone was.
Chief Mustafa was approaching when Yvette looked back. And then
a waiter came out of nowhere, blocking her view of him. He was carrying a
red Coca-Cola crate, loaded with myriad soft drinks in tall glass bottles,
with drinking straws in each one. The gas in the soda was pushing the
straws upwards. Some straws had even dived out to the ground. She
reached to pick out a Fanta bottle. Chief Mustafa held her hand in place,
and winked twice. She felt her face enliven, and then she addressed the
waiter. Actually hes just reminding me. Im not supposed to have any,
health reasons. But thanks though!
Chief Mustafa sat back in his seat and rocked his chair with
contained rage. What was he saying? What were you saying? Are you
okay? she asked. He was speechless, but gestured to a security aide a
hand sign that effectively said, Lets go. The security aide ran outside
towards the place Chief Mustafas convoy had been re-directed to park.
As they stood up to leave, The Master of Ceremonies drew Yvettes
attention. He was fixated on Chief Mustafa. His freehand was gently

beckoning Chief Mustafa, even though Chief Mustafa hadnt seen him.
Yvette panicked. She surmised that in the split moment Chief Mustafa had
stood up and smiled thankfully, the MC miscalculated the meaning of his
bliss. And lastly, the Master of Ceremonies said, I would like to call His
Excellency the Vice-President to the floor. I can see hes excited about
giving the final compliments of the evening.
Chief Mustafa paused and glared at Yvette. He folded his agbadas
sleevesone thousand five hundredand turned only his face towards
the Master of Ceremonies. The way he folded his sleeves, on this
occasion, conveyed suppressed wrath. This man is a bloody asshole,
this was saying. He strode over.
Your Excellency, I think you will agree that weve saved the best
speaker till last. Your words for the birthday boy please. The Master of
Ceremonies handed his microphone over. They were both backed slightly
towards the Presidents high table. Chief Mustafa rolled his shoulders as if
to psyche himself up. He was looking from side to side, as if taking in the
faces of every single guest. Yvette worried for him.
Oooh, where do I start? A smile opened his mouth, and the words
passing through his five teeth echoed uncomfortably. The President killed
Senator Badmus and the rest of the big 10 with that food you are all
eating. Loud gasps erupted. Yes! How can all of them suffer heart
attacks just a few days after they came here to eat? We all know why he
did that. Because they quenched his third-term bill! The President raised
his backhand to his special forces, instructing them to allow Chief Mustafa
continue.

The Master of Ceremonies tiptoed to Chief Mustafa, extended an

open hand, as though begging for the microphone. Chief Mustafa dealt
him such a blow he fell to the ground. Yvette lost focus, and cast her
attention upon the MC for some time, but eventually turned back to hear
Chief Mustafas speech. he said, Mustafa, I swear on my life, you will
not win the election. You swear on your life? I said President, but youre
already dead. Remember? You also swore your life to the third term bill.
He reminded me that he brought me into politics. So I cant beat him at
the game he is still teaching me. Chief Mustafa burst out with
bloodcurdling laughter. Anyway I could go on and on, but today-today we
have reached an agreement about the election. If I dont win, my jujuman
will kill me. But if I should win, his jujuman must kill him.
What! Why? Chief Mustafa dropped the microphone and took his
leave, but then rushed back to pick it up. And lis-tin. If any of you should
even trip into my path by mistake, I willtotallywipeyouout. Im
talking about fucking serious annihilation. Good heavens.

In the Vice-Presidential State House, Chief Mustafas campaign

manager was stood in a tiny room, which only had two chairs. Yvette and
Chief Mustafa occupied them both. Yvette observed that the campaign
manager avoided eye contact, perpetually. Chief, that money has already
finished. It didnt go as far as Id thought. But I just need another fifty
million naira. With that we can go back and redo the rally. His eyes were
shifty and his haircut, abysmal.

Fifty million? Chief Mustafa asked. To redo just one rally? No

way! He was smoking a Behike cigar and puffed out smoke rings.
Chief, were talking about ten thousand people. So it may not even
be enough.
Chief, Im not sure about this, Yvette said, pointing at the
campaign manager. Surely we cant just throw money to the crowds.
Yvette, that is part of it, Chief Mustafa snapped. I just think we
can give the masses a lot less money than hes suggesting.
Chief, I still need another 100 million naira for your posters.
Chief Mustafa squinted his eyes, causing his entire face to wrinkle.
Havent you finished that by now? he asked.
Were about halfway through the country Chief. It is because area
boys extort money from us before we can even put up one poster. And lest
I forget, we need to approach Mr. Abeere. The President has already
bribed him. One of his men told me.
The smoke rings from Chief Mustafas mouth were destroyed by a
large puff. Why in the hell are you liaising with his men? he coughed
out.
His campaign manager fetched a bottle of water from his briefcase
with record speed and drank voraciously. He must be thinking of an
answer. He continued drinking until he had to take an air break. It was
mistake. Sorry.
Yvette turned to Chief Mustafa. Whos Mr. Abeere? she asked.
The chairman of the organization that counts votes, Chief Mustafa
said, his eyes fixed on the campaign manager. A very crocked man. Or to

borrow the words of our own Nobel Laureate, Wole Soyinka, a discredited
individual! Chief Mustafa eyed his campaign manager. He remained
speechless, merely stubbing his cigar into a standing ashtray.
Chief, the campaign manager jumped in to fill the void. How
much do you want to give Mr. Abeere?
I know him very very well, so four million dollars should be ok.
Chief Mustafa said very very in his best English accent.
Yvette stroked the strands of gray hair above her left ear. Were
forgetting the actual ballot stuffing? she noted.
Thats true. How much for area boys to do that? Chief Mustafa
asked.
His campaign manager swayed his head back and forth, thinking. It
depends on how much they do. To steal the boxes and stuff them with
fakes, were talking about fifty million naira, because theyll need better
gunsbetter than the supervising police.
Yvette raised herself up and sat on her chairs armrest. But you
havent told us how many area boys fifty million naira will get, she said.
I have to confess, Im beginning to think you just pull these numbers out
of thin air.
Sorry. Ah, no. Sorry Ma. He looked up to the ceiling and appeared
to be counting. About two thousand. No, three thousand. Sorry Chief.
Yvette faced Chief Mustafa. Three thousand armed men going on a
rampage? That doesnt really rest well with my morals. I mean, were
trying stuffing ballots here, not fight a war, she said.

The campaign manager shook his head. Im worried that they wont
even cover the country. And Chief, well even need to give the Election
Officers something. So they will accept the stuffed boxes and hand them
in.
Thats quite alright. Chief Mustafa got up from his chair and
headed out of the room. Yvette followed him. The campaign manager
remained. I will get you all the money youve asked for. Just come back
tomorrow. Halfway out the door Chief Mustafa turned back. But look, if I
discover you are taking my money and just clowning me, in fact, if we lose
this election at allI will hunt you down. Take you and your family to Kano
zoo, and then I will pay the staff. They will arrange for gorillas to gang
rape your wife. And even impregnate her. And then for a horse to
sodomize you, thoroughly! His eyes popped out. Im talking about
motherfucking bestiality here, okay? And after that He faced Yvette
and laughed. They say the tigers there are always hungry. The
campaign manager held a stoic facial expression. And if you think I am
joking, Chief Mustafa went on, go and ask the workers at the zoo if Chief
Mustafa can do such a thing.
After the meeting, Chief Mustafa and Yvette stood under his
mansions triumphant front door. His vehicles started their engines and
went around the traffic circle with the Japanese garden, until the Rolls
Royce reached them. They climbed inside. As Yvette put on her seat belt,
she sighed, Hes clearly not the brightest button in the box. You can see
that once he opens his mouth, and I kept trying to hint you about giving
him how much he wanted.

I know! Chief Mustafa nodded. I know hell steal some. But you
see that man, even on his worst day, he is still indispensable.

They soon arrived at Chief Mustafas private house. Abujas most

noted muezzin was giving the call for nighttime prayer.
Lying on the floor, ready to go underneath Chief Mustafas bed,
Yvette could hear him breathing heavily. He was already under the bed.
Where is this stupid light? he asked aloud. Its glow suddenly illuminated
his bed skirt. He took her hand and helped her in.
She walked down the stairs and along the dim corridor. The coldness
was such that she clutched her poncho and couldnt stop her teeth from
chattering. Chief Mustafa picked up the closed top calabash, standing
beside the door. He smashed it on the floor, so that it fragmented into
many pieces and raised dust. The keys sprung out, and he soon opened
the door.
WhatWhatWhat! Chief Mustafa exclaimed, shaking both palms
on either side of his face as if to frame the madness inscribed on his
countenance. Yvette removed her eyeglasses, as she walked further into
the completely emptied room. The only thing in the room (apart from
them) was its exposed brick walls and vinyl flooring.
Chief Mustafa screamed as though he was trying to expel
something. Then he confronted Yvette.
Why are you accusing me? Yvette asked.
Why wouldnt I? No, tell me why I would not ask you. Barawo!
(Thief).

Cigarette smells wafted from his mouth. A speck of his saliva fell
onto her face. She wiped off his sputter, then erupted with tears. Chief,
how dare you? I am a loving, honest and hard-working lady. Ive never
stolen a penny in my life and I wouldnt start now, she said. So it would
really be nice if you would just stop shouting.
He flung his fila cap against a wall. I will not. I will not. Chief
Mustafa walked to the other end of the room, repeatedly punching one
palm. I hate this man.
For Petes sake, Chief, why the hell would I? Some of it was mine,
she noted, wiping away her tears.
This is rubbish. Rrrrrubbish. He backhanded the air with both
hands.
Chief, I know. I know this is bad. But we have to keep things
moving somehow.
Chief Mustafa fell to the cold floor, and rolled on it. Chineke, (Oh
my God)! All my money, gone. Who did this to me? Sheygay! he
exclaimed.
Chief, I think you would benefit tremendously by re-evaluating your
coping strategy.
Chief Mustafa kept rolling on the floor. Oh Yvette, the President
sent the anti-corruption agency here. I can feel it. His jujuman must have
told him about this place. But how did they pass my calabash? he wailed.
In a rare moment of lucidity, Yvette conceived a plan. She walked
towards his rolling body. Chief. Chief. Those dangerous guys, Chief, the
guys they talk about on the newson Blackgold Island.

ASOC? he stopped rolling, visibly curious.

Yes, them. I heard they steal oil from pipelines on Blackgold, and
sell it on the black market.
Chief Mustafa bobbed his head, confused. What does that have to
do with my current quagmire?
Hear me out, Yvette raised both her index fingers. How about, we
get them to do that for us. Its a lot of money were talking.
Chief Mustafa sat up on the floor. Why would they?
Yvette held her hands together, as if she were praying. The military
has been stopping them. But you, the Vice-President, are going to change
that. The military will get a cut and so will ASOC.
Chief Mustafa jumped up. Fantastic! Yvette-tete! His eyes came
alight with hope. That is fantastic. He sent his eyes from left to right.
Yes! But the campaign manager still needs something for right now. We
still have to get thinking.
His convoy returned them to the State House. They went straight
into the executive parlor. Sometime later, Chief Mustafa swung open the
door at the knock of a soft hand. He snatched a piece of paper out of a
messengers hand and slammed the door closed. He went behind his glass
table, then picked up the phone. Chief, dont call ASOC first. Yvette said.
Call the Brigadier General, on Blackgold Island, and then ASOC.
Ah-ah. But they need to hear from me, he replied.
Yes, but theyre criminals. So they wont trust you right away.
Chief Mustafa dropped the phone, staring at her. She continued
speaking, but watched him go into his draw and then light a joint. He

made smoke rings, waiting for her to finish what she had to say. So call
the General first, she quickly concluded.
Chief Mustafa picked up the phone and dialed, impatiently tapping
his foot as he held the received to his ear. Is that Brigadier General
Edojah? he asked. Ok, this is Chief Mustafa speaking. Yvette walked
over to him and took the joint out of his hand. She sucked on it, reaching a
different head space at once. She returned to the world just in time to
hear the rest of the conversation. General, I promise you. I promise.
Chief Mustafa hung up.
He lifted the piece of paper hed received, and started dialing
another number. Yvette coughed violently. That thing is very strong.
Chief Mustafa warned. She fell deeper into the chair and dozed off over
and over again. One of her head jerks woke her up. It wasnt clear how
much time had passed. Chief Mustafa was sitting down behind his glass
table. Mr. Efe, see, just send your most useless man to that pipeline.
Send him alone. And tell him to ask for General Edojah. Edojah! Youll see
that Im not lying.
Yvette dropped the joint on the floor and snoozed again. The next
time she woke up, she heard laughter from Chief Mustafa and from the
receiver. Efe, I see why they made you leader. Chief Mustafa joked. We
are going to make each other very rich.

The next morning, the mood at the breakfast table was one of
cautious optimism. Chief, what would you like for breakfast? a male

domestic servant asked. Yvette continued reading the newspaper spread

on the dining table, eating her champagne sausages.
Ah-ah, see this man? Chief Mustafa said. Yvette looked up. Since
when did men start making food? he went on, blinking rapidly. Come on,
get away from here. Are you a woman? Moments later, a female
domestic servant brought out a silver tray. Chief Mustafa raised his head
to see what was on it. She gingerly placed it in front of him. He inhaled the
many smells of pounded yam and egusi soup, smiling.
When he finished eating, the female domestic servant came out
again. She was carrying a large bowl filled with water. A shining white
towel hung out of her aprons front pocket. Chief Mustafa washed his
hands in the bowl. Then, instead of using the towel, he dried both hands
on her skirt. He picked up his drinking glass, downing the kunu in seconds,
then slammed the glass onto the dining table. A rasping exhale followed.
It was his sign that he was about to speak; Chief Mustafa always kept
mute until hed finished eating. Yvette-tete, I thought of something last
night, he said.
Yvette thought the domestic worker brave to remain standing
behind Chief Mustafas chair. She swayed her body like a snake, and kept
frowning at her skirt and looking at Chief Mustafa between grimaces.
Shes going to spill that water on you, Yvette warned.
He turned to her swiftly. Bitch, if you dont get out of here, I will
demote you to a position that requires touching my poo-poo with your
bare hands, he roared. The servant bolted.

What were you saying? Yvette asked, recovering her breath from
laughter.
Yes, as I was saying, last night my house in Belgravia came to my
mind. Im going to run there, he said, circling his empty drinking glass on
the table.
Whats in Belgravia? Oh wait, the house Clive and I visited you in
last Christmas? she guessed.
Exactly! he replied. You know why it came to mind?
Yvette licked the food caught under her upper lip, then looked up at
the ceiling. Please tell me you have another stash there!
He nodded childishly.
Great! Yvette felt her eyes taking up more room on her face. But
then she closed them. Though, I dont like the idea of being left all
alone.
I wont be long at all. He picked a piece of meat out of his teeth
with two fingers. He put it back in his mouth, and then blew it onto the
curtain. Two days max.
How revolting? Yvette wanted to look at the spec of meat on the
curtain but she didnt. But Chief, Im just thinking. You wont be able to
bring any of that cash through British customs. I know how they are.
Of course I will. Are you forgetting that I have diplomatic immunity?
They cant touch me.
She felt a rare smile surfacing on her sleepless face. Though, she
removed it quickly. I know we need it badly. But something just doesnt
feel right, she said, returning to her newspaper with half of her attention.

You worry too much, just stay put and relax. You can trust me. My
enemies who stole my money will be put to shame. When they see how I
triumph against all odds, they will bow.
She pushed her newspaper over to him. Why havent we thought
about them? she said, pointing to one of the pages.
Hmm. As Chief Mustafa read on, one of his eyebrows rose up.
Come to think of it The Central Bank would be much easier.
***
Oracle stood by the dining table, as Chief Mustafa asked two of his
political aides to get the Governor of the Central Bank on the phone. The
female aide did so swiftly, and the male came back down to say she had
done so. Chief Mustafa rushed up to his executive parlor. Yvette followed.
When Oracle got to the parlor, he was holding onto the receiver
tensely. Preposterous! Is this a sick joke? Chief Mustafa yelled into the
phone with all his might. He told you not to print anything for me, and
you want to obey him? You want to walk down Perilous Avenue? He let
out a fit of laughter. Young man, I have been collecting my share from the
Central Bank before your mother spread her smelling legs to make you.
Most of your predecessors have not challenged me. You know why? Chief
Mustafa turned to Yvette. Oracle guessed that Yvettes presence was the
reason he wasnt saying why. Chief Mustafa stopped to listen to the
Central Bank Governor. No! Dont apologize to me. You have chosen to
abide by the Presidents foolish orders. You now have to bear the
consequences. His face was frozen in one place, but his eyes made small,
sinister circles. Mr. Governor, mark my words. When I become President I

will not only fire you from that post, I will see to it that your nakedness is
exposed to the four winds. Im talking about having you publicly lashed to
the death! Okay? Youre a filthy mofo! Big time pussy fuck! He hissed,
and broke the telephone receiver in half.
Chief Mustafa let out a bellowing scream. Yvette was behind his
computer, ignoring his rage. She was using an American Express Card to
book his flight on a website. She printed out his online plane ticket, but
left it in the printer, continuing to surf the internet. Oracle stood up from
one of his parlors chairs, picked up the printout, and left the mansion. She
set off for the Presidential Villa.

Female domestic workers, in forest-green uniforms, were setting the

Presidents dining table. Ooooohhww, where is my food jare? the
President cried, from the head of the table. It was a mile long. One of the
domestic workers noticed the First Lady rising up from the chair next to
his. She strode into the kitchen. Will you people hurry up? her voice
boomed from the kitchen. Ordinary amala and ewedu, something that
should take fifteen minutes, she bellowed, calling the names of two of
the chefs. An army of domestic workers rushed out, carrying gold trays of
different weights. His wife came back with them. The bodyguards in black
suits and dark sunglasses leered at the trays. But they remained static,
lining the dining room walls.
The President pulled up his sleeves and washed his hands in a bowl
presented by a male domestic servant. Others placed La Chamba serving
dishesa gift from the Colombian Ambassadorand four bottles of

Methuselah Champagne onto his table. Before any domestic worker could
leave, he quickly used all the fingers on one hand to pick a lump out of his
amala. He held the food against his lips, and then scanned all the
servants. His chair screeched on marble as he stood up. He threw his lump
of amala against the wall. Thisfoodispoisoned! he screamed. His
eyes were popping out.
Remnants of the amala on his fingers flew off as he slapped the
short man who was holding the bowl of water for him. One bodyguard
kicked another domestic servant in both calves, causing her to fall hard.
Other bodyguards followed suit. The President darted into the kitchen and
came back dragging two people by the elastic at their waists. All the
domestic workers went down on their knees, raising their hands in the air.
Some crowned their heads with both hands. Oh God, what is this? one of
them said to a colleague. The President paced the room. His First Lady left
and came back with a rattan cane. She used it on the rear ends of two
burly domestics, while holding her gele in place with one hand.
The President snatched a pistol from one of his bodyguards. He
detached its magazine and thrust its gold bullets in the face of the girl
who first noticed the First Lady rising from the table. She wondered why
he was showing her. He used her right shoulder to push the magazine
back into the pistol, clicking as it did. Something tells me it is you, he
said, taking aim at her. So it is my hope that you somehow stay alive
after this.
She stifled her sobs and wiped her tears quickly. Yes, Your
Excellency, it was me. Please wait, she replied.

Oluwa Jesu! Obangidi! Chineke! said loud voices in the room.

Will you all shut up? the President said, glaring around the room.
The girl made her face fierce. I needed to get your attention. I have
something to tell you. And this is the only way I could. I knew your powers
would lead you to me.
The President bit his bottom lip and raised his hand to slap her, but
the First Lady caught it in time.
What is it you want to say? the First Lady asked.
I need to tell him alone. No bodyguards even.
The President froze. He whispered into his wifes ear. The First Lady
left the room and returned moments later with a humungous colorful
necklace, made of mighty beads, which could have passed as tennis balls.
He placed it around his neck. The President walked the girl carefully into
the kitchen.
When they were safely inside, he closed the door. Chief Mustafa is
going to London. This is his plane ticket. She fetched the printout from
her apron and held it out.
He eyed her. Who the hell are you? He snatched the paper from
her hand.
Im one of Mustafas servants, but I prefer you.
The President scratched his shiny head. Prefer me? Is that why you
tried to poison me? Then please tell me what you do to him. He laughed.
Your Excellency, Chief Mustafa is going to collect money from his
London house, for the elections.
He flung the paper aside. What! How do you know?

Call the London police and tell them youre stripping his immunity.
And they should make an example out of one of your corrupt officials.
The President looked at her like she was a winning lottery ticket.
Who taught you all this thinking and scheming? He ran out of the
kitchen. But he left behind the flight details on the floor. She heard his
footsteps rushing back. He opened the kitchen door, immediately reaching
for the floor to pick the paper up. Where are you? he asked aloud,
looking round.
***
The workman picked up his toolbox. He made his way out of Chief
Mustafas executive parlor. Yvette noticed him turn to look at the new
phone hed just installed, as if he was worried about its lifespan. They
never lasted long. Chief Mustafa was near the door and so pushed him
out. My friend, will you get out of here. You want to eavesdrop on her
conversation? Come on gerrout! When the fellow finally left, Yvette
dialed Clives number in England.
Minutes into the conversation, Yvette shook her head at Chief
Mustafa, the news was bad. She pressed the loudspeaker activator. Clives
voice boomed out of the speaker. Yvette, Im not investing a pound more
in Chief. Ive been following it all online. Almost all the Nigerian political
sites predict that he will lose. Im begging you, just come home my dear.
Yvette panicked, for she hadnt want Chef Mustafa to hear all that. His
eyes widened to their largest extent, and he covered his mouth with one
hand as if to suppress an invisible rage gushing out.

Oh he will win, Clive, Yvette said, still observing Chief Mustafa who
was now pacing the room. She knew he was going be very thorny mood
for a long while. If you were actually here to see our progress, youd even
say hes President already. So Im going to be rich again, and youll just be
very sorry.
Clive released a pitiful sigh. Honey, please. Ok, hes going to win.
But regardless, things are actually getting better. Just come take a look.
Clive, less debt and a little more business isnt better, she
snapped. So just sell the bloody house and lets actually make things get
better.
No honestly, we just sold the E.N. shares and they did great.
She was speechless. She stopped following Chief Mustafas pacing.
Her eyes turned instead to the phone, as if she could see Clive in it. How
great?
As well as the Virgin shares did last year.
Clive, I need that money. All of it.
You what? Are you joking? No! This, Yvette, is going towards
clearing more of the debts youve created. And giving us a fresh start. If
you want it?
She grunted. Chief will be in his Belgravia house from Friday. You
either give it to him, or open a new tab on Internet Explorer right now, and
file our divorce. Its our firm, not yours. And I wont allow you steal from
me, Clive, stealing doesnt rest well with my morals.
There was total speechlessness from the phone and in the parlor.
Yvette and Chief Mustafa exchanged hopeful looks. He even smirked at

her the way her dad would when she made him proud. Yvette, you know
what? Clive said. Im opening the new tab.
She shook her head, not believing what she was hearing. Clive, you
wouldnt dare. He hung up.
Yvette was unable to move. She sat behind the desk, fixated on the
phone. Chief Mustafa was breathing in and out, marching around the
whole room, wordless. He finally got to Yvette, and then tapped her
shoulder crassly. Yvette-tete, dont even say anything. Dont even worry
or talk about him. Chief Mustafas voice was raised, he continued
panting. Yvette-tete, do you know what? We are going to take that
money from him by force.
Yvette looked away, shaking her head. Thats just unrealistic. He
continued, Yvette-tete, are you listening? She remained stoic, glaring at
the phone. When Im in London, you will just call him again, just like
today. But dont start asking for this money. Just tell him you are sorry, no
more divorce. But that he should come and pay me a friendly visit. Okay?
Ill handle it from there.
She faced him. He sat on the edge of the glass desk, so that he was
face to face with her, as she remained on the chair. I will bludgeon him,
by surprise, and then put him into my special closet. My jujuman utilizes
the closet from his base here in Nigeria. After twenty-four hours in the
closet, he will be no more. He would have turned into that money, which
he is refusing to hand over to us. She removed her eyeglasses and
placed them on his desk. Oh, how ghastly. I will add it to the rest of my
stash, and come back with everything.

She stopped listening to him, thinking about it all, but then

refocused again. Dont feel anything like guilt. He is nothing to you now.
Nothing. And Ive done this before. Yvette felt her eyes narrow, a reflex
inspired by fright. Yes! That money you saw in my chambers, some of it
was my wife. That is why she was never found. I asked the jujuman to
steam her in a special closet! Yvette pushed her heels into the floor,
backing her chair away from him, very slightly. She hoped he hadnt
noticed the wheels roll back. Hes an animal! I know how it sounds, but
you dont understand. O m nnkankan. Ok. You know, Ive always told
you this scar on my face was surgical, but actually she was the one who
out it there. So I had to kill her. Anyway, what Im saying is if I have done
this steaming thing myself, I dont want you to worry about making
sacrifices for this campaign as well.
Yvette stayed mute, and then took a long-blink. She was taking
everything in; the horrors and possibilities. Chief Mustafa looked away
from her, as if to take away the spotlight. After a while, she nodded slowly.
***
Chief Mustafas suitcases filled nine airport trolleys. His security
men glued their hands to each one. They wheeled the trolleys carefully
along the departure floor, although they all feigned casual bearings. They
reached British Airways fast track counter, ready to check-in. From her
name badge, Chief Mustafa knew the lady behind the counter was
Nigerian. She exuded a rare loveliness, as she interacted with the Latin
American man ahead of him. Chief Mustafa was next in line, he moved

forwards. His peripheral vision caught someone dressed in black and white
sprinting towards him.
Chief Mustafa swiveled slowly on his heels and raised his eyes. A
police squad enclosed him and his men. Before he finished looking around
the complete circle they formed, his men were being handcuffed. A police
officer with ginger hair stepped forward, Excuse me, Sir, I am arresting
you on suspicion of money laundering. You do not have to say anything,
he said, flashing his badge.
Chief Mustafa looked him up and down slowly, from head to foot. He
wanted to convince himself that the policeman was really a creature of
flesh and bone, a living being with a brain and common sense. After
noticing a crowd of people watching, Chief Mustafa released an
uncomfortable laugh. Now, Mr. Officer, you listen to me. Go and check
Chief Mustafa in your international computers. Or just ask this woman.
And then come back to me and apologize for this. I will wait here, he
said, pointing towards an internet caf, and then the check-in lady. The
policeman pulled handcuffs from his duty belt and moved in closer. Oh
boy, Chief Mustafa warned, if you touch me with those handcuffs, I will
beat the living daylights out of your bum-bum.
The policeman forcefully took his hands. Chief Mustafa tiptoed and
head butted him. Blood gushed out of one of his nostrils. The policeman
brought one hand towards his nose, but he collapsed before he touched it.
Chief Mustafa ran backwards, away from the scene. The other policemen
were all busy, arresting his men one-for-one. I am a fucking diplomat.
And you mofos wanna shit on me? Bull crap! He yelled out in a Nigerian-

American accent. Instead, I will shit on you. Okay? He ran backwards,

facing the scene. Suddenly, it felt as if a bulldozer crashed into his spine.
It was not until he lay on the floor, and noticed a uniformed officer that he
realized someone had caught him by surprise with a back tackle. More
reinforcement police closed in and sat on him, pinning his chest to the
floor. Racism! Racism! Can you people try this with Dick Cheney? They
cuffed him. He was ledalong with his security mento their police vans.

When he got to the police station, he demanded for his phone call.
Yvette-tete, its me, Chief Mustafa said.
Hows everything going? she asked.
Im actually calling from a police station.
He heard her fling something against glass desk, yelling out. Oh for
goodness sakes, Chief!
Shush, everything will be fine. Trust me, this hasnt changed
anything!
Chief, I kept telling you.
Dont start again. Just listen to me carefully. I cant say much, they
are recording.
She released a loud sigh. Im listening.
Go to the picture on my mirror. There are three of us in the picture,
Im in the middle. The man on my left, call him. Tell him all this. And the
man to my right, bail. Okay?

Before two sunrises had come to pass, two prominent Nigerian men
landed in London Heathrow Airport. One was a Nigerian governor. He
came with his entourage. The other was a multi-millionaire, as measured
by even the strongest of world currencies. The governor posted bail for
Chief Mustafa and his security men. Although they were all released from
their London jail, the governor only took Chief Mustafa away. They left in
his navy blue BMW 7-series, which had tinted windows. Meanwhile, Chief
Mustafas men were taken in another direction, by the rest of the
governors convoy.
Sometime after departing in this way, Chief Mustafa and the
governor were on Bishops Avenue. Their car waited, as the electronic
gates of one mansion drew open. Bishops Avenue interested Chief Mustafa
for two reasons. First, it was the most expensive road in London, boasting
of the grandest mansions one could find anywhere in the city. Second, it
was home to people listed in Forbes Magazine, and then to some rather
colorful characters; those who had acquired wealth in a manner that
disqualified them from featuring on the global rich list.
Chief Mustafa got out of the car alone. Governor, bye-bye. Once
again, mun gode. The governors car sped off as he progressed towards
the mansion. There was a sign on the front door. It had clearly been made
using Microsoft Word, the font was especially distasteful. It read, I made
my money legitimately! Because I lived in Russia, Mongolia and Tajikistan
for donkey years.
A gentleman in his sixties opened the door. He stood with the
bearing of an aristocrat. His facial hairs had grown so far up his cheeks;

they were almost touching the eyes. His overgrown afro caused his red
fila cap to hang at one side as though it was about to fall off. He didnt
speak. He just gave Chief Mustafa a sideways hug and grinned at him.
This hug of yours. Ive never understood why you dont hug people
properly. Chief Mustafa said jokingly.
But Chief, why didnt you let me bail you out? He closed the door
behind them.
No, but thank you. You see, I knew that whoever bailed me out,
they would track me and the fellow. Nwigwe will now go back to Nigeria
alone, it is better. Chief Mustafa replied, pointing toward the driveway.
So you mean Governor Nwigwe has been in London, and he didnt
contact me?
Chief Mustafa shook his head. No, he just came in yesterday as
well. But on British Airways, first class. You wouldnt have seen him.
But Chief, where are your men? his friend asked, looking out the
window.
Theyre coming soon. Theyve gone somewhere, Chief Mustafa
replied. Look, enough with the barrage of questions. Offer me a drink,
biko.
The gentleman led Chief Mustafa up to the third floor of his grand
house. They went into a dressing room, which had mirrors with spotlights
adorning two of its walls. The room was endowed with the paraphernalia
one would expect to see in a Hollywood dressing room. It had everything
from couture frocks, to a world-class handbag and stiletto collection,
arranged on shelving units. There was a black female makeup artist

behind a leather salon chair. With her hands behind her back, she bowed
to them. So Chief, go ahead and sit down. This was the woman that
made Senator Badmus look finer than Chaka Khan in 2005. So youre in
good hands, the gentleman said, sitting on the salon chair beside Chief
Mustafas. He opened a bottle of Perrier-Jout Belle Epoque champagne,
which was on the table and poured it into two crystal wineglasses. The
makeup artist went to work on Chief Mustafa.
Chief Mustafa soon became impatient. Hurry up, jare! He barked,
as the woman applied makeup on his face. Haaay! See embarrassment,
he continued, rearranging his wig in the mirror.
Chief, this your skirt is fine oh! his friend joked.
My friend, shut up. He laughed back.
Just then a knock fell on the door. Come in! The gentleman said. A
short fellow with a rucksack came into the room. He brought out a
professional camera and took several shots of Chief Mustafa.
Oya, quick, quick. You have to do this fast, you will find everything
you need in my basement, his friend said to the fellow. Chief Mustafa
watched in the mirror as his friend opened the door for the fellow to leave,
and then walked over to the window. Chief, I think your men are here.
Thank God! Chief Mustafa shouted. Ask them if they have my
suitcases.
Yes, we do, said a voice from outside. Am I that loud?
His friend put on a puzzled face. Ah-ah? How manage? Chief, I
know the police didnt return the cash to you. He chuckled sarcastically.
So how do they still have the bags?

Chief Mustafa hissed. Are you underestimating me? You see, the
problem is that we have a President who thinks I am foolish. Who thinks
he can outsmart me, Chief Mustafa said, beating his fake breasts. My
jujuman told me the police would be waiting at the airport. So we packed
everything with fakes. My jujuman gave them to me. What they have
seized are pure counterfeits.
It is a lie! He was visibly bemused. Chief!
So we kept the real stuff at the boys hotel, Chief Mustafa went on
with casual boastfulness. Thats where my boys are coming from. He
pointed to his security aides.
Ah-ah, but wait. Is your jujuman currently in London?
Chief Mustafa hissed. Dont be silly. He just operates from my
closet. He sipped some champagne and exhaled. I just told you, he put
the counterfeits there.
His friend clapped his hands in wonderment, as if he was dusting
them slowly. His mouth was wide open. But Chief, why then did you make
a scene at the airport? You know the incident is already in all the papers at
home?
Ah, its like you dont know me. Im a performer! An exhibitionist
par excellence. I had to give it to those supremacists. You know,
supremacism is borne out of euro-centrism and Americana-centrism. Its
about their thirst for hegemony. Western hegemony, I will address it as
head of state. Just wait.
The man wearing a rucksack charged back into their midst and knelt
before Chief Mustafas friend. Its ready, sir. Ive decided to use Simisola

Akinlolu as the name. He brandished a Nigerian passport. It was deep

green all over except for streaks of gold that outlined the national emblem
on the passports face.
My wifes name? Chief Mustafas friend asked in surprise, stepping
closer to the man.
Please, dont be angry Sir. Only because it will be more believable.
Chief Mustafa was eager to calm the tension. A question rushed to
his mind just then, What about customs? We havent thought about
them. They may still check our bags! he heard his voice, panicked.
Dont worry. His friend shook his head, still fixated on the
passport. At Heathrow, the customs head in charge of private jets is my
cousin. Besides, youre my wife now, and nothing is suspicious about
luggage filled with shopping. That happened because you were Chief
Mustafa, and the President instructed them. Otherwise He shrug his
shoulders, as if to say it would have been fine.
Chief Mustafa went back to the mirror. As promised, he was indeed a
convincing woman. He stood up from his makeup chair and hugged his
friend. Honey. Oya, show me to your private jet, and your million dollar
lifestyle. A fit of laughter spread through the house.

They arrived safely in Abuja. A long convoy dropped Chief Mustafa

off at his State House. He went straight to his room and got out of his
female costume before taking a long shower. He toweled himself with one
hand, looking out of the window. Yvette was returning from her day out.

He knew the increased number of security aides and cars around the
fountain in the courtyard would prompt her to check in his room.
She was not particularly happy to see him. Chief Mustafa felt
tension in the air between them. Nevertheless, he talked about his stash
from London, without end. Clive was a part of it.
His cell phone beeped, and shut him up. He read it carefully.
Yvette, please, he wants me to see where he is keeping the stash for
me, Chief Mustafa said, heading out of his room. He wants my approval
before storing the cash there. We ought to have discussed this in the car
but there was just so much to catch up on. Lets go.
Chief, we need to contact your campaign manager. He still hasnt
got to work yet. But dont give him all the money he asked for. Yvette
was struggling to keep up with the pace of his limping stride.
Actually, I forgot to mention, hes already taken it. He was at the
airport to greet me this morning when we arrived, he said, to fault
Yvette. They shut the doors on his Rolls Royce at the same time. A police
wagon led them out of his compound.
He noticed Yvette turning around to see the rest of the convoy; it
must been still be fascinated to her. Just two cars? Yvette asked.
He lives just there, Chief Mustafa replied, pointing. And we wont
be long.
***
Oracle jumped down from a baobab tree. She broke one knee on
landing. She hopped one on leg towards Chief Mustafas three-car convoy.
The agony of the displaced lower leg was a pressing distraction. Her hand

slowly went into its sleeve and came out again as an M240. Its purple
bullets overwhelmed the first police wagon. The vehicle stopped. She
opened the chauffeurs door and kept shooting the dead men inside.
Yeay, she heard, before turning to find more policemen piling out
of the other station wagon, behind the Rolls Royce. Oracle hopped towards
the escaping policemen, and pierced the length of their spines with more
purple bullets. She twisted her leg with one hand, fixing it back in place.
Though, it was still excruciating to walk with.
She then turned her weapon on Chief Mustafas Rolls Royce, and
repainted its surfaces entirely with bullets. The windows cracked wildly,
but stayed in place. Despite the tinted windows, Oracle could make out
Chief Mustafa. He was removing his fila cap. He threw his traditional
bangle into it, and then held onto Yvette. Oracle rushed closer to the car.
She opened Chief Mustafas door and instantly released another round of
bullets. But she quickly stopped and raised one eyebrow.
***
Oracle snuck into the gallery of a Lagos courtroom. She opted for a
seat that was so heated by the sun it scorched her skin on contact. Simi
and Ling-Tai were both standing in the defendants dock, which was clearly
meant for one. They were in tears.
A barristers voice was dominating the courtroom. My Lord, this
case is entirely shambolic, and it was obviously put together with
malicious haste. A common chauffer told malicious lies against my clients,
cultured businesswomen, and he has never appeared here as a witness.
The NAFDAC inspectors acted prematurely by arresting my clients, and

have been unable to present any evidence that these fake drugs actually
exist. I defy anyone to find them, he said. My Lord, I ask that you throw
this case out of your honorable court, on a submission of no case to
answer. These are my closing arguments, my Lord.
The prosecuting barrister stood up. He was wearing a brand new
wig. Although his back was to the gallery as well, his body language
conveyed passion and rage. Oracle walked over to him. She caressed his
rear end and the length of both legs, and then eventually focused on his
moving lips. Consider the testimony of the bereaved Agbese family. The
autopsy report has shown their son died as a result of using counterfeit
medication. The counterfeit was traced from the retailer that sold it to
their son, to a distributor that confirmed these women as a supplier. My
Lord, these women are heartless criminals and I ask that you sentence
them to the full extent of the law. I rest my submission.
The judge picked up his gavel. Oracle leaned in. He delivered his
verdict on the murder charge. They were not guilty. Murmurs of discontent
spread through the court. Oracle released a mighty scream. Her scream
was so protracted, it lasted until the judge started ruling on the second
charge: counterfeit drug distribution. On this count, I find the defendants
guilty as charged. And by the power vested in me by the laws regulating
this offence, I hereby sanction you both with a fine of ten thousand naira.
However, I hereby order your assets to be duly reinstated. The judge
struck his gavel against its sound block. Members of the gallery hurled
profanities at the judge.

The next morning, Oracle went to Ling-Tais hotel. She walked

through the corridor on the floor Ling-Tais bedroom was on, which had a
red and yellow oriental rug throughout. As she neared the door, her eyes
latched onto Simi. She was holding open their door. Oracle remained in
the corridor, looking in. Ling-Tai was standing near the rooms seating
area. An elderly man was on a chair near her. Oracle recognized him at
once: the judge who ruled on their case. His lips were humungous and his
eyeglasses occupied half of his face. He was moping into a Ghana-MustGo bag, which was between his legs.
Three hundred thousand naira? the judge asked. But thats not
what we agreed. I was supposed to get half-a-million both before, and
after, the ruling. His voice was peaceful.
Thats all we have, Ling-Tai snapped. So please go away.
Oya, get out. Simi added, barking.
The judge zipped the bag and stood up. It was visibly light in his
hand. Is this how you repay me? he asked.
If you like, go and report us to the authorities, Simi joked. He
walked out, and she slammed the door behind him.
***
Ling-Tai was happy to see a taxi slowing at Simis wave. Its rattling
engine sounded from the distance until it reached them. Its yellowness
and blackness reminded Ling-Tai of a honeybee. She found no internal
floorboards on entering. And each time they confronted a pothole, the
jagged rips in the taxis seats would scratch off some of her skin. Strands

from its shredding ceiling kept tapping Ling-Tais fringe as she hunted for
the seatbeltthere was none.
They hopped out of the taxi at a bustling market. Simi led the way
into a particular store. A noisy generator was powering it. A plump market
woman was sat at the stores entrance. Simi approached her and struck
up a conversation in Yoruba. The woman shook her head, and then spoke
for a while. Shes says she not interested, Simi said, shrugging her
shoulders. She says the inspectors are making it hard.
They went into countless stores in this way, but Simi kept coming
out seconds later looking deflated. Ling-Tai pointed to a fetid store, which
they had been avoiding. They went over to it. Im sorry. I cant buy
anything from you, the market-man said. Inspectors are here every
day.
The day ended in failure. Ling-Tai fell into a sour mood. As Simi
flagged down a taxi, to take them home, she thought about the way Simi
had projected Lagos: as a haven for fake drugs. Within minutes of
entering, they were arguing viciously.
How dare you? All you ever do is stand there in silence, Simi
yelled. I am trying my bloody hardest so stop criticizing me.
Ling-Tai raised one hand at Simi. If you shout at me one more time.
Just one more time, you can forget your $100,000, she said, without
looking at Simi.
Simi gave a bitter laugh. If you try it! She kept laughing. If you
try it! Our store man, the janitor youre afraid of. Ive given him some of
your hair, from your brush. So if you dont pay me at the end of all this,

youll see what hell do. Ling-Tai turned sharply to face Simi. In this part
of the world, when a jujuman has a strand of your hair, he can take away
your sight and speech. Trust me, I was prepared for you.
Horror landed on Ling-Tais heart. And she knew a stoic expression
rested on her face as she thought over Simis words. She put her
ruminating smile back on, still studying Simis eyes. Ok lets not get out
of hand. I know youve done great, Simi. Todays just really worried me.
Its just too much money to set down in a store. Ling-Tai spoke to herself
in Mandarin, about Simi, tugging onto her pendant.

When they returned to their hotel room, Ling-Tai prepared their

lounge area for dinner. Simi looked surprised to see her doing this. Ling-Tai
put plates out on the coffee table and then poured out two glasses of
water. She fetched two small bottles of Eva water on standby. The bottles
were sweating with condensation, small ponds formed at the base of each
bottle.
As they ate, Ling-Tai engaged Simi in a deeply personal
conversation. She hoped to ingratiate herself with Simi, and form a
sisterly bond that would make the earlier threat of juju unthinkable. LingTai shared harmless secrets about herself, packaging them as sacred
chapters of her past. Simis roused emotions led her to embrace the
moment. Simi started a story and Ling-Tai sensed it was coming from a
place of deep sorrow.
Moments in, a tear rolled down Simis cheek. He actually had a wife
and family already. And I was too broke to afford raising a baby. Simi

wiped the teardrop; more spilled from both eyes. I could barely afford to
live in Gateway State myself. I didnt have any family there. Im from
Lagos. She picked up a napkin. Its just that prostitution was lucrative
there, and very easy. Easier than Shanghai, sha. They broke out into
laughter seconds, and then grew serious again. Ling-Tai reached over and
wiped Simis teardrops with one hand.
But Simi, if I may ask, you say you were more than just a prostitute
to him. So if that was the case and he was so rich, why didnt he just let
you have the baby? Ling-Tai threw up her hand to show confusion. He
could have just given you child support. His wife didnt have to know
anything.
Simi laughed awkwardly. Ah! O m nnkankan. You dont
understand anything. He demanded an abortion. Demanded! He had
future plans to be in politics, so he hated the idea of a lovechild looming
anywhere. And he was too stingy. So regardless, he would never have
made those arrangements. Never. She shook her head. Even for him to
pay me, after every encounter, it was always a battle. And this was a very
big oil man I talking about ooh! Probably the biggest oil baron in Gateway
State at that time.
Simi slumped back in her chair and looked at the ceiling. So he
went ahead and arranged for the Simi nodded in a symbolic way, her
face contracted as though she was about to cry again. Her entire right leg
vibrated, convulsively. Ling-Tai stroked it, soon making it still.

So what happened? Ling-Tai lowered her voice just a notch, I

thought abortions were illegal here? I saw a billboard the other day saying
so.
They are! Simi yelled. But hed arranged for some quack doctor
to meet up with me. At a back road. Simi reached for the glass of water.
Ling-Tai beat her to it. Simi took the glass from her and sipped. But of
course, you trust that Im not that woman, you know that right? I didnt do
it. She made eye contact, rocking herself in the chair with much energy.
I had the baby. I gave it up for adoption. Then I had to run. Simi stared
directly into Ling-Tais eyes again, as if to search out any ounce of
judgment that may have been there.
Run to China? Ling-Tai asked, more certain than curious.
Yes, but Ive thought about the baby every single day. Every day!
She continued. I was just so helpless. He was even looking for me in the
weeks after I avoided the doctor.
Have you ever tried to Google him and see where he is now?
The lights in their room suddenly powered off. The televisionwhich
had been on in the backgroundwent off as well. NEPA! shouted voices
outside their window. NEPA, God will punish you! A man bellowed. The
hotels power generator soon came on, bringing everything, from the
bulbs to the television, back to life.
A fist struck their door. It sounded like the knock of a man. Simi
walked over to it and looked through the peephole. Ah! This is the new
chauffeur I was telling you about. You said you didnt see me talking to
him at the market. Simi opened the door and greeted him.

Ling-Tai lifted her head at the fellow to signal a greeting. Although

athletically built, he was fourteen or fifteen at the most. His severe
countenance and compact ears gave him a streetwise look. There was an
iron burn on his right forearm. And something in his eyes suggested
encounters with very dark things. Though, the t-shirt he wore back to front
didnt harmonize with his streetwise aura.
Whats his name? Ling-Tai asked, turning to Simi.
My name is Dapo. And Madam Simi has already told me the
problems youre having with selling the drugs. Im here to help, he
responded.
Ling-Tai continued talking to Simi. How much are we paying him?
Ling-Tai asked.
Same as Deolu. Simi replied, shrugging her shoulders
presumptuously.
Please can we go to the store? I want to see the drugs. Dapo
asked. I have my Mazda downstairs.

The janitor at the store recognized Simis knock. So he opened his

door without a broom in hand. His face was vexed. Ling-Tai wondered why
he was eying her. Though, she accepted it with humility, not making eye
contact. He turned his stare at Dapo. The chewing stick in his mouth
flailed wildly. It came across as a tiny arrow, about to strike. Ling-Tai
waited until the janitor was talking to Simi before he peeked into the
store. I need to find my hair and keep it hidden from both of them. She
counted eleven men inside who were sweeping, but the janitors returning

stare prevented her from counting the rest. As she looked away, she
observed Dapo was also peered in.
Release me! You are very wicked, said a sweeping man wearing a
police uniform. The janitor rushed over to him. He used his koboko to whip
the mans afro. Its tentacles first landed on the back of his neck and then
reached over to lick both of the mans eyeballs. A gushing line of blood
bulged out of his afro.
Simi went inside and brought out a box. When she put it down, Dapo
motioned his head at Simi, as if to seek for permission before he opened
it. She nodded. Then he sifted through the box of counterfeits with his
iron-burnt forearm. Ok. You can trust me. Ill be able to sell as many as
you give me. But Madam, you havent told me prices, he said.
Dapo and Simi started discussing in Yoruba. Ling-Tai patted Simis
shoulder repeatedly, wanting a translation. Im just telling him he
shouldnt cheat us, or the store man will do juju for him. Simi explained.
Dapo loaded several boxes into his trunk.
***
That night, Dapo pulled his 1986 Mazda Luce under a bridge. It was
his home. Oracle jumped off his hoodwhere she had been sittingand
glanced around. Scores of beggars were laid down on stretched-out boxes
for the night. Broad-shouldered men, wearing small veststhat were
probably white to start withsat on the hoods of abandoned cars. The
cloud from their marijuana smoke fogged the entire atmosphere, and they
merrily downed liquid from glass bottles without labels. Six little children
rushed towards Dapo. Oracle guessed they were his siblings. Egbon

Dapo, what do you have for us? one of them asked, with an upraised
hand.
Im broke, but next time, Dapo replied, with a gracious smile. But
come and see something. He surreptitiously opened his trunk. He
proceeded to explain each of the drugs and the task at hand.
Oya, so tell me how much this one is? Dapo asked, testing them.
1000 naira, his younger sister replied.
No! That one is one thousand. This one is two thousand. Dont
forget ooh.
His younger brother removed a pure water sachet from his mouth.
But brother Dapo, which street will we see customer? he asked.
Just go into Apongbon. And make sure you tell any customer who
asks you, that it is real drug.
His brother with a protruding stomach, induced by Kwashiorkor,
reached into one of the boxes. No, not now. I will give you tomorrow
morning, Dapo said. He stamped his feet in fury.
Why not now? I am hungry.
I said tomorrow. Dapo pointed at the broad-shouldered men under
the bridge. And see, they cannot find out. Dont let them. In fact I will
wake you up very early tomorrow, so dont make noise when I do. Dapo
pulled one of his own ears to a great length. And see, when you finish
tomorrow, keep the money very, very well. Keep it for me or my madam
will kill me. Its not for us. But dont worry, my madam will give us plenty
of meat and chicken tomorrow. The children shook their hands above
their heads in silent delight.

Two thousand naira, sir, one of the Dapos siblings said, as he ran
beside a moving vehicle, on the streets of Apongbon. The white van had a
side-mirror that was so large Oracle could see the entire face of the man
whose body she assumed, as she drove. The mans eye contact was so
stone cold it gave the impression he was consumed with pure evil. Yet he
managed to hold a natural smile. Sell me a sachet for eight hundred,
she said Dapos brother.
Take it or leave it sir, two thousand naira, the boy replied.
How much for everything? the man replied. His van slowed down.
They boy looked confused. I mean, for the whole tray, she continued.
She parked on the roadside.
Ok, you want to buy my whole tray? the boy replied, running
away. Please wait there, Ill call my sister. She fit count.
His sister came back with him. She was also carrying a tray full of
counterfeits. Oracle was sitting on the roadside. Oh, you are selling too?
she asked.
Yes, all of us, the girl replied.
When it is two people, you dont say all of us, you say both of us,
she responded.
Thank you, but I know. It is because my other siblings are also here
selling, she said.
Oracle smiled. Is that so? Please call them, I want to buy
everything. All the drugs you people have.

The girl stared in disbelief. Sir, if you can wait, we can bring all the
boxes we have to you. She extended both her palms to him.
Really, where are they? She looked left and right.
One of my brothers is sitting on them. She pointed towards an
alleyway nearby.
How old is he?
She wrinkled her face, confused. He is about seven years, sir.
Ok, go and call all of them. The boy left with his sister.
Moments later, all his siblings went running towards Oracle with
trays and boxes. She turned out both of the pockets on the trousers she
had on, causing tiny balls of cloth to fall out. See, I dont have the money
here. You people will have to follow me to my office, he said.
The girl eyed him. But sir, if you didnt have any money, how were
you going to pay for my brothers tray?
Oracle shook her head, smirking. No, dont think like that. I
wouldnt have taken him alone. No way. Its just now that I realized I dont
have the money, just when you went. But dont worry, I will give you all
the money there. She opened up her trunk.
The children conferred with each other in Yoruba, presumably
debating among themselves. Its ok. See my smile, Im a nice man. They
loaded all their boxes into his van, and then entered it.
***
Ling-Tai paced her hotel room furiously. The sight of Dapo inspired
murderous thoughts. Madam I swear, Ive asked everybody. I looked

everywhere. I havent seen my siblings. They had all the drugs, Dapo
cried. He was on his knees in her hotel room.
Simi knuckled his skull repeatedly. Just like that? Everything gone?
Ah no, you must be mad. She kicked his chest, barefoot; he fell to the
floor.
Ling-Tai picked him up by his face with both hands. Where are my
boxes? she asked, searching deep into his eyes.
Sorry! Me too, I am looking for your boxes. Im looking for my
brothers and sisters. Both his hands were raised in surrender. Please, I
wont take salary again.
Simi hissed. Its ok. Lets go and get more boxes from the store.
Ling-Tai yelled at Simi, arguing that she was allowing Dapo off the hook.
Simi whispered into Ling-Tais ear, assuring her that Dapo would pay.
They all made their way the store facility. Throughout the journey
Ling-Tai rained insults on Dapo and hit his head. Dapo was driving with an
unsettled mind; they nearly had accidents on three occasions. At last,
they arrived at the store facility. Simi knocked for the janitor in her usual
way. He let them all in. Dapo, Simi said. Take some of those boxes to
the car. Youll find a way to sell them.
As Dapo went to take out a box, Simi clicked her fingers three times.
It caught the janitors attention. She pointed Dapo out to him, then
nodded vehemently. With just two lashes, the janitor whipped Dapos tshirt off entirely.
Yeay, he screamed, jogging away. The janitors koboko caught
Dapos right ear. Dapo howled, touching his ear. Blood trickled down the

hand that touched his ear. Madam Simi, Im sorry. Please tell him to
stop. Dapo tried to run, but tripped. The janitor lashed his legs twice,
then pulled off Dapos jeans. Despite not finding any underwear, he
flogged Dapos private parts. STOP! Please! Dapo cried. Please let me
say something. Stop. He turned onto his stomach to protect his private
parts. The kobokos tentacles tore off the skin on Dapos rear end.
Yeay! Please. Ok see my solution: let us kill the NAFDAC leader. He
is the one making everything hard for you people, Dapo said, trying to
get to his feet. The janitor caught Dapos left ankle with his tentacles and
pulled back. Dapos sculpted body drummed the floor, as he fell. Please
stop. Ok see, the governor is doing party for him in the stadium tomorrow.
Lets use one of these policemen to plan. Lets kill him.
Simi turned to Ling-Tai. Ling-Tai nodded. Simi spoke to the janitor in
Yoruba. He dropped his koboko. Within minutes, they came up with a plan.
The janitor went over to one of the sweeping policemen. He
whispered into the policemans ear, even as he swept. Ling-Tai gasped as
the policeman dropped his broom and stood upright. His wounds healed
before her eyes. The janitor picked up his fallen beret and placed it onto a
policemans head. He turned to Simi, patting the policemans shoulder. As
from this moment you are totally in control of him. He is your robot, you
just make the commands. When the moment comes, that he will need to
shoot and strike, you are the only ones that will see him. Others will see a
beggar with exposed breasts. But! If he nears the target too much, he will
become fully exposed. He pushed the policeman their direction.

Simi and Ling-Tai both held onto the policeman and left the
storeroom. Ling-Tai turned to check on Dapo. He was putting his jeans
back on, following them. Red lines seeped throughout his jeans. He ruffled
his torn t-shirt into a ball, occasionally using it to wipe tears that refused
to be forced back. The janitor slammed his door shut, then bolted all the
locks.
Dapo, take him to the car. Simi pushed the policeman in his
direction. And take, buy a new shirt and iodine. She threw a tattered five
hundred-naira note at him.
Eshe Ma! He kept his eyes on the floor and nodded.

Dapo parked his Mazda at Ling-Tais and Simis hotel early the next
morning. Ling-Tai saw him from their window. He lifted up his t-shirt and
ran his fingers on either side of his chest wounds. He kept an eye on the
hotels entrance. Then his attention shifted to the rustling leaves on a
nearby palm tree. Simi, Ling-Tai said. Dapo is here.
Ling-Tai and Simi came out of the hotels revolving doors. The
policeman followed. Dapo got out of his Mazda and prostrated. Good
morning, Madams, he said.
Lets go, Ling-Tai replied.
Find short cut, Simi added.
They encountered traffic on every road to the stadium, but finally
arrived. One of the stadiums traffic conductors pointed out a spot for
Dapo to park. Ling-Tai and Simi hopped out before hed even switched off
his engine. Oya, go and find her. But sit far away, Simi said to the

policeman, quietly. The policeman walked towards the stadium like a

zombie.
Madam Simi, please let me go and buy tickets for us, Dapo said.
Simi reached into her purse again. Find something near the exit.
Thats where well sit. Ling-Tai paced around the car with her smile.
Dapo came back a few minutes later with three tickets in hand. They
headed into the stadium, Dapo guiding them through the rowdy
spectators on the stands. They eventually found their seats.
A cluster of Ekpe masqueraders paraded along the stadiums track.
They had all covered their faces with relic African masks, with teeth as
long as fingers. Some dressed up in costumes made with deep shades of
hay and wild leaves. Others used strands of variegated fabrics and colorful
feathers, which made Dapo liken them to a rainbow. The Ekpe
masqueraders whirled and stamped to the rhythms of drums. They
progressed to somersaulting adventurously and performing tricks with
their machetes, until one of them released his machete into the crowd by
mistake. A scream of helplessness lifted into the skies, from the area
where the machete was landing.
At the other end of the stadiums track, Eyo masqueraders raged
towards the Ekpe masquerades as if they had agreed to meet in the
middle: the battle line. The Eyo masqueraders danced forward, wearing
baggy white garments that covered everything from their faces to their
feet, as if someone was trying to totally blind and kidnap them. Together
with their colossal straw boater hats, they resembled scarecrows. They
smacked crowd members near them with Opambata sticks to inspire fear.

As they approached the Ekpe masqueraders, they stopped for a group

meeting. Then they raged towards their rivals in a manner identical to a
Mexican wave, but in sync with drummers whose sounds filled the air.
***
Their policeman stood among a rowdy lot in the stands. Many of
them hurled insults at him, backing away. Dirty woman, go and wear a
bra! They yelled. Others dropped monetary donations at his feet. He
didnt pay any attention to them. He caught sight of his targetthe head
of NAFDACat the other end of the stadium. He was dressed in expensive
traditional clothes, walking beside the Governor. He watched them
exchange friendly laughs, as their security aides led them to the high
table. The high table was positioned in the box seats, perfect for viewing
the masqueraders. The policeman situated his sniper rifle, then took aim.
His heart pounded, and his finger engulfed the trigger in sweat. His head
was shaking, but he pulled it with nervous zeal.
Oh Jesus! The policeman was surprised, for he could hear the
NAFDAC leader. Myplease, someone get my fila. His assistants
competed with each other to fetch his fila, while he used both hands to
touch his head.
Its the wind. But dont worry, your haircut looks great, the
Governor replied. The NAFDAC leader took his stand at the high table with
the Governor, and the entertainment paused while the national anthem
was played.
Traditional female dancers appeared and captured everyones
attention. They were all curvy women and happened to be practically

naked. Save for the black and red cloths covering their private parts. Tiny
bells were tied all over their bodies, bound by multicolored strings of cloth.
Meanwhile, their beaded necklaces and bright tiaras gave them the
semblance of dancing queens. The choreography among them was varied.
Some made exaggerated circles with two horses tails, one in each hand.
Others did the same with yard-long handkerchiefs instead. They all
stamped the ground, as if the intention was to shake the entire stadium
out of its earthly bearings. At last, they finished stumping, and then their
rear ends gyrated to the tempo of the drums. It was as though that part of
their anatomy made its own decisions.
***
Ling-Tai finally spotted the policeman. She pointed out his location to
Simi and Dapo. The policeman was taking deep breaths. An assistant went
over to the NAFDAC leader and whispered something into his ear. Ling-Tai
went back to the policeman. He fired. Hot bullets pierced the assistant;
bursts of blood sprung out from her shoulder and splashed on the NAFDAC
leaders face. The bullets ushered in a silence that consumed every other
sound. The performers and entertainment froze. At last, panic swept
through the stadium.
A security aide jumped in front of the NAFDAC leader. A new round
of bullets plucked out his chest. His white dress shirt and his tie were
soaked in red before he plunged to the floor. The NAFDAC leader and the
Governor ducked into their stomachs and tried to escape, but Ling-Tai
could see that the bedlam surrounding their box seats kept them from

moving. Eight security aides relentlessly cleared the crowds, until the
NAFDAC leader and the Governor were guided away.
Folks stampeded out of the entrance gates by the thousands.
Move! Move! Oya, go, people cried. Ling-Tai set off with Simi and Dapo.
There was continuous pushing. The elderly and the slow were trampled.
Get the hell out of my way, a man shouted as he ran over a mound of
motionless bodies. The air was filled with shouting matches. When they
got to the parking lot, people were running on top of cars, trying to get to
theirs. Cars taking off crashed into others. Some vehicles ran over fleeing
people.
Simi and Dapo made it to the car first. Dapo started his engine, as
Ling-Tai climbed inside. What about the policeman? Ling-Tai asked.
He will make his way back, Simi replied. I have ordered him to do
so.
Dapo maneuvered his Mazda deftly out of the congested mess,
weaving left and right with the spinelessness of a snake. In a short time,
they advanced into a fast-moving lane.
The front passenger door suddenly opened. A male figure, holding
an AK-47 thrust himself inside the car. Ling-Tai yelped and clutched her
chest with both hands. She looked closer and saw it was their policeman.
She released a loud sigh. You are a bloody mess up. Big mess up. Simi
yelled. Are you blind? Ling-Tai punched his neck, from under the headcushion as Simi continued to berate him in Yoruba.
***

Oracle resented Ling-Tais punching her neck. Especially because

she couldnt respond with the brute force she wanted to; or better still,
use the gun in hand.
To the store, abi? Dapo asked, still maneuvering his Mazda
through the rowdiness.
Oracle interjected. Please, lets not go there. Oracle thought about
her first trip to the store, when she had a scarring encounter with the
janitors broom. The juju there was strong.
Shut up! Simi shouted. Who is asking you? Oracle felt a slap at
the back of her head.
Please we should not go there, Oracle firmly said to Dapo. Dont
go there. I say, dont go to that store.
Ling-Tai leaned in. Dont listen to him.

They were soon parked outside the store facility. Oracle sensed the
janitors juju. She got down and ran. Simi opened her own door swiftly,
causing Oracle to somersault over it. She rose immediately, picking up her
AK-47. She was determined to flee, deciding she would meet up with them
at their hotel. But someone pushed her back down from behind, wrestling
for control of the AK-47. She turned to see it was Simi. Oracle wrestled
back, firmly grasping the AK-47. Ling-Tai and Dapo rushed over. They
kicked her all over, knocking off the police beret. Dapo used one arm to
circle her knees, and then lifted her into the air. Her knees were on the
same level as his face. He ran towards the store. Simi hurried open the
compound gates.

She stopped struggling, as he carried her into the compound. LingTai locked the gates. Simi knocked for the janitor.
Oracle revealed herself. She used one knee to shatter Dapos nose,
it sounded as though it had cracked in a hundred places. He fell forward.
His face splashed into the red puddle of his own blood, which was forming
even as he plunged. Simi hammered the janitors door hysterically. Bright
yellow urine trickled down both her chocolate colored legs, coating her
shoes, wetting the dead grass.
Ling-Tai was loping back to the car. She grabbed Ling-Tais necklace,
pulling her back. Oracle entangled the necklace in hand, so that the chain
suffocated her. Ling-Tai dropped to her knees in the grass. The choking
made her blink weakly at the sky, as if she was experiencing an ecstasy
rush. Oracle let go of the chain. She pushed her AK-47 onto Ling-Tais left
eyelid with almost enough force to push the eyeball into her brain.
Oracle turned to Simi. Actually, this is great, she laughed. I dont
know why Ive been so afraid of coming here. She pressed harder on
Ling-Tais eye. Tell your janitor to come out. Without the broom. Not one
broom. Simi banged on the door, stammering her words to the janitor in
Yoruba. Tears gathered on her cheeks.
Mo ti m kinn yn. Mi jde. (I know whats going on. Im not
coming out like that), the janitor shouted from his storeroom.
j, jade. (Please, come out), Simi yelled. The storeroom door
did not move.
Oracle rolled her three eyes to the back of her head. With her
freehand, she picked Ling-Tai up from the ground by her hair. She dropped

the AK-47 and took hold of her hair with both hands. Oracle extended her
arms, raising Ling-Tai so high he would have been able to see filth upon
the stores roof.
Ling-Tais clothes set on fire. Balls of flame dropped from her pant
suit, towards Oracle. She sucked them up as they came down, then turned
to Simi. Tell him, in twelve seconds I will instruct the fire to touch her skin
too. Simi thrust her bust figure into the door with full might. She kept
mixing up her words, fixated on Ling-Tai.
A screech followed. Oracles heart exploded with happiness as Simi
backed away from the door. One of the janitors feet was poking through
the doorway. She lowered Ling-Tai to the ground, and the fog of thick
smoke around her faded away. The janitor emerged fully, without a broom,
but with a koboko. Drop the koboko. And put your hands up, Oracle
shouted. He continued approaching her, holding tightly onto his koboko. I
said drop that thing. Right now!
Oracle picked up the AK-47 and fired at the janitor. The bullet
smacked into his left shin. He laughed and kept walking towards her. He
thumped his chest with one palm, and when he was two feet away, he
wielded his koboko for a strike. Oracle summoned a new hand out of her
side, and snatched his koboko as it soared towards her.
She lashed him relentlessly. Aaahh. Yeay! Sorry, the janitor
shouted, as he rocked on his back. Oracle only stopped as blue pus came
bursting out of his ears. She went over to the gatewhich Ling-Tai had
lockedand swallowed the keys which were still in the padlock. Then she
moved towards the opened store. Simi ran backwardsaway from Oracle

all the way around the building. Oracle let her run off, continuing
towards the store. Do not enter my store! Do not enter! the janitor
yelled. If you enter, the Orisha of Ipoti will strike you to death.
Oracle paused and faced the janitor. He had risen to a crouch; the
promise of terror ahead glowed in his eyes. But Oracle walked on. Arriving
at the door, she leaned her head into the room, and then placed one foot
inside. She peeked around at the sweeping men, then took in a deep sniff.
Green puke gushed out of her mouth and fell onto her own robes. The
janitor giggled as she stumbled away from the door, feeling as if she were
about to faint. As he took a blink, Oracle gripped both the janitors ears
and lifted him off the ground by them.
Whydidyoulie? she asked, punching the janitor at each word
with yet another hand.
Yeay. Im sorry, it will not kill you. It will not kill you. But see, if you
enter, fully fully, you will start sweeping. Epele oh. In her hands, his ears
felt moments away from being yanked off.
She squinted one of her eyes at him, trying to discern his veracity.
Okay, then you bring all those boxes out. Everyone of them, she
ordered. I will eat them all. I will eat them for Nigeria.
The janitor thought for a while. Ah no, they cannot come out.
Theyre bound to the room.
Oracle snapped off the janitors left ear. It snapped off in the same
manner the wing of a chicken tears from its cartilage. Oracle took her
mouth to his ear hole and sucked up all the blood that rushed out.

Yeay. Yeay. Ok sorry, the boxes can come out. But they have to
carry it, the janitor cried, pointing to Simi, Ling-Tai and Dapo. Thats the
order I set.
If I find out youre lying again Oracle tugged at his private parts,
and then lifted her eyebrows. I will make you a woman!
Oracle continued holding him up, by one ear. He was inclined in the
air. She turned and spat on Ling-Tai and then on Dapo. They both rose up.
Ling-Tai and Dapo headed into the room with the strides of robots. Simi
walked normally.
Moments later, they all came out of the storeroom. Each of them
with boxes in hand. Dapo and Ling-Tai stood together. They placed their
boxes in front of Oracleshe was impressed. Oracle perceived Simi going
behind her to drop a box, while she was inspecting the other boxes. Oracle
turned to Simi. As she was setting eyes on Simi, Oracle was aware of
nothing but the lash of a koboko against her face. She collapsed, freeing
the janitor. Her eyes grew heavy, though she struggled to keep them
open. All of them were running into the store.
They left the door open, allowing the sound of brooms sweeping to
wash over Oracle. Dapos heavy panting travelled out from inside the
store. And sobs came from Ling-Tai and Simi. The janitor hissed
ceaselessly. As she tried to stand back up, a blast of high-voltage
electricity ran through her body, sending Oracle to the ground with
intense gravity. Oracle settled for crawling, making her way to the door.
The janitor lit a lantern, which attracted the attention of everyone in the
room. He then climbed onto a stool and retrieved a giant rice sack from

the very top of one shelf. He came down, shook it and held it open, like an
empty refuse bag ready to take-in trash. Oya, enter, he ordered. I said
enter! he shouted again, ruffling the rice sack. The men kept sweeping.
But Simi and Ling-Tai walked towards him. Dapo bolted the door.
***
The koboko Simi used on Oracle had been charmed with the powers
of an Orisha in Ipoti State. Oracle saw this as she lay on the ground,
witnessing in the theater of her mind, the story of how the koboko
became connected to an ancient god. Nine caracal cats from the wild
bushes of Ipoti State were wrestled down to their stomachswhich took
several hours because they were all rabid. The koboko was shoved into
each of their anuses, and then the caracals skulls were broken into with
weighty axes. The koboko was placed in the collective blood pools from
their brains for two moonlights. Then, it was left in the Orishas sacred
shrinefor lighting to strike. After thirteen years, lightning struck, giving
the tentacles of the koboko a vintage stiffness.
Oracle understood why she hadnt been able to stand up earlier. The
kobokos anointing meant that a single lash could kill spiritual creatures.
Ninety minutes passed before she was able to stand up. When she rose,
she left the janitors compounding, flying over the walls. She would head
for Blackgold Island.
At last, she arrived at ASOCs base and went straight to Efes room.
Efe was rolling around on his mattress, on the verge of waking up. There
were three other hulks in the room. Oracle glanced at the Ghana-Must-Go
bags she brought from Chief Mustafas secret chamber. From the way the

bags had deflated, she knew that some of the money inside was missing.
Though, she didnt wake Efe. She went into the rest of the rooms in his
bungalows. The size of the Ghana-Must-Go bags in all the rooms had
decreased. Im going to kill him!
Oracle went back into his room and revealed herself. The hulks
broke out in their mantras. He sprung out of his mattress. She clutched
Efes shirt and ran him into the wall, causing a bone-shattering thud to
echo. Where is the rest of the money I gave you? she asked. That
money filled Mustafas chambers, its half gone now. You dared mess with
my instruction?
My wife please, I gave some to Ibibas family, they needed it, Efe
stuttered, with both arms raised in surrender. And some to Tonyes family
as well, I swear. Ive been giving different people in the shantytowns. My
wife, isnt that what we are about?
The door swung open and Osaki pranced in. Itisalie! He
registered a bow with Oracle and then went on. My wife, let us go to their
shanties and ask. Youll see that he only gave a small amount to them. He
hired one professional to buy a big house for him in Gateway State, with
many fine cars. A vile odor hung in the air whenever Osaki spoke. Oracle
turned back to Efe and caught him biting his bottom lip and giving Osaki a
menacing look.
Oracle pushed Efe against the wall again. Her tongue came out,
dead insects dripping out of it. Her tongue reached into Efe mouth and
deep into his chest. She could taste the blood on the walls of his heart. A
new mouth surfaced on her cheek, and she spoke out of it. I dont

appreciate lies, do you understand? she asked. Efes eyes changed to an

even deeper shade of red, which even covered both irises.
Oracle finally put her tongue back in its place. Efe dropped to the
floor. Osaki had left. The other titans were still looking away. My wife,
Efe cried. Im very sorry. He coughed out a crowd of insects onto the
floor.
My husbands, Oracle shouted. You all see that was wrong, abi?
She made eye contact with everyone. They nodded. Efe stand up. Where
is the?
Its in Gateway State, he said. Should I sell it?
Keep it! But you must continue to live here, she snapped. Efe
nodded. It was your lying to me that vexed me.
An unfamiliar voice outside Efes bungalow was calling his name.
Oracle went back to her world but kept her better senses on the earth.
She knew all her husbands voices; this voice wasnt any of theirs. Efe got
up from the floor. He left the room with the hulks, locking his door behind
him. His bungalow had no entrance door, so Oracle could see straight
down the corridor to the person standing outside. Ah! Is that not Castro?
Efe said playfully. Castro, Castro! My own Supo Valentine-Castro.
Valentine-Castro was wearing a red zoot suit that reached his knees.
He had a derby hat on, which was a more garish shade of red than his
suit. His walking stick was gold plated and spent little time on the ground,
as he twirled it in the air ceaselessly. His briefcase was visibly light. Some
of the hulks were milling around him. Oracle went over to sniff his
shoulders.

Efe, ma guy, he shouted back. These barrels you people tookno

be small oh! A coarse laugh exposed his scattered teeth.
You know, this round was for Mustafa, Efe said, then leaned in
closer to Valentine-Castro. And me too! he whispered, loudly.
Valentine-Castro laughed for a split-second. Osaki and the others
looked on, less enthused. What about the shanty people? ValentineCastro asked, with a witty smile. Anyway, see I have to go now. He
looked at his brass watch, which was so oversized it rested on his
backhand rather than his wrist.
Ah-ah. Youve loaded all the barrels already? Efe asked.
Castro swirled his gold-plated walking stick. Efe, I dont waste time.
Even with Cobras for Justice and the others. Once I get a call that oil
barrels are waiting for me, Im there the next morning. He pointed to the
right with his stick. Your boys and mine loaded everything already. You
were sleeping.
Oracle looked over to where he was pointingthe waters that ran
along one side of ASOCs base. Twenty bargeswhich had been skillfully
stacked with barrels of oilwere resting on the waters. Each barge had a
young boy operating it. Fantastic! Efe said. Oya, come and eat with me.
I have periwinkle soup. He pointed towards his room.
Castro grinned, shaking his head. I really have to go now. But Ill be
back in a few days for the rest of the barrels. Well eat then. He started
walking away.
Efe folded his arms. Where do you plan to sell these ones, Cote
d'Ivoire or Cameroon?

Efe, how dare you! Castro turned around. Dont ever think that
my international shipping empire is only two countries wide. Okay? I am a
big-time importer and exporter. An international business man. So I can go
anywhere. He and Efe burst out laughing.
SupoValentineCastro. Efe said. You are too much. And this
your suit, it is too fine for you. Valentine-Castro walked on. He got into an
ASOC speedboat. One of the hulks started it and set off. The barges
followed behind.
***
Edna heard the door to her office opening, without any preceding
knock. She glanced up from her computer screen. It was her secretary,
bringing in a crate of Guinness beer, struggling to shut the door with her
rear end. She staggered, lugging the crate to the far corner of the office.
Edna rushed over, took hold of a bottle and downed it. She opened
another bottle, and was soon done with it too.
Madam, I know its not my place, the secretary said. But I am
worried. I dont think you should be drinking alcohol like this. Especially
Dont even go there! Just shut up and get out. Edna yelled. You
have no idea what its like to walk in my shoes. Your daughter comes here
every day, after school, like some kid. That stops tomorrow by the way!
Shes almost done with high-school for Gods sake. You dont have to see
that often. And I hope she gets cancer. Then youll know what my shoes
are like.
The secretary stayed put. She scanned Edna with a cold gaze. I
have four tumors, Madam. I wont tell you where, but I will tell you they

were found too late. The doctors have said death is definitely a matter of
time. I am undergoing chemotherapy, but its only so that I can be a mum,
and a secretary, for some more months. Im literally buying time. Hoping
it will let me see my daughter into university, financially. I am sorry to
hear about your daughter. But being in Nigeria alone means my chances
arent as good as hers.
A grave sympathy fell on Ednas heart. Her secretarys words
pierced through her, convicting her innermost spirit. I didnt know that.
Im sorry. Edna walked back to her desk, tipsy, and sat down. Please
take a seat, Edna said. Her secretary sat down on the guest chair behind
her desk. Edna wanted to ask her secretary how her daughter would cope
when she passed. But she wanted to ask the question, using her
secretarys name to start the question. She felt embarrassed, for shed
never know it. Whats your name?
Miss. Inemo, she replied. The name became lost in Ednas mind
immediately she said it. She only held onto the Miss. Edna then noticed
Inemo had no wedding ring on her left hand, and figured her
circumstances were truly grave. Please, Inemo asked. How is your
daughter doing as at now?
Edna preferred to avoid eye contact. Its really hard. Her voice
came out subdued and teary. I just read an email from her doctorI have
to resort to emails seen as the time-difference makes it so hard to talk
but it wasnt good. Shes not responding to some of the more advanced
treatments I just paid for. But you know the funny thing? Shes taking it
better than I ever could, always so joyful.

The secretary wore a beaming smile. That is the grace of God, she
said.
But I see her on Skype and shes looking so different, Edna went
on. I almost didnt recognize her.
Please, let us join hands and pray over this matter, Inemo
interjected. I want us to pray your daughter will turn around.
Edna cast her eyes on her for a second, and then put them on her
computer screen. She couldnt fathom a worldview that would see prayers
as the answer to cancersomething so scientific. Edna suppressed her
discord with Inemos position. Then she reasoned that the lady meant
well. While still avoiding eye contact, Edna broke her silence, Have you
thought about taking out life insurance?
Before Inemo could answer, the door flung open. One of her staff
members who came from Haghell, USA stepped in, along with some
policemen, and two managers from her oilfield service company. More
staff rushed in, mostly Nigerian. Edna sprung up, but a quiet panic settled
within. Edna, we have been betrayed, the American said. By the
military men. The guys who were put on patrol duty for our pipelines, after
Major Bonifaces unit died
Get to the effing point! Edna screamed. She noticed her secretary
standing up, leaving.
Weve had more pipelines broken into. One-twenty to one-eighty,
a policeman said. By ASOC. They seemed to have paid off the military, as
he was just referring to. Because theres no sign they were interrupted.

Im afraid theyve made away with more of your oil, again. Edna asked
them all out.

When they left, she sank to her chair. The silence in the air gently
suggested suicide. She fetched another two bottles of Guinness and
downed them, rocking in her chair. Then, she got on the phone to Minister
Offoh.
Edna, I hear you, Minister Offoh said. But you just have to forget
about that for now. You need to lift a lot more barrels, much more. Youre
output is not enough at all.
Are you deaf? Edna yelled. I just said those were some my
biggest pipelines. In case your thick, this is gonna half what I can do.
Edna, its not me. The President is the one on my case. This is the
main source of money for the campaign. You have to lift and sell more, we
need our share.
If you want more from me, Im gonna need you guys to put in new
pipelines. My old ones are leaking into the peoples streams and making
these guys go crazy. And the new ones are being broken into.
Edna, who has time for installing new pipelines? See, the election is
just around the corner. The President is running low on funds. Youre not
even fulfilling your daily targets.
Why do you think that is, fool? And now, guess what? Youre not
even going to do anything to make things safer. Safer for me, for my
workers, for
Okay, I will send in more troops.

Troops? You mean some other douche bag General whose gonna
take bribes and let them go crazy?
No, Im talking about completely new soldiers. But again, just lift
quickly.
Wait! You have money to send in new troops, but not to fix the
pipelines?
This isnt a matter of money. Their payment will be delayed until
whenever. They may complain, but theyll still do a great job defending
your site. Promise.
Delay their salaries? Offoh, why do you think these people accept
bribes? Edna heard her voice, rising to the skies. This is a nightmare
Offoh, I dont work like this. But Im stuck. She exhaled, calming herself,
pushing back tears. Whatever. Im gonna go now, but we are going to
talk about that 70/30 split. Im doing seventy percent of the work here,
not you guys. Im personally exposed to seventy percent of the danger,
not the government. So we need to change up that ratio. Edna banged
the phone before he could respond.
A galaxy of green lights floated through the air in front of her. Tiny
white sparks were among them, offering the same aesthetic emissions
expected of sparklers. Nothing in their appearance had changed since her
youthand since the day she first met Minister Offoh. She came out from
behind her desk, trying to touch them. But they moved aside, and she fell
to the floor, sensing the alcohol climbing to her head. They spoke about
her destiny in Nigeria, and then went on to relay their usual messages.

Edna remained in a foul mood for the rest of the day. She took her
anger out on her chauffer on the way home, pointing out every way he
failed to be a perfect driver. When they arrived, she leapt out of the car,
rushing for the house. Her heavy foot came within inches of a red-headed
Agama lizard. The lizard narrowly escaped, and then chased four iguanas.
They all circled Ednas compound, before the iguanas darted over the
wall. The wind flogged the palm trees in her compound with so much force
they could have fallen. There was rumbling in the heavens, the kind which
warned of storms ahead.
***
It was nighttime and Efe wasnt in his bungalow. This was forbidden.
When Oracle saw this, she went to the great tree and licked its barkin
order to draw out blood. Then she toured ASOCs base, checking for Efe in
the rest of the bungalows. A crowd of hulks milled outside Osakis
bungalow. Oracle grew puzzled: meetings ought to have held in Efes
room. She headed toward them. An owl was perched on one of the
windowsill. She stroked it before heading in. The hulks filled the main
corridor as well, polluting the atmosphere with locker room odors.
On entering Osakis room, ten more hulks were inside. Oracle
identified Osaki from the way his head shaped his balaclava. A giant in
white face paint was knelt before Osaki. He was raising up his cell phone,
facing the floor. My mother said she fell ill after drinking from Ukpa
stream. I just saw the text.
But we all use it, Osaki replied. Ukpa stream flows far and wide,
we use it too. The other hulks nodded. Why are we not ill too?

My senior, I dont know, he replied. But please, I just want you to

beg Efe. Let him take some ASOC money and make hospital rounds as
soon as he can. She needs medicine quickly. He looked back at his cell
phone, reading something. Her hospital is in the Ekeremor shantytown.
The second hut from the refuse pile.
Oracle went over to Osaki and lifted his balaclava. She placed her
tongue deep into his ear hole, until she felt blood, from the bark, dripping
off inside him. The tip of her tongue rose up, etching splinters from the
bark inside his ear tissues. As she withdrew her tongue, Osakis right eye
ballooned. You must know the stories the great trees knows, Oracle said.
You must see at the height the tree sees.
Heavy drool poured out of Osakis mouth. I can see something,
Osaki blurted out. His mouth let a spring of water out as he spoke. His
right eye grew furthermore. Haghell threw waste into Ukpa stream. Friday
morning. I can see it. My brothers, it was meant for us, but our wife
reminds me that such things cannot affect us. She has taken many vows
for us. But it affected his sister. Shouts of horror spread among them.
Our wife wants revenge. Except for Osaki and the giant in white face
paint, all her husbands rushed out.
Within some minutes, they were all back. Some brought in glass
bottles; others were holding small wood planks with wires attached to
them. The bottles were all see through, some of the bottles held a bright
yellow liquid, while others were filled with a blue one. They placed
everything on the floor, gathering around the articles.

The giant in white face paint wrapped duct tape around the bottles.
Then Osaki held the wood planks with wires on them in place, as the duck
tape went around each one. Oracle was trying to make out what the
others were doing, but too many of her husbands were in the way,
blocking her view. The door burst open.
What is all this? Efe exclaimed, looking around at everyone.
Edna tried to kill us! Osaki snapped. It was just revealed to me.
But she failed of course. However, the stream she poisoned affected one
of our sisters.
So what do you want to do? Efes tone was sardonic.
Its for her biggest pipeline of course, Osaki snapped. The one to
Lagos. Our wife wants revenge.
No way. Efe laughed and shook his head. I will think of something
else.
Osaki held tightly onto the finished bomb. A few hulks gathered
behind Osaki. Weve made up our minds. You cant stop us, he said
softly. Osaki led them towards the door. Efe remained in the doorway,
blocking Osaki and his men.
Efe, let us do it, said one of the men. Youve taken enough money
from the pipeline.
Are you people deaf? I said youre not going anywhere, now put
that thing
Osaki barged into his chest. Efe stumbled outwards, into the
corridor. He staggered toward the open doorway of the bungalow itself,
almost falling on his back, outside. He quickly regained his balance. Osaki

turned, reassuring his boys they should continue. Efe smashed Osakis jaw
with an uppercut. He fell on his back. And Efe picked up the bomb. He
held it against his waist with one arm. They were all gathered outsideon
the black grass. You people better watch it, Efe warned. I say jump, you
say how high. Okay? Everyone kept silent, apart from one gentle hiss.
Efe extended his hand. Four menwithout balaclavascame from
around one corner of the bungalow into plain sight. Now, I actually came
with good news. See who I have here. They were in tattered clothes and
smelled like homeless people. Their lower legs were coated in thick black
oil. They were holding onto hoes and rakes.
One of them bowed his head at Osaki and the titans; he had a straw
hat on. Evening, he said. The other three, beside him, followed his lead.
This is Ibiye. He and his sons have decided to stop crying about
their crops in front of Haghell. Now, theyre going to be real men. Give
them the shirts our wife would have them wear. Efe pushed the fellow in
the straw hat towards Osaki. I will summon her for the wedding vows.
Oracle revealed herself. Yells of excitement rose up. The four new
comers fled, but some of the giants caught and restrained them. Oracle
ignored them all, heading towards a nearby bush, making bird-like calls. A
black catwith eyes flickering both green and yellowrushed toward her.
Oracle let the cat pass her by, and then caught it by both its hind legs.
She lifted it into the air, causing it to shriek incessantly. With this hold, she
sent the cat through the air making circles with its front legs. Its nails
sprung out of both front paws, like Swiss army knives. My husbands, put
Efe on the ground.

Efe struggled, but the hulks wrestled him to the ground. Remove
his shirt, Oracle snapped. They took his shirt off, still holding him down.
His back was covered with muscles, all tensed. With her continued hold of
its hind legs, Oracle threw the cat backwards, over her head. Their spines
touched. Then she hurled it forwards with a speed and trajectory known
only to airplanes. The cats nails landed in Efes back. Oracle pulled at the
cats hind legs, causing it to rip chunks of flesh out as it freed its hold. Efe
bawled to the moon. My husbands, go and bomb her pipelineright
now. They scattered.
***
The thought of spending the night alone horrified Edna. She parted
the curtains of her room window. Her chauffeur was chatting with the
gatemen and policemen who were on the bench. Then he took the keys
from one of them and left. She desperately hoped he would find a girl.
When he returned, the nights shade of black had deepened,
reaching its finest showcase of darkness. He must have parked outside
the gates, she thought, trying not to wake anyone up. Because he stuck
his head alone through the smaller gate, which was intended for humans,
leaving the bigger gate for cars closed. He reared his head to face the
bench. Everyone else was fully asleep, but she could see he was scanning
Baba Mallam from several angles. He had told Edna that Baba Mallam
always slept with one eye open and almost woke up on one occasion.
He walked in through the gates, pulling a young girl after him.
Ednas heart burst with gladness. The deafening roar of the power
generator must have masked the sounds of their footsteps. It was

coughing out large fumes. The girl followed him meekly, looking around
with curiosity. Edna surmised she was no taller than the height of most
doorknobs. Bald patches were scattered throughout her mini-afro. They
made their way into the main house.
Edna opened her door in stages. They were both outside her door.
The girl looked past Edna to the television set, awestruck. The girls teeth
chattered, and she rubbed one triceps fervently with her free hand. Edna
pulled the girl inside, slamming the door. She locked the door, and walked
over to her closet to fetch toys and her camera. She removed her robes,
with her back turned her back to the girl, making herself naked. Edna felt
two hands wrapped around her neck, as if playfully choking her. She
shuddered in fright, and then turned around.
The sight of Oracle nauseated Edna. The puke fell out of her mouth,
distracting her from fighting back the way she wanted to. She screamed
when she finished puking, but then Oracles grip tightened, turning her
screams into noisy gasping. Edna wondered if the chauffeur would hear
her and come back in.
Edna found herself on the floor, trying to escape from a
stranglehold. She felt the Oracles hands wrapped so tightly they were
touching each other. Her skull was pounded onto the marble floor
repeatedly. Suddenly, Edna was flying through the air. Her back landed
against her plasma screen. She heard it explode, scathing her with a
sparkles. The tiny flames fried strands of her hair, tickling even her scalp.
Oracle picked Edna up and hurled her against the air conditioning unit.

Edna eyes were heavy. But she held them open because Oracle
faced the ceiling, and then reached into her mouth with one hand, fishing
around her insides. Edna crawled to her bed and reached under it. She
pulled out her double-barreled shotgun and fired, sending Oracle
slamming into a wall. Oracle slumped down slowly until her rear end hit
the floor. Edna held onto her shotgun as she fled from the room.
Her policemen and gatemen were all asleep. She left the compound.
Edna soon found herself in woodlands that were so complicated to
navigate, a weak human spirit would have broken down. Its darkness
made it hard to see her hands, as they pushed back branches in her way.
Despite the darkness, the leaves shone with a majestic greenness. Her
breathing was ragged. The air was filled with insects that smacked into
her ears every two seconds. She kept turning behind her to see if Oracle
was following. A bush rat brushed up against her foot, and she shot at it,
though made sure she kept running. She pushed further in, keeping an
eye on the Townsend bats above her. As she pushed a branch out of her
face, she tripped into a dark hole. Her heart skipped beat after beat, as
she plunged deeper into the abyss.
***
Oracle climbed up onto the roof of Efes bungalow. The entirety of
ASOC was stood on the roof in a full circle. Efe and Osaki were stood far
apart from each other within the circle. Oracle went into the middle of the
circle and then wiped her feet on the rooftop, like it was a welcome mat. A
blue fire rose up beneath her and hoisted her into the air. She hovered

above the fire, which spun her around continually, allowing her make eye
contact with everyone. The giants droned their mantras.
She spoke with a soft tone. My husbands, I will go straight to the
point. I have received instruction from a Higher Power. The instructions
are as clear as the waters were when your grandfathers were thriving
fishers. We must control the oil! The ASOC men cheered agreeably.
Oracle raised her voice. That way, we will make the money from our own
oil. Not the President, not Chief Mustafa. They continued to cheer her on.
She started shouting, Im telling youproper hospitals, good roads, fine
houses, first-class schools. You name it, we will have it.
One of them raised his hand. What of all this darkness? he asked.
It will be no more, she yelled. There will always be electricity
from then on. Constant light. And no more oil spillage, otherwise we will
kick the oil companies out. So Ibiye, you will be able to farm again. Efe,
you will sell fish again. Things will go back to how they were. Like the days
when your grandfathers were your age, and I was in the waters that
moved through this Island. The giants all gave her lengthy applause.
Oracle raised one hand. The clapping stopped. To get to that place,
I need you to increase the kidnapping. In fact, go beyond kidnapping.
Dramatize the way you kill people, make it more surprising. Blow up more
pipelines. Stop their business completely. My husbands, the establishment
will not take us seriously, unless we show them how mad I have made
you. Until we grind them to a halt. They readied their guns
enthusiastically and nodded to each other. Only Efe appeared to be
displeased. Do this every day, until the government hands control of that

oil to us. And my husbands dont fight this war in my name. Fight it in the
name of the Higher Power.
The ASOC men raised their guns towards her. War. War. War! they
chanted.

Jilwa konnu ro suwo sxna gayin rumiya na chizxnadx konnuro

zauwo.
When you a rat flees into a fire it was coming from a place hotter than the
fire.
Ancient Kanuri Proverb

Chapter Five

Babalawo reached an age that was so old he behaved like a child

again. He played with tree branches like they were action hero figures. He
giggled as if filled with girlish hormones. And even though Edna read nine
decades of life on his face, his energy level indicated a recent supply of
testosterone from a College football player via hormone replacement
surgery. Babalawo saddled over a brawny male lion in his temple. It had
every appearance of a stuffed lion, but it blinked non-stop, and from time
to time its head reared around.
Babalawos temple was a large indoor facility, about the size of a
courtroom. He continually said it was in the spiritual realm of the wild
bushes in Ipoti State, and demanded to know how Edna got to his temple.
Edna was skeptical. Spiritual realm? But then, there were weeping willow
growing trees inside the temple, which lined the four walls of the room.
Dead horses, laid out beneath the trees, were set ablaze. They served as
the rooms only source of light. His lion was in the middle of his temple on
a raised platform.
Edna looked around. Ling-Tai and Simi were in the temple. They sat
next to each other on the floor, looking up to the platform. Dapo and the
janitor were behind each of them, kneeling. The janitor was holding onto a

giant rice sack. The four of them had a view of the lions right side. Chief
Mustafa was inside the temple too, holding Yvettes hand. His fila cap was
in his other hand, with a traditional bangle in it. The pair sat next to each
other on the main floor as well, legs crossed. They had a view of the lions
face.
Edna was the only one standing. She had a view of the lions right
hand side. The horses on fire competed for her attention and made her
scratch with one hand, but she kept a firm a clutch of her shotgun, and
made sure Babalawo was in plain sight.
He had wrapped several cloths around his bodymostly red and
yellow fabrics that resembled bed cloths. He was chewing a long tree
branch that trailed about twelve smaller branches. He chewed for a
moment of utter-silence without using any hands, but he kept making
sucking sounds. He removed his branch with one hand and shook it
vigorously in Ednas direction. I will not ask thou again, who are thou?
And how did thou arrive at mine temple? Edna noticed everyone staring.
If thou do not start talking, right now, I will ask my boys to strike you with
musical death! Babalawo screamed.
Just then, Edna observed ten men standing in between the treesall
the way around his temple. They wore briefs and nothing else, so that it
was clear they all suffered from hirsutism. All of them were beating udu
drums, with a viciousness that forced out spine-chilling sounds. Invisible
spirits of this temple, one of them said, we depress thou with our music
so thou may grow mad and kill the American. The men in briefs stopped
playing their instruments and looked over at Edna.

Edna offered them a dirty look in response, readying her gun. She
spat on the temples floor, near one of the drummers. Shwoo!
Babalawos voice echoed. Thou dare to tarnish my Orishas shrine with
saliva? He stepped down onto his humungous branch with one foot, while
one hand pulled it upwards. It snapped in half, and then he threw one half
of the branch at her. She ducked it. But as she rose back up, a scarlet king
snake rose up from the floor with her, hissing. The broken branch had
vanished.
Edna shot the snake. The bullet went into its wide open mouth. But
the snake continued dancing in the same spot. There wasnt as much as a
graze on continuum of the snakes yellow, red and black skin. And its head
was still in healthy shape. The snake darted toward her. Im sorry, Edna
heard herself scream, still transfixed. Please take away your snake. I
promise, Ill tell you how I got here. I just needed a minute to take this
place in.
Babalawo hurled a ball of spit from his mouth. It landed on the
snake. The snake froze even as it stood on its tail. Then Babalawo put his
left hand deep into his lions mouth. He pulled out a small bag of powder.
After gargling the powder, he blew it in Ednas direction. Her shotgun left
her grip and followed the powders air trail until it entered his hands. He
shoved her gun into the lions mouth.
Babalawo burst into a fit of ballet maneuvers, snarling. As he
danced upon the raised platform, his red cloth flapped up, exposing his
genitals to the four winds. Edna cringed as she noticed his diphallia. At
one point, he almost fell off his platform, although he caught his balance

just in front of Simi, who seemed ready to catch him. He thanked Simi.
Edna overheard him explaining to Ling-Tai that neither himself nor his lion
were ever allowed to come off his platform. If they did there would be
grave consequences. Babalawo nodded as if the dancing had inspired a
thought. Then he spoke to the janitor in a language Edna didnt
understand. The janitor got up and walked over to Edna. He whirled his
koboko above her head, raising his eyebrows over and over again. Im
going to count downfrom ten, Babalawo said. If thou do not begin to
talk and co-operate, this man will discipline you.
***
Ling-Tai counted down with Babalawo. Before they got to six, she
heard Edna rushing her speech.
Then I fell through some damn hole and found myself here.
Honest, Edna cried.
Ok, sit down. ti y mi. (I now understand). Thou hast more in
common with them than thou think, Babalawo replied, waving one
powdery hand around the room. But thou have not told me something
very vital. How is it thou came to this land?
Edna sheepishly sat down, crossing her legs to mirror the others.
The oil Minister, Offoh, she said, taking a gulp. Simi grew horrified at the
mention of Offoh. She fidgeted with great anxiety and every movement
she made brushed against Ling-Tais clothes. He asked me here for work,
Edna continued. Chief Mustafa raised one eyebrow and studied Edna
again, in a way that portrayed respect.

Babalawo mounted his lion. Ah! If it is crocked Offoh thou is doing

business with, thou is surely in the same boat as everyone here.
Babalawo rocked himself on his lion for a while, and then continued,
Offoh must be summoned here. Yes! He must come here. Simi gasped.
But apart from Ling-Tai no one else seemed to notice her panic. Babalawo
slapped the lions spine relentlessly until the lion mouthed something to
one of the men in briefs.
The fellow left his udu drum. He went over to a willow tree in the
corner of the temple. The fellow crouched by the tree and hugged it with
one arm. He placed his other hand on the floor. Ling-Tai thought his
position made him look as if he were on his mark for a hundred meter
race. He shifted the tree from its base by about two feet. An abyss of a
hole appeared in its former place, making it clear the tree never had any
roots. Everyone did their best to gape into the hole. Ling-Tai cast her eyes
back on Babalawo. He pointed at the janitorwith both palms faced
upwardsand nodded ominously.
The janitor handed his koboko to Babalawo. Babalawo stood up from
his lions back, holding the koboko in one hand. He put the koboko under
his tied cloths, and used it to rummage around between his legs. Then he
pulled it back out and threw it to the janitor, laughing with an
unnecessarily loud volume.
The janitor bowed to Babalawo and caught the koboko in mid-air,
with just two fingers. He took it over to the hole where the tree had been.
He mouthed incantations into the hole. Babalawo sang the same
incantations along with him. The men in briefs beat the udu drum with

heavy hands. The janitor whipped his koboko harshly against the inside of
the hole. Offoh, he yelled into it, between his incantations.
His lashes became more intense. They were so powerful they raised
debris from the hole into the temples air. The janitor coughed severely, as
did the others, but he kept lashing. Offoh. Offoh. Bring me Offoh! he
demanded. Simis restlessness attracted the attention of Dapo, Yvette,
and also Chief Mustafa. Her eyes were glued to the hole. Ling-Tai thought
it best to look away from Simi, but even as she did, Simis palm
hammered one of her shoulders ceaselessly. The janitor took off his shirt
revealing his lumpy muscles. He wiped off a lot of sweat, and then went
on flogging the hole with all his might. Everyone kept silent.
Minister Offoh gradually rose up from the hole. He was in pajamas.
Simi repositioned her weave-on so that it covered most of her face, like
drapes. The janitor swaggered back toward his previous spot, but he
collapsed on his way. Babalawo clapped gladly. He pointed out Minister
Offoh to everyone. Sit down, he ordered. Minister Offoh quickly sat
beside Edna, who was clutching her hands together to try and stop them
from trembling. Ling-Tai tried to calm herself too, for she was also shaking
like a wretch. Offoh, thou have met us in good time, Babalawo said. I
know that thou are connected with the Principalities of Abiriba State, but I
called thou here because thou are involved in the matter before me. LingTai caught Chief Mustafa wink at Minister Offoh. Minister Offoh winked
back.
Babalawo tossed his lion aside, aiming to retrieve something
beneath it. But the lion tumbled over onto its back and teetered over the

edge of his platform. He rushed to the lion in less than a second, and
secured it. He went back to where the lion had been. A large dent had
surfaced there. He reached into the dent and came out with a very heavy
egg. He rolled it onto the more level surface of his platform.
It could be compared, in size, to an exercise ball. Its surfaces were
olive green. And a small mirror had been duct taped to it. Gaping holes
were scattered on the eggs surfaces, revealing blue leaves inside it.
Babalawo signaled his men in briefs. They went all out on their udu drums.
Babalawo positioned his mouth to towards one of the gaping holes on the
egg. He sent a barrage of incantations into the hole. He spoke in a variety
of languages.
The egg lit up, illuminating the temple with an olive greenness that
shrouded everyones clothes, and even changed the color of the fires on
the horses. The egg hummed an ancient melody, which made Babalawo
shake his head in agreement. Then it gave off a series of flashes, taking
away the olive greenness and bringing it back in a manner akin to strobe
lighting at a nightclub. Dapo was taking heavy breaths, which warmed
Ling-Tais ear. She turned to him. He was still on his knees, shuddering
each time the egg flashed. His eyes went into a seizure of blinks. Then he
collapsed, lying on his stomach. His limbs trembled epileptically, thumping
against the floor. But Dapo was being ignored; everyone paid their full
attention to the egg.
An echoing voice spoke out of a hole in the egg. It spoke for a while.
Babalawo listened intently, and then took his mouth to the hole. From
what they have said, I think it is the god of the trees disturbing them,

Babalawo said, then placed his ear to the hole. K s. (It is not). Oracle ni
(Its Oracle). Oracle of Blackgold Island, the egg said with an echo.
Babalawo laughed heartily, with the condescending undercurrent of
someone who knew something they didnt. He dramatically wiped the
smile off his face and surveyed the room. My Orisha has spoken. It is not
the god of the trees that has been troubling you, it is this one. He pointed
to the mirror duct taped to the egg. Oracle appeared in the mirror. Sharp
inhales trickled throughout the temple. Everyones eyes widened. Ling-Tai
instantly recalled the horror of their encounter at the janitors store.
The mirror zoomed in to Oracles face, as if to show everyone what
they were dealing with. Yvette and Edna shifted backaway from the
mirror. Ling-Tai followed suit. Simi shifted back as well, but stayed mute.
Her weave-on remained draped over her face. She was still angled away
from Minister Offoh. But Ling-Tai noticed her eyes were furtively looking in
his direction periodically.
The egg released a loud screech, and then spoke. Babalawo rushed
his ear to one of its holes again. AhAhAh, my Orisha is saying that
Oracle is here to deal with the outlanders. He glanced at Yvette, then
Ling-Tai and finally Edna. Ling-Tai grew puzzled. The faces of Edna and
Yvette reddened with panic. Ling-Tai guessed her face must have
reddened too. Oracle is your oversight, he shouted.
What? Why us? What did I do to that monster? said voices.
Murmurs of anxiety made their way around the temple. As Ling-Tai tried to
contextualize the problem, Yvette raised her hand in the air. Could you

possibly clarify why it is that this thing is going to deal with me...I mean,
with all of us? Yvette asked, glancing over at Edna and Ling-Tai.
Babalawo climbed onto his lion. He shook his head and laughed.
See, all your questions are irrelevant, he eased out his laughter. All I
can say is that she is here for the outlanders! And she bears a type of
anger that is unknown to the wild bushes of Ipoti State, he continued.
Minister Offoh shook his head at the floor. Chief Mustafas eyebrows were
placed high on his forehead. And Ling-Tai could hear Simi sobbing as
though she was about to cry. Yeay! Why did I follow you? she yelped,
pushing Ling-Tai with one hand. Neither Edna nor Yvette looked like people
who understand what this meant. Ling-Tai knew she didnt either, and so
wondered why someone wouldnt just explain everything to them without
referring to things like Ipoti State.
Chief Mustafa stood up. Wait. Has this woman has placed me in any
danger with that Oracle beast? he asked, pointing at Yvette.
Babalawo put on a vexed face. Mustafa, sit down and mind
yourself! Composure in the temple! Chief Mustafa sat back down.
Babalawo turned towards his egg. Oh my Orisha, what do you say that
they shall do? There was no answer. And then the olive green light within
the egg died out.
Babalawo put his entire hand into the lions anus. He brought out
five objects the size of olives, covered with a coat brownness that
obscured them. He put them in his mouth and gargled. He spat them out
onto his platform, one after another. Saliva balls dropped from each one
as they fell. They were cowrie shells, now the color of cream. He gathered

the cowrie shells with both hands and shook them like dice. Ling-Tai
imagined they would still be moist. He casted them on his platform, and
then studied how they had fallen. His eyes were soon glowing with
epiphanic-clarity; they became windows of insight. My Orisha has
spoken! He lifted his face up from the cowries. I will go into the wild
bushes tomorrow. I will engage in one on one combat with a possessed
cow. He wobbled his head around the room. I must wrestle it while stark
naked. I must fight it to the death. He signaled everyone to come closer.
They did. I will kill nine cows in this way. The nine cows will be buried.
They will be buried across the country, in spots that my Orisha will
instruct. Upon Oracle crossing the earth or the sky that lies above all the
nine cows, she must surely die.
Babalawo raised his pinky finger. He swayed it in front of their faces.
But regardless, she still plans to kill two of thy outlanders. Only one of
thou will survive, and the person who brought you into Nigeria will survive
too. The rest of you, she has your deaths planned. Huffs and puffs went
around the temple. Now, my Orisha does not know who thou are, that
shall survive. But for the chance that we may kill Oracle before she kills
two of thou, you must all support the burying of the nine cows.
Edna pushed herself up with one hand. This doesnt make sense.
How can you say that thing will be killed when you bury some cows. Then
say, well you know, two of you are just gonna die anyway. This is B.S.
Which one is it? She kicked a relic African mask, which was placed
between two trees, beside one of the drummers. The mask split in half.

Taaa! Babalawo roared, with great vocal strain. Serious

abomination!
From where it lay on the floor, the mask congealed itself together
again. It positioned itself to a stand, back between the two trees. Madam,
if thou does not sit down and keep thou mouth shut, thou will be sent into
the fire above that horse, he snarled, pointing to one of the dead horses.
Minister Offoh pulled Ednas hand down until she retook her seat.
Woman, my Orisha has not told me how timing will play out. I dont know
who will die firstthe two outlanders or Oracle. All I know is my intention
for Oracle, and I know Oracles intention. I am telling thou that we should
put our energy into my intentions.
***
Babalawo went into a fit of ballet maneuvers and incantations.
Yvette thought he was taking very daring steps, considering his eyes were
closed. He neared the platforms edge frequently. At times he was about
to fall off, frightful gasps rose up, but he kept saving himself. As he
continued, Chief Mustafa shifted away from Yvette, to be seated closer to
Minister Offoh. Apart from Yvette, no one noticed. They were all glued to
Babalawos performance on the platform. Yvette shifted along with Chief
Mustafa, furtively positioning herself behind him. He was in deep
conversation with Minister Offoh. She leaned her ear in his direction.
So after twenty-nine years of being friends, you now want to see
what it is like to be my enemy? Chief Mustafa asked.

Chief, please try and understand. Its not up to me anymore. The

President is forcing me to run against you. He decided this thing, Minister
Offoh replied.
Are you a baby? I mean, are you a woman? Offoh, ever since we
were in school, you always allow people to push you about. Push back!
You should have just said no your Excellency. I dont want to be President,
Im supporting Mustafa.
Please dont be angry, Minister Offoh said. We are still friends,
abi?
Offoh, are you all right at all? How can you say I should not be
angry? See, I know you must have been aware of the bet. So by taking the
position you have, it means that you too, want to kill me, Chief Mustafa
drummed his chest with one hand as he said kill me. He went on,
Offoh, if you were somebody else, I would have torn your testicles to
utter shreds.
Minister Offoh turned over one of his palms, as if to make a timid
plea. Chief, its not like that, please. But wait, must you go ahead and kill
yourself? I mean, if I am President, I can offer you a serious political
position.
Chief Mustafa guffawed. So that means you think I will lose,
heeenh? You people think that the S.O.F is not a powerful party? Chief
Mustafa took a deep breath; his back grew and then shrunk again. Offoh,
dropoutofthis raceimmediately. And I mean immediately.
Otherwise, you will move into my bad books and have to withstand my

wrath. And then when I become President, I will rededicate the purpose of
my life to ruining yours.
Chief Mustafa took Yvette by surprise, smacking her right side as he
started shifting back to his spot. The bump stung her shoulder, reaching
deep into the bone. She couldnt move, she held the shoulder with one
arm, loving to scream. He gave her a cold stare, and then signaled her to
shift back over. Her heartbeats increased.
When they got back to their spot, Chief Mustafa clapped his hands
twice. Babalawo stopped dancing; he opened his eyes. Babalawo, Ill
have to be on my way, he said. But please go ahead with the cow burial
plans. How much do you need to do it? He readied himself to stand up.
Babalawo tickled his armpits until he was in hysterics. Two million
naira, he replied, but you all can divide it into three. He nodded around
the room. And if any one of thou choose to come here and pay me more
dues every so often, I can keep burying more cows, he continued. She
only needs to cross nine.
Yvette took off her eyeglasses and turned to Chief Mustafa. Chief, if
we have to pay this man, then this is a song I will most certainly not be
dancing to, she muttered to his ear.
No, dont talk like that. Thats how these things work, he
whispered back. Trust me, Ive thought through it all. We can still win.
What if it is the two of us who survive? Chief Mustafa caressed her knee
with his rough palm. You know what Ive been thinking? Regardless of
who or what has been causing my bad luck, there are now bigger stakes
at hand. That my bet with His Excellency, you know I cannot lose. His

coarse palm made circles on her knee, which felt like being tickled with
sandpaper. So let Babalawo just handle this Oracletake her off our
plate. I mean, even the Chinese and the American, if they seriously want
to accomplish what they came to Nigeria for, they will do the same.
Yvette found herself nodding along.
Yvette or whatever you call yourself, let me tell you something,
Babalawo said. This is not a matter to be solved by white men in suits
and ties. Yvettes face remained on Chief Mustafa. She hadnt expected
Babalawos hearing abilities. She turned to him in stages, blinking.
Honestly, I am surprised by thou outlanders, Babalawo went on. Thou
concede to the fact that thou are only ever using a small percentage of
thou brains. Yet thou are one hundred percent sure this is all nonsense. Go
ahead, be reluctant to allow me save thou lives. Let us see how your own
plans fare.
Babalawo picked up one of his mini tree branches and threw it at
Ling-Tai. The branch smacked against her forehead and boomeranged into
his hand again. Ling-Tai was positioned near Simis ear holding both hands
over it, as though she had been whispering to her. Woman! Are thou
stupid? Did thou not just see I was able to hear her? He pouted his lips in
Yvettes direction. Anyway, because I am a good man, I will answer the
question you asked Simi: If any one of thou outlanders even try to leave
Nigeria, she will kill every one of thouwith increased speedincluding
your hosts. Thou must all stay in this land. We must defeat her. His lion
reared its head around the temple.

Wo ka tse kpele kpele biri one ti wo gba no ogona wo ma re

urare, tori gin wo wa kpe ma aghan wo ma no gba lude wa re ale.
Be careful about how you deal with people on your way up, because you
will encounter them on your way down.
Itsekiri Proverb

Chapter Six

It was early morning in Abuja, even the birds said so. Chief Mustafa
led his team into his executive parlor in the State House. Yvette went in
last. His men immediately turned on all the air conditioners. Yvette,
feeling asphyxiated, slumped into a chair. Chief Mustafa picked up the
phone and dialed a number. The security aides and personal assistants
shuffled around with unhidden trepidation.
Moments into his phone conversation, Chief Mustafas voice grew
angry. Yvette paid attention. Which stupid war? he yelled into the
phone. Oh, you want to try me? Efe, believe me, you are a very small
boy. A ragamuffin. Yvette wished she could stop his left foot from
smacking repeatedly against the marble floor, for his heavy sandals
sounded throughout the room. Listen, if you dont stop talking about that
rubbish and get me my oil money, I will teleport a madman from the
jungles of my tribe-land straight to your doorstep. He hung up.
Can you believe that criminal, that Efe? he roared. Hes not even
afraid to say Chief Mustafa hissed and picked up his receiver again with
haste.
Say what? Yvette asked.
Im going to call Edojah right now, if he confirms this rubbish is
true, I will kill him too. He started dialing a number, from a piece of paper
on his glass desk.

Let me guess, Yvette said. Theyve takenstolen our share of

the oil money?
Yvette-tete, they have stepped on the tail of a rattlesnake. The
phone receiver was glued to his ear. He continued drumming the floor
with his foot.
Yvette rolled her eyes, Chief, I know youre all about fairness, and
what theyve done is just duplicitous, but we need to drop this, she said.
You will put them straight, but just not now.
He held the receiver to his waist and plucked his chinstrap beard, as
if contemplating her suggestion. No. What Efe has done is unforgivable. I
must strike him with my venom. And Edojah too, he must face the fire.
He repositioned the receiver to his ear.
Yvette started crying, although teardrops werent actually leaving
her eyes. And she remained eloquent and analytical, even as she
contracted her face with misery. For Petes sake, Chief, that raving
monster could kill meusany moment now, and all wed have done is
call these bloody people and ask about some money. She coughed twice
and took in a long wheeze. Chief, the stash from London in your friends
house will be enough! All we need to do now is win this election. Ive given
up so much, so you should now be making sure I get the result that I
deserve, she continued, dropping whimpers in between words.
Ok, ok, Chief Mustafa said. He dropped the phone and walked
over. I will forget them. His shadow overwhelmed her, as she remained
seated. She felt both his chubby arms wrap behind her back, crafting an
awkward hug. His grip was powerful, and he pressed her eyeglasses into

his sweaty bosom. It felt like a chokehold. A pungent body odor blocked
her nostrils. Trust me, we will not only stay alive, the both of uswe will
win that election by a landslide. He repeatedly thumped, then caressed
her back in circles. He said Yvette-tete with each thump, but each one
sent her closer to falling off her chair. She gently released herself from his
embrace, re-sitting firmly on the chair. Oya, start naming which contract
you would like to take up, when I become President, he joked. Just name
any contract, it is yours. He turned to the others in the room. You see,
this is how to do with Oyinbo woman.
Five knocks landed on the door. Who is that, and what do you
want? One of his security aides opened the door. The man standing there
was holding a newspaper with both his shaky hands. He tried to speak,
but only stammered.
Talk, what is it jare? one of the security aides bellowed. You are
even smelling!
Chief Mustafa turned to the fellow in the doorway. Will somebody
tell this elephant ass that if he doesnt begin to talk, I will summon a
serpent herea yellow and red oneand it will dive straight into his anus.
Im talking about fully-fledged rape. And then habitation.
The fellow gasped. He raised his shaky hands and handed the
newspaper over. A security aide snatched the paper and ruffled it until he
had a straight and firm hold. Everyone in the room fixated on him. Ah,
Chief, this is not The security aide shook his head, as he continued
reading the paper to himself. Chief Mustafa marched over to him and

snatched the newspaper out of his hand so forcefully that it almost

scraped the floor.
Chief Mustafa glanced at the newspaper. Yvette was desperate to
hear what it was about. Me? Chief Mustafa shouted. Illegitimate? He
flung the newspaper to the floor. How can they use illegitimate to
describe me? He glanced around the room, and plucked out hairs from
his beard. A female personal assistant mistakenly made eye contact with
him. She was tall and was wearing a purple skirt and suit. Her figure was
rather voluptuous.
Chief Mustafa walked towards her very slowly. She backed away
until she was pressed against a wall, up against his life-size, framed
portrait. He stood on tiptoe, to reach her eye level, and clutched her
bosoms. You studied journalism, did you not? he asked. She nodded and
took in sharp breaths. She was about to cry. Woman, do I look like an
illegitimate person? He played with her hair. Yvette went over and picked
up the newspaper. Why would they write such a bad word about me? This
word, illegitimate, I hate it.
Chief, theres actually a deeper issue here, Yvette said, prodding
the newspaper with her eyeglasses. The real issue is about your
campaign.
He walked over to her and collected the newspaper, politely. As
Yvette explained the deeper issues, he skimmed over the paper. She
wondered if he was paying any attention to what she was saying.
Especially, because his poor eyesight prevented him from reading the
small-font, and he constantly refused to wear eyeglasses. Sorry, I was not

listening, he said. Say that again please. He lowered the paper and
scratched the scar along his face with one finger.
Yvette released an exaggerated sigh. She placed her forehead into
her palm. I said a tribunal, Chieftheyre going to decide if youre still
eligible to run for office.
Of course I can still run! Why not? I am in good health. What are
they talking about? Have they not seen my campaign posters? he asked.
Chief, you dont understand! Im just fed up. Yvette slumped into
her chair again and refused to speak.
Yvette struggled to keep her anger bottled up. Chief Mustafa turned
to his personal assistant in the purple suit again. She was looking at the
floor and retouching her hair. Are you listening to this? You are supposed
to be advising me. What do you have to say in this matter?
Sorry, Chief. Sorry, she said.
What am I going to do with sorry? I said talkexplain this matter to
me! he roared. Stupid, stupid woman.
He hurled the newspaper at her face, it bounced off her chest to the
floor. The assistant bent over and picked it up. She read it for a minute. I
think it is because of the police in Londonwhat they did to you. The
embarrassment they caused you at the airport. The tribunal wants to talk
about thatif you can still run for the Presidency after such
embarrassment.
Chief Mustafa smiled long enough for Yvette to count all his five
teeth. That is how to talk. Can you people see? Diplomat! Excellent
phrasing. he jeered. Anyway, I am over that embarrassment now. I can

go there and tell the tribunal that any day of the week. And twice on
Sunday even! He guffawed alone, for nine heartbeats, and then abruptly
stopped. Yvette was looking down and noticed his sandals, coming over.
But seriously, Yvette-tete, how should we go about this? Yvette faced
him, winking suggestively at everyone in room. Oya, all of you get out,
he shouted, pointing at his door. Chief Mustafa slammed the door behind
the last person.

Later in the afternoon, Chief Mustafas convoy blasted its way

through a serene neighborhood on the outskirts of Abuja. Every car
traveled at a hundred miles per hour and left little space between itself
and the next. The road wasnt tarred, so the sand beneath them filled the
air. A strong pothole rocked Chief Mustafas Rolls Royce. He wasnt
wearing a seatbelt, but he remained unperturbed, holding onto the griphandle above his head. Chief, how far do you think Babalawo has gone
now? Yvette asked. Could he have possibly finished burying the cows?
Could she have crossed some?
Look, stop worrying about that. Chief Mustafas traditional bangle
suddenly lit up, and then made vibrating sounds. Yvette spotted tiny bulbs
in each bead of his bangle. Driver, stop the car. Radio all of them, Chief
Mustafa yelled. That was his house we just passed. He pointed behind
them.
The gates of the house were crowned with barbed wire, which was
neatly coiled so that the barbed wire continued all the way along the tops
of the walls enclosing the house. Chief Mustafas convoy approached the

gates; they slowly drew open. The entire fleet cleared in the compound.
Yvette followed Chief Mustafa into the house. The security aide who had
been in the front passenger seat of the Rolls Royce, led most of Chief
Mustafas team into a modest sitting room in the house. Some stayed
behind, in the cars. When they were all in, he locked the door.
The sitting room was cluttered with tomes and dense books, stacked
on the floor in jagged piles. The room was lined on two sides with
bookshelves that were so grand and well stocked the walls behind them
were entirely hidden. Even though it was midday, thick curtains were
drawn over all the windows. And despite the poor lighting, cobwebs in the
corners of the room stood out.
Yvette stood behind Chief Mustafa, facing a man who was seated on
a recently reupholstered sofa. A reading lamp was positioned at one side
his sofa, nearest to where he was seated. More books were spread on the
sofa, beside him, including, From Third World to First: The Singapore
Story: 1965 2000, and The Bottom Billion: Why the Poorest Countries
are Failing and What Can Be Done About It.
The man was easily in his fifties. A gold band on his left ring finger
sparkled whenever the colors on the television set changed. Yvette looked
over to the television set; it was vintage and tuned into CNN. A mass of
gray hairs stood out at the crown of his head. But he possessed the type
of build that suggested he would do very well in a physical fight. And the
beige vest that struggled to contain his upper body harmonized with this
impression.

The security aides came between Yvette and the man, blocking her
view of him. They dropped three Ghana-Must-Go bags to the granite floor,
producing a booming thud that resonated in her for a while after. Chief
Mustafa patted one of them on his shoulder; so they all stepped out of the
way.
Yvette refocused on the man on the sofa. So, Justice Arojo, this is a
gift for you, Chief Mustafa said, pointing to the Ghana-Must-Go bags. I
know weve never met before, but I can feel in my stomach, he caressed
his pot-belly and then pulled the cloth near his belly outwards, that you
will make the right decision at that tribunal hearing. He turned to Yvette
and snickered.
Justice Arojo switched off the television set with his remote. Your
Excellency, with all due respect, please leave my house this minute.
Chief Mustafa dramatized his face with an uneasy smile. He looked
at Yvette, and then his security aides. Oh, he is saying that he wants to
show respect for my busy schedule today, Chief Mustafa shouted,
jokingly. Yvette glanced around; his security aides were nodding. I
understand, Chief Mustafa continued. Ok, bye-bye, we will leave the
money here.
Chief Mustafa clicked his fingers and jerked his head at Yvette to
indicate she should go out ahead of him. They all took their leave. Yvette
moved along with them, but quickly turned back to check on Justice Arojo.
Hey you, come and take this with you. Get it out of here, he said,
pointing at the bags. Corruption is not my modus operandi on the bench.

Neither is compromise. He bobbed his head at her as if he was a

headmaster reprimanding a naughty girl.
Yvette froze, not sure what to do. Chief Mustafa, who was behind
her, had stopped walking too. His back was to Justice Arojo; he listened to
the rest of his speech. She panicked, for Chief Mustafa was taking in deep
breaths: the sign he was about to strike. The Justice stood up from his
chair. He pointed from the Ghana-Must-Go bags to his door. I said take it
the hell out! he said, making eye contact with her, and then glancing at
some of the security aides.
Chief Mustafa swiveled himself on his heels, very slowly. He gawked
at Justice Arojo from several angles, as though he was a Rubiks cube that
needed solving. However, Justice Arojo intentionally kept his look away,
even as Chief Mustafa walked within inches of him, visibly exhaling on his
neck.
Chief Mustafa opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was
forming his words. Young man, areyouabastard? Chief Mustafa
asked, softly, and then fell to the floor, rolling himself around, laughing.
Yvette became spellbound. I mean, who else would vomit the
untalkable? Chief Mustafa said, sitting up. Listen, if you talk bullshit with
me, I willwipeyouout. He created a gun with two fingers and made
it recoil against his own temple. Then he exhaled on the tips of his fingers,
as opposed to the usual huff.
Arojo! Are you aware that if I bat this eyelid in the way that I was
taught, He stood up fully, pointing to one eye. You will be struck with

blindness? Chief Mustafa moved closer to him. Think very carefully

about this.
Justice Arojo angled himself towards his window. Security. Security,
come and throw these people out! he called out. Chief, I serve a God
that is bigger than you. I do not fear you, he said with a raised voice.
Chief Mustafa screamed until he struck the most unholy of pitches. One of
Chief Mustafas security aides bolted the remaining locks on the sitting
room door, while another turned CNN on, again, and put the television at
maximum volume.
Chief, please, Ive got a headache. Yvette said, resetting her
eyeglasses in place. Can we just move swiftly on to Plan B?
Chief Mustafa cast his eyes on her, blankly. He shook his head. Not
yet. I say, not yet. I must deal with this, this fucking albatross.
With his back still away from the Justice, Yvette saw Chief Mustafa
wink twice at a security aide behind her. He in turn winked at another who
was behind Justice Arojo. The Justice was still facing his windows, calling
out for help. The fellow ran up behind Justice Arojo and struck both of his
calf muscles with a soccer-type kick. Justice Arojo fell down hard. Two
other aids zealously wrestled him on the floor. Justice Arojo punched one
of them in the bridge of his nose. The cracking thump of his punch caused
Yvette to shudder in fright. Chief Mustafa was beside Yvette, strangling
the thin air with both hands, as though he were holding the Justice. Justice
Arojo speared another security aide to the floor, driving into his stomach
with one shoulder. He elbowed another in the mouth, twice, drawing out
blood and causing a tooth to fall out. Another aid ran over and kicked

Justice Arojo just above the eye. He wilted to the floor and stopped
moving. Yvette felt awful. Oya, put him in handcuffs, Chief Mustafa
ordered. You think you are Rambo, abi?
Justice Arojo was dragged to his knees. A trail of blood flowed from
an ugly wound over his eyebrow. His hands rested on his crotch,
handcuffed. Move away, just move aside. Chief Mustafa motioned his
security aides to the other corner of the room. He folded the sleeves of his
agbada onto each shoulder. This fold was saying, I am going to really
deal with this bastard. Yvette looked to the window, worried someone
might be coming. Arojo, it is now time for me to personally crush you, he
went on. Im going to perform serious Jujutsu for your ass. Chief Mustafa
drove an awkward kick into Justice Arojos chest, but it was so poorly
executed it sent both men to the floor.
Chief Mustafa sat on Justice Ajoro and strangled him with both
hands. He repeatedly thudded his head against the granite floor. He
stopped to take in some tired breaths. Will you stop misbehaving now?
Chief Mustafa then stood up to take his agbada off completely, causing his
fila cap to fall off as well. He was now just in his kaftana rare sight.
Chief Mustafa mounted Justice Arojo again, as he lay helplessly on
the floor. His knees were on either side of Justice Arojos face. He slammed
his palm against the bleeding eyebrow. I want you to love me and to love
my campaign. Okay? Chief Mustafa spat in his face, and then wiped his
palm on Justice Arojos vest, leaving behind a red smear. He dealt out
another round of punches and backhands. Are you ready to love and
obey me?

Justice Arojo didnt reply him. He spat back at Chief Mustafa, but
rather than hitting his face, the spitball merely dangled off the cloth of his
kaftan, near the chest. Chief Mustafa grew furious. He spied a glass bottle
of Coca-Cola, empty and resting on an end table. He reached over and
grabbed it. He pulled Justice Arojo up by the vest, and then broke the
bottle against his head, keeping his own face turned away from the galaxy
of splinters that flew through the air. Yvette turned away herself, worried
by the flying chips of glass. The pieces struck the granite floor with a
musical quality.
When Justice Arojo woke up, the men put him on his knees again.
Chief Mustafa grabbed one of his security aides, and took possession of
his rusty pistol. Move away, move. Chief Mustafa aimed the pistol at
Justice Arojo. The security aides moved away.
No! We cant, Yvette snapped. But the television set was still
blaring, drowning her voice. She ran over to Chief Mustafa and clutched
one of his biceps. Lets just move to Plan B. Just stick to the plans.
Please! She turned to Justice Arojo. And you should know that there is no
Plan C, so I wouldnt play hardball with this next one, if I were you.
Chief Mustafa grunted. He paced around the sitting room, and then
went over to the bookshelves. 48 Laws of Power! he said aloud. Justice,
you know something? Whenever I see someone reading this book, I
become very happy. Because I know they are naturally powerless. It is
actually a cry for help. Real power only ever comes in a mans genetic
coding. Justice Arojo had one eye swollen shut. It was inflamed,
appearing as though it was ready to explode out of the socket. So this is

the poor child you want to put in danger? Chief Mustafa said, holding up
a framed picture. Yvette walked over to see the picture. In the frame,
Justice Arojo was hugging a boy, who was about eight years old, with one
arm. They were stood beside a wax impression of Arnold Schwarzenegger.
The picture had the Madam Tussauds logo in the bottom corner. Chief
Mustafa handed the frame to one of the security aides, and also passed
over his traditional bangle. The security aide left the sitting room, another
bolted it behind him.
That man should not touch my son. I will kill all of you, Justice
Arojo shouted. What are you planning? Dont involve my son. Chief
Mustafa cackled, hysterically. One of the security aides backhanded the
Justice. You can do what you want to me. But leave Junior alone, please,
he went on. Chief Mustafa stared at the Justice, saying nothing in
response, wearing a demonic smile and tapping his right foot on the floor,
musically.
Ill tell you, Yvette jumped in, filling the void created by the
silence. Because I actually came up with Plan B. And it was inspired by
my ever-increasing understanding of Chiefs juju powers, and the
seemingly unlimited possibilities it affords one. Justice Arojo, she moved
closer to him, the man who just stepped out is now you. Yes, you.
Incredible isnt it? She heard Chief Mustafa cackling. Some of your blood
got onto Chiefs bangle when he was beating and slapping you, which was
also part of the plan wasnt it? She turned to Chief Mustafa who was
nodding excitedly. And with that DNA sample combined with the

wondrous bangle, hell be able to pick up your son from school with no
problems. She glanced at her watch. Its about closing time isnt it?
Even though his hands were still cuffed, Justice Arojo reached for a
purple shisha pipe behind him. He quickly grasped it and flung it toward
Yvette at once. Her heart rate skyrocketed as it traveling through the air,
reaching for her. She dived away, landing on the hard cushion of the
books on his sofa. She heard it clanging on the floor. Yeay! Chief Mustafa
shouted. What a bastard! The security aids rushed over to Justice Arojo
and gave him a serious beat down.
Several minutes later, the sitting room door opened. Yvette saw
someones hand push Justice Arojos son into the room by his head. His
son appeared different in person compared with the picture. His cheeks
were plump; he was now overweight. The boy staggered in, almost falling
over. He turned around to see his dad was no longer thereit was the
security aid, now re-bolting the door. He looked around the room, then
rushed to his real dad when he spotted him, knelling. He hugged him and
instantly broke into tears. Chief Mustafa pulled the boy away by his school
uniforms collar. As he kept his hold of the collar, a security aide went over
and assisted Chief Mustafa to push the boy down, so that he fell on his
knees. He was now face to face with his father. Chief Mustafa pulled both
the boys hands backwards, almost to breaking point.
Now, Justice Arojo, dont let anybody get hurt, Chief Mustafa said.
You can still win this.
I will do what you wish, Justice Arojo yelled. Please leave him.

Yvette faced Justice Arojo. Were not being nice anymore, she
said. You get your child back after the hearingthats if you want him.
Chief Mustafa smiled. The other security aides cleaned the sitting
room thoroughly. One of them tended to Justice Arojos wounds. They all
left his house, with Justice Arojos child, and even the Ghana-Must-Go
bags.

Days later, Yvette and Chief Mustafa watched on television as

Justice Arojo delivered his verdict. I do not hold the view that an ongoing
investigation, in another jurisdiction, disqualifies him. For all these
reasons, I hereby affirm the legality of Chief Mustafas candidacy. Justice
Arojo struck his gavel against its sound block. The courtroom gallery
erupted. Heckling, chanting and screaming grew louder. Justice Arojo
stood up grandly from his bench and made his way towards chambers.
The Presidents agents, in the gallery, gave him brooding stares. They
made signals to him, which suggested to him that they were going to
exact revenge in the coming weeks.
When Chief Mustafa heard that Justice Arojos child had been
returned safely, he told Yvette he was going to the basement in the State
House. He specified that he wanted to go alone. Yvette let him get a head
start, but she followed surreptitiously. She had heard his household
workers referring to it as a dungeon. They believed, among themselves,
that it was where he communicated with his jujumanBabalawo and
engaged in spiritual exercises. So she seized the opportunity to satisfy her
curiosity.

But when she got there, and craned her head around the wall, he
was merely sat behind a table, writing a letter. His breaths were loud.
Even though he was backing her, she made out a quaint, dip-ink pen he
was using, and a finely curled scroll he was writing on. She recalled that
this way how he always composed letters. Yes, his penmanship was
forever exquisite and could naturally be inserted into ancient constitutions
around the globe. Chief Mustafas actual prose, whether for formal or
informal purposes, never failed to impress. And his vocabulary range,
when writing, was of a rare cachet. After all, hed topped their law degree
class at the London School of Economics. Two hours later, he finished the
letter.

Campaign season was in full force. Election Day was just around the
corner. Chief Mustafa and his political team were constantly at it. Yvette
always went out with them, even though the schedule was wearing her
out. In the mornings, they would set off in a motorcade. Chief Mustafas
managers advised that he couldnt use his Rolls Royce. He had to use a
navy blue mini-bus. He hated the vehicle. Yvette thought this showed
through when Chief Mustafa would stand out of its open roof and wave at
one rallying crowd after another. Yvette remained seated, near GhanaMust-Go bags, enjoying the view through the tinted windows. He often
whispered that his Rolls Royce could have served the same purpose, and
shown his status off to the indigents in the same fold.
His motorcade had difficulties navigating through the multitudes,
who always gave the crowd police a hard time. Some in the crowds held

up MUSTAFA posters and screamed to the point that they behaved wildly.
Others folded their arms and looked on with tilted heads. Although these
people appeared as if they hadnt had a bath in a year, they struck Yvette
as people who were capable of reading newspapers. Chief Mustafa
reached into his vehicle, collected cash from her, and threw it at them.
Their mood instantly changed as they rushed to wrestleagainst
policemenfor the money, before the splattering wads of cash even hit
the ground. Chief Mustafa repeated this act, rally after rally. Warfare
always broke out, and women and children were always left severely
injured.
From rallies, they would move to television studios in the
afternoons. Despite Yvettes efforts to correct him, Chief Mustafa would
make grandiloquent speeches, rather than answer the specific questions
asked of him. On his way out, a swarm of news reporterswith
microphones and tape recorderswould try to obtain clarification about
his actual platform, but he would talk instead about his wager with the
President and his feelings towards Minister Offoh. By this time, evening
would have fallen. They would go into ominous bush country to visit
traditional kings. Chief Mustafa gave a greater number of Ghana-Must-Go
bags to traditional rulers. More than he did to anyone else.
One night, they went to the Emir of Anakunas palace. The Emir had
just finished playing polo. He and his team were riding horses that were
richly caparisoned, conjuring up images of unicorns from fairytales. The
Emir was helped down from his horse by about thirty men. He held onto a
colossal umbrella all the while, as if letting go of it at any stage would

endanger his empire. It was handcrafted with the fabric pattern one would
find on an Oriental rug. A white cloth was tied around the Emirs entire
face. It towered majestically above his head and covered all but his eyes.
Altogether his appearance this evening mirrored the depiction of King
Musa of Mali that Chief Mustapha hung on the wall above his bed.
As the Emir approached Chief Mustafa, Yvette stretched out her
hand to shake his. The Emir of Anakuna opened his eyes abnormally wide.
He pressed his freehand against his own stomach. Yvette spotted a yellow
ball of lightning making its way down from across the skies, towards her.
She fell to the floor without seeing it touch her; her legs convulsed
spasmodically. Moments later, she woke up to find Chief Mustafa on his
knees with his face angled towards the floor, in deep conversation with
the Emir.
This was how they traversed the length and breadth of the country
for weeks. Sleep was never on the horizon. And even in the middle of the
night, armies of male youths marched through the streets in boisterous
dance. They would be carrying large drums, which were both terrifying
and noisy. A few of them would be playing trumpets, as others chanted
political slogans. Their songs were catchy and regardless of the varied
languages they sang in, one could still hear Chief Mustafa, along with
President, dropped into the lyrics. She and Chief Mustafa often had to
make appearances at such street-theatres, to pay and encourage them.
***
A week before the Election Day, Mr. Abeere went to the office of the
President of Nigeria. He waited outside the door of his office, and then

lifted his clenched right-hand, intending to knock. Come in, a trenchant

voice shouted. How did he know?
The President was seated behind his official table, reading a
document he was holding with both hands. The table was so exquisitely
polished its beechwood-toned surface twinkled in many places with an
expensive shine. Five Nigerian flagsheld up by poleswere stationed
around his office. The poles were gold. They were rooted into his carpet at
striking angles. Glass cabinets, with internal spotlights, lined his four
walls. They contained an opened Constitution and other sacred texts.
Mr. Abeere closed the door and went further into the office. He
prostrated to the President, and then made his way towards the seating
area. The seating area played host to statues of warriors from the Bornu
and Benin Empires. The President got up from his own chair, gesturing to
Mr. Abeere. No. Come here, I asked you here because I want you to sit on
my own chair, he said. His chair was a made of green leather. It was of
human height and had the Presidential Seal emblazoned on the headrest.
No, Your Excellency. I cant do that, Mr. Abeere insisted, as he sat
down in the seating area.
Mr. Abeere, igi t t erin lerin fara r. (It is a tree that is as mighty
as the elephant that the elephant leans on). You know that proverb?
Your Excellency, Mr. Abeere sensed his uneasiness, exuding, as
he shuffled in his chair. I know the proverb, but Im not yet on your train
of thought.
The President grinned, I will be leaning on you for these upcoming
elections. You are big enough for me to lean on. You are strong enough to

count the votes in the right way. You must. Because the proverb makes
mention of one tree and one elephant, not two elephants. Chief Mustafa
cant lean on you too. The Presidents tone was friendly, but it carried an
undercurrent of repercussion. I know hes your friend. I know hes paid
you to count the votes in the wrong way, but I paid you even more. There
was tense moment of silence. And you dont have to even worry about
seeing him after the election. Nobody will.
Mr. Abeere took in a deep breath. He scratched some hair at the
back of his head. No, but your Excellency, honestly I havent taken any
money from him. And were just planning to count the votes, as they are,
he said sheepishly.
The President stood up and casually walked over to Mr. Abeeres
chair. He perched on its armrest. Mr. Abeere felt an arm creping behind his
back, until it rested there in a friendly way. Now, Mr. Abeere, you know
you dont have to lie to me. We are brothers. Honest people! I know he is
intimidating, but that entourage you came withyour security men
outsideIm the one who is providing it for you. Not Mustafa! Dont annoy
me, so that I would have to take it away. The President detached his
friendly hold, symbolically. He removed his own fila cap, fixated on it, and
played with its threading. You know, it wont be good if you dont have
security. Anything could happen, he continued. Mr. Abeere moved
awkwardly up against the chair. The President went over the door and
opened it. You can take your leave. As Mr. Abeere stood in the doorway,
the President cleared his throat. I now understand why, in life, some

people are driven to kill some people. Mr. Abeere left the State House,
with the intention of fleeing to Cambodia after Election Day.
***
All the votes had been cast. The votes would be counted
overnight. Chief Mustafa made up his mind to stay up from dusk that night
until dawn of the next day. He would watch the news the whole time. As
the sun fell to its hiding place on election night, he went into the main
sitting room of the State House and lay slumped on a chair. Yvette tagged
along. She admired how well the bay window had been fixed since the
naked man had been hurled though it. She hadnt been in the room since
that day. The space in front of the drapeshis stagewas now occupied
by a television stand with a fancy plasma screen resting on it. The
Nigerian News Channel was turned on.
Yvette and the rest of his political team also took out their fatigue
on the chairs. There were too many people in the room, some she didnt
recognize. About forty people sat on the floor, and another fifteen
remained standing. They used their cell phones to the point of irritation.
The room was stuffy and smelled of armpits, despite the functioning airconditioning units.
So far, the Nigerian News Channel was only reporting about the
events of Election Day itself. Chief Mustafa was blinking continually,
fixated on the television. His long winks led him to fall asleep, even
though he was still in his agbada. Yvette went back to the television.
Several voters on the screen talked about whom theyd voted for and
shared their opinions about the candidates. Thank God Chief is asleep, a

voice said quietly, after hearing the words of an elderly lady. The plasma
screen abruptly switched off. A group of men in the room went over to it.
One of them tampered with the decoder, DVD player and VHS player. The
others fiddled around behind the plasma screen. They slapped it
resentfully. Heeey! Chief Mustafa yelled, waking up. Are you boys sons
of bitches or jackasses? You want to explode this whole place? His eyes
grew with rage, taking up more room on his face.
There was much agitation concerning the troubled television. But by
the early lights of dawn, they managed to get the screen to come on
again. A familiar countdown timer surfaced on the display and made its
way to zero. The news jingle came after it. Ladies and gentlemen, I am
Tolu Martins, and you are watching the Nigerian News Channel. Yvette
became alert on her chair. Chief Mustafa was asleep again. She reached
over towards him, gripped his shoulder, and shook him until he woke up.
Wake up, theyre about to start, she said. He kept blinking at her and
the plasma screen. Everyone in the room gave the screen their full
attention, and only the television set could be heard.
Moments into the report, the room went into uproar. Yeay! Winner!
Winner! Winner! shouted about fifty voices. Chief Mustafa got up and
folded his agbadas sleeves. I have triumphed, is what his fold meant.
Then, it was as though the ecstasy of the moment truly settled in his
bones. He took his agbada off, flung it against the ceiling. A new type of
energy exuded from him. He danced around the sitting room. Then he
picked up several staff members, hurling them towards chairs with a joyful
cry each time. A controlling euphoria had filled him and it came out of his

body through a bout of loud screams. He sprung himself onto a security

aide, causing them both to fall on the security aides spine.
Mustafa, you don win oh, winner. Pata pata you go win forever,
winner, sang everyone in the room. Absolutely everyone was elated.
Some danced around the room and clapped along to the song. Yvette
found others holding onto each other, jumping up and down with enough
seismic impact to trigger an earthquake.
Chief Mustafa came over and hugged Yvette. The hug lasted forever.
She turned to the screen occasionally, but kept the hug in place. He didnt
have the words for the moment, but he kept making eye contact with her
and saying, Yvette-tete. The graphic designs on the news channels
display were aesthetically pleasing. They were mostly black, electric blue
and white. A picture of Chief Mustafasmiling upwardshad been
projected onto the screen. It was there for quite a while. A banner rested
beneath it. It hosted moving words like, Mustafa elected President, and
S.O.F win by a landslide. Yvette felt all her problems flying off her
shoulders.
Chief Mustafa put his agbada back on. He held Yvette in hand and
rushed up to the executive parlor. She closed the door behind them,
giggling. Chief Mustafa dialed a number and immediately put the phone
on loudspeaker, so that each of the rings sounded.
Hello?
Is that Mr. President? Or should I say Mr. outgoing President, he
asked, grinning at Yvette. Keep quiet. I said shut up your mouth when I
am talking, Chief Mustafa continued. Now let me tell you something.

Whenever Mustafa says something, you better take it to the bank. I

always win. Chief Mustafa burst out into laughter; the sort of laughter
that must have echoed several walls away. Yvette laughed along, and
even though it was forced laughter, she contained an abundance of joy
inside her. Now, go and make your farewell speech, then do the honors.
And if your jujuman does not, I will take great joy in eliminating you from
the face of the earth myself. Bye-bye bastard!
Mustafa, you are a fool, the President said. A big fool!
Oooh, dont be upset, Chief Mustafa said, playfully. I think you
will enjoy it in hell. He laughed out loud again.
The President was laughing as well. Chief Mustafas face scowled in
confusion. You find this funny? he asked.
Yes, the President replied, because, its all gone according to
plan.
Thats a lie, Chief Mustafa hissed back. You did not want to die.
Stop lying.
The President laughed again. Mustafa, what you have been
watching is a recorded tape. I had one of my men make it especially for
you. And Im guessing you enjoyed it. But now, it is time for you to go and
watch the real news. The President continued laughing. His laughter filled
the executive parlor with a numbing tension. Chief Mustafa froze. He
didnt look at Yvette; he became transfixed on his Official Portrait, stoic.
He folded the sleeves on his agbada once more.
***

The minute Ling-Tai ran into First Treatment Hospital, the stench of
chemicals and disinfectants surged into her nostrils. She looked to her left;
there was a waiting area with a large television set, and about twenty
dreary faces staring at it. She turned to her right to find a wide corridor
that eventually led to escalators. She finally discovered the receptionists
desk straight ahead, behind tall potted-plants.
The receptionist behind the counter was on her cell phone; the
people in the line didnt seem to mind waiting for her to finish her call.
Ling-Tai pushed in front of the others in the line and hammered her hand
on the desk. The receptionist eyed Ling-Tai, and then hissed into her
phone, Please, I have been rudely interrupted. I will have to call you
back. She pressed a button on her phone with irritation and snarled.
What do you want?
I was called about an accident, Ling-Tai responded. My friend Simi
is here.
Simi was lying on a bed made with yellow sheets. A neck brace had
been strapped around her neck so tightly it had every appearance of
choking her. There were tiny Band-Aids spread across her face. The rest of
her body was under the covers. As Ling-Tai walked over to the bed, Simi
opened her eyes and turned towards her. She stroked Simis forehead.
Sitting on the edge of the bed. There were two other beds in the room,
both of which were occupied by young childrenone girl and a boy.
She needs rest. Please dont spend too long, the nurse said. I
have marked your starting time. She shut the door behind her.

My goodness, what happened? Ling-Tai asked, taking Simis hand.

Simi hissed. Oracle? Was it that Oracle? Ling-Tai asked. I just knew it.
She wants both of us. Hasnt that Babalawo finished by now?
It wasnt Oracle. It was Dapo, Simi said, knitting her eyebrows
resolutely.
Why? No. He beat you up?
No! Simi hissed and pushed Ling-Tais hand away in frustration. It
was yesterday, when we were in the car, she sounded like she was losing
her voice. We had just taken the drugs to Mr. Yaya. He paid us a large
amount. The briefcase of money he gave us, it was in the front seat of the
car. Simi coughed. Ling-Tai fetched water and put it to Simis mouth. She
raised her head very slightly, to the extent the neck brace allowed. She
swallowed some water and fell to her pillows. That was how Dapo took
the briefcase and ran. I was sitting at the back.
Ling-Tai nodded, wanting Simi to continue with her story. I poorshoed him but he was too fast, Simi said, then took a deep breath.
Anyway, this car just came and hit me. Simi raised one finger for
emphasis. He planned it. I know it was a plan because he led me to an
isolated bush. The car just appeared. She released a loud hiss. Ling-Tai
looked away, thinking.
Have you seen him? Simi asked.
No, Ling-Tai shook her head vigorously. But youre right, this was
obviously something he planned with Mr. Yaya. She took Simis hand
again. But I dont want you to think I am upset over the money. I just

need you to get well. Ling-Tai kissed Simi on the cheek. Please get
better, will you? Simi nodded.
***
Simi held her breath as Ling-Tais stilettos clicked across the floor,
then she finally exhaled as Ling-Tai stepped outside, shutting the door.
Aaargh! A shrill bawl filled the room. The boy two beds away
kicked his mattress repeatedly, holding tightly onto his stomach. My
stomach. Oooh. My stomach, he screamed. Simi didnt turn to him, but
she pressed the nurse call remote.
Moments later, a nurse rushed in with a syringe ready. The boy had
stopped moving. The room became mute. The nurse checked his wrist for
his pulse, and examined other vital signs. Then she left. She came back
later, with two other nurses. They placed fresh bedclothes over his whole
body, covering even his face. A severe mourning fell on Simis heart. She
sighed aloud over and over, until she slept off.
The next time Simi woke up, a frail man in a cream kaftan was
coming into the room. His face was filled with apprehension. Although he
wasnt crying, his eyes were deep red. There was a lady beside him,
holding tightly to his hand. They both went straight to the boys bed. The
nurse came in behind them. The lady removed the bed cloth, revealing
just the boys face. Then she dropped to the floor, still holding onto her
husband. No! No! No! She released her husbands hand and crawled up
onto the boys bed, weeping inconsolably. The nurse tried to physically
support her.

Simi turned back to face the wall immediately. She recognized the
man from the customs office. He was the only one she and Ling-Tai had
ever dealt with. And because Ling-Tai had got into a spat with him the first
day they met, she remembered him particularly, and knew he would
recognize her. She closed her eyes as she faced the cold wall, pretending
to be asleep. She even threw in deep breaths and snoring. A teardrop
rolled out of her eye, crashing into the mattress.
The lady kept wailing. Simi felt a strange cloth land on her face,
covering it completely. It smelled of both perfume and powder.
Esther my dear, please, the man cried with a teary voice. I know
it hurts, but lets be strong. Youve even dropped your scarf on that ladys
face.
This is her head scarf! Simi became perfectly still. The woman must
have been rolling herself on the floor because the sound of someone
hitting into the beds rung through the room, and then her weeping and
wailing rose up from the floor level.
Please try and take heart, the nurse said. Its happening
everywhere. This girl in the middle bed, she is suffering from the same
thing too. Im just hoping she doesnt die.
What do you mean? Simi heard the man ask.
The nurse hissed pitifully. She too bought fake drugs, she said.
Its becoming very hard to tell.
This little girl? he asked. Simi could hear his shoes, walking over
to her bed. Ill pay for the girls treatment. He said to the nurse. From
the way his voice crystallized it was clear he was on his way overto

fetch the scarf. Ill pay for her. Just do whatever you can. I dont want
fake drugs to kill her as well. Simis heart nearly exploded in her chest as
she heard his voice coming closer.
Ah, thank you, sir. God bless you. The nurse said. No, let me get
it for you. Simi heard her lighter steps running, coming near, then felt the
scarf draw off her face. Its so kind of you, because even the people that
brought her here, no sign of them again, she added.
In the late hours of that night, Simi woke up. She swiveled her legs
out of bed in order to sit up, and then switched on her bedside lamp. The
light showed her purse, positioned on the nightstand, perhaps by one of
the nurses. She picked it up and rummaged through, eventually pulling
out a small transparent bag, containing a coarse powder, beige in color.
The janitor had tied the bag with a tight knot, on the day he ordered that
she keep it permanently inside her purse. After an exhausting struggle,
Simi untied the knot. She reached into the bag with two fingers and took
out a small pinch. She threw spades of the powder against her neck brace
and then used it to massage the skin on her neck, and then as much of
her back as she could. The pain left. Simi placed her purse under one
armpit and held onto the powder bag as well. She walked over to the door
and opened it soundlessly.
She stepped out of her room, blowing the powder into the air. She
continued blowing the powder into the air as she walked through the
corridors, following behind it. It had a foul stench and overwhelmed the
tang of the chemicals and disinfectants. She got to the entrance door and

blew out some more powder. The security guard standing at the doorway
completely ignored her as she left the hospital.

That night, Simi crawled towards the shrine of Papa Ojumilepa to

show respect. His shrine was essentially just a bungalow, but with boarded
windows, missing tiles on the roof and dangerous-looking weeds
decorating its front wall. She reached the front door and tapped on it with
one hand, remaining on her knees. A youthful male voice inside answered
in a local dialect. Simi stood up. Then she turned her back to the door.
She could hear it creaking open, and then felt two hands on her shoulders.
The person roughly pulled her inside the bungalowwith her back first.
Simi was led further in. The inside of the bungalow was just one
large room. So far, she hadnt set eyes on Papa Ojumilepa himself. Simi
knew he was sitting in a hefty and raised chair at the other end of the
room. According to legend, his chair was 8 karat gold, adorned with huge
marble stones. Papa Ojumilepa was said to wear a mask that was
treasured in nine kingdoms and even beyond. No one alive had ever seen
his mask, but legend held that it wasnt a conventional one; it was a
crown with long strands of beads glued to it. The beads were said to
represent all colors under the sun and stretch down to touch his chest,
covering his entire face.
His entire face had to be covered by these beads, because anyone
whom Papa Ojumilepa made eye contact witheven through the beads
would die instantly. Their blood would simply dry up. And if one looked into
his face, but did not make eye contact, they would be sent into a

permanent coma. A servant boy eventually led Simi to a chair, but her
back was kept to Papa Ojumilepa all the while.
Shigidis occupied the bulk of the room that Simi was allowed to see
about fifty of them. Shigidis were ancient statues made with a
combination of wood and clay. Deep brown in color and miniature in size,
the Shigidis were all fully dressed in agbadas. Some carried drums and
others danced along to the musical tunes being played by the drummers.
Another batch of the Shigidis kept running from one end of the room to
the other as if they were racing each other. They made clacking sounds as
their wooden feet struck the floor, and eventually they smacked into the
walls, which would cause them to rebound and fall. They would stand up
again, laugh indulgently, and repeat the process.
But two of them, in the far corner of the room, argued bitterly until
one took the other into physical combat. Mo l s e ls e lb o. (Im in a
position to wound your penis), warned the fellow who was being beaten
up. Hed been put into a wrestling-hold. Meanwhile, two others strutted up
to Simi. A mortal has injured her. She is a weak being, one of them said,
pointing at Simi. They both laughed hysterically.
Nobody can wound me like that ooh. Nobody, the other one said.
I will just sit on their chestwhen they are sleeping henhand strangle
them.
The rest of the Shigidis overheard the conversation. They all
gathered in front of Simi. They laughed ominously. I want total silence!
Papa Ojumilepa yelled. All the Shigidis quieted. Then they all stood
stationary, with their backs to him. The servant boys knelt down too.

Woman, I have perceived your connection to Babalawo of Ipoti

State. So why have you come to me? Papa Ojumilepas voice was robotic.
It bore a tone that was loaded with both gravity and consequence. His
beads chimed in a fashion that led Simi to believe he was playing with
them.
Im sorry Papa. I do. I use him, but he is doing something for me
now. He is busy. He is in the realms of the wild bushes of Ipoti State, Simi
said, keeping her eyes fixed on one of the Shigidis.
And you want to know the person behind your recent accident? he
said, as his beads continued to chime.
Yes, Simi replied, without a hint of surprise.
Papa Ojumilepa chanted incantations. They became so loud that
Simi could feel them vibrating inside her body. At one point, it sounded as
though hed stood up from his chair. He became silent, remaining so for a
while. I can see a woman. I dont know if she is Japanese or Chinese, but
she is smiling. Her hair is small, he said. She could hear him retaking his
seat. Whom do you know like this? he continued.
Simi felt bitter. I am doing business with somebody called Ling-Tai.
But I thought it could be one Mr.Yaya or Oracle
Aaaaah. Yeay. Yeay, he shouted. The mention of that Ling-Tai
name is causing great pain to my crown. She is the one.
Papa Ojumilepa went into heavy incantations once more. Simi could
feel his presence behind her neck. Her hands trembled as his breath
warmed her ears. Aaah yes, I have indeed smelt her on you, he said. His
beads chimed as he returned to his chair with a loud thump. She wanted

to kill you. She wants to run out of Nigeria with all the money she has
made.
Simi continued facing downwards. There was a tacit rage growing
inside her, consuming her. I knew. I just knew. r obnrin yn, aj ni.
(That woman is a dog, an animal), Simi hissed. But Papa, she knows that
if she tries to leave, we will all die. We will all die. Babalawo of Ipoti told
us.
Papa Ojumilepa allowed a disturbing silence to divide them for about
five minutes. You are very foolish. That person who is paining my crown,
and smelling against your bodythat person did not believe in him. She
does not believe in the spiritual world, I saw it. That person just wanted to
kill you and go.
***
Ling-Tai got back into her hotel room, safe. But the meeting with the
area boys who ran over Simi left her worn out. She played it over in her
mind: how they negotiated an outrageous payment price by cursing her in
Yoruba, wielding machetes above her head, breaking bottles
threateningly, removing their belts and changing the agreed price four
times. Dapo had introduced her to them. They lived under the bridge too,
and they had asked her to come alone and pay them for their services.
Dapo warned her against any smart moves. But as she could not stop
thinking there must have been a smart way to avoid paying them half-amillion naira.
Dapo came to her mind. She checked her watch: ten minutes past
noon. Today, he would finalize the sale of their final counterfeit batch to a

key purchaserthe wife of a prominent politician. But he should have

been back with the money by now. Could he have absconded? He had
never stolen any money entrusted in him before. If she hadnt had to go to
the area boys, she would have picked up the money herself. If she hadnt
made up her mind to leave Nigeria swiftly, she would have told the
purchaser to have the money ready for her on another day. She went to
look out of the window, pondering on whether using Dapo was the best
arrangement she could have made. The wind played with the palm trees.
Guests trooped in and out, blissful. She felt confident that in the coming
days she too would harbor such lightness in her heart, she too would
laugh. Then she spotted Dapo, parking a vehicle in the parking lot. It
wasnt his usual Mazda, it was a huge vanwhite and with an engine that
sounded diseased.
He came out of the van, scanning the hotels parking lot. He brought
out two large Ghana-Must-Go bags from the front seat of the van. Despite
his chiseled muscles, she watched him struggle to carry them into the
hotel, until he disappeared.
Did she buy it? Ling-Tai asked, opening her room door. Did she
pay you?
Yes, Dapo replied. But she didnt take the entire batch, as we
agreed. Ling-Tai grew suspicious. Dapo continued, I dont know why. She
just said that she didnt want to take everything, Dapo said, shrugging
his shoulders. This is the money for what she bought.
Ling-Tai fiddled with her pendant, and then unzipped the GhanaMust-Go bag. She reached all the way inside to ensure there was also cash

at the bottom. Ok, but wheres the rest? she asked, as she moved over
to the second bag and unzipped it.
No madam, please, this was all she gave me, Dapo said, sounding
on the verge of fearful tears. It is because these are one-thousand naira
notes, the highest money in naira. Please, I didnt!
Ling-Tai finished inspecting the second bag and zipped it up. She
stared at him with a smile. No, I meant my boxes, she said cunningly.
Where are the rest of my boxes? The ones she didnt take.
They both went outside to the parking lot. Dapo opened the vans
back doors. She stood beside him, looking. So apart from these boxes,
how many more do we have? she asked, knowing the answer to the
question already. Do you know of any more boxes?
Dapo made eye contact with her. Madam, this is everything, he
said firmly. Those ones in the store are all empty. Its what Mr. Yaya
bought. I just took the drugs out of those boxes, before I gave them to
him. He motioned the act with both hands. After these ones, it has
finished! He smiled at her reassuringly.
Why? I mean, Im not angry, Im just wondering why you removed
them from the boxes for Mr. Yaya. Her left eyebrow was raised.
Some people parked a car near them and got out, talking loudly.
Dapo closed the vans back doors instantly. He moved closer into Ling-Tai
and kept an eye on the noisy folks. He gave me televisionsthey don
spoil. They no work again. He say I should put the drugs inside. He say na
like that, he will carry them for big truck and go sell in Guinea.

Hes a very clever man, Ling-Tai replied, keeping her eyes on the
ground. Actually, I went there today after seeing those animals you live
with. Not to check the boxes though, I went to ask the janitor about my
hair: if Simi gave him some for anything bad.
Dapo nodded. If I may ask, what did he say?
She walked towards the front of the van. Dapo followed, making his
way towards the drivers seat. Shes a liar, Ling-Tai said, getting in and
shutting her door. And thats why Im not giving her any of my money.
She spat out of the window. Lets go to the store, we put these back for
now.
As they drove out of the hotel, Ling-Tai thought about how well
everything had gone. She had sold virtually everything, got rid of Simi and
was on her way out of Nigeria. Life will be sweet. She scanned Dapo,
trying to figure out what to do with him. Dapo, the boxes at the back. Do
you want them? You can sell and keep the money. This is how I repay you
for everything? She smiled.
The car jerked to a halt. Dapo paused. Ah, madam, no. Let us take
it to the store. You promised me one thousand dollars, for taking Simi to
where car will strike her. I will take that and no more, he finally said.
Madam, you know I have lost all my siblings during the work I am doing
for you. I have not seen them till today. Any money from selling these
boxes will be too small repayment. He turned to her with a straight face.
I know you are getting ready to leave Nigeria. Please just dont forget
what you promised me. Even those dangerous boys under my bridge.

They are waiting. They said I must collect the ten thousand dollars from
you or they will be angry.
Ling-Tai sat upright. She felt her head nodding. Of course! Youre
right! I just wanted to know if you wanted these in addition. Lets just take
this to the store. She pointed ahead.
Dapo still wasnt restarting the car. Madam, the money in your
room. We should go back. Let us bring it with us. After putting these boxes
in the store, you can decide what to do with the money. He nodded and
smiled suggestively.
How cheeky? No, well leave it there. She spoke facing outside the
window. I want to let the janitor have these boxes since to sell since you
dont want them. But after we finish at the store, we come back to hotel.
Then I sort everything out. Ill take the money to the bank. Ill sort out
your money. I leave for airport.
Ling-Tai could see him staring at her, from the corner of her eye.
Why isnt he starting the car? But madam, this one that you want to run
out of Nigeria, Simi said it is not allowed. That Oracle will kill everybody.
He patted her shoulder. She said it that day in the car, before I made her
chase me.
That is not true, she shouted. Lets just go!
Dapo shrugged his shoulders. She said that Babalawo said so. He
started the car and drove.
He didnt say that. You had a fit when he was speaking. You faint,
you didnt hear anything he said, Ling-Tai replied. He has killed that
Oracle, thats why we havent seen it. Simi just lie about everything.

At last, they arrived outside their stores compound. Ling-Tai hopped

out of the van, but she froze. She could hear the janitor, screaming. Hes
never usually the one screaming. She exchanged a dark look with Dapo,
then brought out the key to the gate from her purse. They hurried into the
compound.
The agonizing shouts were coming from the storeroom. Ling-Tai
tiptoed to the door and placed her ear against it. She could hear harsh
kicks and thumps landing. The janitor was howling in pain. Leave me
alone ooh! I will do serious juju for you. Oya, leave me, the janitor
warned. Then she heard someone slam into one of the iron shelving units,
before it crashed on the floor. Yeay, the janitor squealed. I command all
of you to pick up your brooms. I said retake your brooms this minute!
Ling-Tai turned to Dapo, I think he is in trouble, she whispered. I
think they have freed themselves. Dapo enlarged his eyes.
Ling-Tai placed her ear on the door again. She could smell feces,
wafting from the doors draft. Men were throwing heavy sounding kicks.
Let us break his head! Yelled a voice. She could hear pounding,
sounding like a basketball striking the floor. She imagined them taking it in
turns to stomp his head. Its enough, let us naked him, Mr. Manwe will
kill you with your own koboko today, shouted a husky voice. The lashes
resonated viciously. Ling-Tai smiled. She paid attention to what the janitor
was trying to say. But she couldnt hear him. He was spitting something
out onto the floor, she imagined it to be the cascades of blood gushing out
of his mouth.

From this image, she painted the scene in her mind. The janitors
face would appear to have been given a blood bath. She pictured that his
shiny white pupils would be the only part of his face not doused in red.
She hoped his chewing stick had been pushed so far into his left ear that it
was also covered in red. That way, he would be doing nothing with her
hair, whether he had it or not.
Oya, go and find kerosene and matches, one of the voices said.
Yes. Yes. Yes, they all shouted. Your madam will come back and
find her boxes the way they should be, one of them said.
Ling-Tai snapped to attention. She stood up and turned to Dapo.
Lock it! Lock it, she shrieked, gesturing at the door with both hands. A
mass of footsteps came towards the steel door. They pounded against it.
Dapos hands were shaking, but he eventually managed to push the
exterior padlock down, sending the bolt into its hole. They struggled to
pull open the door, causing the exterior padlock to rotate in circles.
Ling-Tai clutched onto Dapos shirt. Go! Get kerosene and
matches, she whispered. Dapo didnt move. He bit one of his fingers and
looked down. Do not pity themtheyll come after us next. You say
theres nothing in there, right? she went on. Dapo nodded, biting his lips.
At last, Dapo returned to the compound with a keg of kerosene and
a matchbox. Ling-Tai poured the kerosene on the walls, and then threw it
upwards, so that it landed on the roof.
The store facility quickly became a churning mass of red and blue
flames. The black flames at the core of all others swayed violently. The fire
was most eye-catching at the crown of the building. It melted the

corrugated iron roof, which folded into itself. Dapo ran out of the
compound. Ling-Tai noticed a hole was soon burned into the roof. And the
flames went sliding into the hole, so that screams came out of the room.
The most vivid came from a man who kept taking sharp breaths between
each scream. The flames climbed higher and higher into the skies. The fire
on the exterior walls spread, tenderly, onto the surrounding grass of the
compound. Ling-Tai smiled as she walked out of the compound,
backwards.

The journey back was to the hotel voiceless. Ling-Tai refused to even
look at Dapo as he continued driving. She could feel the smile that
surfaced at the sight of the burning still on her face. Gazing into the world
through the windshield, Ling-Tai felt a sense of well-being rising up in her.
Two streets away from their hotel, a taxi came from an adjoining street. It
went ahead of them. Thats her, Dapo exclaimed, pointing forwards.
Ling-Tai leaned in towards the windshield. She recognized Simi from
her back, sitting in the taxi, her neck brace still on. Stop, just stop, she
yelled.
They parked at the side of the road. The taxi continued towards
their hotel. Ling-Tai kicked the vans insides. She wont go away. Why?
she yelled. Why? Dapo scratched the brand on his forearm and looked
away. Your friend, under the bridgethe skinny oneI want you to get
his gun. She nodded keenly. Lets go.
Dapo was not turning to face her. He picked the facial hair on his
chin, blinking as if contemplating. What about the money that Mrs. Ruth

gave me? The money I just put in your room. We left everything there. If
we go to the bridge now, she could just take it and leave.
Shit! Ling-Tai landed a double-fisted pummel on the dashboard.
Why didnt we take it to the bank? You should have reminded me.
Dapo turned over both his palms, portraying confusion. But
Madam, I saidI said we should bring it out. I said it before.
You didnt. Stupid boy! Her words became interspersed with flying
saliva Just go. Go! she said, pointing at the hotel. Stupid, stupid boy.
Dapo parked the van in an awkward part of the hotels lot. Ling-Tai
rushed up to the room. She turned back to see Dapo following behind, and
that a few other cars were trapped by their van.
She arrived outside the room door and unlocked it with her keys.
Simi had both of the Ghana-Must-Go bags in her hands. Her face had the
bandages on it. She was in a light blue negligee. She was standing quite
close to the door, having carried both bags from further inside the room
where they had been placed. Simi! Youre back! she said, with a glad
smile. Ling-Tai avoided looking at the bags. She maintained eye contact
with Simi. Then she looked over to find Dapo jogging toward them. He
feigned excitement at the sight of Simi as well. He...he just came back
today. I just saw him today, Ling-Tai stammered, pointing at Dapo. He
brought the briefcase with the money back from Mr. Yaya. He said they
both connived to cheat us, but he felt bad for what they did to you and got
the money back somehow. She slapped Dapo on his back, stinging her
palm in the process.

Yes, yes sorry Madam, we just came from the hospital. We didnt
meet you there, but I wanted to beg you sorryI am very sorry. Mr. Yaya
was the one that forced me to do it. Dapo knelt down with his hands in a
praying position, rubbing against each other.
Its okay, Simi replied. Dapo, I swore for you sha, but since
youve said sorry, Ill remove the curse. She walked further towards
them, and then faced Ling-Tai at the doorway. Anyway, I was just going to
deposit these in your bank account. My taxi is outside waiting, she said.
Ill see you guys when I come back.
Simi, you still look very weak, Ling-Tai said, nodding energetically.
Why dont you rest? Dapo and I will take it.
Dapo extended his hands towards the bags. Yes, Madam Simi, I can
take it. Am I not your driver? he said, laughing slightly.
Simi laughed too, Youre both so caring, but dont worry, I will take
them. I always do it, abi? I am well enough to do my job. My taxi is
waiting. She took a further step. Both of you should just get to work on
selling the rest of the boxes.
Ling-Tai exhaled and laughed in the same breath. We would, but
guess what? She turned to Dapo for a second. We have finished
everything nowits all done. So once Dapo and I put this in my account,
Ill ask them to transfer a $100,000 to yours. Thats what I was coming to
the hospital to tell you. Anyway, lets stick to this plan, then we can think
about Oracle. She rubbed Simis shoulder with a gentle hand, stopping
her in her tracks. Dapo reached out to take the bags.

Simi angled the bags away from Dapo. She kept clutching the bags
handles. Dapo could see heavy creases in the skin of her fingers.
Suddenly, her eyes flickered and she lurched backwards, almost falling.
Ling-Tai glanced at Dapo, wordlessly asking what was happening to Simi.
Dapo shrugged. Ling-Tai turned back to Simi. She raised her right foot up
in the air; her stiletto almost gleamed as she did so. With all her might,
she drove a kick into Simis kneecap. She didnt flinch, even though there
was an explosive sound of bone shattering. The bags fell out of Simis
hands as she crashed to the floor, her leg bent at a painful angle. Her
mouth stretched open in anguish, but she remained mute, as though the
pain had affected her ability to make sounds.
Ling-Tai pushed Dapo into the room, and then slammed the door.
She wrestled off her white suit and threw it to the far end of the room,
thinking about what to do next. Hey! Hey excuse me. A powerful knock
rattled their door. You people should come and move your moto, a male
voice said. The individual pushed their door open gently, then stepped in.
His brown teeth showed as he spoke, contrasting with skin that was the
complexion of the midnight sky. My goodness, the man shouted as he
caught sight of Simi. What is going on here? he pushed further into the
room. He was lanky and walked with the stiffness of an android. Ling-Tais
heartbeat was rapid; she felt a network of veins pulsating throughout her
face. The man placed both hands on his head. Chai! he yelled.
Ling-Tai bent over and caressed Simis shoulder. Our friend, shes
ill. She fell. Please help us. His countenance suddenly changed. The man
walked over to her and reached for Simi too. Dapo was watching on from

afar, amazed. As the man caressed Simi, Ling-Tai realized he hadnt seen
Dapo since he came in. She batted her eyelids at Dapo and jerked her
head towards the man in the same motion. She did this five times. Dapo
was visibly thinking about what she was trying to communicate. No,
dont touch her, youll make it worse, Ling-Tai said to the man. Can I use
just your phone to call an ambulance? she asked him.
They want to kill m Simi cried. But Ling-Tai covered her mouth,
so that the rest of Simis speech became garbled.
The man squinted at Simi as if searching for her message, and then
lifted his gaze up to Ling-Tai with suspiciousness. Look, shes really very
ill, Ling-Tai snapped. Your phone, please? Dapo crept up behind the
man.
My phone? the man said Ah, the ambulance people will not come.
But Madam why are you covering her Dapo ran up behind him and
drove a table knife into his neck. The man slumped to the floor. Ling-Tai
removed the knife and turned the man over. His eyes were glazed over.
She forced the knife into the mans upper chest.
She cast her eyes on Dapo and clicked her fingers towards the door.
Go! Move the car, she said. Dont tell anyone youve seen this man. You
havent seen himno one told you to move it, you just remembered that
you parked badly. Dapos hands were trembling. He lifted up the lower
half of his own shirt, toweled his face with it, and then he rushed out.
Ling-Tai took both her hands to Simis neck brace, but it wasnt
coming off. Simi struggled weakly and mouthed some words, but they
were too faint for to hear. Ling-Tai pushed Simi down and moved away, as

if angered by the struggling. She went over and fetched one of the GhanaMust-Go bags. She lifted it above Simis head, almost to her eye-level,
then drove it down onto Simis head with all her might. Simis eyes
gradually closed.
Ling-Tai eventually spotted latches on Simis neck brace and
unhooked them. You thought he would save you. You are African fool,
Simi. African fool. She hoisted Simi up until she was sitting on the floor
with her broken leg stretched out awkwardly in front of her. Ling-Tai stood
behind Simi, firmly gripping some hair at the crown of Simis head with
one hand and her chin with the other. She then pushed her knee into
Simis back, just below her shoulders. Hu Hu Yu Q. (I hope to see you
again), Ling-Tai snapped Simis neck. Simi fell sideways to the floor,
forming a letter L. As Ling-Tai studied Simi on the floor, she noticed a ray
of sun fell in through the window and glistened against her low-hanging
pendant. She grinned, and then picked up the Ghana-Must-Go bags.
Before she got to the lobby, one of the porters helped Ling-Tai with
the Ghana-Must-Go bags. When they got to the van, Ling-Tai tipped him as
she rushed into the passenger seat. She fastened her seatbelt as a crowd
of jumpy people surrounded their van. Dapo was already in the drivers
seat. Bank. Then airport. She ordered Dapo. But the vans engine wasnt
starting.
Hurry up jare, shouted the onlookers. You people are very wicked
and inconsiderate! See the way they parked. Ling-Tai spotted the taxi
driver whod brought Simi to the hotel. He was parked far away from the

rowdy crowd, but looked impatient. Hes waiting for Simi. He got out of his
taxi, and made his way into the hotel.
Why should you park this way with such a large vehicle? Henh? an
elderly woman said. A scarf was tied around her head, and she was
leaning into Dapos side window.
Just start it, Ling-Tai yelled, gritting her teeth. The vans engine
was almost saying, Im really trying to start. Sweat oozed out from every
pore on her palms. Dapos eyes were cold, making contact with no one
outside.
At last, the van started and they a burst of speed threw them
towards the hotels gates, screeching. The gateman refused to open the
gate. He approached their van and kept pointing behind the vehicle. He
wore a stern look on his face. Dapo peeked into his side mirror, so Ling-Tai
looked into hers as well. A hotel security guard was running towards their
car. She disembarked from the van, on reflex. Dapo left the engine on and
did the same. They both walked away casually; away from the gateman
and from the approaching security guard, towards a low standing wall in
the opposite direction.
Ah-ah! Where are you people going? Wait! The security guard
said. Your bags fell out of the back. The speed you used was too much.
Take it easy now. He ran and picked up their Ghana-Must-Go bags. LingTai took them from him and loaded them. Dapo shut the vans back doors
properly. They left.

On several occasions, Dapo came close to crashing the van on their

way to the bank, but they got there in one piece. Dapo got help carrying
the Ghana-Must-Go bags from one of the banks resident policemen, who
were perpetually outside the branch. Ling-Tai watched on as policemen
took hold of most of the bags, sandwiching Dapo in between them as they
helped moved the bags toward the bank, before going in herself.
Ling-Tai sat across the table from a bank employee wearing a
pristine navy-blue suit. He was affable, with an intelligent energy
surrounding him and a Hollywood smile. Dapo and the policemen were
bringing in the bags. The policemen carefully placed their bags beside the
bankers table. As Dapo carried his bag in the same way, his t-shirt caught
in the door handle and he fell awkwardly so that his t-shirt rolled up to his
head, as he crash landed. Sorry, everyone said sympathetically. One of
the policeman removed Dapos t-shirt fullyto untangle himand then
helped him up. You this boy, you get correct six pack, he said. You
should join the force. Dapo put his shirt back on, moving over to Ling-Tai.
The banker picked up a phone and dialed four digits. Temi, I have
some bags I want you to take. And please tell someone from the third floor
to come down. I need a money transfer order for Ecuador.
Ling-Tai turned to Dapo. You must go for walkIll be a while. Dont
just sit in the car. Dapo nodded, admiring the banks interior at the same
time.
The room Ling-Tai was in had windows that allowed her to see Dapo,
although he couldnt see her. Dapo didnt go for a walk. He just kept
drumming the steering wheel and taking in the street scenery. Ling-Tai had

taken the car keys from him, but hed left his door open. Dapos hands
were still shaking, and she observed every sound on the street causing
him to shudder. Ling-Tai could hear everything herself even from within
the bank: The incessant and strident honking from cars, the even louder
okada honks, and the voices of street-hawkers, who were both loud and
yet, softly spoken. Ling-Tai kept watching him, turning occasionally to the
banker.
When Dapo got out of the van and decided to take a walk, Ling-Tai
emerged from the bank, much easier in her mind. Everything had been
taken care of. Instead of waiting for him by the van, she walked towards a
very dangerous streetBroad Street. She heard it used to be notorious for
criminal activity; Simi always said so.
She returned from Broad Street and got back in the van, but Dapo
still wasnt there. She hugged her purse to her chest. Then she rested
against the side of the van, even though it was covered with filth. Dapo
soon jogged up to the van, with a sorry countenance. So what happened?
Theyve given my money? he asked. Youve loaded it in already?
Yes! I told them to put $10,000 in the back for you. She angled her
head at the back of the van. Its my way of saying sorry about your
missing siblings.
His eyes almost popped out. Its in there? He wore a smile that
promised to last forever. She nodded and smiled back.
When will I take it? he asked. In fact, can I see?
Not here, too many people. Someone can steal it, if you look now.
She skewed one side of her face comically, as if to gently appeal to his

better senses. Dapo looked around, and then nodded in agreement. She
got into the passenger seat of the van. Airport! She slammed her door.
Dapo came into the van too. Well stop somewhere quiet, before the
airport, she added. So you know I dont cheat you and fly away.
Dapos smile increased. He shook his head, expressing joy and
incredulity. Madam Simi was not like youyou are good woman. God
bless you.
He reached over his gear stick and hugged her. Ling-Tai hugged him
back, tightly. As she caressed his muscular back, his shirt lifted. A locally
made pistol was around his waistline, secured in a brown leather case that
ran parallel with his belt. His t-shirt had been covering it up, until now. Her
heart raced. That wasnt there when his shirt came off in the bank.
Madam, shaybee, you will go to China now? He released their hug.
Ling-Tais looked downwards, thinking. No. I cant. I go to Ecuador. I
make retirement there, she said. Her English deteriorated when she was
anxious. Dapo tried to pronounce Ecuador. Its near America, she
explained.
AMERICA! He bit one of his fingers, even more amazed. Kai!
They eventually took off towards the airport.
Several hours later, the traffic on the streets of Lagos had released
them from captivity. They reached a tranquil field. Dapo parked the van by
the grass. No one was in sight. He left the engine on, jumped out and ran
towards the vans back doors. Ling-Tai came out more slowly, worried by
his abrupt behavior. She walked over to him, holding onto her purse. She
stood behind Dapo as his hands quivered, trying turn the keys. He finally

opened the vans back doors, and looked from left to right for his money.
Can you see it? she asked. Its right at the back. She kept looking
around the field, worried someone might surface and snatch her purse.
Dapo climbed up into the van and headed towards its far back with
strides of great excitement. A fountain of blood splattered out of his lower
back and splashed against the white interior of the van. He landed on a
large box with his hands spread wide.
Ling-Tai climbed into the back of the van. She fired another gunshot;
it echoed through the grass field. A gaping red hole replaced the spot
where his ear used to be, carving out a chunk of his face, overwhelming it
with red and black liquids. He had fallen on one box in particular, virtually
hugging it. Now you want the boxes. Why did you change your mind?
she said mockingly. I told you, take them and keep the money. Ling-Tai
tilted her head to see him from another angle. But no $10,000. Dapo, you
are African fool. She laughed teasingly, and then spat on him. After
closing the vans doors, Ling-Tai walked away from the scene, whistling a
melody.
***
Efe was in his room with five hulks. There was a Caucasian man in
their midst. The man had been blindfolded with a filthy towel that covered
his upper face. The towel was duct taped around his nose and eyes. Only
his mouth was exposed, so that he could talk. Several parts of the towel
had been rubbed in crude oil. We said there is war, we said nobody
should try and lift any oil until our demands are met. Efe shouted so
piercingly it was hurting him. So why were you at the oilfield?

I am so sorry, the man begged. He had a southern American

accent. I have a boss, I dont call the shots.
Efe pointed the barrel of his rifle into the mans right cheek. He
pumped a bullet into the chamber.
Please, dont, he screamed. I will do anything. My boss will pay
any ransom. Please!
One of Efes men hurled a newspaper at the mans chest. That is
newspaperdont you read newspaper? Even if they told you to go to oil
well, didnt you know there is war?
Another voice spoke, He is lying. If he did not know there is war,
why did he go there with policemen? The hulks joked about how theyd
shot the policemen dead. They laughed and made gestures to reenact the
shooting. Efe raised his hand for silence.
I swear I didnt know. I dont know. I just came in from Texas, I dont
know the details. The Caucasian man started crying, his shoulders
jumping. Edna just knows that Im an expert at lifting oil where there are
bad pipelines. He was hyperventilating. She said some boys destroyed
most of the pipelines, and they needed my help. She didnt mention big
men like you. Please dont kill me.
Mr. Man, I have a question for you, said one of the giants. How
long have you known about Nigeria? When did you first hear about my
country? he asked.
The Caucasian man remained silent. Efe suddenly broke out in
laughter, and then coughed until he calmed. You know the answer? Efe
said. He first heard about Nigeria on a television program about

scammers, I can see it written above his head. Efe turned to them. Can
you see it? It says the Nigerian scam. He pointed above the fellows
head, looking to his hulks. They told him they couldnt see it.
Mr. Man, dont think of it as a Nigerian scam oooh! another hulk
shouted. Dont it is called reverse exploitation.
The Caucasian man nodded in agreement. I wont! I promise not to
ever call it the Nigerian scam again, he whimpered. Ill tell everyone I
know to call it reverse exploitation. I swear.
The hulk continued, All the years your people have chopped our oil,
chopped the moneythat thing you call Nigerian scam is the only way we
can take that money from your hands. Money we use to live. After all, you
people have taken my fathers livelihood and mine, with pollution. And
then you want to enjoy our money all alone in your country.
Youre so right! I agree! he shouted passionately. Efe released a
round of bullets into the mans face. The towel looked as if it had been
splashed with red paint. The man crashed onto his chest.
***
Shortly after, Edna received an e-mail from Efe. It read, I have just
killed your most prized worker who came from Texas the other day. Start
to listen up! Efe attached pictures to the e-mail. Edna collapsed at the
sight of the pictures. She woke up fifteen minutes later, still alone in her
office. She downed three bottles of beer and then got on the phone to
Offoh. She blamed him for the death of her friend, and employee. She
complained about the state of security. She insulted him, adding that

everything was a mess. After a while, she couldnt hear herself complain,
only the voices in her head, inspired by the alcohol.
Dont dare talk to me like that, Offoh said. If not the opportunity I
gave you to come to Nigeria and make money, your daughter would also
be a corpse by now. So change your tune woman.
Offoh, donottalkabout my daughter. Edna snapped.
Edna, I can talk about anything I want. Can you imagine this
woman? Her contract has finished. I can just throw her out. Only because
of the daughter, Im just helping her to continue. Edna grew offended for
he was clearly speaking to someone else in the room with him, about her
personal circumstances. Edna, havent you noticed I still havent asked
you to buy me any house again? I dont need you, Edna, you need me.
She flung the phone receiver aside, and then dropped into her chair.
She rested her head on the cold desk, gazing at the floor. The sound of his
voice kept going strong. but that doesnt mean this is a real war. I
mean, what will you then call Iraq? They just want to get my attention
now. I will deal with them. It will be ok. He laughed in small breaths.
Edna left the phone hanging off its receiver. It draped over the table
and made beeping sounds. She ignored it. Edna collapsed to the floor; she
heard her leather chair to slam into the wall behind her. With her face
buried in the carpet, she broke out in tears. Her body quivered
everywhere.
Minutes in, the door swung open. Edna peeked up to see someone
in black trousers in the doorway. Madam, ASOC have just kidnapped

Inemo. They are threatening to invade London this morning, we have to

go back home now.
Edna sat up, but turned away from the door, hiding her tears. Who
the hells that?
Your secretary, Madam, the soothing voice replied. Please we
have to go.
Edna stood up, still with her back to the person. She gazed out of
her window blinds, thinking. Then looked at her watch, surprised it was
still only 9:30am.
Madam, we have to take you home this minute. Please.
She wiped her cheeks and straightened her tank top over her jeans.
Those suckers arent making me go anywhere. She turned to the person
and shook her head. It was a policeman that was standing in the doorway,
with an AK47. Not today, not any day.
Madam, please, there is no time for this type of American talk.
Theyre now very active, even at this time. If ASOC come here now, my
unit wont be ready to face them. He raised his rifle up towards her as if
to mock his own weapon. The sound of powerful footsteps, surging
towards them, came from outside the door. Soon, seven other policemen
were at her doorway, though none of them actually entered her office.
They milled around with their rusty weapons and questioned each other
with their eyes, as if to say, who will be bold enough to enter Madams
office and drag her out?
Edna decided to leave with them. A fleet of cars was parked outside,
one behind another. All the engines were on. The doors to Ednas car were

already open. The morning fog and the puffs coming out of the five
exhaust pipes made all the cars seem brooding, especially with their
headlights on. Edna strolled out of Haghells building; the policemen
moved with rushed steps.
As they sped out of London, Ednas chauffeur pointed to his left,
holding the steering wheel with his other hand. Madam, see. These boys
don blown up Amster Oil. They destroy all their buildings, their oilfield,
everything. They even blew up army base. Edna looked over to where he
was pointing. A mushroom-shaped cloud of smoke climbed toward outer
space, attaining heights normally set aside for NASA rockets. Edna sensed
the hand of panic running a feather up and down the length of her spine.
She turned to look around. More plumes of smoke were billowing upwards,
marring the celestial sphere. It was still morning, but the skies were
imbued with red and purple shafts of light, making the atmosphere
evening-like. The air conditioner in her car was on, but didnt insulate from
noises outside. Angry bullets blasted across the Island. Judging by the
volume, she knew the shots had come from just a few feet away.
The policeman in her car glanced at her in the rearview mirror. It
might just be an exhaust pipe backfiring, he said, making eye contact.
The cars all turned onto an untarred road that had streams on both sides.
Andlike on most of Blackgold Islanda jungle of sky-scraping trees
spread umbrellas above them, blocking her view of the sky. Edna sensed
a foreboding current was cooking beneath the surfaces of every road they
traveled on, virtually rising up to manifest at the top of the daunting trees.
The trees, in turn, cast their dark shadows over everything, the rivers,

streams, herselfshadows that plummeted their car into an eerie

darkness.
A few voices were coming in through the walkie-talkie. Edna couldnt
figure out their coded dialogue. But she reassured herself, knowing they
had just two more roads to go until the bridge.
They met dead bodies spread carefully on the roads before the
bridge, as if to block the path of oncoming cars. Their convoy swerved to
evade the corpses in the way. Edna studied them from her window in as
much detail as their speed allowed. Two Southeast Asian men lay in their
suits. Their faces were bullet ridden, though she could still see their
eyeglasses, shattered and bloodied. The sand from the untarred road was
stuck to their clothes. She had seen one of them in traffic before. They
usually shared a quick nod.
As her convoy sped past, Edna was drawn to a Toyota Corolla,
crashed into a tree. The rear passenger doors were open and blood was
spattered across its rear window. Further ahead, a police vehicle lay in the
middle of the road. It had been gunned mercilessly. There were two
policemen inside. They were motionless and their faces streamed with
blood. Edna turned her head from the sight of them to the road ahead,
determined to stay positive. Hay! Hay! the chauffeur exclaimed in
response. Tamarau. Oghene. (Almighty God. Almighty God). Just this
morning ooh! Just now now. He tried to keep his focus on the road ahead,
but used one hand to click his fingers as if to expel his horror.
They turned into the final road, the one before the bridge. A crowd
of the shanty people of Blackgold Island had blocked the road. The shanty

people could always be identified by their clothesor rags, to be more

preciseand by the coat of dirt and grease blanketing their hair and skin.
They blocked the pathway completely. Roughly a hundred of them were
pacing up and down with snapped-off tree branches in their hands. Many
waved the branches vigorously and screamed like banshees. Their convoy
rolled slowly towards the crowd. The jarring sound of the masses seeped
into the car, immersing Edna in trepidation. The shanty people chanted
simple, passionate mantras, We dont want Gell. We dont want Hagell.
Amster Oil must go. They filled the names of different oil companies into
the mantras by turns.
A voice from the walkie-talkie spoke into the car again. Edna
became worried that they werent reversing. But looking back, they
couldnt. There was too much traffic behind them. Besides, the bridge was
the only way back to Gateway State. The cars behind them that Edna
could see were occupied with foreigners sitting uneasily in the back seats.
Madam, my colleague is saying we should just clear them out of
the way, her policeman said, holding the walkie-talkie near his face as if
he was waiting for her response before relaying it. Dont worry, we wont
get violent. Well just clear the road. He nodded at her, his eyes were
seeking approval. Edna remained mute. Her eyes became glued to the
crowds. They grew louder. Some started to climb the trees, squealing like
theyd gone mad. One of the women was naked and rolled herself on the
earth, which had been made murky by the drizzling rain.
The policeman threw the walkie-talkie down near the gearstick, and
shifted his gun to one hand so he could reach for the door with the other.

He opened the door as if he was ready to fight. Edna looked around. Her
other policemen, in the surrounding cars, were exiting their vehicles as
well, following him.
Four shanty men emerged from the masses specially and blocked
the path of the policemen. They were muscular, but free of any balaclavas
or guns. The vests they had on showed off their immense physical
statures, and also revealed their poverty. Edna didnt need to wind her
window down to hear them.
Oya, you people movemove now! If you dont move I will waste
you, one of the policemen shouted with a fierce intonation, as he
approached the men. I have told you men to moveI will not tell you
again. It is this gun that will tell you. Two of the men in vests decided to
make way for the policeman. The other two ran into the jungle. Edna kept
an eye on them as they ran deep into the trees and bushes, just beside
her car. They scuttled between trees, and jumped over plants until she
couldnt see them.
The policemen formed a line together, standing side-by-side. Then,
they positioned their guns lengthwise and mercilessly pushed the crowds
backwards with their rifles, synchronized with thrusts of subjugation that
inspired noticeable movement. A lot of the shanty people were toppled
down and out of the way. But for every few people the policemen pushed
back, Edna counted twenty more coming from behind to push forward. It
was as though they constantly reconfigured to maintain an illusion of
being insuppressible. Some of the shanty people emerging from the
crowds had their entire bodiesclothes and allcoated in crude oil from

one of the streams nearby. The oil on them was mixing with the consistent
drizzle from above, flowing to the ground. The crowds parted the way for
one such man, who was yelling so penetratingly Edna shuddered. He ran
towards a policeman as if to hug him, bouncing off the ground with each
step, like a ball, rather than truly running.
His left nipple was immediately pierced with a bullet. He sailed into
the air, upwards and backwards, when another bullet splashed more blood
from the middle of his chest. He landed on his back with his arms spread.
The crowds became silent as they watched the blood on his chest mix
with the flowing crude oil on his shirt. The silence gave way to a
bloodcurdling roar as the crowd rushed towards the policemen madness
exuding from their gait. A woman knelt on the ground to embrace the man
who had been shot, crying. She rose up, beating her breasts in anguish,
slamming her shoulder into the policemen who shot the man, over and
over. Edna feared she would soon provoke a reaction.
She tried to breathe deeply, watching the mayhem unfold. Her car
was cold. The internal thermometer read 64 degrees Fahrenheit. The two
men in vests who had run into the jungle caught her attention. They were
coming towards the road again, pointing towards the man who had just
been shot. Efe, Efe come, Efe now! she heard one of them shout. They
turned to face the jungle again, and had their hands on either side of their
mouths to amplify their voices. Efe! Efe! Efe! They called out.
The policemen stopped pushing the shanty people, as other voices
from the crowd joined in. Efe, Osaki, we need you now! they yelled,
facing the bushed. Come and help us. The policemen glanced in the

direction of the bushes, as if seeking to identify the credibility of the

threat. Then they confer with each other. Edna grew puzzled as they
backed away, steadily. The crowds didnt let them go. They moved closer
and closer to the policemeneach time they took a step backas if about
to pounce or stampede. The women in the crowds sang native songs.
Edna surmised they were war songs, for one of the women kept screaming
about battle until bloodshed in between the songs.
Suddenly the children in the crowds were isolate, and pushed
towards her convoy. Edna guessed the crowds had concluded that
policemen wouldnt hit or shoot children. The crowds pushed the children
until a boy of about nine years of age mounted onto the roof of the police
car ahead of hers. Another girl was slapped, on her neck, so that she was
propelled towards Ednas car. She used the momentum from her
staggering to climb onto Ednas hood. Edna shuddered in fright. The girl
fell on the cars hood, but then was helped to the roof by a young-man.
She bounced on the roof like it was a trampoline. The policemen trying to
remove the children without climbing onto the vehicles themselves, but
most of them had a rifle in one hand, and their free hands obviously
werent quick enough to grab the children. The people helping the children
mount the cars also had to be pushed away.
Someone fired a resonating gunshot into the air. And with that, a
momentary silence fell on the earth. The gun fired again. Edna spotted the
shooter; it was a policeman, standing like a soldier with his rifle positioned
in one hand aiming for the sky. The crowds stayed put, eyeing him with a
defiant hush and stillness. He shot three more bullets into the air. Edna

spotted an ASOC hulk creeping behind him from the bushes; the other
policemen all around were busy, slapping those who kept a defiant
motionless, snatching away their symbolic tree branches. Before the
shooter pulled the trigger a sixth time, the hulk placed his rifle into the
policemans upper back. The crowds dropped their branches and cheered
with rollicking delight. The rest of Ednas policemen froze. They only
moved their lips, begging the hulk to make peace at the top of their
voices.
Edna became transfixed on her surrendered policeman. But
something in the corner of her eye drew her attention. ASOC giants were
descending from almost every tree in the vicinity, dropping down in a
manner that encompassed the radius of the crowd and her cars. They
were soundless. She wasnt sure the policemen could see them. About
twenty more were rising up from the crisp leaves spread on the earths
surface, near the trees. The hulks appeared out of the jungle in every
direction, making their way towards the scene on tiptoes.

The ASOC

giants encircled the entire everyone. The policemen were still begging the
hulk holding their colleague to surrender; Edna could make out some of
their words of pleading. The hulks were soon aiming M4 carbines at each
of the policemen, overwhelming them by three to one. Edna couldnt
believe her policemen. They were all holding up their guns in surrender.
Their guns were snatched away by crowd members. One of the policemen
wobbled his left leg convulsively, folding it inwards and outwards like
someone who was desperate to urinate.

The drizzling hit Ednas windows, the hulks were shouting

barbarically at the policemen, in a language Edna feared the sound of. She
lost track of the conversations outside and their meanings. The young girl
was still bouncing on her roof, causing her anxiety to settle in her mind.
She saw two men egress from the bushes, like kings of the jungle.
Efe! Efe! Welcome Efe! the crowds yelled at one of them, prostrating.
Efe strode with great arrogance, stopping occasionally to scan the scene
and chuckle. He had no weaponshis hands were entirely free. Osaki!
Thank you for coming! they went on. Osaki you are truly a man of the
people! Osaki followed behind Efe. He was holding an RPG missile
launcher. They were both in balaclavas.
Please dont kill us! Edna heard one of the policemen scream. I
take God beg you, our madam can give you money instead. Edna
grimaced and cursed the policeman; he had deflected the spotlight onto
her. Efe broke out into a sort of dance, which took him from the policeman
toward Ednas car. Woman! He tapped her window, as if he was playing
a drum. If you struggle with us, your story will end like that. He pointed
to the man whod been shot dead by the police, with his arms still spread
and the lady crying over him. The drizzling had brought out a deeper
shade of red from his chest.
Edna unlocked her door and opened it. Though, she remained
seated. A giant in a purple balaclava yanked the door open and stood in
the doorway. Edna felt him grip her by the hair. He pulled until she banged
her knees harshly on the murky ground outside. She made up her mind

not to kick or resist in any way. But she bit her lips to manage the pain
from the excruciating pull on her scalp.
Her legs were tied with a thick rope. Her hands were bound together
in the same way. Osaki ran over to Edna. He placed a rice sack over her
entire upper body. Next, she felt someone hoist her over their shoulder.
Based on memory and her bearings, she surmised the fellow carrying her
was heading into the jungle. Action! Action! she heard the hulks shout.
With that, the sound of about a dozen M4 carbines took over.

Edna winced. Her back smashed into hard concrete floor, taking a
fall of about six feet, ten inches. The thud from the bang of her head and
thighs hummed throughout the room. Even though it was a harsh landing,
with no cushioning, she contained her yell to herself. She desperately
wanted someone to remove the rice sack. It smelt like it had been in
between refuse piles for decades. It was impossible to breathe fresh air.
The rope tied around her hands, and her legs were airtight. She was
certain it had cut off the blood flow. Someone lifted her up, until she was
resting on both her knees. Dont touch her yet oh! She recognized Efes
voice from his ultimatum. Not now! Just go and call Yomi, Efe said.
Edna could not hear any one leaving the room. An uncomfortable
silence fell upon them; no one spoke for a while. Are you people deaf? I
said go and call Yomi. There was still no sign of movement.
Why? a voice asked.
Something that felt like a kitchen cloth was hurled at her rice sack.
It slapped into Ednas nose. She shuddered in fright.

Mumu! Efe went on. How else will Offoh see that we have
kidnapped her? Efes voice was directly above her right ear. The rice sack
was lifted off her upper body. Efe flung it against a wall. She exhaled
deeply, quickly scanning all the hulks in the room. The room was stuffy
and smelled unbearably of damp and moss. She saw a crimson balaclava
near her knee, realizing it was what Efe had thrown at her rice sack. She
peeped at his naked face, as he walked away from her, towards another
hulk.
Osaki, you better mind yourself! Efe squared up to him. This is
not the time for rubbish challenges. I said someone should just go and call
Yomi! Efe turned to make eye contact with others. The redness within his
bloodshot eyeballs made freely moving small circles around his pupils.
One of the hulks reluctantly left. Tell him it is video transmission I
want, Efe yelled. He should bring camera. Okay? Everyone else milled
around the room, ignoring Edna completely.
It was a very long hour. At last, the hulk finally returned. He opened
the door and let in two men before him. Edna examined the two men.
They stood out because they were in plain clothes. One was a fortysomething year old thickset fellow with a rucksack. The second was a
more youthful colleague, lanky with a clean-shaven face. They were both
blindfolded. The hulk had an M4 carbine rifle in each hand; they were
being pressed into the backs of the men. They walked in nervously.
Another giant came in, carrying their video camera and lighting
equipment. He put them down in the center of Efes room.

One of the giants in white face paint took the blindfold off the
thickset fellow. He also untied the blindfolds around the youth. Sweat
flowed down from around his eyes, as the blindfold as it came off. At once,
they set up their video cameras and lighting equipment. The thickset man
brought out a laptop from his rucksack.
Efe walked over to Edna. His flip-flop slippers dragged stridently
against the concrete surface. He went to where his balaclava lay on the
floor and threw it up in the air, catching it momentously. He strapped it
onto his face, but several wrinkled folds made it appear uncomfortable.
Edna watched the many conversations in the room. They were all
taking place at different volumes. She assessed they were of differing
levels of importance. She focused on Efes conversation with the thickset
man. Of course we have wireless. Wetin you think? We no be low level o.
Efe picked up the thickset fellows laptop and typed something into its
keyboard. He typed by punching one button at a time, and then placed
the laptop on his mattress.
The thickset fellow and his assistant were connecting the laptop to
the video camera with beige cables. One of the giants had blocked the
thickset fellow by taking a seat directly the path between his laptop and
mounted video camera. The giant sat on the concrete floor, spreading his
legs apart widelythere were about five transparent bags scattered in
between his legs. The bags were all tied up, bulging with white powdery
substances that ballooned them. Edna watched furtively as the giant
untied one bag. He used a rusty tablespoon and took out a heap of

powder. The thickset fellow asked the giant, with a head gesture, if it was
okay to step over him before he did so.
Edna stayed on the giant. He spread some of the white powder on
Efes mattress in a flat circular shapealmost enough to make a tiny
snowman with. Efe my lord, abeg give me pipe. He stretched out one
hand. Efe reached into his pocket. He threw a small glass tube to the
giant. The giant rolled up his balaclava, so that it was folded on the bridge
of his nose. Then he used the glass tube to snort some of the substance
on Efes mattress into his left nostril, keeping his right nostril shut with
two fingers all the while. Edna was terrified by his reaction, for he turned
his face up to the roof, and made strange faces, and sang in a strange
language.
Whats taking you people so long? Efe snapped at the thickset
man. Just hurry up.
Efe glanced around at a few of the giants. Anyway, lets start. At least, by
the time he gets Offoh online, we should be able to show him what weve
been doing to her. Edna saw some of them nodding. She wondered if her
face was turning red. She focused on Osaki, for he looked as if he was
about to challenge Efe.
Efes arm reached into a storage area. It was in his wall. It was a
square holebare and open on one of his wallsand it was deep enough
that Efe could hide the length of his hand in it. He rummaged around and
eventually pulled out a 24 piece of lumber. He smacked it against the
wall, causing dust to powder off, and then held it in a tight grip. Edna
noticed everyone else was giving Efe their full attention as well. With his

freehand, Efe continued looking for something else in there. He finally

pulled out a box of matches.
Oya, camera man, start recording, he said to the youthful fellow.
Efe struck three matches against the box, they hissed like a reptile.
Record what? Osaki interjected. When he doesnt even have
Offoh online.
Osaki, shut up your mouth. Did I say Offoh was online? Mumu. Efe
turned back to the youthful camera operator. See, even if you people
dont have Offoh online He placed the ignited matches at one corner of
the 24 lumber, which in turn flamed up and sent sparks to the concrete
floor. I just want you to make sure you record this. You can send it to
him later. The video camera was swiftly angled at Efe.
Efe held the lumber in both hands like a baseball bat. He held it
outwards, directly in front of himself, so that it was parallel with the floor.
The fire on his lumber was at the point furthest from his grip. Edna took it
all in, and then caught his eye. They were too red to look at comfortably.
She faced the floor. She could still sense him, approaching. He took one
step towards her, then another. She looked up with fright, then faced
sideways, away from the approaching lumber.
Whats the meaning of this? Osaki snapped.
Efe stopped in his tracks. Her hands are tied, so she will struggle
helplessly. But Im going to blind her. And see, if you dont stop asking
stupid questions, I will bind you too. The fire crept further towards his
grip. Edna could feel the oven-like heat nearing, and angled her face to
the left. Even though the fire was still about two feet away, the sparks of

heat were starting to prickle the skin on her face. There was an
excruciating sting in her eyes, akin the sensation of chopping a million
onions.
Efe, were not doing that, Osaki snapped. He snatched an M4 from
one of the hulks behind him.
Osaki, you carry gun for me? What do you want to do with it? Efes
voice was deeply husky.
Im just telling youdont try it. Dont try it. Osaki shook the M4 in
the air threateningly.
Wait. What will you do if I blind her? Efe now had the lumber in
one hand, which he kept thrusting provocatively towards Ednas face as
he half faced Osaki. Whatwillyoudo? He jived his upper body like a
Zulu dancer. What will he do? he shouted, to the other hulks.
Efe, dont try me. Im warning you. Osaki focused on the others in
the room, as if Efe wasnt there. Shaybe, we can just make her live like
us, shanty people? She will fall bitterly ill, we will send the message. Why
blind her? Edna saw some hulks nodding along.
Efe stared at Osaki with an unreadable gaze. Osaki, this is war.
Oracle said we can do anything we want, as long as they sign over that
oil. If you challenge me again, I will summon Oracle here, to lash your
testicles!
Let Efe do it! a random voice shouted. Let us blind her. We mean
business.
Edna felt sweat balls rushing down her face. Her mobile phone went
off. It was completely drowned out by the shouting match. But she could

feel it vibrating in her pocket, and wished her hands werent tied. Efe took
another step towards Edna, bringing the flaming wood within a foot of her
right eyeball. Please! Please! Dont do that. I have a sick daughter. I
haveasickdaughter, please. She screamed so loudly, her throat
dried up. She started to whimper. Ill send you compensation for
everything. Money, I mean. However much youyou say. And all the
shanty people too. I swear. I promise. Please, its really hot. Its hurting my
eye.
The whole room paused, staring at her in a spirit of awe. There was
total stillness, apart from Osaki, whod stepped slightly closer to Efe so
that he could stop him if he went further. About half of the lumber was
now ablaze, though the flames lightly danced into air without burning the
actual wood. Well take full Corporate and Social Responsibility measures
from now, no more oil spills, my company will build roads, schools,
everything. You wont even have to worry about Offoh doing it. Please, Im
so sorry. She broke down into tears. Im really sorry. Please, my sick
daughter needs me. She has cancer.
Efe let out an evil laugh, breaking the muteness within the room. He
kept the burning lumber near her right eyeball, but swiveled his upper
body around to face the hulks. See the grammar this woman talk. Serious
Oyinbo grammar. He chuckled, and then faced the video-camera, which
was still angled toward them. Did you hear her talk Corporateand
SocialResponsibility? Efe enunciated each syllable in the words. Edna
watched as everyone of the hulks repeated the words Corporate and
Social Responsibility, over and over, mockingly.

A pack of gnats circled Edna. They smacked into her face, but she
refused to flinch, for fear of the burning lumber. She fixated on the fire
instead. As the hulks continued mocking her, she leaned as far as she
could towards the wall behind, until shed touched it with both her
shoulder blades. Several tears had welled up inside her eyes, but refused
to fall out.
Efe turned back to face her. Woman, you know something? I too
had a person who died of one type of cancer. The doctor called it
Leukemia. He said it was because she drank water from a stream with
benzene inside it. He looked around the room. Does anyone know how
that benzene got into a stream? Efe brought the lumber closer to her
eyes; she pushed into the wall. Osaki grabbed at the lumber, clasping it
around the point Efe had clutched. But the strength of Efes grip didnt
allow him to yank it away. They wrestled each other, moving away in the
process so that the lumber was no longer near Edna. The absence of heat
lessened her pain; she breathed a sigh of relief.
Efe and Osaki circled the room with the lumber, everyone dodging
away from the circulating torch. Two of the light stands fell over and
clanged melodiously against the floor. The giants were shouting in their
local dialect, although no one was interfering. Osaki soon pinned Efe to a
wall with his back and tried to pry the lumber out of Efes grip, but it didnt
budge. Efe used one of his hands to bash Osakis skull. And then head
butted hum. It sounded like a deep note had been struck on a drum. All
the shouting ceased. Efe and Osaki still held onto the lumber.

Edna felt her phone vibrating again, this time the vibrations cut
through the silence, and then went on to release a blissful tune. Osaki and
Efe both turned to face Edna. Efe let go of the piece of lumber, its flames
had virtually died out from the whirling. It clapped the ground, rattling
itself to stillness. Efe barged against Osaki, pushing himself out of the
corner that hed been pinned into. Efe went over to Edna and reached into
her pocket, his hands sent a ticklish sensation rushing down her thighs.
For that split moment, she thought of Efe in a sexual way. She snapped
out of the thought. Efe gaped at the LCD display on her cell phone, and
then finally answered, pushing the loudspeaker button swiftly.
Edna? Edna? Edna? It was President-elect Offohs voice. Edna
was reluctant to reply him. She decided instead to keep her eyes glued to
Efe, waiting for permission to speak. Efe motioned from her mouth to the
phone and nodded.
Yes, Im here, she whimpered, noticing her voice sounding
defeated.
Your chauffeur brought everything to my attentionare those
rascals with you?
She looked up to Efe again.
Efe cleared his throat. Is that my own President-elect? he said
playfully.
Efe was holding the phone so near to his mouth, he could have
deactivated the speaker function. Join us on the computer, now-now! He
swiveled around to face the thickset man on his laptop. Oya, what did
you call the thing? Efe asked him.

Video-conferencing, he replied quickly. Ive sent my details to his

official email account. Their press enquiries email.
Offoh, you heard himvideo-con-fi-rence. He says you people know
how to do it. So if you love her, you better find yourself on his screen in
thirty seconds. Efe cut the phone.
At once, President-elect Offoh appeared on the thickset fellows
laptop. From the concern that was plastered across his face, Edna
concluded he could see the armed hulks circling her. Offoh was in a
brown-colored agbada, with both hands interlocked on his head. Although
the video camera panned around now and then, it was mostly pointed at
herself. She felt tears cascading down her face. She was coughing out the
refuse and gutter smells coming in from the louvered windows above her
head, which a giant opened.
Offoh if you dont pledge nowthat you will hand over control of
that oil, we will send you all her organs in one envelope. Big envelope.
Efe roared, with his husky intonation.
That wont be necessary. Please just release her. What is the
ransom? Offoh asked from the laptop.
Efe started talking again about the war, but Offoh interrupted him.
Please just release her. What is the ransom? He focused his gaze on
Edna.
Are you deaf? I said no ransom. We said we dont want money
again. In fact, dont even build any road. Dont build any hospital, school,
nothingjust sign over control of that oil. These are our instructions from
High Power. Efe spoke gently this time.

Edna noticed a man in a three piece suit was whispering into Offohs
ear. Offoh then assumed an attitude that was free of any emotion. Im
not the President yet, I cant do that, Offoh replied sternly.
Ok, President-elect does not have power to do so, abi? Efe
laughed with the hulks. Okay, then I want you to just vow that you will do
that as President. Go on television and say it. And then sign document
that you will do so. Efe started yelling, so that saliva was flying onto the
camera lens. We will keep her until you become President and then do
so.
Mr. ASOC, I will not sign over control of my countrys oil to your
men. Not today, not any day. It is 90% of our nations revenueincome
money. So when you want to stop dreaming, and talk about arranging her
ransom and her release, call me back. Edna could see the suited man
nodding behind Offoh as he spoke, tapping his shoulder with a sense of
endorsement.
Offoh, this outgoing President did not take us seriously. He was
busy fighting Mustafa. If you too want to ignore Offoh spoke over him,
and hed leaned up in his chair to an angle that faced Edna.
Edna my dear, I dont want you to worry, Offoh said. I have just
discovered that Oracle is the one controlling all of them. I think that she is
the High Power they have been mentioning. I will go to the Pastor we met,
the one that promised to destroy Oracle, so he can speed things up. Dont
worry enh, they will crumble when she dies. Offoh used a motherly tone,
and then he gave a signal to one of his men. He disappeared from the
laptop screen.

Edna was dispirited by his words. She thought about how wise it was
to threaten their ultimate leader. Efe screamed demonically for six
heartbeats. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, revealing an unholy
whiteness. Though, tiny red capillaries were struggling for attention, also
trying to take over the whiteness there. He dared to wish death upon my
wife?
He cursed and kicked the walls, then drove another kick into his
mattress, sending out a puff of dust. The camera operator tried to shield
the video camera with his upper body. Efe walked over to him. Did you
people send him the thing I was doing to her eyes?
Yes. The camera operator nodded. But I dont know if he has seen
it yet.
Efe walked to the hole in his wall and reached into it. Okay, now I
want you to record how we will blind her, and send it. Efe hissed,
mumbling about Offoh. I want you people to send this one. When he sees
we have blinded her, he will come back onto your computer again. He
thinks we are playing, abi? He swore.
The youthful fellow looked at his LCD display. He lifted his face to
Efe, and then raised a thumb. Efe handed a fresh 2x4 piece of lumber to
one of the hulks. The hulk held it outwards. Efe looked at Osaki, as if
issuing a dare. He then struck a match and set the lumber alight. He took
it from the hulk and whirled it so the flames flared up. Osaki ran over to
Efe and blasted into his abdominals with one shoulder, knocking them
both to the floor.

Efe dropped the torch. Though, it remained alight, with no one

paying it any attention. Efe and Osaki exchanged unholy punches, rolling
onto each other in turns. Neither of them tried to block the others blows.
Instead, they merely braced themselves for the next incoming pummel. It
promised to be a lengthy gladiatorial combat, for their energy levels
appeared to be increasing.
The hulks moved towards them as if to stop the fight. Dont
interfere. I will kill anybody who separates us, Osaki warned, landing
three consecutive punches. Efe rolled on top of Osaki and pummeled both
his cheekbones. They rolled near the door, hitting into it. Someone outside
opened the door to see what was happening. They both rolled out into the
corridor. Dont separate them, one of the hulks yelled, as Efe and Osaki
rolled into the corridor. Its an order! The rest of the hulks picked up
their guns and followed the fight. The reporters followed went along,
although left their equipment behind.
Edna looked around the room without moving her head. She was
alone. Oh God! She craned her neck to get a view outside the door. There
was a stampede in the direction of the fight. The sounds from the corridor
became dimmer. She remained in place, listening as they gradually faded
from earshot. She struggled with all her might.
***
Efe stepped into the corridor of his bungalow. He felt dizzy, as if the
ground in front of him were swaying, reaching his eye-level at both sides
of his vision. He made his way towards his room. Some hulks were
following him. They were chitchatting about how Efe won the fight. They

re-enacted his punches with exaggerated sounds, his headache

intensified. Efe looked behind, to make sure Osaki was not in sight. He
wasnt. The camera operator and his thickset colleague were among
them. Efe took off his balaclava. He used a finger to touch the sting,
coming from his bottom lip. A stream of blood fell down his finger.
Efe my lord, one of the hulks said. He gave you a serious black
eye ooh! He studied Efes face, prodding his lower eye area. They all
crowded in front of Efes face to see the black eye, with startled
expressions. Efe landed a booming slap against the hulk, sending him to
the ground. The corridor went mute. Efe then led the way back into this
room.
Yeay. What happened? Efe yelled, running further inside his room.
Edna was lying face down on his mattress, not moving. Her hands were
unbound. The room smelled like burnt pots. The piece of lumber that had
just been alight was now reduced to ash, nothing else was burned.
Woman, get up! one of the hulks yelled, smacking Ednas left
thigh hard enough to have stung the dead. Edna still didnt move. Efe
found the rope that had been used to tie her hands. It was on the floor, in
pieces, the ends charred. He saw that Ednas hands suffered minor burns,
as if theyd been held over the flames from the lumber.
The white powder the hulk had spread, and snorted remained on
Efes mattress. Edna had fallen awkwardly, so that her face was immersed
in the white powder. Some of it was clumped in her hair, matted. Efe
turned Edna around, onto her back. Her head wobbled lifelessly. The

powder had coated her entire face, except for the dips in her eyes. Wake
up. Efe shook her head. Her pupils were widely dilated.
Its like she is dead ooh, one of the men crooned. Efe didnt reply;
he reached for her wrist and felt for her pulse. My lord, she is dead abi?
The giant asked.
Efe released her wrist. He placed his palm on her chest. Yes, he
said finally. She is dead, but we wont tell Offoh that. The giant extended
one arm out, reaching himself to check for a pulse on Ednas heart. No,
dont touch her, Efe yelled. Oya, all of you should go outside.
The hulks that had followed him inand the camera menmoved
out into the corridor. Efe shut his door behind them.
***
Three hulks pressed their ears against Efes door. Two whispered to
each other. After each exchange, they would reposition their ears against
the door. The third kept his ear fixed to the door. He rose up dramatically,
causing everyone in the corridor to face him. He imitated sexual thrusts
and pointed to Efes door. A bout of snickering erupted. Everyone ran out
of his bungalow corridor onto the refuse-laden earth outside.
Seven minutes later, Efe opened his door and stuck his head out.
Oya, where are you people? he yelled. The giants ran towards him. Efe
was raising the zipper on his army camouflage pants. Come, and carry
her, he said absentmindedly, looking down at his zipper. One of the hulks
went into Efes room. He found Edna lying on her back, motionless on the
bed. Her jeans and underwear had been removed, only her tank top
remained on. The hulk took it all in. He finally turned to listen to what Efe

was saying. go and get a casket ready. Offoh will see what his
stubbornness has led to. The burial of a living woman, a white oil woman
for that matter. Two of the hulks left the bungalow with purposeful speed.
The giant put Ednas underwear and jeans back on, then hoisted her onto
his right shoulder.
***
Even though he was behind everyone, Efe led the way. He sang
mantras about how great it was that they had made a second graveyard.
The hulks sang along, replying that they were happy to be on their way to
the graveyard for foreigners. They sang in their native dialect. The
cameramen had rifles pressed into their lower backs. Efe warned the
cameramen not to walk faster than the giants pressing the rifles into
them. Altogether, they soldiered through mountainous piles of litter. After
overcoming the dizzying smell of the refuse, Efe approved of a path they
all took through the woodlands, and then pointed to a lightless swamp,
which took twenty minutes to wade past. They then crossed a putrid black
stream, which made everyone take exaggerated steps. Efe studied Edna.
Her head kept wobbling, as she rested almost seven feet in the air on the
shoulder of the hulk carrying her.
They soon reached the unofficial graveyard of Blackgold Island, an
area of murky ground about the size of a soccer field. Efe was saddened to
see it still entirely coated with crude oil, difficult to walk on. In places,
piles of muck were heaped above the ground level in careful rectangles.
He reminisced about the foreigners hed buried beneath. The sadness
inspired by the spilt oil left him. The group spread themselves around him,

on a small patch of even ground between the graves. They all waited for
the two giants Efe had asked to bring a casket.
At last, the giants arrived. They ran towards Efe, but with gaits that
showed an appreciation of the greasy surface. They were carrying the
casket between them, each giant taking a grip through two holes on either
end. The holes were placed in such a way that, if one were lying in the
casket, the holes would have let in light directly onto the crown of ones
head and through the space between the feet at the other end. You
people were too slow, Efe snapped. Hurry up! The men placed the
casket down on a level surface. Efe went over to inspect it. As he took his
third step, he blacked out and felt himself falling. But someone caught him
and held him up for a full minute. Efe nodded, prompting the hulk to let go
of him.
The casket was made with cheap wood, but nevertheless appeared
robust and firmly built. Efe snapped his fingers. The giant holding Edna
walked over to the casket. Another hulk opened it up. No, in fact wait,
Efe said. He turned to the thickset fellow and his colleague. Are you
people ready? They didnt answer, but they prepared their equipment.
The youthful fellow started the video camera; the thickset man helped
himhis laptop still tucked to his ribs under one arm.
Efe observed the thickset man looking up, cautiously, to face him.
Please, what is it that you want us to do? he stammered.
Of course, you will record it and send it to Offoh. Efe looked at his
hulks. He will see that we are serious about burying his sweetheart, and
his eliminating his oil money; one person by one person, abi?

The thickset man raised his hand. Eh please, there is no wireless

connection here. But well record it and send it to Offoh when we get
back. He pointed his head in the direction of Efes bungalow, nodded
pleadingly.
You are smart! Efe gave him the thumbs up. He turned to the
youth. Oya, have you started recording now?
Yes sir, he replied. Efe went over and stood behind his camera.
The LCD display showed a red dot in the top left corner. The fellow
recorded the casket being opened up. Then the camera zoomed into
Ednas face. She was still rested on a giants shoulder. It zoomed back out
again, to take in the wider scene. Efe looked up from his display to see
Edna with his naked eyes. She was placed into the casket, and a hulk
slammed it shut.
With a hand gesture, Efe ordered the hulks not to start lowering the
casket into the earth. Efe then reached into his pocket and retrieved
Ednas cell phone. He threw it to one of the hulks who placed it into the
casket. The youth operating the camera turned to Efe with his mouth
slightly open. Thats okay for now, Efe said. Oya, go and send this film
to him.
Ah-ah, Efe, arent we going to bury her? one of the hulks inquired.
Efe deemed his tone was similar to the same challenging intonation Osaki
would normally use.
Not now, you mumu. If we bury her now, she is not useful. Why will
he talk to us if we show already that we have killed her? See, it is not you
that my wife trained to lead this fight. Okay? Efe turned to the

cameramen. Tell Offoh, if he doesnt come back to your laptop and talk
something I want to hear, we will bury her in thirty minutes. The
cameramen made their way back to his bungalow, led by five hulks with
M4s carbines. Four hulks remained behind with Efe.
***
Inside the casket, Edna pushed her hair out of her face and dusted
off the white powder. The dim light filtering in through the holes alleviated
the darkness. She took deep breaths of the air coming in through the hole
near her head. Ednas mind was working furiously, scheming and
calculating. She tried to look out of the hole above her head, to see what
was transpiring outside, but she couldnt see anything.
Later, she heard Osakis voice. He was challenging Efe about his
decision to bury her. She recognized Efes voice as well, with its distinctive
huskiness. All of you should go away, leave me and Osaki alone. See this
bastard that just came here now-now, he doesnt even know what Im
planning, doesnt even know if she is dead or not, and he wants to
challenge me. Osaki, I am going to finish you once and for all. Edna tried
desperately to see how close they were; only a fallen tree was in sight. All
of you go away this minute. Leave us alone. Im going to kill Osaki. She
could hear their footsteps receding through the muck until they were out
of earshot. For several minutes, she heard nothing but harsh punches
landing and tussling in the muck. Then, there was muteness.
Edna creaked her casket open an inch. She peeked out. She saw Efe
lying on the ground, on his stomach. His head was turned so that he could
still breathe. Osaki was unconscious as well, on his back. She recognized

his purple balaclava, which had been colored to look crimson. A huge
swelling on his forehead pushed out of his balaclava. Edna hesitated, hope
and fear cancelling each other out. She lifted the lid further and placed
one foot out of the casket, then the other. She stepped very softly on the
sinking ground. When she fully emerged she was at a loss for direction.
She picked up an M4 carbine lying idle nearby, and started to make her
escape.
As she progressed away from Efe and Osaki, she spotted a giant
coming towards her. He had the swagger of a jungle king. He was in a
purple balaclava and an orange shirt. Thankfully, he hadnt set eyes on
her yet. She ducked beside a fallen tree, lying on her back, facing the
skies. She clutched the M4. The giant swaggered passed the tree, casting
his shadow over her. His shadow passed, so she crept up behind him. He
was focused on Efe and Osaki direction. But he turned in response to the
sound of her footsteps. She smashed the M4 into his face. Before he could
blink, she hit him twice more, hearing the sound of cracking bones in his
nose. He toppled like a felled tree. Blood oozed out of the stitching on his
balaclava, bubbling near his nose. He lay on the ground, still moving his
facial muscleswith intent. She smacked the M4 against his face a seven
times, but then lost count after the eighth blast.
Edna looked at Osaki and then back at the giant. She dragged Osaki
near the casket. And then she dragged the giant to the spot Osaki had
been unconscious. She went back to Osaki and took off Osakis balaclava.
Her breathing was uncontrolled and flies swarmed above her. She kept
looking to make sure no was coming, and to check on Efe.

She placed Osakis balaclavas on the giant, and then turned him on
his stomach so that it would appear to anyone that he was Osaki. Edna
then lifted Osaki, like he was a bride. She had guessed he would be lighter
than giant. She was right, for he weighed about two hundred pounds,
what she was used to lifting at her gym back in Texas. She placed him into
the casket, and then fled the scene, confident she would have more time
to make an escape.
***
Efe sat up, but stayed mute. He turned to see Osakis mask, the
body still out cold. The hulks were back at the graveyard, huddling over a
particular grave. They all ignored him. Efes vision was still hazy. But he
could see they were lowering the casket beneath the earth. Everything
was being recorded. He remained speechless. At last, they placed six feet
of debris on the casket. One of them called the cell phone in the casket.
Ill just keep calling, she must have fainted. She will soon pick. He said
aloud.
Edna, how are you enjoying your casket? the giant asked. You
know something? When I first saw Efe burying a man alive in this way, I
was so amused! His name was Spencer. I wanted to explain to Spencer
why we were burying foreigners, I didnt get to. So I will now explain
No! No! Its not Edna. Its me, Osaki. Its me, Osaki. The giants
cell phone was on loudspeaker and carried Osakis voice. Osaki was
pounding the sides of the casket like a mad person in need of a
straitjacket. Efe stood up. Please, hurry up, Osaki cried out, through his
coughs.

How can it be Osaki in the casket? asked one of the hulks. Then
who is that?
Two hulks ran over to the body beside Efe. They pulled off his
balaclava. Yeay, it is Olali. One of them took Efe by his shirt. What the
hell happened? Efe, what happened?
Efe didnt reply. All six of the hulks used pairs of hands, digging out
the muck with great panic, whimpering as if they were about to cry. Dig,
dig, dig. Hurry, the hulks shouted. Efe watched them, aloof. The sound of
an M4 took over. Then, there was complete muteness.
Efe picked up the cell phone. Osaki, can you hear me? Its your
best friend, Efe. Ive just killed all of them. Nobody will be digging you out
today. I want to wish you a nice afterlife.
***
Offoh was seated on the hairy floor of Babalawos temple. The
horses were ablaze, and were exactly the same ones he saw the last time.
They gave the room a mysterious warmth that prickled his skin. One of
the trees had been dislodged from its base, exposing a gaping hole in the
ground. Dusty ashes were settling down from the air above the hole. Offoh
looked over at his clothes again. They were stained with dust, especially
around his arms. The men in white briefs played their udu drums with
solemn faces as they sat between each tree.
Offoh emptied a small Ghana-Must-Go bag, which deflated
gradually. Next to the bags he made three stacks of US dollars, totaling
five thousands. Babalawo danced around on his elevated platform,
exposing his genitals to Offoh through wild moves. Offoh, once again, you

have paid well. He laughed contently, and then mounted his stuffed lion,
which was gazing around the temple. I will go and bury more cows.
Oracle has already crossed five, as we speak. He held five fingers up.
Once Im through with her, neither you nor Edna will have to worry about
herself, or ASOC, or
He broke off as Oracle rose up from the holethe same hole Offoh
had come up through. Offoh screamed and crawled away from Oracle.
Offoh, these are the cows youve been paying him for. She extended
many hands out of her sides. Ten of them. Each hand was holding a brown
and white cow by its horn. In one go, she threw the cows onto the men
playing udu drums in white briefs. The cows blasted the men into the
walls behind them so forcefully that their bodies imploded. Their organs
splattered on the walls and their blood bathed the cows.
Yeay, Babalawo yelled, looking as if he was trying to figure out a
plan. Oracle ran to him and pushed him off his platform. Offoh snapped to
attention. He dived back into the hole. He heard Oracle climbing into the
hole after him. As Offoh went down the hole, back to the human world, he
experienced a psychedelic moment. He could still see the temple. The lion
roared. It sprung off the platform and went straight for Babalawo. It
mutilated him within twelve heartbeats, and then chewed his bloody limbs
to shreds. The ceiling fell, causing all the trees to fall in turn. The plunging
rubble landed on the lions head, and then a falling tree snapped its spine.
The fire on the ablaze horses grew, engulfing everything.

Keni efie ama la da ba, owo emi owou kpo ba fa.

In certain scenarios no option is safe.

Ijaw Proverb

Chapter Seven

The piapiac had not seen Chief Mustafa since he discovered the
actual result of the elections. And as she descended toward the VicePresidential State House, she overheard all his staff saying so as well. The
villa wasnt taking to his absence very well. The Spanish-styled residence,
with its soaring palm trees, water fountain and enormous green grounds,
exuded a bizarre sense of longing. His absence had left a void, taking
some personality away from herhis fortress.
Mustafas fleet of carspolice, personal and the Rolls Roycewere
elegantly parked under their custom fitting shades, as usual. The security
aides, policemen and chauffeurs were scattered around the compound.
Most of them were sleeping in the backseats of his cars, with their shoes
and socks off and both back doors open to take in the soothing breeze.
About seven others were engaged in an impassioned discussion, making
conjecture about their futures. Their rifles were laid on the ground by their
feet, and they discussed even as they devoured fried rice and liver bits
from slimy plastic containersthe type that no amount of washing liquid
could ever make clean again.
The piapiac perched outside a window which afforded a view of the
main sitting room. The live-in domestics had stopped walking in their
normal upstanding fashion. Instead they hopped and skipped about with
visible levity. They were cleaning every corner of the house, with Hoovers,
mops and dusting cloths. The team scoured every article in sight as if they
needed to disinfect every part of the house from the effects of a plaguing
virus.

Two boisterous men, vacuuming, sang an American hip-hop song,

which aired on the radio. They both took the liberty of reinventing the
lyrics to suit their bliss. The ladies were humming a different song, and
because they all kept their lips tightly sealed, humming diverse tribal
songs over one another, it produced an all together fascinating sound.
One of them used a steaming gadget to go over the furniture, and then
used it against the drapes, before drawing them, shutting off the piapiacs
view of the scene inside.

She flapped up and sat on the windowsill of his bedroom. She

counted five domestic workers were in his room. Three of them were
boxing away Chief Mustafas personal effects with bubble wrap and waferthin sheets, while two more folded his clothes into Louis Vuitton suitcases
which still had the price tags on them. They all danced along to DBanjs
Why Me, which was coming from a radio that belonged to a previous
technological eraclearly not something of Chief Mustafas.
One of the male domestics stopped dancing. He spotted the price
tag on one of the Louis Vuitton suitcases. He went over to the radio and
switched it off. Oluwa-oh! he exclaimed. He was short, with a friendly
face, and a troublesome energy about him. Four thousand pounds! he
said, tilting the price tag, becoming transfixed.
Is that why you stopped the music? his female colleague shouted.
You are a bush man! l l ma j t n b s nr? (Do you even know
how much that is in naira?).

The man unleashed a torrent of Yoruba abuses back at her. d

mm, d, ol. Shut up! What do you know? He continued on about
the price tag. Im telling you, this moneythis bag can be up to, up to
His eyes closed, as if searching for the information. Up to, over, five
million naira!
Hay! Loud gasps erupted, even though he put on a confident face.
Ah-ah! Giggles followed, as did the sounds of hands clapping in
disbelief. That is how you know he is mad! How can you say that
someone used five million naira to buy suitcase. See your head, like ram,
someone else said.
Shut up, you people are local. I mean, when he is not a poor man.
You think he is like your fathers?
The matter escalated into a blazing argument. The more docile
workers tried to stop it. Oya, all of you just shut up. I said it is ok. Keep
quiet! A female peacemaker said. The piapiac spotted those working
downstairs, running up to see what was transpiring. At that point, the first
man was thrusting the price tag so close to anothers eye that one could
assume a physical altercation was moments away.
The female peacemakers face lit up, as a great idea came to mind.
She ran to the window, casting a shadow over the piapiac who hovered
into the air. Chief Mustafa is coming! The room suddenly became silent.
There was a surging exodus back downstairs; distressed footsteps
stampeded down the staircase. This was followed by the sounds of a body
landing on the unforgiving marble stairs. Yeay-pa! a female voice yelled
in agony.

When she perched on the windowsill again, those in the Chiefs

room rushed back to their duty positions. Then, they saw the mischievous
smile on their colleagues face. Everyone burst into laughter. Which one is
that? I suppose land you slap, one of them jeered, pretending he was
about to slap her. He still looked outside the window to make sure.
You made Ikene fall down! another said, looking out the door
toward the stairs. They all went over to the door to look down stairs.
Keep quiet jare! She made herself fall. Who sent her message to
come here?
Wait but, truly, where is Oga? one of the more quiet men asked.
A sucking hiss came from the lady who had been arguing. Please,
why are you doing as if you dont know? He don die! she said,
exaggerating the expression in her eyes when she said die. Others
nodded along. They passed sarcastic comments, disparaging him for
asking a stupid question.
But how do you know for sure? I mean, isnt it you people that fear
of Chief Mustafa just catch you now? he went on, eyeing them all as he
spoke. Death that nobody saw! Death that nobody find the body! Death
where they no bury the person! Which kind death be that? He spoke with
corresponding hand gestures.
He died mysterious death now! one of the women called out,
shrugging her shoulders like it was a normal, scientifically acknowledged
concept.
Amidst the jarring voices speculating about Chief Mustafas
whereabouts, the piapiac heard the lady with a stained apron pierce

through the rest. No, Im telling you I saw his clothes. That day he saw
that he lost the election. I swear. She stuck out her tongue and then
placed her forefinger on it. She lifted her wet finger towards the skies.
True, I swear to god, I saw his agbada, his kaftan, the sokoto, the sandals.
So he must be dead. The piapiac struggled to follow the logic of her
argument.
Where? asked one of the men, as he wrapped up Chief Mustafas
Hubolt Black Caviar timepiece, made from 18-karat white gold and packed
with diamonds.
In the dungeon now! she exclaimed in reply.
No, I mean where did you put them?
There was a curious hush that focused on her.
What is in that dungeon self? A man asked, filling the void created
by her silence.
She replied, The dungeon is his shrine now. Who doesnt know
that? There were shaking heads everywhere, some in amazement, others
in doubt.
No! How can they go build a juju-shrine inside the Vice-Presidents
official mansion? The man pointed to the floor as he said official
mansion.
Obviously, it is not built as a shrine. He just uses it, he can teleport
from there. Phiam! She clicked her fingers and simultaneously lifted the
same hand towards the skies. And he will arrive at his jujumans place.
But wait, you this girl, you know too much about this matter. I
mean, what made you enter his dungeon self?

She paused for a moment. You dont know anything. You be

illiterate! If you fit read newspaper, you will know that he promised to kill
himself should he lost the election. She signaled to others in the room.
Tell him now.
Anyway let us forget that side, a hitherto quiet peacemaker asked.
More important is to know, who is our new Vice-President?
Does it matter? We will be better off, whoever it is! the alpha male
retorted.
Its true sha, she agreed. I mean, what kind of President did Oga
want to be? That type of man, he just day cha-cha-cha-cha-cha. She used
both her hands, separately, to imitate the sound of jabbering mouths as
she finished speaking. Then she raised one finger into the air; it was the
harbinger of a profound point. And any small thing somebody talks
alone does

let

against him, he go return with fire, fire, fire. She snapped

her fingers and thrust them in different directions. Ah-ah. It was too much
now. President ke? She screwed up her face in disgust.
There came a firm knock on the door. Are you people not ready?
The door opened and an imposing policeman stood in the doorway.
Sorry sir, well soon be ready, said a voice. But Sir, this one that
nobody knows of Chiefs whereabouts, what will happen after we pack all
these things?
The policeman shook his head blankly. See, were just going to
dump his things at his private house. Those are the instruction. Anything
that happens after that, its not my business. He acted like he was
dusting his palms of debris. He continued, As long as my salary is paid

Someone else walked up behind him, and the piapiac craned their necks
to see who was there.
Yvettes fingers curled around the doors edge. They looked fragile,
but gripped it firmly. Hi, would you mind telling one of your men Im
ready? She swallowed her saliva as she finished speaking, exuding the
aura of a defeated soul.
Oh, ok! Shaybe to the airport? the policeman said. She nodded,
and then started walking away. Ok! I will ask one of them to get ready,
he spoke with a degree of authority in his voice, like she was now subject
to doing things on his terms. The piapiac made eye contact with the
policemen. He rushed over to the windowsill to shoo her away.
***
Yvette dragged one of her suitcases down the stairs. Its wheels
hammered against each stairit was a check-in sized Samsonite, black
with silver lining. At last, she got it down the stairs, and then looked back
up. Two more suitcases were waiting to be carried, another large one and
a smaller hand baggage beside it, all Samsonite. There was also a makeup
bag resting on the floor. Yvette went back and forwards in her quest to get
them into one of the cars outside. The domestics would walk past her as
she struggled, hissing. She mumbled aloud about missing her flight,
hoping one of them would help. No one did.
A chauffer opened the trunk to a car, which Yvette had never used
before. She moped at the car. It was a Peugeot 504, in modest condition
but with the mileage reflected in the state of its tires. Why arent we
using the Rolls Royce? she asked.

Someone overheard and replied her. We are using the Rolls Royce
to take our girlfriends out. Amidst the many chauffeurs and policemen
dotted around the compound, she couldnt make out who was speaking.
Last month, you were the girlfriend that was inside the car, this month it
is my girlfriends turn, next month it will be his girlfriends turn. They all
burst out laughing.
The chauffer held the trunk open. Yvette caught him look away as
she labored to put each of the suitcases in. While hoisting the final
suitcase into the trunk, she almost fell back on her spine, but she regained
balance and her fingers quickly re-grasped the suitcase. She used a new
momentum to thrust it in.
At last, she got into the car and put her seatbelt on, sighing aloud.
Outside the car, the chauffer was chatting away on his cell phone. He held
onto his car door as if he was about to open it, but this intention was
betrayed by his blissful conversation, with all its laughter. She decided to
reach into her bag and read something, to appear unperturbed by his
slight.
She pulled out an envelope and removed the letter in it. She read it
as though it was her first time of doing so, looking periodically to the
chauffer to see if he was ready to go.

My own Yvette-tete,
How are you? Actually, Im writing this for the worst possible scenario. So Im
sorry for presenting you with a rhetorical question. I didnt know how else to start. Yvette,
the night we both slept in my room (after visiting Justice Arojo), my conscience spoke to

me. The topic: Arojo. After her, I promised myself I would never act violently again. That
I would keep myself restrained to a loud (but secretly harmless) bark.
Why have I failed on this promise? Why am I like this? My conscience asked. After
all, Im not a psychopath. You know the answer? Ive become the type of politician I once
criticized as a young journalist. That style of African politics arrested me along my
journey to power. I lost my moral compass, I crossed the Rubicon. I figured it was how to
get things done. To the extent that I brought you with me, I am forever sorry.
I want you to book the first flight you can back to the UK. Dont worry about
Oracle; trust me. Ive spent a long time thinking about this, so please, just act as Ive
instructed. I now have to go do the honors with Babalawo. But dont feel sad, I know well
meet again, in the next life.
Agape love,

Chief Mustafa

The episode replayed in Yvettes mind: receiving the letter from

Chief Mustafa. He got off the phone with the President on elections result
night, and then walked out of the executive parlor. She had never seen a
muted Chief Mustafa. She felt guilty, for she said nothing to him in those
moments before he stormed out. She paced the executive parlor, thinking
about what the loss meant for her. When he came back up to the parlor,
he refused to look at her. Not a single muscle on his face moved. He put
the envelope in her hands, and then went back towards the dungeon. That
was the last she saw of him.
She came out of reverie, and reached over to wind down the side
window nearest to the chauffeur, who was still standing outside his door
on his cell phone. Excuse me! I actually do have a flight to catch. He

begrudgingly ended his call and came into the car with an unpleasant
energy. What about a policeman? Yvette asked.
They are busy, madam. They cant come! He snapped, and then
started the car.

The Boeing 747 was warmly inviting. Yvette admired it through the
tall glass panels at the boarding gate counter. It gleamed in a reassuring
way that resembled a smile. She handed over her boarding pass. Thank
you. Enjoy your flight, madam. The Caucasian lady ran her boarding pass
through the machine, and handed the stub back to her.
Yvette headed towards the plane, through the jet bridge. Her mind
almost exploded with joy as she took the final bend in the bridge, which
would enable her see into the plane. Suddenly, an enthusiastic hand
hammered on her left shoulder. Her heart stopped. She stopped walking
too, afraid to turn around. A shadow moved around her and manifested as
Ling-Tai. I remember you! Ling-Tai shrieked, and then brought her voice
down by a notch. Remember? From the temple?
Yvette breathed out a sigh of four seconds. But she still couldnt
bring herself to speak. Your name. I never got it, Ling-Tai asked, exuding
a lively energy. Yvette started walking towards the plane, noticing that
others behind them were being held up by their conversation.
Its Yvette, she replied, dragging along her hand baggage.
Yvette arrived at the planes entrance, and waited behind a line of
six passengers. The flight attendant was collecting the passengers stubs,
momentarily, in order to direct people to their seats. Ling-Tai was still

standing beside her. What about your Nigerian associatethe rather

voluptuous one? Yvette asked.
Shes resting! Ling-Tai answered in the abrupt manner of one who
wanted no further questions on the subject. Still in Lagos.
Checked your seat number? Yvette asked.
15E. Ling-Tai replied.
Yvette brought her stub close to her eyes. Look at that! Im 15D!
she exclaimed. They shared a quick laugh. So, youve been in Abuja all
this time! Yvette went on. We should have met up.
No, Ive only been here a short while, been waiting for this flight,
Ling-Tai said. Needed a break from Lagos.
Yvette nodded. She imagined Ling-Tai behind a mouse and
keyboard, booking her ticket, picking exactly the same day she had picked
and the same row of chairs. What a coincidence. So, where are you off to
now? Japan?
Ling-Tai stared into Yvettes eyes, like her questions were becoming
irritating. No, to Ecuador. But I stopover in London. And Im actually from
China.

When they got in, Yvette saw that they were both to be seated in
the middle section, made up of four seats side by side. She wished she
had picked either of the seating sections near the windows, with three
seats side by side. Before she knew it, Ling-Tai lifted Yvettes hand
baggage and makeup bag into the overhead compartment. Thanks dear.
Why dont you go in first? Yvette prompted.

Ling-Tai examined both their stubs, again, very formally, and then
bobbed her head as she examined the numbering system onboard, as if to
double-check. Yes, youre right. She sat down in the second seat of the
four. Yvette then took the aisle seat, next to her. They were nearest to the
planes left engine. The people who would sit in the other two, of the four
seats, would be nearest to the planes right engine.
Passengers shuffled their way down both aisles of the plane. A group
of middle-aged Yoruba-speaking women raucously settled themselves into
the seats two rows ahead of them. One of them hoisted a poorly zipped
rucksack into the overhead compartment. Before she could close it, the
rucksack came crashing down and spilled a harvest of onions and dried
red pepper in tied polythene bags, one of which burst open. An elderly
man, whom the rucksack fell on, berated her severely.
At least the iru is still intact, the young lady said to her group in
English, as she put everything back into her rucksack, hissing at the man.
Yvette wondered what iru was and was surprised the lady could speak
English.
A female Caucasian flight attendant, who carried herself assertively,
came to the scene. Madam, Im going to have to take these items away.
As you see, theyre highly problematic. All the ladies, whose eyes were
almost popping out in fury, hurled barrages of Yoruba insults at the flight
attendant. Yvette tuned out and checked on Ling-Tai.
Ling-Tai was reading a magazine. Reading? She certainly isnt the
loquacious type. So, Yvette said with an upbeat tone. Im assuming you
also dismissed the whole Oracle thing?

Ling-Tai grunted. African bogus! She closed the magazine, turning

to Yvette. Ok, I saw the thing, but with these people everything is
exaggerated. And besides, she can probably be paid off as well. They
shared a light laugh. But Yvette disliked the levity to Ling-Tais answer. She
wished Ling-Tai was of a more profound disposition, and could shed
comforting light on the Oracle situation.
By the way, how did things end up for you? Ling-Tai asked. I
heard the man with you was running for President. She put the magazine
back into its pouch, and crossed her legs towards Yvette, inviting a
conversation.
Okay! Well, I mean, he didnt win, but between you and me She
moved in closer to whisper to Ling-Tai. I was practically funding both
candidates. She nodded and looked into Ling-Tais eyes. She saw
suppressed disbelief. Yvette diverted, wiping her eyeglasses against her
Hermes scarf. Offoh will send me whats mine. Hes got my account
details in London. You mustve heard of Coutts, anyway I bank there.
Ling-Tai was nodding now, giving every appearance of an impressed
person. Well done! she said, with a smirk.
Yvette changed the subject. I assume it was business that brought
you to Lagos? Ling-Tai nodded. What line of business? Yvette asked.
A commotion near the front of the plane interrupted them. Yvette
looked down her aisle to the planes entrance. Ling-Tai leaned across her,
virtually blocking Yvette with her hair, which smelt like expired milk.
Yvette gently pushed her aside, till she could see down the aisle again.
The flight attendants were trying to reach for someone, who was outside

the plane. They leaned so far out of the doorway Yvette surmised the
plane must have moved, so that it was misaligned with the jet-bridge. But
we havent budged. The flight attendants suddenly stepped back, as if to
clear the way for something incoming. A fourteen or fifteen year old girl
came flying into the plane, knocking the flight attendants down, as she
landed on them. Good heavens!
Yvette turned to see if Ling-Tai was also witnessing what was
happening, but there was a deafening crash, sounding like a ton of metal
had slammed down against the harsh concrete outside. The plane shook
with the force of the impact. The drop down monitors rattled. Gasps
moved around the plane. Yvette could see passengers asking each other
what had happened.
The windows soon became crowded with folk desperate to see what
was happening outside. Yvette got up on her chair to head for a window,
but flight attendants stormed the aisle and forced people back to their
seats. Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Riviera speaking. I apologize
for the noise. I understand our jet bridge has fallen. Thats the tunnel you
walk through to board the plane. Our traffic control team is working on
this. And Ill keep you updated as to how this might affect things. Once
again, our sincerest apologies.
Yvette, upset by the pilots announcement, pressed the bell for a
flight attendant. I really hope this doesnt mean what I think, she said to
Ling-Tai. Ling-Tai appeared to be in deep thought, she didnt respond.
The girl who had jumped into the plane moments earlier was being
settled into her seat by both the flight attendants. She sat in the same row

as Yvette, but at the window seating section, the windows which were to
Yvettes far right, so far she couldnt see out of them. The girl wept
bitterly. The tears mixed with snot and reached the chest area of her
clothing. They flight attendant took tissue to her face, yet she remained
fixated in the direction of the jet-board.
Yvette leaned over Ling-Tais lap to tap one of the flight attendants.
Her hands didnt quite reach the lady. Though, the other flight attendant
colleague noticed Yvettes attempt.
How can I help you madam? she asked.
Ive been ringing this bloody thing forever, Yvette complained.
And none of youve had the decency to respond. Ill have you know I
normally fly first class. Neither of the flight attendants replied. They did,
however, keep looking at Yvette to suggest they were still waiting for her
actual question. Anyway, I wanted to say, I dont know whats going on.
But I really need to leave Nigeria tonight. So Im demanding that even if
An artistically flying splash of blood came out of the head of the lady
she was speaking to. It stained the overhead compartment boards and
dripped to the floor melodramatically even before the lady actually fell
down.
Screams spread through the plane, they became so loud and
contagious they were decibels away from sending distress signals to other
airplanes flying in the skies.
Yvette froze. She kept her eyes fixed on the mini-television fixed
into the seat in from of her. From the corner of her eye, she made out the
silhouettes of five men, making their way down the aisle furthest from her.

They were casually passing over the flight attendants body, one of must
have stepped on her for there was a bone shattering crunch. She made
out purple balaclavas on their faces, but could not see the rest of their
outfits. The screaming in the cabin was numbing, preventing any clear
thought. The unmistakable rattle of machine gun fire spat into the air,
with the sounds of bullets thudding into bodies.
lp! lp! (Police! Police!), yelled a croaky, hair-raising
voice, presumably one of the men. They want to trap us!
Oya, let us go. Let us go, someone else said, with the petrifying
tone of a hardened prisoner.
Still frozen, Yvette could see the men skipping back up the aisle
towards the exit, readying their guns for combat. She heard the sound of
someone being slapped in the face, and shuddered as if it was herself.
Dont start feeling comfortable, she heard one of the men shout to
someone. Because Im coming back to finish you! Im coming back nownow.
They went through the curtains separating Yvettes cabin, and went
into the one ahead. Ay! Leave my gun! Oya, leave my gun! We will waste
you oh! one of the husky voices said from the cabin ahead, swearing.
You want to be a hero. Yvette tried to picture the scene in the next
cabin. She couldnt. Leave my husband, please! A lady yelled.
Yvette was certain that one of them was still in her cabin. So she
remained motionless. Four gunshots dramatically punctuated the noise in
the cabin ahead. An unnatural silence followed. Then a bellowing cry from
deep in some ladys belly swept through the entire plane.

The men came into Yvettes sight, as they left the plane. Because
the view down her aisle, ended at the planes exit door. She shifted her
eyes from the mini-television, counting them as they ran off the plane.
They crossed over from the aisle to her right, seven of them in total. They
appeared to be using a ladder to disappear towards the ground outside.
In very slow stages, Yvette turned over to Ling-Tai. Ling-Tai was
blinking, but was keeping still too. Yvette was drawn to the girl who had
jumped into the plane, seating near the windows in her row. Bullets had
riddled the girls face, immersing it in blood. The ladies who had caused
the commotion with their onion-heavy rucksack were hanging over their
seats, motionless. They must have been still standing up when the men
struck, trying to look out of the windows. Telltale bloodstains were leaking
out from their foreheads and outfits.
Oh my God! a motherly voice cried. Those men are bastards.
Yvette surmised from the troubled exclamations and angry murmurs
coming from many behind her, that all of the men were definitely out of
the cabin.
She took off her seat-belt and rose up from her seat. Where you
going? Sit down! Ling-Tai blurted out. Oh, you want hide? she went on
in a whisper. In the toilet? Ling-Tai nodded and reached for her seatbelt
like she intended to follow Yvette.
Im not hiding, Im leaving, Yvette spoke aloud. Not going to wait
for those savages to come back! I am leaving this cesspool called Nigeria
tonight!

You cant get off. Theyre outside! Ling-Tai was still whispering.
Lets just hide.
Yvette shook her head. I didnt say I was going outside, I said Im
leaving. Yvette went down the left aisle and through to the next cabin,
drawing the curtains behind her so that Ling-Tai and the other passengers
couldnt track her movements anymore.
***
Ling-Tai spotted Yvettes Chanel Diamond purse, still on Yvettes
seat. She grew curious, was this woman leaving or staying? Ling-Tai left
the purse and sprang up, bent on following Yvette. But she headed toward
the opposite aisle, to the right of the plane. She got a view of everyone
behind. There wasnt a person out of their seat. Those still alive were
static. Save for a few who shook their heads at her, conveying both advice
and disapproval. There were two men battling each otherin absolute
silenceat the far back of the plane, for the position in the toilet cubicle.
She turned back in the direction of the aisle. She stepped between the
dead flight attendants legs and made her way up to the next cabin. She
walked through the curtains, so that they remained drawn.
Yvette was about half way down the other aisle. On the floor ahead
of Ling-Tai, lay a crying woman. She was draped over a lifeless male body
which had established a little pond of blood.
The lifeless male body lay face down, hugging a G3 assault rifle,
parts of the metal shining through the blood covering it. Ling-Tai tried to
put together the pieces of what had transpired, based on the screams she

heard earlier. But Yvette continued down the left aisle, toward the cockpit,
so Ling-Tai jumped over the couple.
The planes entrance was still wide open. As she got to the front of
the plane, the gunshots coming from outside resonated in Ling-Tais heart,
and the sound of voices shouting in a vicious dialect heightened. She tried
to calm herself. I will not! shouted a male voice. It was coming from the
cockpit, a few feet away. The cockpit door was open. And see identified
Yvettes skirt, and her legs inside it. She rushed over.
Im not saying take off! Ling-Tai heard Yvette yell. Ling-Tai crept up
at the doorway of the cockpit, behind Yvette. The pilots glanced at her,
but turned back to Yvette almost immediately. Lets just move the plane
a mile or two away from here, Yvette said with a raised voice, You might
even run them all over.
The Captain was shaking his head, resolutely. He was Caucasian,
with a lot of gray hairs and a well fed face.
Madam, please go and re-take your seat! The police have it under
control, his co-pilot said. What you are doing is arrant nonsense,
endangerment! He was Nigerian and much less docile. He got up from his
seat, belligerently, heading towards them. Yvette shouted back at the copilot, making hand gestures that signified moving the plane; hand
gestures which would have inevitably smacked him in the face if he came
any closer.
The co-pilot stopped in his tracks. Yvette continued yelling, Well
stop further ahead. And get the blinking doors closed. Then we can just
takeoff! Or are you waiting for them to come back and kill you? For a

moment, Ling-Tai pictured what Yvette was suggesting. She came back to
the room when Yvette turned to her. Stay here, please, Yvette
whispered. Just trust me, Ill be a second. She squeezed past Ling-Tai
and ran out of sight.
Oya, get out! The co-pilot shouted at Ling-Tai, more confident now
that Yvette had gone.
No, I wont go. Lets move the plane away. Ling-Tai hoped she was
as intimidating as Yvette. The co-pilot grappled Ling-Tais shoulders,
pushing her out of the cockpit. She struggled, brushing his hands off to
the side each time they tried to reach her. He gripped her and pushed her
outwards. In their closeness, she could smell his body odors, a
combination of an icy cologne whiff and rotten flatulence. Dont touch
me! she kept shouting, as they wrestled back and forth for several
rounds.
Please just leave, the more docile Captain begged.
Yvette burst into the cockpit with the G3 assault rifle, blood dripping
from it. Both the pilots immediately surrendered. Ling-Tai stepped aside.
Please madam! they both shouted. Please drop it.
Sit down! Yvette ordered the co-pilot. He sat on the main pilot
seat, his arms still surrendered. Now fly this fucking plane. Yvette went
on, pressing the gun into the back of his head. She aimed at the Captain
periodically, making sure he stayed put.
The co-pilot held onto the main wheel. Though, he let go again,
sighing aloud. Im very sorry madam, the co-pilot replied, taking in

jagged breaths. Please, I just cant. Im even a co-pilot. The police will kill
them, dont worry. Please dont
Fly the fucking plane now! I said fly it! Now! Yvette pounded the
gun into his head severally. It sounded as though each impact made tiny
cracks in his skull. The co-pilot took the wheel again. He pulled it towards
himself, but then let go. He shook his head, obstinately.
Im sorry, please Ling-Tai shuddered to her core, hearing the gun
fire. She closed her eyes. Liquid smacked against her face, hitting her lips
so forcefully it went into her mouth. Without tasting it, she figured it was
blood. She spat it out and opened her eyes. Fleshly strings of his brain
were scattered around the cockpit, lumping against the windshield. His
body was slumped onto the control board.
The Captain was on the floor. He pressed his chest against both
knees, making himself a shell, as if to indicate that he had seen nothing.
Ling-Tais attention was drawn to Yvette, snapping at her, indicating she
should lift the Captain up. Ling-Tai merely grabbed his collar and tugged.
He came up to his knees by himself. Fly the plane! Yvette said, aiming
at his nose.
I swear I would love to, he gasped, dropping to his knees. But
madam if I move her with the door open, Ill be putting you at great risk.
Yvette dropped the gun. She appeared to be thinking, about another plan
of escape, Ling-Tai guessed. Ling-Tai took Yvette by the shoulder, intending
to lead her towards the exit. As they turned, they caught a group of
people staring into the cockpit. The folks all rushed back to their seats,
with the sort of stampede that would be inspired by an approaching lion.

Yvette pushed off Ling-Tais comforting hand. She picked the gun up again
and headed after the group, turning back just once to Ling-Tai. Bring him
as well, she snapped. Ling-Tai gripped the Captain by his collar. He
crawled, on his knees, along with them.
Yvette stood tall in front of the whole cabin, holding the rifle
downwards in one arm. Ok, ladies and gentlemen! She took in a deep
breath. I understand some of you have just seen me angry. Lets not
allow that repeat itself. The sounds of gunshots were still firing through
the air outside. We have a situation on our hands. These terrorists are
coming back. She paused, observing stunned-silent faces. And I just had
a slight misunderstanding with the co-pilot about how to escape from
these savages. I dont know how, but Im leaving for London tonight. No
one is going to jeopardize that, right? She lifted her gun slightly,
reminding everyone it was there. Ling-Tai saw everyone moving their
heads in agreement.
Great! And because Im a nice person, I will do something, in
return, for you all as well. Yvette briefly glanced at Ling-Tai. Im going to
extend all of them a lifesaving option, as it were. She turned back to face
the cabin. I notice there are some among you who are in fact dead. Were
all going to put their blood on our faces.
Jesus! God forbid. Aghast grunts swept through the cabin.
Eyama!
She turned to a young couple who were still expressing their
disgust. I know, I know, but its genius, if you think about it. There were
murmurs going round. Listen to me! Yvette shouted. This is the plan.

The terrorists will then come back, kill all the others and then exit the
plane. And youll all be still alive, all because of my idea, my gift to you.
She turned to a lady and wrenched her by the scarf. When you get
off this plane, alive that is, what will you tell the police, before they
arrange our next flight out of here?
The lady was on the verge of tears. That you are an angel, she
said, in a manner more like singing.
No, you moron! Dont mention me at all. Just say they did all the
killing, ok? You dont know me! Yvette let go of her scarf. Did everyone
hear that? Ling-Tai could see from the less nodding that they did. Pick
him up, Yvette said to her. As the Captain was being dragged upin
awkward stages due to his weightYvette walked over to him. Did you
hear that? Are we clear as to how your co-pilot died? He bobbed his head
about ten times. Ling-Tai pushed him in the direction of his cockpit.
Yvette placed the gun back under the dead male body. And I can
tell from all that crying that the people back in my cabin havent heard
any of this. So lets just leave them out. Okay? People had already
started to take blood from the dead people and apply it onto their faces.

Ling-Tai positioned herself back in her seat. The blood she put on her
forehead stank pungently of copper, dripping across her face, crowding at
her lips. She didnt wipe it off. Just do it, voices behind her said. You
saw what those women did. Lets do it. She surmised that people had
seen herself and Yvette and were copying. She resented them for doing
so. She feared the armed men would come back and catch them in the

act. Then Yvette drew her attention. For she had slumped herself too far
down in her seat, unrealistically projecting death.
Heavy footsteps pounded through the cabin ahead, accompanied by
husky voices. Ling-Tais heart went ballistic. She sat on her hands and
closed her eyes.
Ode-Mumu! Ode-oshi! See this idiot. She is dead ooh, but she is
still breathing, a grating voice said. He laughed menacingly. The sound of
shots firing in the cabin ahead stilled all her thoughts. She released her
breath and took in another supply of air, quicklyand held it. Ling-Tai
doubted the wisdom of the plan. Though, she stayed in place. She held
her breath tightly, not knowing if they were already making their way into
her cabin.
She heard the curtains in both aisles being ripped off their hinges. A
shadow fell over her and stayed there. The gunshots continued. Ah! You
too, you are pretending, one of the men said jokingly. Did you see him
blinking, with all that blood on his face? He fired away. The shadow kept
standing over her and didnt allow her take in another much needed
breath.
Whose idea was this? one of them yelled.
The shadow moved away and Ling-Tai could hear people revealing
themselves, admitting they were not dead, resorting to impassioned pleas
instead. Please. Have mercy. How stupid!
Another voice cut through the air, pausing the shootings. Abeg, my
Popsy owns a bank. I can arrange money for you, abeg. How much you
people want? He spoke in between fits of helpless shouting.

There was a brief silence. Na lie! Is that why you day for economy
class? Mocking laughter ensued, and then two shots were fired, marking
the end of the fellows shouting.
Ling-Tai felt a shadow over her again. It was different this time

for

this person had a severe body odor, making it impossible to continue

holding her breath. Suddenly, someone took hold of her forearm. The
persons palm felt like sandpaper, gnashing the skin of her forearm. He
pulled it out from under her skirt. He moved his palm down to her wrist
and left it there, feeling for a pulse.
Ling-Tai heard a trigger being pulled, further back. It didnt release a
bullet but made a pinging sound. My bullets have finished. I have no
ammo left, said a voice. The same peculiar sound came again from
another place.
Me too! I have run out. Lets go. Before police come and trap us
here, an authoritative voice bellowed. The palm holding her forearm
flung her hand, forcing it to hit against the armrest between her and
Yvette. It landed with so much force that not screaming became the
hardest thing to do. Their heavy footsteps were sprinting down both
aisles, toward the planes exit. Ling-Tai released a long breath. A wave of
relief washed through her. She felt better, in this moment, than she had
when she sold her last stock of medicine, got rid of Simi and Dapo, and
wired her money to Ecuador. She peeked at Yvette, who was still in her
fake-dead position.
Men, I havent finished with you! said a female voice. Ling-Tai
estimated the woman must have been in or near the cockpit area, for her

voice sounded as if it were outdoors and was carried into the plane by
strong winds.
Ling-Tai shut her eyes again. But she racked her brain, trying to
guess who the lady could be. A policewoman, about to arrest them with
her team. She could hear the men saying, Ok, yes, and, What else?
The footsteps came back down the aisle. From the sound of it, they
were heading down the right aisle, towards her cabin. Soon, several
shadows were cast over her again. This time, they were hovering over her
from the right aisle of the plane. She was relieved she had left her hand in
the position the man had flung it to, as she had been tempted to sit on it
again.
In addition to their shadows, Ling-Tai sensed the figures standing
over her from the grave vibes they sent from their spirits. Very smart!
Very close. Almost, the female voice said, also definitely in the right aisle.
Ling-Tais heart pumped forcefully. Open your eyes, see the tiny space
Ive left between my forefinger and thumb. This is how close you were.
She felt a smack against her head and then a bout of laughter.
Ling-Tai remained still and was hoping Yvette was doing the same.
Oh! Shetheywant to still pretend. Ling-Tai! Yvette! Its me; you can
open your eyes! Honestly. Ling-Tai didnt recognize the voice at all, but
the lady sounded so friendly, so reassuring. She rose up and opened her
eyes to face the voice.
Ling-Tai squealed piercingly, but the vibrations did not send the
terror out of her. Instead, they made waves through her. The face of the
voice was Oracle, looking exactly as she remembered her on the day she

pushed a gun against her eye-socket in the store facility. Oracle was in the
aisle, standing over the dead flight attendant. Five imposing men stood
beside Oracle. They were aiming their rifles at herself and Yvette.
Oracle turned back to the men aiming at them and bent one of their
rifles in half. No, no, she said jovially. Your presence alone is doing
wonders for the hearts of these ladies. Oracle looked at each of the men.
By the way, I need my masks back. Theyre for my husbands, but thanks
for all your help. She started to remove the balaclavas from the men. As
each one came off, the man screamed in disgust, then looked around at
the dead bodies as if seeing them for the first time. Ling-Tai recognized
one of the men from the airport ID tag around his neck. His name was
Simi. She had seen him earlier, among the baggage handlers. The men
ran all for the exit. Oracle watched them leave.
Ling-Tai saw Yvette sneaking up. She ran down the left aisle, while
Oracle was fixated on the men sprinting down the right aisle. Ling-Tai was
jealous, for Yvette reached the curtain area in seconds. Oracle extended
her hand in multiples of its original length and gripped the back of her
suit. She slammed Yvette into the overhead compartment over and over.
Her forehead took the impact each time. Yvette seemed to have lost
consciousness after the tenth slam, but Oracle kept her in that hand. With
her other hand, Oracle picked Ling-Tai up under one armpit, pinching it
painfully
Like that Oracle went over to the exit of the plane, sailing into the
air with them. She tightened her grip under Ling-Tais armpit as they
continued flying. Ling-Tai shut her eyes, afraid of their height, as they

soared over the other parked planes. She had decided to stop screaming,
and start thinking about what to do.
Some time later, Oracle landed beside a helicopter. Ling-Tais face
smacked against the helicopters exterior. She passed out. Though, she
could feel the blood she had applied to her face helping lubricate her slide
to the ground.

Ling-Tai woke up. She was lying flat on her stomach. Her hands were
cuffed behind her back. There was silver vinyl flooring beneath her,
smelling so unpleasantly new that she turned her nose away. She saw
Yvette next to her, lying down as well, still passed out. There was total
stillness aroundno sound of movement, human breath or even a barking
dog. But she could her propellers slowing down, gently vibrating her entire
world and surmised she was in a helicopter. She feared that Oracle might
be in the helicopter, perhaps watching and waiting to prey on them both.
Ling-Tai lost consciousness and woke up again. Still, nothing was
happening. But the voices of an angry-mob in the distance put a stop to
the muteness. They sounded like they were pouring out of a building and
coming closer. Though from their decibels, they must have still been some
ten feet away from the helicopter. Her heart became wild. But the more
she listened in, it became clear they werent coming for her and Yvette,
because there was an impassioned argument ensuing. She concluded it
might give her some time to escape.
What are you saying? a husky, grating voice shouted. Abeg, I
said didnt touch her.

Efe! Then what were you doing with her in the room? said another.
I mean, why is she shaking like this? Other male voices called out,
almost on top of each other. Just see her clothes, torn. See her legs,
blood!
He raped me. He did it. Please believe me, a young female voice
said. She burst into a loud, heartfelt wail.
Men of ASOC, you people should castrate Efe! Oracle, we implore
you to do something. Otherwise, we the shanty people will no longer
support you. I mean, if he can just rape one of the town girls without
consequence, then we can no longer feel safe with you people or support
you. We all have daughters too! Ling-Tai didnt hear the rest of what the
person said. She struggled desperately to sit up. She would figure out
what to do from there.
Let me talk! a voice outside yelled. Let me defend myself
properly. There was a profound silence, which caused even Ling-Tai to
pause her movements in the helicopter. This girl! This girl you are saying
that I raped, she is a witch!
Haaay! Frightened gasps of breath lifted up from the crowd.
Yeay-pa! Witch!
Ling-Tai winced as a loud blow struck against a human body. A girl
screamed with anguish. Aaaah, we must send her to Kunsua, the
exorcist. The voices moved further away.

Nnyin imisi ima adifre adino ekom ke usung isang nnyin, akpanakpan mfon me owo ofon ye nnyin, iyung ifre eyin ibanga.
We are so often caught up in our destination that we forget to appreciate
the journey, especially the goodness of the people we met and overlooked
on the way.
Ibibio Proverb

Chapter Eight

She was in a television studio, trying to take everything in. First, she
wanted to understand the plasma television. She doubted it was a
television at all, because it was too shiny, too colorful. It projected human
beings better than real life did, she thought. She had seen a television
once before, the day she was forced into the Oyinbo womans room. But
she could not pay it much attention then. She remembered it as the day
she was unclothedlaid bare on a bed with cold, smooth clothbefore the
Oyinbo woman did things to her. Things she did not know two females
could do. It all just made her cry. But now, there were huge television
screens almost everywhere she looked. The bar-type seat she was sitting
on put her at eye level with the TV screens, making them even more

magical. She studied the area beneath one of the television sets, trying to
find the rest of the persons body.
She tilted her head up and to the right to face plasma television
from a different angle. This one was flat on the wall, like a painting. She
imagined holding it between her fingers and pinching it. She shook her
head in disbelief. Because the children she knew that had seen televisions
beforewhen they would pay Mr. Ebifeke to gather on the road in front of
his shop and watch Nollywood moviessaid that a television was big
enough to contain her, if she squeezed inside it.
The air conditioning was turned on full blast, though it wasnt
numbing to the core or causing her to shiver with malaise as it did on the
day she entered the Oyinbo womans room. This one was comforting in a
ticklish way. And she was dressed in a warm sweater, so it continued to be
refreshing as time passed.
Four lights were switched on. They pointed to her from all corners of
the room. They became more distracting than all the television sets and
the air conditioning. The four lights were actually standing up. They were
positioned like human faces on tall polesthe height of an adult, so that
she had to look up to see the bulbs. The low-wattage bulbs and kerosene
lanterns that she was used to had not prepared her for these. This was like
seeing the sun in four places: so luminous it hurt the skin. She imagined
that the lightbeams were entering deep inside her body, lighting up her
bones. They felt throbbing in the capillaries of her eyes. The pain in her
eyes inspired a nauseas headache.

She used her bony fist to rub each eye in turn. She rubbed each eye
a few timesblinking dramatically in betweenwith the hope that the
light impression that remained in her normal sight would go away. She
used the scar on the back of her hand to test her sight. When the light
impression disappeared from its current place beside her scar, then her
sight would be normal again. The scar was a burnt streak of skin, shaped
like the letter W.
A man came upon all the televisions in the room. Almost on cue, his
face was plastered around the room from left to right, from one television
to the next. He was also on a bar-style chairthe same man that was on
the other side of the table from herbut that couldnt be? She looked
from the television screen to the man and back again, trying to find
differences between them. There werent any. The man was holding a
piece of paper between two fingers, and kept scanning it as if he was
trying to commit the information to memory.
The cameraman shouted at the man sitting on the table across from
her. Barry, were on in 5, 4, 3 She mouthed along to the rest of the
countdown.

Tonight on Barry Sting! He had a softly spoken voice, the type that
suggested he carried an equally soft spirit. She was a love child. She was
almost aborted at a backstreet facility. Shes been sexually abused, and
accused of witchcraft. Shes had blood poured into her eyes and a nail
driven into her skull. His voice was polished, with a cadence normally
associated with radio hosts. And now shes making an appeal for other

troubled children in Nigeria. He looked down at his papers. She turns

thirteen next week, but tonight, shes our guest on Barry Sting Live.
Lets get right to it. Oh, and I should also add that joining this
extraordinary young girl is her interpreter. He nodded at the interpreter,
and she nodded back. He looked back down at his papers. And well be
joined later by a man she considers a lifesaverMr. Jerry Croft, the
founder of a marvelous charity. Well get to that.
He looked up with a smile and faced Kiru. Would you care to tell the
world your name? The interpreter spoke to her with a gentle but rushed
tone. Kiru, she answered. Kiru scratched a scar on her head every few
seconds. Doing so had become automatic. She knew the scar well, and
thought about how it looked on camera. It had the appearance of a third
degree burn. And was the shape of a large coin, creating an unnatural
bald patch. The scarred skin had many wrinkles, some of which folded in
onto each other.
I have to ask, because I know everyone will be thinking thisdoes
she understand why shes here today?
Kiru heard the interpreter speaking to her. But Kiru paid little
attention. She was waving to herself in one of the television screens,
laughing nervously. The interpreter tapped Kiru lightly on the shoulder.
Sorry about this, the interpreter said.
No, its actually endearing. He stretched out his hand towards Kiru
playfully, and she high fived him.
The interpreter asked the question again. I am here because Mr.
Jerry said Mr. Barry wants to know about me. And that if I tell him, it can

help Idara, Emmah, Iboro, Emem and others. Kiru was more comfortable
speaking in her local dialect. But even in her native tongue, her manner of
speech was laborious. She went through an intense thought process to
produce her sentences, and became worried about giving away the
medical handicap inspired by the injury to her head.
The interpreter looked up. She knows that she is here to tell her
story to the worldand hopes doing so will help other troubled children,
she replied.
Well, lets start with that story. How did it all happen? I mean,
where did all this start? he asked.
The interpreter relayed the questions in careful stages. I grew up in
orphanage till I was six, seven. My mother didnt want me. Kiru picked at
her fingernails as she spoke, and looked up occasionally. They interpreter
relayed the information.
How does she know that? Barry asked the interpreter.
Mrs. Onome told me, when I got older. Mrs. Onome knows me since
I was baby. The interpreter nodded and looked back to him. They told
her at the orphanage. They tell the orphans their stories, when theyre old
enough to understand.
Did they tell her anything about her parents?
Mrs. Onome said that my daddy was very rich oil man. But he
doesnt know Im alive. And that my mommy had to run to China when I
was born or she will die. Barry clenched one of his fists and placed it
under his jaw, so that his entire face looked as if it was resting on a

column as his elbow was rested on the table. The palm of his free hand
covered his elbow. It was a compassionate pose.
Ok, so she grows up in an orphanage. So far, thats not too bad.
He stretched out both his hands, seeking agreement. Where did it get
worse? Or, first, what was it like, the orphanage?
Kiru made eye contact with Barry for the first time. Yes, it was nice.
In the morning we pray and drink garri. In the afternoon Mrs. Onome used
to tell us very interesting stories or we can play with ball if we are a boy.
And they gave us nice rice and stew at night. I have many friends there, I
like it.
Sounds like she found it reasonable, he said, nodding. Anyway,
moving on, it says herewell, she said so as wellbut when she turned
seven, along come this couple. Adoptive parents. To her orphanage in, he
looked down at his paper, Gateway State. Barry and the interpreter said,
Gateway State at the same time. And they take her, right? Kiru
nodded. What did she make of that? he asked.
I was scared small, that they will be wicked. I was also happy small,
that someone pick me. They lived in fine house. In Abuja. I didnt know
house can be fine like that! I said, this must be America. I enter car for the
first time! Eat different foods, nice food. They all giggled.
He glanced at his paper again, and then shuffled it to the back of his
stack. Now, not that it matters, but I understand the adoptive parents
took her before she suffered from any mental handicap, and before the
other grave problems? Kiru nodded. So, I mean, it would have been

She would have led a pretty reasonable life? If she continued on with
them.
Yes, that time I really enjoy myself. Those people dont have
children. So the was woman very kind. The man was mostly busy. And he
can shout, very loud. She picked at the scar on her head.
Barry readjusted his eyeglasses and read from his papers. Now,
there is no simple way to ask about this, but what can she tell us about
the day she had to leave? His head rose.
There was a silence when the interpreter finished relaying his
question. It lasted for several blinks. Then Kiru started to reply. Though,
she took frequent breaks and as she struggled to reply in their local
dialect, the interpreter translated as Kiru went on. She woke up one
morning. She says she woke up because her adoptive mother was
screaming. Then she started to hear loud bangs, thumping against the
walls. She heard the husbandher adoptive father shouting, angry.
Barry nodded in the way of someone who knew. Kiru continued speaking
to the interpreter. She tiptoed to their room door. When she placed her
eye into the keyhole, she saw her father mounted on the mother,
punching her.
Kiru stopped and pointed to the glass of water in front of her. Go
ahead! Please! Barry exclaimed.
Kiru sipped, and then put her glass down. The interpreter resumed
her pattern of speaking in between Kirus sentences. Her mother reached
for a knife. It was on a plate nearby and had butter on it. She used it
across his face. Kiru reenacted the scene, pretending she had a knife in

her hand. She moved her hand in a diagonal line from one side of her
forehead to the bottom of her ear on the opposite side of her face. His
face was covered with blood. And that was when he carry gun and shot
her. Many times. Then he rolled her under his bed, and he went under
himself, the interpreter went on, she ran out of the house. She never
went back.
Barry shook his head pitifully. And that was at what stage in the
adoption? His voice was raised slightly.
Just after three weeks or thereabouts, the interpreter replied.
He paused for a moment and read over a few lines from his notes.
So now, shes on the streets of Abuja. Doesnt know a soul. That had to
be the start of everything. I mean, that must have been where it all went
downhill, right? He reassumed his compassionate pose.
Kiru replied the interpreter. I didnt know how to find Mrs. Onome of
my orphanage again. I just slept under a bridge that day. The next day, I
went to the market to beg for food. I told them I had nowhere to go. Kiru
looked around his studio, trying to find a degree of escape from the
weighty subject matter. She especially focused on one wall. A thousand
LED lights occupied the wall. They were blue and yellow, the size of
buttons on a dress shirt, altogether creating an impression of the world
map. She kept watching the dots, even as she spoke to the interpreter.
She began to trade with them in the market, the interpreter
explained. But there wasnt a lot of commercial activity. She decided to
save up and move to Lagos. The market people helped her raise some
money for the bus to Lagos and for the first few days shed be there.

Barry came in with a question. Why? I mean, wasnt that rather

risky? Big pond, small fish. Especially, considering she found these nice
Abuja people in the market? His tone conveyed puzzlement.
Kiru had understood Barry, and so replied the interpreter swiftly,
with just one sentence. She was quite ambitious. She wanted to work
very hard, make a lot of money. She wanted to buy a house like the one
her adoptive parents had lived in. The market people told her it could
happen if she went to Lagos.
That is ambitious. he said, matter-of-factly. I mean, how long had
she spent in Abuja, before making that decision?
About four-five years.
He glanced down at his sheets. So then she moves to Lagos and
begins to sell water-in-sachets, Im told its known as pure-water. How
did that come about? He spread all his papers side by side. Kiru absorbed
the color of his papers, for the first time that day. They were pale
cerulean. She asked the interpreter to repeat the question.
The first day I got there, I buy water. I was thirsty. Then I ask the
boy that sell for me if I can sell with him. He take me back to his Madams
place in Surulere.
What is it that made her go for that job? I mean, it just sounds
simple. How was selling pure water consistent with her ambitious
dreams? He asked sincerely.
The interpreter spoke to Kiru. She was told it sells fast. Actually, if I
could add somethingits the highest selling product in Nigeria. She also
says the woman made her a lot of personal promises. Big ones.

And? he asked.
I decided I had to stop it. The day after the gbm-gbm carried
me. I just wanted to give up. I wanted to kill myself.
What is that? he asked, making an attempt to pronounce gbmgbm.
Oh, Im sorry. Theyre men that wear humungous clothing items.
About the size of a bed sheet. They kidnap children by placing them in
their clothes. But you cant tell theyve done so by looking at it.
The interpreter looked to Kiru like she was concerned for her
composure, as Kiru continued speaking. She had just sold water to a
woman in traffic. There was a Chinese person in the car with her. It was
the first time she saw a Chinese person. So she became distracted,
meandering through the roads, amazed. One of them snatched her off a
side road. He placed her inside his clothes. And because he was in a
group, they shouted songs that rose above her screams.
Barry gazed at Kiru as the interpreter went on. It was the sort of
gaze that contained both admiration and wonder. What is it they wanted?
I mean, what is the intention behind that? he asked.
The worst possible spiritual thing you can imagine, the interpreter
replied, without conferring with Kiru.
Barry looked rather dismissive, as if he didnt believe in spirituality.
So, how then, did she escape? He enunciated each word.
She had a young baby saddled on her back that day, the
interpreter explained. And when the baby cried, it pierced through their

singing and people on the road noticed. The gbm-gbm men were set
on fire by a crowd of folk.
How did that experience affect her? he asked.
She was done with Lagos. She wanted to go back to the
orphanage, to find her caretakers. In her heart, that was home. So she got
on a lorry headed for Gateway State. Kiru took a while to form more
words. She just wanted to survive and be happy. She no longer wanted
money, or a fine house or anything.
What was it like for her, returning to Gateway State?
Kiru spoke from an increasingly emotional place, Mrs. Onome
wasnt working at the orphanage anymore. The new nurse there said that
she couldnt take me again. She stared into the distance as she recalled
the events. There were already too many children. I cried. I really cried.
Thats a rough position to be in, he remarked. Especially after
coming all that way.
Well, yes. Actually, the night she was denied access to the
orphanage proved to be the worst in her life.
Barry looked down at his papers. I hate to ask thisbut what can
she tell us about that tragic day?
Kiru took in several deep breaths. That day I met a man. He was in
his car. He asked me why I am crying. I told him that my orphanage was
full and I had nowhere to go. He said his madam was looking for someone
to adopt. That I should stop crying. I thought that he is an angel. She
paused for a moment. But when we got to the madams house, she just
started to fight me. I tried to fight her back, but she get power, too much.

So she removed all my cloth in her bedroom. Kiru noticed her hands
shaking as she spoke.
Then she forced me to bath. I dont normally bath like that before.
It was machine, it pour water on me automatically. Normally, I bath with
bar soap and bucket. I bath on the road, people are looking at me.
The interpreter relayed Kirus words, but then raised her hand. Im
sorry about this. She always changes the topic when asked to speak about
that day.
He motioned his head, portraying understanding rather than anger.
I assume it was after the shower that she was sexually The interpreter
nodded, biting her lips so they folded inside her mouth.
Barry squinted his eyes at Kiru. Im so sorry you had to go through
that. He exhaled and looked at his papers. I understand things got
worse, but I cant imagine how.
They carried us and throw us outto Blackgold Island. You have to
have expensive clothes to live in Gateway State. It is for rich-rich people.
Very clean. So they threw me out.
Who is she talking about? Barry jumped in.
Gateway State has a cleanup task force. They throw out any poor
folks who creep into the State. They transport them to Blackgold Island
periodically. She was among those thrown there one night. Because her
abusers driver dropped her off in a remote part of Gateway State that
night.
Blackgold Island? he asked. He squinted, and appeared to be
racking his memory as if it rang a bell.

You might have heard of it, she added. It is where all the oil in
Nigeria is.
Ah! He launched a finger into the air like a rocket. Of course!
The interpreter went on, She was thrown into a shantytown there.
They have shantytowns there? he quipped, shaking his head in
disbelief. Anyway, how did she survive there?
The day they throw me in Island, my private part was still bleeding,
down to my legs. One Mr. Ibiye helped me that day. He take me into his
house, with his two sons. They clean me. When I describe how my leg was
bleeding, they said, they know the Oyinbo woman. They said she is oil
woman. It was her who is pouring oil in their farm. On their fish.
So what was it like living with them?
They had nothing to sell, because oil killed their entire farm. So
they just had to live as beggars! I joined them. We would beg from the oilworkers in the traffic. We knock on their car windows as they come off the
bridge.
Ok, so she stayed on with them, living as a beggar, but at least she
had somewhere to live. I mean
He was interrupted. No! Later on, the man and his sons decided
joined a rebel group. They went to live with the rebels. So they asked her
to leave. They would not be coming back.
If I may, I want to go back a notch. Did she ever see her abuser
again?
Kiru nodded. I saw her one day that the fighter boys were angry.
The shanty people too, we were very angry. We surrounded her car. I saw

her inside. She was afraid, she was shaking. Kiru felt excitement exuding
from her as she described Edna.
She says the scene got rather ugly. The rebels and crowds went
wild. She was even shot in the leg. Kiru showed the bullet scar on her
lower hamstring.
Barry sighed aloud, intentionallyas if it was all just too much; as if
the might of her difficulties could not be weighed, even by his experienced
eyes. Now I understand, when she was in hospital for that accident, she
suffered yet another tragedy.
Yes, it was after the shooting. He paid for my treatment. He had
paid for me once before in the hospital-hut. A time that I had taken fake
drugs and was going to die. So Im already knowing that he is good man.
So he came again and pay for my leg this time.
He stretched out his hand quickly. Sorry, who is he?
One of the justice fighters, Kiru went on. So when my leg cured,
he came back and tell the nurse he have special project for me. That she
should release me, to him. And she did. Kiru hissed. He brought me to
his room. Then he unzipped his trousers. Then he asked me to use my
mouth on him. But I refused. So he carry knife to my neck. I was just
crying, I had no choice. She broke down in tears. Barry fetched tissues
from under his table. The interpreter patted her face dry.
Kiru, Im so sorry you went through this, he said. Youre a strong
girl and youve a bright future. I promise. Youll be much happier in the
future.

Kiru fiddled with the tissue in both hands and went on angrily. Then
he tear my clothes, just like the Oyinbo woman. I was angry. He put me on
the bed like her. She went into tears again. Then after, I say to myself,
Kiru, someone has naked you and made you to cry, twice now. You must
shout. You mush shout against it. Her tears were so many and so
heartfelt that she was unable to speak.
Can I finish for her? I know the rest. the interpreter asked, lifting
her eyebrows in request.
Please! He sent his hand in her direction.
She screamed and shouted about being raped.
Oh, she did?
Yes, but he turned things on her and accused her of witchcraft.
They take such accusations seriously in that part of Nigeria. So she was
sent on a bus to Akwa Ibom State. That is where they exorcise such
witches. Kiru watched as the interpreter made air quotes as she said the
words exorcise and witches.

Were now joined by Mr. Jerry Croft. He is the founder of Dont Cast
Stones, a charitable organization dedicated to helping children being
accused of witchcraft in that region of NigeriaIm not going to try and
pronounce it. Anyway, I should add that he worked as an investment
banker in London before founding the nonprofit. Jerry sat two chairs to
the left of Kiru, so that the interpreter was sandwiched between them.
Now, I have to ask this: How is it that you left a $200,000 a year job in

London, moved to Nigeriawhere youd never been beforeand started

this?
Jerry laughed briefly. Actually, Id never been to Africa! I first heard
about this problem through a documentary on Channel 4one of our
British networks. It struck a personal chord with me there and then. He
spoke with a polished English accent, one Kiru wished she would be able
to replicate someday. But I didnt actually move to Akwa Ibom and set
this up until months later, when I got laid off from my job in London.
Ok, so what exactly happens in Nigeria with these witchcraft
accusations? And what do you make of it? Barry asked.
There is currently this vast witch-hunt on little children. Children
are being declared as witches for all-sorts of flawed reasons. Jerry used
one hand to approximate the average height of the children. When
theyre accused, theyre disowned by their parents. Then theyre tortured.
Thrown into fire sometimes. And quite a lot of them maimed, all in the
name of Jesus, he said, sounding teary. What do I make of it, you ask? I
think its a monstrosity. Kiru suddenly became aware of Jerrys eyecontact. I mean Barryassuming, just assuming they are right, and these
children are witches. Thats not how Jesus would have gone about
resolving it. I say that as a Christian myself.
Barry grunted, Good point.
The interpreter nodded and then whispered to Kiru.
Who is it that comes to the conclusion they are witches?
To be fair, its just a handful of really misguided Pastorsand native
doctorsin the region, who identify these poor children as being

responsible for all their familys woes. And theyve managed to rile up
really dangerous sentiment among the town people.
How do you stop it? What is it you do? Barry took a listening
pose, with one hand covering his mouth as if in disgust.
We go into these ghastly exorcism centerswith security of
course, the Governor gives us someand we take the children away. We
school them and look after them however we can. This is where donations
come in handy. And Id be grateful if this appeal touches your viewers.
I hope so too, Barry said. Is that how you found? Barry pointed
over at Kiru. She wiped away a teardrop still rolling down one cheek.
Jerry nodded. And what was really sad about Kiru was that we got
there a bit too late. He had already driven a nail into her skull, burnt a
letter W on her backhand, and poured some liquid concoction into her
eyes.
Barry raised his eyebrows. Who did?
In Kirus case, it wasnt a Pastor but a native doctor. He claimed to
be performing an exorcism. And his concoction, we found out, was made
up of things like blood and urine. Jerrys tone grew indignant. It turns out
these native doctors are paidquite a lot of moneyto pour such things
into the eyes of these kids. Kiru sensed Barry glancing at her eyes with
subtlety, as if to assess the damage to her eyes. Its supposed to kill this
bad-luck spirit that supposedly lives in them. But Barry, the good news is
we were able to get the trauma to her eyes and skull treated urgently: At
the Childrens Hospital in Boston. And shes healed beyond quickly,
miraculously, the doctors say. But she isnt the same.

Barry turned to camera, eyes squinted, Ladies and Gentlemen,

were glad she lived to tell the story. And I know that any donations made
tonight will go a long way to helping other kids live too. Jerry, thats what
its about right, making sure they live?
Yes, but as I said, Im a Christian myself, Jerry went on. So I try to
teach them about Jesus. Ultimately, I leave them to decide whether to
accept him or notbut its just part of my conviction that they get to hear
about Jesus from a loving voice. Rather than the hateful voices many of
them are used to hearing his name from. Barry twitched his face aloofly,
like religious talk wasnt really for him. I mean, dont be mistaken, some
of them decide not to give their life to Jesus, and I still care for them just
as much.
Hmm, Barry grunted as if impressed. Then he turned to the
interpreter. Could you please ask her for final thoughts, were almost out
of time.
Kiru wiped her eyes, aware the spotlight was back on her. I just
thank Jesus. I really believe he saved meall for this day. I would like us to
help Iboro, Idara, Emem, Emmah and others.
Those are her friends, Jerry added. We look after them as well.
Even though tears remained in her eyes, Kiru smiled so beamingly
she felt it changing the moods in his studio.
Look at that smile! Barry exclaimed. How is it that she manages
to stay so happy, so positive? He shook his head in bewilderment, and
then read from his paper. We found a survey, recently conducted, that
states that Nigerians are the happiest people in the world. I mean,

considering there must be more Kiru stories in Nigeria, I found this hard to
believe.
The interpreter put on the flashbulb smile of someone offended by
his remark. Then she turned to converse with Kiru.
Kiru says when she compares the rich people that adopted her with
the people she lived with on the streets of Nigeria, she realized that the
happiest people don't have the best of everything, they make the best of
everything.
Very smart girl, Barry remarked. Well folks, Ill tell you what, he
shook his head in a flabbergasted yet hopeful way. Even Joseph Stalin
and Mother Theresa agreed on one principle. He faced the camera, and
then raised his eyebrows as if he was about to tell an exciting childrens
story. When you think of them as suffering masses in some distant
country, you will never actor in this case, donate, but if you think about
individuals like this one, he pointed at Kiru. You will.
***
Oracle watched Kirus interview in a sitting room at the Presidential
State House. Why do they call it Barry Sting Live, when is played here
much later? She extended her tongue to the power button on the HD
television set and turned it off. Amid the new silence, she heard shouting
voices behind the far wall, growing louder each time she blinked. She got
up from the cream-colored sofa she was sat on, and placed her ear
against the wall. you left me there for dead. If not for chance I would be
dead. Then what would you have said to my daughter, Offoh? Your mom
died because I wasnt gonna negotiate.

Edna, keep quiet! What rubbish! Offohs voice came next. It was
louder. Why do you keep bringing this up? And you have the effrontery to
address me like that. Oracle sneezed, but caught the sound by placing
fingers into each nostril.
Madam, you cant insult him. This is our President. Will you talk to
your own President like that? A resounding hiss followed. Its familiarity
now! Leeway, the voice went on.
Thats all right! I said keep quiet. Someone clapped three times.
Look, Edna, Ive said time and time again. His tone became calmer,
more fatherly. Just continue to wait with me herepeacefullyuntil
things calm down there. Im going to deal with those boys. He asked
someone to get her a drink. Trust me. They are small boys. Twenty,
twenty-one at the most. Theyre just talking about war, but when I truly
start with them. He laughed sarcastically. Oracle could hear other voices
in the room cheering him on.
The sounds of a few car engines starting outside took over. Oracle
came away from the wall and rushed to the other end of the room. She
drew the curtains back and saw a fleet of cars lined up. A girl of about
twenty-nine years was standing beside one of the cars. She was
fashionably dressed in a white halter-neck top, a slim-fit, elbow-length
green jacket, and three-quarter length black pants. She was petite and her
hair was shoulder length. Oracle thought the young lady appeared to be
well-bred. The fleet of cars moved so that a white Mercedes Maybach
pulled before her.

But rather than enter the car, the young lady leaned into the vehicle
at the opposite window from the chaufferand berated him. Are you
deaf? I said Im not ready. Cant you see Im trying to make calls and
figure out the plan? It was only then Oracle noticed a mobile phone was
beside her ear. It was a gold-covered, diamond-encrusted Amosu cell
phone.
Oracle rushed back to the wall, and perched her ear against it once
more. you have been here, eating my food, paying no rent. In fact, I
have been the one who has dashed you money for up keep. Twice, for that
matter! At least three people in the room hissed as if they were highly
disgusted. I mean, what more do you want? Edna, mind yourself, I will
soon throw you out. If not for the daughter.
Edna grunted sarcastically. Oh please! You are such a spin artist.
But how about we put it like this, Offoh? Edna, Im going to put you on
Blackgold Island with a bunch of devil inspired terrorists. Im going to do
nothing to protect your oil operation from them. Yet, Im going to need you
to lift enough of that damn oil to ensure I rig my way to President. And by
the way, Im only giving you a small-ass fraction of the sale of those
frigging barrels. She sounded like an actress, very dramatized; she took
in a wheeze. Then when the terrorists try to kill you, guess what? I wont
negotiate. Im President OffohAnd because it not convenient, I wont
remember how I became President Offoh. She laughed mirthlessly, but as
she was clearly in high emotional gear, tears soon followed. So now, Im
supposed to sit here and thank you for paying me these shitty amounts

for up keep? I am supposed to thank you for giving me life? I survived that
episode, Offoh, because of me. So you better not
Lets just focus on your daughter. How is she? Offoh said,
interrupting Edna, but his manner of speech was far more pleasant.
Dont side-step this to my daughter. Dont! You have no apology, so
dont even mention her. Get your hand off me, she heard Edna yell. And
then a door slammed, shaking the wall Oracle was perched against.
When Oracle ran back over to the window and drew the curtains,
the fleet of vehicles was moving. She made out the young lady in one of
the cars, and then spotted Edna jumping into one of the vehicles in the
fleet.

Pia adooko afeeloo yaaha aa wae, doko yaaha bu akpo aalona.

Those who make peaceful change impossible make violent change
inevitable.
Ogoni Proverb

Chapter Nine

She lowered the helicopter until it kissed the earth, but the
propellers were still turning, rapidly. Oracle stayed in the pilots seat and
gazed of the window. The force of the propellers winds rattled the tin roof
on Efes bungalow. One of the places where Ring-Leda had been chalked
onto his exterior walls was shedding chalk powder as the propellers
continued to whirl. The hulks were jogging towards herspilling from the
bungalows with their shiny M4 carbines. Efe was not among them. They
peered in through the small windows as they neared the helicopter.
Surprise showed in their eyes, framed by the oval openings on their
balaclavas. They stood several feet from the helicopter door, murmuring
to each other in disbelief.
Oracle switched off the engine; the propellers wound down. She
flung open the helicopter door so that it smacked against the steel hull,
producing a gong-like sound.
Where is Efe? She looked among them, stood at the top of the
helicopters stairway.
My wife, Efe is still sleeping, said one of the men. It is becoming
a problem!

Dont worry, another hulk said. The others are watching over
Ling-Tai and Yvette. In fact, we have all kept a close eye over them since
they tried to escape from the helicopter that first day. Efe is just tired.
Tired from doing what? She heard her voice rise. Does he know
what Ive had to do? She remained at the top of the stairs, speaking
down to them.
Our wife, please dont be annoyed, a different giant said, in an
upbeat voice, trying to change the mood. We have the media here, ready.
Both the international one and Channel Two. They are inside.
Then, its time to start this party, Oracle shrieked, clapping her
hands above her head. Im sure youve already looked inside and seen
my guests, abi? The hulks cheered hysterically.
Oracle turned back into the helicopter. Edna was sat on the floor,
with her legs spread in front of her, and her back against the far wall. Her
eyes were scheming. Edna had placed her tied hands between both
thighs, as though she were cold. Oracle grabbed Edna and hurled her
down the stairs. Three hulks scrambled to take hold of Edna, like starved
villagers offered fresh meat. They kicked and punched Edna in the head
and along her spine. Stop that! Oracle yelled. Four of the giants held
Edna, and stayed put.
Oracle went back into the helicopter. And now, I give you, the
partys special guest of honor, she said, jokingly, with her back to them.
The one you werent expecting. The young girlstill wearing her white
halter-neck top; the slim-fit, elbow-length green jacket; and three-quarter
length black pantswas lying on the floor, on her left side, trembling. She

sealed her eyes closed, as if she was braced for the worst. Oracle gripped
her by the hair and flew out of the helicopter, so that she was hovering in
the air above the hulks, dangling the young girl by her hair. The girl
screamed like someone experiencing instant brain damage. The
Presidents daughter! Oracle yelled. The hulks raved in celebration.
Oracle dropped her into the waiting arms of one of the hulks. The force
behind the young girls fall caused the hulk to collapse under her. Other
gathered round and took hold of her.
Oracle descended to the ground herself, landing in front of them. I
want some of you to go and keep her aside for now. Hide her in the empty
bungalow. She will be our last resort. For now, just bring Edna alone, and
lets go talk to Offoh. She clicked her fingers in the relevant directions as
she spoke. Oracle led a procession into Efes bungalow. Edna was brought
along. The young girl was taken in the opposite direction, to a bungalow
painted purple. And dont mess around with her, Oracle warned them.
Before she got to Efes bungalow, Oracle could see its entrance
corridor was jam-packed. There were video cameras being operated by
both black and white men. The cameras had different news station logos
plastered on them. Several women, mostly Asian, had microphones in
hand and were speaking into stationary cameras. Blinding lights were
shuttled backwards and forwards. There were other giants in white face
paint, with assault rifles, standing among them, in control.
Ok, we have the paparazzi here already. Well, you can all start
reporting that the wife of the bungalows has arrived at home. Oracle
giggled, and walked through the corridor, testing the bravery of the news

reporters. Deathly screams rose to the heavens. She plugged her ears
with both hands and shook her head, playfully. People in the corridor
scattered out of the bungalow through the opposite end, causing their
cameras and lights to play music against the floor as they bulldozed past
them. Oracle surrendered her hands. Its okay. Come back. I need you.
There were two reporters, ladies, who remained. The suddenness of
Oracles entry had glued them in their positions. They were sandwiching
Oracle, in the corridor, standing against the wall on either side of her,
yelling helplessly. She flicked her head between the ladies. I bear no
plans to hurt you. I am merely the leader of this brutal fight. So how do
you expect that I look? Like an angel? Well, there is still the Higher Power,
our supreme leader, she said, with her most soothing voice. But as I
said, I need you. They both remained frozen, only moving their eyes over
her body, scanning every detail. Oracle walked further in, freeing the air
space of the two ladies.
You can all stare as much as you want, she said aloud. No offence
will be taken. Youll get used to me. In slow motion, the news reporters all
reassumed their positions, keeping one eye on her all the time. Oracle
helped one fellow who was picking up his camera. Its a shame you
werent glad to see me, because Im very happy to see you. You know
why? TIME Magazine recently said the struggle of my people, here on
Blackgold Island, is one of the most under-reported stories in the world.
Now you have seen the struggle, dont you agree? He moved his stare to
the floor. Anyway, when I knew you people here, recording, ready to show

the world how were going to fight for justice today, it made me happy. It
means that we are no longer the great oversight of the world.

Oracle pointed outside. Ok, make sure your cameras capture

Ednas face. Offoh should be in no doubt it is her. The hulks were carrying
Edna into the corridor of the bungalow. The cameras all swiveled to her.
Bring her here, Oracle shouted, and then she swung open the door to
Efes room.
Efe, wake up! Just wake up. She slapped his left thigh, with the
rapidness of a drummer. Efe sprung off his mattress, patting his face to
confirm his balaclava was still on, picking up an M4 as he rose. Oracle held
his face and kissed each of his puffy red eyes, directly on the iris. A dozen
more hulks were in the room, all with guns. They were in high spirits.
The news reporters in the corridor scattered into the room, now
following her closely Oracle pointed, so that the cameras focused on
Yvette and Ling-Tai. Giants who took no issue exposing their genitals to
the four winds urinated on both ladies. From the way in which the
womens clothes were drenched, and the room smelled, there was every
indication this was not the first time. The hulks from outside brought Edna
in. The cameras shifted back to her. Put her there, Oracle said. Just
therebeside her colleagues! All is well.
The video-conference expert, from the Blackgold Island Tribune, set
up his laptop. And soon, he got President Offoh onscreen. Oracle seized
hold of the main camera in the room, directing it so that the first imagine
being projected to Offoh was of one of the giants, urinating on Edna.

Ednas eyes were closed, and the giant slapped her periodically, as if to
make her open her mouth and take in some liquid. Oracle handed the
camera back over so the operator could capture a full view of the room.
But the people on Offohs side of the camera were calm, acting like they
were not surprised to see Edna. As is she had not been in their midst not
too long before, arguing with Offoh. Their composure suggested that
Oracle was a natural sight to behold. Oracle grew furious.
She positioned herself in front of the laptop. Offoh, last time I saw
you, in Babalawos temple, I was nice. I let you live. You should be nice to
me too. And also to these ladies. She turned to face them, and then back
to the laptop. You know, they too want you to sign over the oil. They
dont want you to kill them with stubbornness. See, the Nigerian people
will understand. She enunciated her words.
This government does not negotiate with terrorists. Im only doing
this telecast to tell you that, Offoh said firmly. You havent even given
my new administration a chance!
Oracle laughed; all the hulks to do so as well. Offoh, I am
dissatisfied with your tough man position. Our people say that he who is
dissatisfied with the position of the moon should go up there and change
it. So someones daughter is going to get involved now. Doing so will
change you. Oracle backed away from the laptop. The hulks and the
news reporter looked confused. She left the room. Only Efe followed.

Oracle marched over to the purple bungalow in which the

Presidents daughter was being kept. A particular door in the corridor was

producing the most noise. She opened it. The smell of fresh urine
dominated the air. A wet patch was on Offohs daughters fashionable
jacket. It had taken the contours normally associated with the outline of a
countrys borders. Her eyes and mouth were sealed like one who was
trying to hold back tears, and still expecting more urine. Her hair hadnt
absorbed the urine well. It had trickled backwards and clogged a lump of it
together. These boys dont listen.
Her phone was ringing. The phone, Oracle snapped. Get it for
me. It was only then they noticed Oracle. They zipped up their flies. One
of them reached into the girls pocket, causing her to inhale and
shuddered as he did. Oracle snatched the gold-covered, diamondencrusted Amosu cell phone. Soon after, she started drafting a text
message.
Dad, I cant pick up now. Im with some friends. But whats all the
fuss about? I told you I was going out. Anyway, were talking politics at a
buzzing joint. See you soon.
Oracle showed the text to Efe. As they gloated over it, a tinkling
sound came from the phone.
Look, none of your security aides are responding to official calls.
Which bar are you in? I want you to pick up the phone now. They need to
bring you back home this minute! Theres a situation!
Oracle took a moment to confer with Efe, and then wrote again.
Please, I cant tell you that, so you will come with your entourage
and publically embarrass me, abi? Ok honestly, they are all drinking with
us. Weve had quite a few rounds. But all is fine; and Ill be back soon.

Oracle switched off the phone, then placed it in her own pocket.
But wait, why are we still hiding this? Efe asked. You just said youre
going to involve his daughter. Why dont we do so?
Oracle shook her head. No. I said someones daughter. And I meant
Ednas. Shes in Akwa Ibom. It was revealed to me. Efe froze in
wonderment. Oracle ran back toward the helicopter, jumped into it and
took off.

Within two hours, Oracle lowered the helicopter to the ASOC base
again. The vicious sounds of her husbands, howling, came into the
helicopter from outside. She worried they had abandoned their
responsibilities in the bungalows. She swung the helicopters door open,
glad to see it was only a handful of them giants that came out. Rene was
crouched in the corner of the helicopter. Varicose veins mapped an
intricate network on her bald scalp. Both cheek bones become more
apparent than they were an hour ago, when Oracle seized her. She
gripped Renes shirt, her joints were stiff, and she brittle. She threw
Rene out of the door. The trajectory sent her crashing into two hulks
outside, sending them all to the ground. One of them picked her up and
placed her on his shoulder. Please! Please! she kept screaming.
Oracle followed the hulk carrying her. They all walked into Efes
bungalow. Oracle sped ahead and opened the door to Efes room. Is
Offoh still on the laptop? she asked immediately.
No, the thickset man and Efe said at the same time. Oracle yelled
at them both.

The hulk placed Rene down on her knees. She was positioned on
the floor next to Yvette and Ling-Tai, who were also kneeling. Even though
he put her down with a soft touch, the way Rene paid attention to the
rifles in the room and hellish appearance of Yvette and Ling-Tai, gave
away her fright. Oracle grew curious to see how Rene and Edna would
react to seeing each other. She glanced over to them: Edna had been
blindfolded, and faced towards the corner of a wall, so that her back was
to Rene, so neither Rene nor Edna could make out the other.
Who blindfolded Edna? And why? Oracle asked, fixated on Rene.
She was knowing when we will piss on her, and so moving to dodge
it. We have blinded her to make it surprise. The fellow spoke jovially.
On hearing Edna, Rene inhaled sharply and crawled on her knees
to her mother, mindless of the hulks.
Mommy? Rene asked aloud, crying. Edna shifted her knees
around, away from the wall so that she was facing Renes direction.
Ednas emotions were visible on her quivering lips, but Oracle sensed the
limiting effect of her covered eyes, denying the completeness of her true
expression.
Rene? Is that you? Edna replied, her spirit sounded defeated.
Rene hugged her mom. Edna couldnt hug her back as a rope bound her
hands. Rene, why? What are you doing here? Edna went on, but then
bent forward to offer a kiss. Rene placed her forehead on Ednas lips,
receiving it.
Rene didnt answer the question. Mom, who are these people?
Rene whispered into Ednas ear. Edna didnt answer her question either.

As Renee kept up the hug, Yvette and Ling-Tai looked on with eyes that
knew their situation paled in contrast. Oracle thought the way her Ednas
head leaned against Renes had a loving touch, and must have given
Rene some comfort, even in the moment.
With her hands tied, Edna used her shoulder to push away from the
hug. How in the hell did Dr. Steven let you out of the hospital? Out of the
US even? Edna spoke between gritting her teeth.
Rene wiped Ednas tears. Mom, it was totally my decision. Hes
told me how much time I have left. Nothing was working. Nothing will. I
just didnt want you to find out.
Edna burst into tears. How long? What did he say? How much time
do you have? The tears colored her quick-fire questions with painful
emotion. And in that moment, it hurt Oracle that Renes mother couldnt
see her; and that Edna would smell so strongly of urine. Rene merely
shook her head, and changed the subject. I watched this girl on Barry
Sting, Rene said, pushing back her own tears. She was sexually
abused. She was called a witch and tortured by some people. Anyway, I
came down to work with the charity that helps her, and kids like her. Shes
so lovely, mom. This is how I want to spend my last days. She hugged
her mom again. Edna said nothing, as she hugged her back.
Honey, why didnt you want to spend your last days with me?
Edna said, breaking out into tears. We could have left for a holiday
somewhere nice?

Mom, Im sorry. I just wanted to do something for someone else for

once. Rene glanced behind to the hulks, and then leaned in for a
whisper.
Offoh! We have Ednas daughter here, Efe yelled into the laptop.
The room went silent. Rene turned to watch Efe. Oracle turned and faced
him too. She stood behind him, so that Offoh could see her too. The
camera was carried over to Rene, and then Edna, so that they made
visual contact with Offoh. The muzzles of the guns were pointed at their
heads. The camera was removed from Edna and Rene. One of the hulks
fired a shot into the ceiling, Rene trembled. Yvette and Ling-Tai and the
newscasters in the room screamed.
Offoh! What do you say? Oracle asked. Do we get our oil now?
And think carefully, because someones daughter is involved now.
Offoh turned and whisper to a staff member near him. The fellow
asked Offoh to stand up, and then took his seat. He was small in stature,
but visibly fearless. The tribal marks on his cheeks corresponded with the
danger in his clear eyes. The government is not going to negotiate! See, I
am the presidents personal security chief. I am not going to authorize him
to come there and meet with you people.
Oracle laughed bitterly. Then she whispered into Efes ear. It was
obviously the Presidents personal choice, not his, to remain there in
safety. Though, its interesting that Offoh trusts this man like so. Watch
this space.
Offoh spoke from the background, even though his security Chief
was trying to dissuade him from doing so with hand signals. For goodness

sakes! All this violence. All this war you people are doing, Offoh sounded
tearful. I know your situation there is horrible, but you people ought to
behave like Martin Luther King, like Gandhi, like Mandela. They too went
through horrible things. Yet, they won their causes peacefully. But the way
you boys are doing, your children will see you in the history books as mere
terrorists! Barbarians! Please just rise above this violence! Please. He put
his hands in prayer. Many times you have even hurt the people you claim
to be fighting for. Can that be the answer?
Efe became livid. Is that all you are going to say? He swore and
punched the wall. Offoh and his team disappeared off the screen.
Oracle surveyed the news reporters. Are you people telling the
world how unreasonable Offoh is? Are you? They nodded. Are you people
seeing how this man is misbehaving? Tell the world oh! And tell them that
things are about to pick up. She marched out of Efes door. Efe followed;
some of the reporters tried to as well.
No! Just Efe, she snapped. Go back. She waited until they had all
gone back in.

Oracle went down the corridor and opened the door to another
room. She entered, leaving the door slightly open. Efe came in, closing the
door behind him soundlessly. His eyes were wide with intrigue. Efe, go
and fetch a bucket from the stream outside. Make sure you fetch from the
most polluted part. I am going to split into two. Efe nodded. He made his
way out of the door, but as he held the door knob she grabbed his

shoulder. My husband, you havent heard the rest of my plan. Are you not
interested?
Efe turned back to her. My wife, I only do as you instruct me. But I
am very interested.
Im going to bring Offoh here myself. Well, it wont be me. I will
become his personal security chief.
My wife, that is very smart, Efe exclaimed. But why the need to
split in two?
My husband, the people of Malawi say that if wisdom comes by
growing a beard, then the goat would be considered wise. You are of little
wisdom. For you do not see that, I need to be here as well. Offoh must
know that Oracle is capable of such things. If I am absent on the computer
screen, and I his personal security chief changes tune they way I intend
to, it will be suspicious. Efe clapped and smiled. Oracle nodded endlessly.
Oracle was rubbing her palms together and exhaling on them, like it
was a cold day, as Efe opened the door again. He held an overflowing
bucket of putrid water in one hand. Ok, do quickly, so it is painless. Just
pour it down my middle.
Efe hurled the bucket at her. The dark-colored water came flying
out, higher and higher, defying gravity in a neat continuum. She felt it
land on the crown of her hood first. Then make its way down her middle,
feeling like the touch of an electric sawinspiring an instant,
uninterrupted pain. She heard herself wailing, sounding like a wild cat
being skinned alive.

Oracle remained standing. But she took some moments to recover,

covering her face with both palms to soothe the throbbing pain. She
peeked at Efe through her fingers. He still had the bucket in hand. His
mouth hung open so greatly, it showed through his balaclava. And even
though Efe was mute, Oracle could hear giggling and fidgeting, beside her.
She snapped to full composure, pulling away her hands. There was
another Oracle standing beside her. She also had fish tails, and human
reproductive organs, moving along on the surface of her facial skin with a
life of their own. She donned the same purple robe, with a hood that
covered a mysterious portion of her face. But it was nothing like the view
expected in a mirror, because all though they even had the same stains
on their robes, and the same body frame, her twin was still giggling and
fidgeting. She hugged the other Oracle, observing their heartbeats, in
tandem.
So you just go back to Efes room, Oracle ordered her younger
twin. Resume control over the proceedings! Her twin rushed out of the
room, slamming the door, causing it to shake in its hinges.
Oracle took hold of Efes chin. So Efe my husband, the next time
you see me. Who will I be?
My wife, youll be the Presidents personal security chief, Efe said,
still in a daze.
Oracle nodded in response. When I click my fingers, she snapped
them, over and over to simulate. Then you bring out Offohs daughter
out, and onto the laptop for Offoh to see. I will take it from there. Okay?
Efe blinked twice.

***
President Offoh paced his executive office. Damn! He banged his
fist against everythinghis grand desk, the flag poles, the chairs in the
seating area. There was an officious-looking lady at his desk operating his
PC. Any news? he asked. She reluctantly shook her head. His legion of
staff members hobbled around his office too. The security aides were
scattered among them. They wore stoic looks, with their rifles in hand.
Where the hell is my so-called personal security chief? Offoh
yelled.
Your Excellency, we have all been looking for him. Weve been
trying to call him too, said a voice. But dont worry he must have gone
to look for your daughter.
Offoh hissed profoundly. Is this the time for him to go missing?
Almost immediately, the door flung open. The man who came in was
small in stature, fearless looking. The tribal marks on his cheeks
corresponded with the danger in his clear eyes. Offoh ran up to him and
mangled the fellows dress shirt. He slammed his back into the door. Mr.
Friday, how can you be missing when I am thinking about my daughters
safety? Offoh felt tears welling up. He kept pounding the fellows back
into the door. What are you going to do? What kind of personal security
chief are you, when my daughter is not here, with me. Offoh went to
push the fellows back into the door again, but someone opened it
forcefully. Offoh stumbled over and fell on his back. The security Chief fell
on top of him. The person who had opened the door swiftly closed it,

presumably sensing what they had caused. Offoh could hear their
footsteps, escaping.
Everyone in the room rushed over to help Offoh up. But he shooed
away their hands, and merely sat upright. He remained on the floor,
opening his mouth in amazement. His daughters gold-covered, diamondencrusted Amosu cell phone had fallen out of the security Chiefs pocket.
Offoh came out of his trance and grabbed it. Mr. Friday, what are you
doing with my daughters phone? He landed an echoing slap across Mr.
Fridays face, even before a reasonable response time passed. Offoh
snapped his fingers at the security aides. They stepped in, probing four
guns into Mr. Fridays neck between them.
Your Excellency, are you sure that this is your daughters phone?
one of the aides asked.
Are you questioning me? Offoh snapped.
No Your Excellency, I would not dare, the aide responded. I just
want us to be one hundred percent sure.
Yes, I am sure it is her phone. If you know how much it costs, you
will know I was the one who bought it for her. Offoh looked through the
phones messages. In fact, just see my messages to her! He offered the
phone up. The security aides passed the phone around themselves,
reading the messages. The spotlight fell on Mr. Friday.
Your Excellency, please let me explain, Mr. Friday begged, taking
in a several breaths. I went to look for her. I went alone. I didnt tell you,
so as not to raise any hopes, pending my return. But I searched all the
bars in town. I didnt find her, but she had been in one very remote bar in

Jabi. I know this because all her aides were dead. Her friends too. It was a
massacre. I found her phone there. I had seen her with it before. And I
read all your messages to her.
Offoh kept his face turned away from Mr. Friday, blinking. He
analyzed the story so greatly the tears he could feel rising up didnt come.
How did you know she was in a bar? Because I didnt tell you that. Offoh
asked, hearing his inflection, nasty.
The gatemen told me that before she left, they heard her shouting
the names of a few bars in town into her phone, and then asking the
driver if he knew them. Mr. Friday was pointing downstairs.
Which bar? Offoh stood up, still not making eye contact.
Rockies. Offoh clapped three times, and then patted two aides on
the shoulder. Go and check that bar, and then call me immediately. They
left. He instructed two others to remain. They kept their guns pressed into
Mr. Fridays neck, as he remained sat on the floor.

Offoh was speaking with a security aide over his daughters cell
phone. The aid was at Rockies bar, verifying Mr. Fridays story. Offoh hit
the disconnect button and pocketed the cell phone. He hissed with the
apologetic tut of someone who was grossly mistaken. Then he turned to
Mr. Friday. Ok, sorry for doubting you. But what has happened to her?
The security aides pulled away the muzzled of their guns from Mr.
Fridays neck, emancipating him. They came in front of him, broke out
helping hands and lifted him back up. Your Excellency, Mr. Friday said,
as he rose up, please, I want you to be rest assured that you can trust me

beyond that. I am hurt you think I can do any harm to your daughter. He
hissed, but very meekly, as if to suggest that what he was accused of was
unfathomable. But I think ASOC still have her. Alive. She was the only one
not at the massacre. Lets us contact them and see. We dont have to
mention that were thinking that.
Offoh was making eye contact now, nodding even. Offoh clapped his
hands impatiently at the officious lady at the PC.
In a short while, Oracle came onto their PC monitor. Efe was pacing
behind her. Yvette, Ling-Tai, Edna and Rene could just barely be made out
on the computer screen. Mr. Friday assumed the seat of the officious lady,
taking full charge. Woman, or whatever you are, I want you to release
those hostages this minute. Otherwise there will be consequences, Mr.
Friday said into the screen, firm and undeterred. Offoh was reassured by
Mr. Friday confidence, but was searching the room for any signs of his
daughter.
Oracle laughed back. Mr. Man, you are too late. Before we only
wanted control of the oil. But now, we want our own country. Offoh, are
you listening as well? You must sign over the oil and a new country,
Oracle sang the words rhythmically. Before you start thinking Im asking
for the impossible, remember, succession happens all the time, especially
when you drive a people crazy. So just look around and then fall in line.
Offoh gasped.
Olorun ma je. (God forbid!). You cannot have a new country, Mr.
Friday said. He then placed a hand at the bottom of each ear, and then he
moved them upwards in a semicircular motion to the top of his ears, as if

drawing an outline around them. In the same motion, he moved both

hands outwards, away from his face. It was a motion that signified the
expulsion of a disgusting concept: out of the ears of the person hearing
them, back to the person suggesting it. He did this twice, and clicked his
fingers just as the motion was ending.
Efe laughed into the screen. Youre saying we cant have what we
want, abi? Efe said, nodding as though he was sarcastically agreeing.
You will change your mind now. Just wait and see. Offoh fixated on the
screen. Efe stormed out of sight. Oracle followed. Their departure afforded
him a full sight of Yvette, Ling-Tai, Edna and Rene; being urinated on by
just one hulk.
Minutes later, Offoh heard Oracles voice again. Offoh I have
someone here I think you may recognize, or Mr. Friday, am I still supposed
to be talking only to you? Oracle said, and then came into the room,
having clasped both her hands under the breasts of a young girl. Efe was
also holding the young girl by both her legs, so that she was parallel to
the ground. Her face was brought up close to the camera. It was his
daughter! Frightened tears welled up in both her eyes, coating each
eyeball. The tears spilt over her whole face, spreading the terror over her
countenance. Efe pulled her jeans off her legs, so that she was down to
underwear. His daughter released a harrowing scream. Efe then tugged at
her underwear with one hand, and then unbuckled his belt, letting go of
his hold. Her knees crashed painfully to the floor, as Efe let go. Offoh
dropped to his knees, and then placed his hands over his mouth, then on
his head.

Daddy, please! Offoh could tell she had clearly seen him too, as a
gleam of hope flashed through her teary eyes. Oracle pushed her aside.
One hour Offoh! Come down and sign this stuff overcountry and oil. Or
you can watch her virginity go away on Channel Two! And need I mention
death? Oracle giggled. Oh and Offoh, you should now that, Efe my
husband, has made love to me severally. So therefore, he is HIV positive.
And its not just HIV, but every other infection you can imagine. So do you
really want Efe to fuck your daughter? Oracle asked, casually.
Efe caressed the Presidents daughters breasts. Daddy, please
help me, she wailed. Offoh could appreciate his eyes ballooning with
rage. Angry tears spilt forth from the outside corner of his left eye, making
it easy to wipe away, but it created heat and stiffness in his body. Efe
came to the forefront of the screen, alone. One hour, Offoh! One hour.
You come here and sign our country and oil over! The staff members
murmured about lifting Offoh up from his knees, and hiding him from the
camera. As they came over and attempted to lift him, left the room and
went into a world of darkness, slumping onto his back. He heard their
voice, panicked and frantic.

Offoh felt water striking his face, sliding down gently past his ear, till
it drummed the carpet. Mr. Friday was the first person he saw. Your
Excellency, Mr. Friday said. We have less than an hour. I want to get her
back for you. I can arrange this. What do you say?
Offoh surveyed the room and realized that the video conference was
still going on in the far corner, but he knew ASOC couldnt see him where

he lay. There were at least ten people around him. Everyone helped him
up. But he felt dizzy, and immediately sat on one of the chairs in the
seating area. They all gathered around his chair.
Offoh focused on Mr. Friday, as he spoke on and on, suggesting they
hand over the oil, that God would take care of Nigeria henceforth, not oil,
and that many countries in the world had oil and no peace. The entire
room was impressed by Mr. Fridays words of wisdom. Offoh noticed they
were turning to him to see if he was impressed as well. He nodded. Ok,
we are going to give those bastards what they want, he said with his
eyes tightly closed. Nigerians will have to just trust me. They did vote for
me, and I know what Im doing. Offoh opened his eyes and instantly
spotted a twinkle in one of Mr. Fridays eyes. Though, the rest of his face
was stern. Mr. Friday, you have to make sure Im very safe. That this all
works out.Mr. Friday nodded rapidly. Offoh closed his eyes again, God
please, save my daughter, he prayed.
Mr. Friday went back over to the PC monitor, and as usual, the
officious-looking lady left the chair for him. ASOC! This is how it is going
to go. We will come in with several helicopters and all the necessary
documents. You are to have all your weaponry surrendered. I repeat,
surrendered. All of it must be placed near the ground where we will land
the first helicopter. And you are to be 300 kilometers away from that
space. The Presidents helicopter will not arrive until we have taken all
your weapons and inspected the entire site. Then and only then, will his
helicopter come down, and then he will sign it all over to you.

President Offoh was nodding. He had a view of Mr. Fridays back.

But wait. My daughter inko? Offoh asked. Mr. Friday put a finger up as if
to acknowledge Offohs comment, and went on. The Presidents daughter
must be present during the signing. We will leave with her. If, for any
reason, it does not go that way, remember we will have all your weapons
at that stage. So we will gun you down. Every last one of you. And then
find her before leaving. It will not be wise for you to upset us in any
regard.
Offoh became comforted and crept up to the PC, not wanting to be
caught by the camera. Oracle and Efe were looking confused. Efe replied,
Well, thats fine by us. But see, if you try to use fake documents, I will
break her neck in your presence with my bare hands. And dont think you
can just gun us down at any point, because well be weapon free. We have
the international media here, and Offoh must declare to the world, his
decision to emancipate us. No going back.
Oracle was tapping Efes shoulders, as if to agree with his point.
Yes, when Offoh is here, he must go on in front of our cameras. Oracle
added, pointing at news reporters behind her. He must give a speech and
tell the world he recognizes our new nation. Our sovereignty. And ask the
United Nations to also recognize Efe as the Supreme Leader of Blackgold
Island. He must do all the necessary formalities. Offoh surmised that
Oracle herself was unsure if what she had said made sense. They
vanished from the screen.
Your Excellency, Mr. Friday said, without eye contact, we have
less than an hour. Please, lets get moving.

Yes, Offoh replied, making eye contact, but as you said, the
helicopter filled with you and your men must land first. Then, make sure
you check every nook and cranny of that place. Mr. Friday, you must
ensure you have seized all their weapons before I land. Tell them its a
legal amnesty deal: weapons for freedom.

Obo re vbia uwhevwi rhe ewe oka vbia uwhevwi ro ogode.

Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.
Urhobo Proverb

Chapter Ten

Offoh sat behind a table. He pulled out a Mont Blanc pen from the
shoulder pocket on his kaftan. He glanced around Efes room with a sigh.
Efes mattress had clearly been lifted against the wall just to fit the table
in the room. A sharp petrol odor was emanating from the mattress, filling
the room. The ceiling played host to every species of mosquito known,
hovering over him like vultures. Offoh bounced his left leg, restless. He
could not bring himself to make eye contact with Edna or Rene. Though,
he sensed them staring at him ever since he entered Efes room. Instead,
Offoh watched the news reporters, positioning their equipment and
murmuring together.

The wooden table he sat behind was a light shade of brown, and
very shaky. An opened briefcase placed at the far left side of it, wasnt
helping to stabilize its rocking. Offohs secretary took out one document
after another from the suitcase, spreading them before Offoh. Mr. Friday
was helping her bring out every third or fourth document, but Offoh that
he kept a check on his armed men, and Oracle, and the two hulks beside
Efe.
Oracle and Efe stood together, watching the documents being
unpacked, stealing eye contact with Offoh in between. Can we come and
read it? Oracle asked, casually.
Bring my daughter first, Offoh jumped in. Oracle left the room; Efe
followed. The two hulks stayed put.
Offoh, you piece of fuck, Edna swore continually. Youre not even
asking them what theyre gonna do with my daughter! With me! Youre
just going to sign this over, and leave with your precious baby. Offoh
turned away, facing Yvette and Ling-Tai. They were both badly
dehydrated. Offoh considered asking Mr. Friday to look into getting them
water. He decided against it, for it could waste time and detract from the
smooth sailing of the main issue.
Efe came back in. He was holding Offohs daughter under the
armpits. Sweetheart! Have they touched you? Offoh shouted out. He
perceived his daughters eyes, tired of crying, red and resigned. Her face
was a conquered one. She didnt reply him. Offoh wondered if she was
particularly angry at him, for this was the vibe she usually gave off when

she was. Efe and the two hulks guarded her on one corner of the room,
with Oracle.
He positioned his pen near the signature line on the first document..
Offoh looked up meekly to face Oracle. But I thought you loved Nigeria? I
mean, you ledlead the fight against injustice! Against fake drugs!
Against corruption! Why this? Why a new country?
Oracle giggled. The heart wants what the heart wants, she said,
snapping her fingers back at the document. Offoh returned to his
daughter. She was on her knees, resting her back against a wall behind
her. She gave Offoh the cold eye contact she was giving Efe and the hulks
around her.
Offoh signed the first document. He could perceive the news
reporters moving in closer, snapping pictures with their cameras. Others
spoke into their microphones, talking into video recorders. A hundred
camera shutters sounded. and were expecting to hear from Offoh
himself in just a few minutes. Offoh signed document after document. Mr.
Friday would hand each one over to Oracle. At last, Offoh signed the final
document. He remained seated and gave a speech into the cameras,
which he read off two sheets of paper. Oracle was nodding as he finished.
Offoh stood up. His armed bodyguards moved too, ready to leave
with him. Ok Efe, give me my daughter. Offoh extended his hand in his
daughters direction.
His armed men called out as well. Bring his daughter here! Nownow! They shouted holding their hands out, preparing their rifles for
conflict.

Efe, you people dont have guns, Offoh warned. But as for my
men, just see their machines, they will waste you this minute.
Efe and the hulks still kept hold of his daughter in the corner. She
was kicking, struggling. Offoh knew she had gained confidence from his
own stance. Efe slapped her. Offoh held a hand over his mouth, feeling the
sting himself. He tapped a bodyguard on the shoulder, who aimed his gun
at Efe, clucking it.
Offoh then counted down from five. 5, 4, 3 Mr. Friday suddenly
seized Offohs attention. Mr. Friday raised his left hand in the air,
dramatically. He clicked his fingers seven times. Offohs hand was still on
one of his mens shoulders, but the shoulder now felt like a dining room
table. Offoh case his eyes around. The flesh of the seven bodyguards had
all transformed into wood. Three news reporters ran out of the room,
without their cameras. Offoh gasped in horror. He walked around, to the
stand in front of the fellow whose shoulders he just let go of. The man
screamed in agony, his gun hanging useless in his wooden hands. Offoh
saw the rest of them; they were all in the same way.
Mr. Friday took the guns from them one at a time. The room went
mute. Offoh and his secretary took small, confused steps away, turning to
watch Mr. Friday in bewilderment.
Mr. Friday! Offoh exclaimed, What is going on?
Ok, Offoh. Theres been a change of plan. Mr. Friday handed guns
to Efe and the two hulks. He then gave four to Oracle, who guarded the
only door to the room. His eyes were diamond bright as he turned to
Offoh. His tribal marks were coated with sweat, glowing in a manner that

inspired intimidation. Were going to keep your daughter here on

Blackgold Island. However, it will only be until we are satisfied that we are
truly our own country. That the world begins to trade directly with us and
sends us petrol money. We just want to see the money for a long enough
time and be satisfied.
What? Offoh yelled, taking bold steps towards Mr. Friday. Mr.
Friday? Offoh switched glances between his daughter and Mr. Friday,
confused. Yvette and Ling-Tai had fainted; he still refrained from looking at
Edna or Rene.
Oracle suddenly drew Offohs attention. She aimed her guns at his
daughter. Dont harm her. Just put her back in her bungalow, Mr. Friday
ordered. There should be no bodyguards in your path. If there are, signal
the hulks in station two for assistance. They still have their weapons.
Offoh then became aware of nothing but two hulks aiming their guns at
him. He stayed frozen, surrendering. And then Oracle left with his
daughter.
Mr. Fridays walkie-talkie crackled and a voice came out of it, Your
Excellency. Your Excellency. Mr. Friday has been found dead. His body was
hidden in a toilet. That person with you
Mr. Friday crushed the walkie-talkie. It left his hands and hit the floor
as thousands of black particles. Yes, we already know. Youre too late.
Nigerian incompetence. Offoh became transfixed on the particles,
landing on the floor like sand. He looked up and Mr. Friday had gone. It
was Oracle stood before him, still speaking to the particles on the floor. An
Asian female and a white male reporter ran out of the room together.

Offoh fell to his knees. My goodness! he said under his breath.

So Offoh, Oracle said lightheartedly. Now all the dust has settled,
and you know I had a twin. Im sure at this point, your only question left
iswho is the Higher Power? Offoh didnt answer. His actual thoughts
were for his life; for his daughter; for how he had been deceived. His
hands were trembling.
You must be asking yourself, is it even someone I know? Is it Chief
Mustafa, the king of comebacks, the one who never really loses? Oracle
laughed. Offoh dont worry, for even the majority of my husbands still do
not know who the Higher Power is. Oracle went on laughing. It became
too loud.
Edna rose up from her kneesin awkward stages due to her tied
arms. Oracle knelt down before Edna. Offoh eyed them both, confused.
Efe suddenly came into view. He knelt down in front of Edna as well. With
their hands, Efe and Oracle assumed a prayer-like pose. The two hulks
sprawled on the floor, offering her praying hands as well. With their
positions, the four of them created a path between Edna and Offoh. Edna
walked through that path, towards Offoh. Its me, Offoh! It was me all
along!
Offoh placed both hands on his head, aghast. The hulks quickly rose
up and cut the rope that tied Ednas hands with pocketknives. She
massaged her wrists. You see Offoh, when I first met Oraclein that
crazy bushwe came up with this great plan! And since then, me, Efe and
Oracleweve been playing this thing out for weeks. Its been your
oversight. All the lovely films we made, of me getting hurt, they were just

for you. Go back and think about it. She was jabbing her temple with one
finger. But the films just didnt seem to bother you much.
Edna walked closer, and then pointed so that she was nearly
touching his eyeballs. You made me do it, Offoh. Youmademedoit.
I gave you so many damn chances to make things right. So many. But
guess what? She had a beaming smile on her face. Now, Im going to be
the only oil company in the new nation of Blackgold Island. She raised
both her hands high, as if she was on top of the world. And they, unlike
Nigerians, are not stingy people. You know, theyre actually gonna give me
50 percent of the money from each barrel. Not 30! Her eyes exuded
happiness.
Offoh backed away from her, crawling on the floor. He scuttled out
of the room. Someone was scuttling behind him. It was his secretary. No
one disturbed them. They rushed back into the helicopter, leaving the
wooden men behind. Offoh was glad to see the pilot was still normalnot
Oracle or wooden.
***
ASOC hulks poured into the room, effervescent and shrill, hugging,
screaming, jumping up and down. The room became claustrophobic as
they continued to pour in. All were in high-spirits. Bring drinks! one of
them shouted. Soon, they put their guns down and took up bottled
beverages instead.
Oracle heard Offohs helicopter taking off, rattling the louvered
windows in the room. Everyone hushed, until the helicopter left earshot.
Edna cleared her throat, filling the void created by a brief silence. She

held up a bottle and made a toast, with Efe and the hulks. The room broke
out in raucous cheer; bottles clang together in all directions. Edna turned
to Rene, spreading out her arms to hug her, with a bottle still in one
hand. Honey, I know we dont have much time left. But Im gonna make
sure we have a damn good time. Ednas voice was tearful. Rene pushed
away Ednas hands. Mom? She stood up. What is all this? You and these
people planned to hurt and kidnap me? For some sick stunt? Rene
exclaimed, fuming.
Honey, I swear, I didnt know Oracle would bring you into all this.
Edna glanced over at Oracle for a moment, as if she was asking her to
verify. Oracle stayed motionless. I didnt even know you were in Nigeria.
Ednas gaze switched between both of Renes eyes, as though she was
looking at two different people, trying to find belief in either one of them.
But its ok. Mommys gonna be so rich now. We could even find a better
doctor. Then we wont have to worry about how much time you have.
Everyday will be amazing Rene. Edna moved in closer and held Rene
again.
Youare notmy mom. Rene pushed away Ednas hold. She
looked at Efes door. She headed for the door. As she neared the door,
Edna rushed over and grabbed Renes arm and pounded her left side into
the wall. Rene pushed her away and tried once more. But Edna gripped
the front of her shirt, and then pounded Renes back into the wall,
continually. Rene appeared as though she desperately wanted to faint by
the fifth shove. The celebrations froze, with everyone watching in

muteness. Even Yvette and Ling-Tai, who had regained consciousness,

stared on.
I did this for you, Edna shouted. Whats wrong with you? Edna
erupted in tears, yelling at Rene like she had done something
unforgiveable.

Oracle became aware of clattering noises. She turned away from

Edna and Rene. The news reporterswho had stayed all the while
packed up their equipment to leave. No! Wait oh! Oracle snapped.
Your work here is not complete! The news reporters looked at
themselves, and then at Oracle as if to confirm she was talking to them.
Oracle pointed at Yvette and Ling-Tai. You dont want to miss my second
order of business. Do you? she said, approaching Yvette and Ling-Tai.
The news reporters swiftly set their cameras up again. Oracle held
Yvettes face with both hands, like they were about to kiss, glancing into
the camera as she moved closer. Youve been very quiet. Is it not? she
asked Yvette, stopping short of a kiss. Oracle sniffed along the length of
Yvettes face, and then licked her left cheek. My husbands urine. She
laughed, and then turned to Ling-Tai.
You too. Why the silence? The urine on Ling-Tai had almost
crystallized, like a thin layer of cling film. Oracle went into a song, Three
ladies and their friends, once went to a Babalawo. She made it sound like
the One Man and his Dog nursery rhyme. She went on singing, using the
same notes as the nursery rhyme, The Babalawo told the ladies, I would
kill two of them.

The magnitude of her lyrics beset the room with a grave mood.
Oracle sensed the doom placed on everyones minds. Murmurs of dread
went round among the news reporters. The hulks laughed in quick bursts,
with the huskiness of demons. Rene and Edna became transfixed on
Oracle from where they stood. They stayed in close proximity with each
other, by the door.
Please! Forgive me! Ling-Tai screamed, with the passion of
someone in tune with the spirit of dread in the room. You already have
what you want. New country now. Please dont kill.
Oracle noticed Yvettes face light up as Ling-Tai spoke. Yes, please.
Whatever it is we did, please. You have so much more to look forward to.
Please, well go straight home, she added.
Oracle focused on the floor, as if she was considering their pleas.
Her head shook, just twice, but firmly. Both of youyour sins are
unforgiven, she exclaimed. Someone was massaging Oracles back, and
soon she felt more hands doing the same. It was Efe, along with a few of
the hulks. She guessed they were making an appeal. No! I cant forgive
them! I must send a message to anyone in this world who is thinking of
coming to my new country, Blackgold Island, with evil in their hearts.
Oracle faced one of the cameras. If I dont send a message to them, they
will think it is okay to come here, and behave how you both behaved in
Nigeria. They nodded in agreement. Unless my Higher Power has a
different opinion.
Oracle walked to Edna and Rene. Or my Higher Power, what do
you say? Should I forgive them?

Do what you want, Edna said, turning to face Rene once more. I
really dont give a rats ass. Rene kept her eyes off her mom.
Oracle walked over and stood in front of Yvette and Ling-Tai again.
She held out one hand and put a thumbs up before them. She left it
there. Ling-Tai put on a smile of gladness, lightening the temper in the
room. Yvette breathed a sigh of relief; she broke out with tears of
irrepressible joy. Efe, Oracle said, are you watching.
Yes, my wife.
Oracle took her upwards facing thumb and moved it sideways, until
it was completely turned downwards. She glanced to see Efes reaction;
he nodded. Efe slapped two hulks on their backs, Go and make their
caskets! The hulks nodded and left. The other hulks in the room picked
up their M4 carbines, aiming them at Yvette and Ling-Tai. The news
reporters became edgy.
A vein on Yvettes temple showed the rhythm of fear coming from
her heart. Please! Have mercy! Great Oracle! Yvette cried, breaking
down in tears. Ling-Tai had bowed her head, resigned to her fate.
You know, if either of you had become changed women, then I
would be more forgiving. Oracle said. But Im not a fool. I can smell the
stench of your hearts. She paced the room a few times. But on second
thought, since my Higher Power has said this matter is entirely up to me,
and Offoh just put me in a good mood, maybe I should be so harsh.
Especially as, I know there is something that can be done.
Yvette and Ling-Tai nodded ceaselessly. So what can be done to
save you both? If innocent blood can be shed. If innocent blood can die for

the sake of your peccadilloes. She stopped pacing and faced them. Then
you can both go free! Forgiven! Muteness followed. Oracle strolled over
to one of the cameras. The laws of my spiritual realm are hard to
understand, I too get confused at times. But let me help you understand
this: The Ethiopians say that if enough spiderwebs unite, they can tie up
an elephant. Well, think of their sins as an elephant, and the innocent
person as the spider webs. She batted her eyelids for the camera,
excitedly.
She paced around the room, listing the wrongs Yvette and Ling-Tai
had committed since they had arrived in Nigeria to the news reporters and
into the cameras. Yvette slumped. Ling-Tai bit her bottom lip, and stared
at Oracle with unhidden bitterness. Oracle laughed in the teasing way of
someone who knew their offer would prove futile.

The two hulks Efe had sent out of the room came back in. They were
both carrying a casket, struggling through the door. Very good, Oracle
said. They lowered it to the floor.
But where is the other one? Efe asked.
It is here, another voice called out, from the corridor. Another
giant came in, with his back to the room, dragging the second casket with
both hands.
Oracle sent her hand along the surface both caskets. The texture of
the wood was jagged. Splinters dug into her palms, striking against her
the bones in her fingers. She shrieked. But her heart filled with gladness
on realizing they would also pierce through the ladies clothing. The

caskets were identical, except someone had used chalk to write Yevet
on one, and Leengtay on the other. Circular holes, about the size of a
lacrosse ball, had been cut into the caskets in several places so that when
they were lowered into the earth, and the rubble mounted on them, they
would die dramatically. Oracle faced the video cameras and lights. Light,
camera, action! she exclaimed, snapping her fingers.
With that, Efe picked Yvette up like a new bride. She wept and
begged for mercy, but didnt struggle. One of the hulks opened the casket
hed brought in with his brother. Efe placed her in it. The lid closed over
her. The two hulks fetched hammer and nails from the hole in Efes wall
and went to work on sealing the casket. The banging vibrated through
Oracles bones as she watched.
My wife, Im sure this Ling-Tai is going to struggle, Efe said,
moving over toward Ling-Tai. He blasted one side of her face with a
booming kick. Ling-Tai drooped to the floor like a falling tree. The hulks
sealed her casket as well, banging in nail after nail. Oracle could fell her
head nodding by itself.
My wife, they are ready. Efe said.
Then let us send them off! she replied. Two hulks raised Yvettes
casket to their shoulders. It appeared light in their grips, almost seven feet
in the air. They walked carefully out of Efes door, mindful of the tight
edges. Then, four giants in white face paint put Ling-Tais casket on their
shoulders. Oracle stayed put. She would wait for the second casket and
everyone else to leave before following. But one of the giants lost his hold
of the casket, causing it to fall to the floor completely. Ling-Tai screamed in

agony. The men berated the weak fellow in their language, as they
repositioned the casket.
Dont kill them. I will do it, said a voice. Oracle looked around to
find whod spoken. Rene was getting up from the floor. She almost fell as
she attempted to rise, but then she caught the wall in time. Use me. Ill
do it, she said, with the same distinctive, ill-sounding pitch. Her extreme
pallor suggested that she needed medical attention. Just let them go,
she went on.
Oracle grew desperate to see Ednas reaction. Edna was motionless,
except for her eyes, which kept shifting to different spots on Renes face,
searching for sanity. Oracle smiled at the sight. Edna shook her head
violently, turning to Oracle as she did. Not my daughter. No! No!
Everyone in the room remained in their spots. The hulks carrying Yvettes
casket halted in the corridor.
Oracle moved toward Rene. Edna jumped in her path, screaming,
She has fornicated! So you cant even use her. Shes not innocent blood.
Oracle pushed Edna aside. She went over to Rene and sniffed the
skin on her scalp, creating a lot of noise. She loved the smell of the blood
coursing through the varicose veins that covered Renes bald head. She
was only just noticing them. Rene became uncomfortable, cringing and
moving along the wall, away from her. She can be used, Oracle said.
Oh yes, I can sense the fornication. But I can still use her. Oracle was
nodding. It is even better for me, because if she was entirely blameless,
the laws dictate that her sacrifice would adversely affect me, rendering
me totally powerless. But if I take her as she is, Ill be fine.

Edna pushed into the space between Oracle and Rene again. I
said no, damn it! Just lets get on and bury these damn exploiters. Im
making an executive decision as your Higher Power. Edna was speaking
to the hulks, but no one moved. We need to send a message to the world
about what we wont tolerate on Blackgold Island.
Oracle whispered into Ednas ear. Ednas body visibly weakened,
undulating with the same sway of a lagoon affected by gale winds. The
wavy movements rushed through her entire body for ten heartbeats. Edna
collapsed.
Wetin you say to her? Efe asked Oracle.
I told her that I initially gave her the choice. And that she turned it
to me. Oracle caressed Renes scalp; she exuded fear, especially
through both eyes. I told her I gave Yvette and Ling-Tai my word. I sent
my promise to the realms of the greatest powers, through utterance. So
this girls decision is now forcing me to cement my promise. I told her. My
husband, this girl is the only one that can go back on the decision. So be
happy, because her sacrifice will not affect your wife. She put Rene on
her shoulders. Well still take the caskets outside, for now. Lets go!
The caskets were placed on the grass outside, near Oracles
helicopter. The oil from the grass the caskets were resting on seeped onto
the wood so that a dark stain crept up their sides, coloring the bottom half
of both caskets with slickened black. Rene was placed on the black grass
too, beside both caskets. Oil stains climbed up her from the back of her
shirt to her bosom area, in the same contours of tentacles that were
seeking a takeover. Oracle jumped into a nearby swamp, and swam in it,

using backstrokes. She was thinking how best to sacrifice Rene. How
about we tie her to a stake and burn her? The news reporters looked on,
aghast. Many of hulks went into the various bungalows, coming out later
with kerosene, lighters and matchboxes.
***
All the children in Dont Throw Stones were howling, crying,
running around with panic extolled on their faces. Kiru was trying to listen
to the television, but the noise was just too much. Plus, the Asian woman
speaking on the screen was talking too fast. Though the images in Efes
room, which Kiru knew too well, and which the lady was reporting from,
were telling a lot of the story.
Mr. Jerry Croft squeezed her hand. She turned from the television,
back to face him where he lay on the floor. He wheezed with pain, but it
also sounded as if he was about to laugh. What is funny? Kiru asked.
The blood coming out of Jerrys right shin was too much. She wondered if
the bullet was still in his leg.
Whats funny? she asked again.
Jerry controlled his giggle-like wheezing, and gave out pained sigh.
I know her, that woman. Well, she knows my mom. Theyre in the same
Jerry bobbed his head, as if to find a word she would understand.
Adult club. He strained to speak. Kiru ran over to the television screen
and pointed at each person, but he kept shaking his head. It wasnt until
the camera focused on Yvette, and Kiru pointed at her that he nodded.
She went back to Jerry and retook his hand.

But Mr. Jerry, what is really going on there? Is that s your mothers
friend ok?
Jerry went on to explain that the Oracle woman wanted someone
innocent, who was ready to die in order to let the Oyinbo women go.
Kiru replayed in her mind how this same demon had come into her
school, taken Rene, and hurt Jerry. Very bad woman.
Kiru, is that the helicopter? he asked.
Kiru stood up to check outside the window. No, but dont worry, Im
sure they will soon reach. Maybe they went the wrong way.
Moments later, Kiru glanced out of the classroom again. The adult
staff helpers were outside, waving towards the skies, as if to inform a
helicopter of their whereabouts. Mr. Jerry, I think The overbearing
sound of the propellers lowering, interrupted the rest of her speech. She
watched the helicopter land, noticing the famous Governors seal on it.
Kiru, come here, he said, in a soft voice, when the helicopter had
quieted.
She ran back to his side, holding his hand again. From the way he
was biting and releasing his lips, she could tell he had something to say,
but his pain was too much. Everybody keep quiet, she yelled out to the
rest of the kids.
Kiru. I want you to know. God allows everything to happen for a
reason. You must always remember that Jesus loves you. And so do I. And
just as weve enjoyed our time in Nigeria, one day, well also enjoy our
time in heaven. Its something to look forward to. He made her repeat
each sentence, as if to make sure that she really took it in. Youre made

of gold Kiru. Very lovely girl. Promise me youll stay the way you are,
okay? Well be sure to meet in heaven.
The medics came into the classroom. Move away! Move away!
Kiru scuttled away from Jerry. All the children should be taken outside,
one of them yelled. There was a slow outpour of the children, Kiru last.
She turned back to see them work on Jerry. She was pushed out of the
classroom by a firm hand. The wait outside lasted forever.

At last, two medics wheeled a stretcher out of the classroomone

on each end. But she could not see Jerry. For a green bed cloth covered
the length of his body, and draped along the sides of the stretcher. They
were heading towards the helicopter with the stretcher. Kiru broke away
from the mass of spectators beside her, all waiting under a tree. She ran
towards the stretcher with her hands spread wide, giving her sprint an
awkward feeling.
As she neared the stretcher, a Nigerian man, whose uniform
suggested he was part of the Governors helicopter team, reached out and
gripped her by the elbow. His grab was ruthless. It kept her fixed in one
position, even though he legs were still hanging in the air. When her feet
touched earth again, she reached out with her freehandshe wanted to
lift the cloth as the stretcher passed by. She wanted to see if he was okay.
He is dead! the man holding her said. Let him just rest in peace! she
felt tears came down from the inner corner of her eyes, spilling down her
cheek. She licked them. Many thoughts ran through her mind. Chief
among them was how to meet Jerry in heaven.

She picked at the scar on her head, and then looked up at the man
holding her. It was Ednas former driver! The man who took her to Edna
bedroom, enabling Edna to abuse her.
You are the one! You are the one! she said in her native language.
Kiru turned to attract everyones attention, and pointed at him. Suddenly
his eyes became two open wounds, two chasms of regret. He let go of her
and rushed towards the helicopter, with the rest of the staff. Kiru ran after
him and held onto one of his legs from behind. He didnt look at her, but
continued to face the direction of the helicopter. The stretcher was going
in. You must take me in your helicopter to Blackgold Island!
She bent round and took a peek at his face. His eyes were closed.
He looked to be deep in thought. Just find something you will tell your
friends, she said. Tell them something about me on Barry Sting. But I
have to reach that demon in Blackgold Island.

Kiru glanced out of the helicopter, as it lowered for landing. She saw
Rene and gasped in surprise. The hulks were aiming their guns directly at
her. She closed her eyes, until the helicopter settled. Intruders! voices
yelled. You people have no right to enter our country. You are Nigerians.
Kiru felt a delicate hand grab her knee. Are you sure you want to go
out there? Why? the voice said. She opened her eyes. It was Ednas
former chauffer. Another in the team glanced over at her. I still dont
understand this. What does her being on television have to do with her
needing to go out there? We could get into a lot of trouble, he spoke
loudly to his colleague. I say, we just ask them for the sick girl, and

leave. Kiru stayed mute. She glanced over at Jerrys stretcher, the green
bed cloth creating an outline of his body. She felt the helicopter kiss the
earth and rushed to the door.
Kiru struggled with it, but felt a pair of hands lock around her. We
cant let her go out there. I had no idea it was this dangerous. She is a
child. Even if she was eighteen, I still wouldnt, the person holding her
said. Other voices in the helicopter agreed.
She just wants to talk to the Oracle woman. She says that the
woman will be convinced to release all the hostages by a Blackgold Island
indigene who has suffered like she has, and is now famous. Please, I can
see my former bosses sick daughter is out there.
No! the voice said, overwhelming him. Its not her duty to
convince anyone anything.
Kiru noticed the fellow bite into the hand of the person holding her,
and struggle to fight off the rest. Kiru broke free and fiddled with the door
until it broke open. She pushed it out. There was much screaming coming
from the hulks when she left her world and entered theirs. A staircase
unfolded by itself on opening the door. She went down two rungs in order
to escape from the security in the helicopter. The hulks readied their guns
and made chick-chick sounds with them. Others dropped their kerosene
jerrycans and rushed over. Kiru put both her hands up. Oracle came out of
the swamp, her clothes drenched. She swaggered towards Kiru as well,
overtaking all the hulks.
Dont I know you? Oracle asked. Yes, from Barry Sting!
I am Kiru. Please, free the people you are going to kill.

Why? she asked Kiru.

You can kill me instead. That way I will see Jesus and Mr. Jerry. The
hulks erupted with laughter. She heard those behind her, in the helicopter,
gasp. And then she felt a hand grip her shirt from behind, as if trying to
tug her back. Several hands joined in this way. Without looking back, she
broke off them and scurried down the helicopters stairs. Her bare feet
touched the cold, oil-soaked grass.
Kiru caught sight of Rene. Rene got up from where she lay,
running towards her, mindless of the hulks and their guns. They hugged.
Kiru! Its you. She took a look at Kirus face and hugged her again.
Listen, you dont have to do this. I already am.
No they only kidnapped you, Kiru said. You are supposed to go
back and teach the others after this. The helicopter came to take you.
From the words they yelled in her native tongue, Kiru knew the hulks were
growing impatient. Kiru pointed at herself over and over again.
Oracle walked over to Kiru and Rene, stopping just a few feet away.
Kiru, it has been my wish for a long time to kill these foreigners. She
pointed towards the caskets. I was even banished from the heavens
above so that I could pursue this very wish. If I cannot kill them, then
please, let Rene do the sacrifice instead. Kiru, you are blameless, so if I
use you I will lose all my power. She is the daughter of the woman who
abused you. Bad people. Let her be the one to die. Kiru picked at the scar
on her head. She noticed Rene placed one hand over her mouth,
disbelieving what she had just heard. Oracle went on, Also, her mother

just betrayed your real father, Offoh. She just destroyed Nigeria; no more
oil.
Efe came to the foreground. Despite his balaclava, Kiru recognized
the merciless glow in his eyes; the same glow she saw when he raped her.
Efe shouted at Oracle, My wife, we now have what we want. Our own
country. You no longer need any power. So let us kill this tiny witch. Why
would you prefer to see our own Higher Powers daughter sacrificed, just
to protect yourself? A silence fell upon the hulks. They looked to Oracle
as if Efe had made a solid point.
Because my heart is forever polluted. Because I still desire
dominion over the earth. Because our Higher Powers daughter is going to
die anyway! It is just a matter of time. So I might as well put her out of her
misery. Oracle pushed Efe to the ground, and then faced Kiru again. I
saw this girl on television. My heart actually beats for her. If you saw her
interview you would understand too. She is our own indigene. She should
not die, but enjoy her new country.
Kiru snapped out of Oracles speech. For Rene held both of Kirus
shoulders and spoke directly into her face. Rene was visibly faint. Listen,
you have your whole life ahead of you. I dont even have much time left,
so I might as well do this. I know you want to see Jerry in heaven, but Jeez
Kiru, not today! Rene laughed. Kiru felt a gentle smile rise up on its
own.
No! I will do it, Kiru went on. But please let me tell you a story:
Ever since I went on TV in America, everybody I met after said to me that
Nigeria is full of bad. That Nigerians are very bad people. So please, in the

time you have left, do something for me: Tell the world that Nigeria has
fine things. They will believe you. Just like I know you are good American
person, not like your mother. They too should know we have good persons
and things too.
Rene nodded fervently, erupting in tears. She was visibly feeble
and too beset for words. But Kiru was comforted by the touch of Rene
hands on her shoulders. Kiru Rene interrupted herself, coughing
uncontrollably. Her eyes were jaundiced.
Im sorry you are sick. Please get well, Kiru added.
No, dont be sorry. Rene wiped one tear with a part of her sleeve
unstained by oil. Having cancer was the best thing thats ever happened
to me. Rene hugged her. Two of the medics came down the steps. Kiru
felt one of them grab her hand firmly, but she broke off the grip and ran
closer to Oracle. The man scuttled back up the stairs alone. Rene rushed
into the helicopter with them, keeping an eye on Kiru.

When the helicopter left, Oracle knelt on one knee before Kiru. The
people you want to save, they are bad. Let me just kill them. Oracle
extended a hand to one of the caskets. This one killed your real mother!
Simi. I knew her. Kiru inhaled with dread. Oracle pointed to the other
coffin. The other one, she helps your adoptive father to be an angry man.
Angry! Thats how he was, when he killed your adoptive mother.
Remember when he used gun to shoot her? Angry!

Resentment grew in Kiru for the people in the caskets. She thought
about what Jerry had said: She was made of gold, and had to make sure
she remained kindhearted. I will do it, Kiru insisted.
Oracle turned to the hulks. Her utterance binds me. She gave
instructions to Efe in a local dialect, and then he fled into his bungalow.
The news reporters were asked to leave. They did.
Oracle stood before Kiru and bawled like a wild animal. Her silk robe
and baggy hood became a darker shade of purple, throwing off discharges
of St. Elmos fire. Kiru found herself levitating a few inches off the ground
from the force of Oracles bawl. Only then, did she notice winds gushing
out of Oracles mouth toward her feet. A wormlike grip took hold of the
three-button placket on Kirus polo shirt. It was Oracles hand. Kiru was
lifted higher, above Oracles head. Oracle was holding her up with one
hand and at the same time sniffing the air near Kirus feet, nodding.
Ten heartbeats later, Efe was coming out of his bungalow. He was
swinging a thick, long rope by his side, cowboy fashion. The hulks eyes
framed by the openings in their balaclavasfollowed the movements of
the swinging rope as if they were spellbound. Somebody come and hold
her, Oracle said.
Four hulks rushed over. Oracle let Kiru down. Each one of them took
one of her limbs, spread them out on the ground, and then rested their
mighty knees on her palms and lower shins, pinning her down. Oracle was
shouting at Efe and another group of hulks. Dont strain your backs. You
lift with your knees, not your back.

Kiru reared her neck in their direction. They were hobbled around a
helicopter, which Kiru had only just noticed. All of them were bent over,
holding onto one of the helicopters landing skids, which the oil and grass
made hard to grab. One. Two. Three! They heaved, tilting one half of the
helicopter up into the air.
Efe quickly knotted the rope he was holding to the landing skid. Do
quick. Do quick, one of the hulks uttered, in a pained whisper. When Efe
finished, he laid the remainder of the rope on the ground, in the shape of
a snake, so that its tail was tied to the helicopter and its face was ready to
bite Kiru. The hulks exhaled in chorus as they lowered the helicopter back
to the ground.
Oracle picked up the rope Efe had laid down. There was a noose on
the end. Kirus neck muscles ached from the way shed been bending to
see everything. And the men resting on her felt like tall buildings. Kiru
blinked rapidly and kept trying to look all around. Oracle stretched out two
fingers and used them to close Kirus eyelids. Oracle held her eyelids shut
with a worm like fingers placed on each. Then Kiru felt a noose being
round her neck, the rope tightened, feeling like a restrictive scarf. The
worm like fingers let go of her eyes, and she heard someone taking loud
steps on the ladder, into the helicopter.
Kiru opened her eyes. It was Oracle heading into the helicopter. And
soon the propellers started. Hailstones poured down, striking her skin with
great rage. The nearby stream wasnt rippling, despite the force of the
helicopters winds. Even the hailstones skipped off the surface of the
stream, onto land. The stained grass came off the land, virtually uprooting

itself blade by blade, and settling on the waters until the field became
grassless. The hulks, frightened by the eerie atmosphere, exchanged
uneasy looks. Kiru felt those who were pinning her weakening their grips,
looking around. She gazed at the sky and said a prayer. When had the
night sky ever been this color? An apocalyptical redness gave the skies a
hellish hue.
The hail grew heavier. Kiru she sealed her eyes to avoid their strike.
The hulks pinning her down let go. She heard them run towards the
bungalows for shelter. The noose tugged her neck. She soon realized the
helicopter was leaving terra firma. She squeezed her eyes shut to brace
herself. Her back slid along the grass, gaining speed by the second. For
just one heartbeat, she was standing upright on the ground. Then she felt
like she was flying, and her feet dangling in space. The rope twirled her
around. She caught a glimpse of the hulks by the bungalows, sheltered
from the hail stones, staring at her. And then she noticed her orange shirt,
stained with oil from the grass. The twirls beset her with dizziness. The
choking from the rope inspired nauseas feelings.
She held onto the noose with both hands, pulling it away to stop the
choking, as she climbed higher and higher into the air. The rope refused to
stop twirling her and to stop making her feel sick. Her tongue lolled out so
much she could see it: saliva trickling down from it, all the way to the
earth. A liquid came speeding out of her nostrils. It slid down her tongue
as well, merging with the saliva. It was as red as the sky above and fell to
the ground below. Without planning to, she urinated and defecated. The
waste matter remained stuck within her underwear, clinging to the skin of

her inner thighs. She kicked and kicked, but doing so made it hard to take
in air. Three blinks later, both hands dropped to her sides. And felt her
body swaying. She took a final look at the world she was leaving behind.
***
It was a seven-seater Toyota Hiace. Ling-Tai noticed the driver taking
up a proper pose behind the wheel when he saw them approaching. Efe,
along with some hulks, led her and Yvette toward the vehicle. They
pushed her back with open palms, prodded her spine with their guns,
whenever she turned round. Yvette wasnt turning around as much.
Ma guy, how body? Efe asked the bus driver. He nodded in
response. Ok see, they are both going to Nigeria. Efe turned to Yvette
and pulled her into the vehicle by one arm. This is one wants to go to any
airport. He turned again, and dragged Ling-Tai into the car by her right
shoulder pad. This one is going to Akwa Ibom. Seated in the vehicle, the
view of the hulks standing behind Efe, made them come across as idle and
unnecessary. Dont worry. When you come back, we will settle you. The
bus driver nodded respectfully, and started his engine. Soon after, Ling-Tai
found herself in a heated discussion with Yvette.
I have no way of knowing thats what happened. I didnt witness
it, was in a coffin, unconscious! Yvette said, and then turned away to look
out her window. Seeing is believing Ling-Tai. Bottom line is: neither of us
actually saw this supposed sacrifice. So you cant say, with this
pretentious degree of certainty that its the reason were free.
Ling-Tai leaned in towards Yvette. We were both sentenced to
death. You know that! she exclaimed. There was only one way out: just

one type of helping hand that demon would be bound by. So how do you
think were here now? Freed! Saved!
I just said I dont know! But you surely cant expect me to just
embrace her. Some stranger? Based on what? Your beliefs? Yvette
sarcastically bobbed her head. Anything could have happened to change
their minds. Besides, I tend not to see things through spiritual lenses. So it
was all bogus to me.
Ling-Tai shook her head, disbelievingly. Yvette, I too could easily
say that. But there are enough people whove told me what she did.
Consistent accounts. What would they all gain by lying? Ling-Tai slumped
back in her seat, giving up.
I dont know.
So do you think the young girl is still alive?
Yvette shrugged, still facing the window.
I feel that if someone died for me, it means they value my life. So
the least I can do is see it as a reason to live that life better. If there is a
part of you thats unsure, that believes this is a possibility, then what do
you have to lose by recognizing her and living better?
Yvette offered a tight-lipped smile, and examined Ling-Tai as if she
was lacking something, intellectually. I just cant have that much faith.
Not in anyone or anything. Not even in me.
Ling-Tai moved her fringe with one hand. Of course you can have
faith. Everyone can believe without proof. That ability is in every human.
When you first answered to your name as a child, did you have proof it
was your name? Did you need to see the birth certificate?

The bus arrived in Akwa Ibom. Ling-Tai got off. Safe journey back to
England, she said. Yvette waved back at her. The bus driver made a uturn and speed off horizon.

The bus engulfed Ling-Tai in carbon monoxide fumes. Then she

turned around to take in the premises. The sign in front of the small,
elementary-school-like building read Dont Throw Stones. There were
three English women in the yard. They wore shirts with the same words on
them. They were speaking rapidly to each other, running toward a
mahogany Nissan Micra with the organizations emblem on it. Two police
cars flanked the Nissan.
Ling-Tai jogged over to the adults. As she got closer, they gasped at
her. She surmised they had recognized her from the news transmission
from Efes room. Good morning, Im Ling-Tai. I dont know if you know me
or not. Anyway, I would like to work herewith you. They looked at each
other with judgment inscribed on their faces. I like that message, LingTai said, pointing at the shirt of the corpulent woman standing nearest to
her. Dont Throw Stones. I know where you got it from. Its a good
message.
They looked at each other again, with more forgiving countenances.
The corpulent lady gradually unfroze and spoke. Well, you can actually
come with us now. Well sort out formalities later. She continued striding
towards the waiting cars, moving surprisingly quickly for such a large
woman. Two ladies followed her. Osmond, stay here and supervise the

kids, please. She held the Nissans back door open for the ladies. And
then signaled Ling-Tai; she rushed into the backseat with them.
The lady came in herself, sitting in the front passenger seat. There
are some kids about to be exorcised

well actually, tortured

by this

native doctor weve just heard of. Theyve been accused of witchcraft. I
hear this native doctors so popular; theres a months long waiting list for
him. Ling-Tai was struggling to make sense of things. The police sirens
started, and the convoy took off. The lady continued, So the kids are just
physically abused by the townspeople until the native doctor can see to
them. Anyway, these policemen will help us, well bring them here.

They arrived at their destination. The horror of the scene crippled

Ling-Tai. But she eventually got out of the car, cautiously. Seven kids were
sprawled on the ground, their arms and legs being held by muscular men.
The men holding them were wearing tattered stands of cloth that
represented the gamut of the colors on a rainbow. The native doctor too
appeared surreal, with his natural knee length hair and exposed
nakedness. The children were screaming.
On the ground beside the native doctor, was a bowl, with a black
bubbling liquid in itspitting out the liquid in the same manner as hot-oil
in a frying pan. He took some of it with a spoon and with his other hand,
attempted to force open a young boys left eye. Open, let me pour! He
yelled. Ling-Tai placed her hand on her chest in fright. It will remove the
spirit, one of his men, holding the boys arms, yelled.

The policemen took the native doctor and his men by surprise,
rushing behind them with guns aimed at their brains. The men let go of
the kids and surrendered. The three ladies made their way towards the
scene, taking the children away. Ling-Tai stopped observing and went over.
She took the young boywhose eyes were almost struck with liquidby
the hand. She wondered why no one was arrested. The police merely
watched as the native doctor spat on the ground, eyed them
malevolently, and then led his men into the wild bushes.
Ling-Tai, could you and Josephine take two of the kids in that car?
They ought to have company on the way back. I have just called Osmond
to send more vehicles. So well wait. Ling-Tai made her way back to the
Nissan with the boy and another girl. The boy wept, exuding a
traumatized energy. The girl stayed hushed, staring at the ground. Ling-Tai
wanted to ask so many questions. It was all still new. Josephine sat in the
front passenger seat. The kids and Ling-Tai entered the backseat, waiting
for the convoy to move.
Woman, please, who are you? What is your name? the boy asked
Ling-Tai, wiping his tears. Ling-Tai looked up at Josephine, seeking
permission. She nodded, and a smile came upon her face and radiated
from her dark emerald eyes
Ling-Tai. And you? What are your names? she asked. They both
replied. But Ling-Tai didnt properly hear their exotic names. Nice names.
I wanted to ask if you guys were okay. And what happened, but I thought
youd be uncomfortable. But on examining them closely, the girl had a

black eye, which lined her eye area with a bloat of purple skin. The boy
had two bumpy swells on his forehead.
You dont have to tell me anything, Ling-Tai said. I just hope
youre both feeling better? The girl examined Ling-Tais face, as if to
gauge her heart. Then she nodded, resolutely, as though she had made
her judgment.
She opened up, Aunty, it was in Lagos. We were selling medicine on
the street for our brother when one man kidnapped us in his bus. When he
took us to one place we started to shout that he was a kidnapper. But then
he told the people who came to save us that we were witches. So they
sent us to Akwa Ibom. For beating and punishment. We have been here
for long time, until the native doctor could attend to us today.
The boy nodded as his sister continued to speak. He was gazing
through windshield towards the sky, as if he were daydreaming. Yes, we
have not even seen our brother since that time, he said. But maybe we
can find him now. He is working for one Chinese woman in Lagos. Do you
know her? he asked, facing her with his tearful eyes.
His sister smacked his hand. No. Dapo said the woman was wicked.
So Aunty cannot know her.
Ling-Tai snatched off her ornate black pendant. The kids twisted
themselves, as if to watch its pieces fall to the car seats. Josephine
knotted her eyebrows. Sorry, it just hurts, she explained.
***
One morning, Blackgold Islands oldest piapiac performed her ritual
of singing to the rising sun and to the clouds. She sang the story of her

new country, Blackgold Island: It had been months since Offoh had signed
over. Blackgold Island was now trading with the rest of the world, trading
its bunny light oil, earning huge petrol-dollars; splitting them with Haghell.
As promised, the daughter of the Nigerian President had been returned.
Oracle made the drop herself. Since that day that she followed Oracle to
Nigeria and back, the piapiac had not set eyes on Oracle. And she knew
that if she hadnt, no one else had. Though, she once heard some people
in the shantytowns claiming to have seen Oracle return into the waters
near Oloibiri Stream. She found it interesting that they didnt refer to her
as Oracle anymore, but as the god of oil polluted waters. The piapiac
asked if the sky had seen her in her song. She asked the skies to punish
the leader of the Island, telling them of his sins.
Efe was the Supreme Leader of the Nation, she complained. Efe
often came on TV and said there was much for the people of Blackgold
Island to look forward to. But Efe deserved punishment for many reasons.
First, for what he did with ASOCs base. A German construction company
reconstructed it into a lavish Presidential Villa. The project cost $5 million,
both because of the speed, and the requests Efe had made. Chief among
these requests was one for seven indoor swimming pools. The piapiac
knew that Efe did not like to swim, especially not since he almost drowned
as a child. Worse still, the tree protecting the base had been uprooted! It
was replaced with a satellite dish that could pick up television channels in
Fiji. This was an abomination, she thought, for they had uprooted their
protector.

ASOC had been disbanded. The hulks were now official police, all
acting as Efes security orderlies, rather than ensuring order on the Island.
This was what a balaclava symbolized on the Island.
Second, several of the elders had approached Efe in his Villa. The
piapiac watched their meeting from the windowsill. He was wearing
diamond-encrusted sandals that day. The elders said that the German
company that reconstructed the ASOC base should be given a contract to
remodel the shantytowns. They wanted to live in decent houses before
they died. Efe merely said he would think about it, but warned that his
thinking would begin only after he had fully enjoyed the fruits of his labor,
which may take up to ten years. Then they asked if the dead fish and
animals that littered the Island could at least be cleaned up. Efe asked
them to clean it themselves, as he wanted to ensure that the national
budget was guarded with the greatest measure of frugality. The elders
left, eventually telling the story to the shantytowns.
The other reasons Efe deserved punishment, were the most
depressing for the piapiac to sing. But she did: The hospital staff on the
Island had asked for new buildingsto allow them out of their squalid huts
and also for new equipment. Efe granted them nothing. The roads were
still bad. Efe said he would work on them, later. Ednas pollution habits
had worsened. The waters near all her installations were darker colored
than when they were part of Nigeria. The piapiac remembered when
farmers had optimistically planted crops at the dawn of the new nation, on
a rare stretch of arable land. But just the other day, they harvested oilruined kernels that resembled tiny death skulls. The clouds were still being

burnt by Ednas gas-flaring flames, which had killed some of the piapiacs
flying mates and caused maladies to the humans. In response, Efe merely
said he had spoken to Edna, his new wife, and she would soon stop.
At night, candles lighted up the entire Island, for there was no
electricity anywhere. The grid wasnt functioning. But Efe repeatedly
insisted that there was electricity in his house, so the shanty people must
have been mistaken and should try and switch on their lights again.
No one was happy. The beggars were especially angry, because the
bridge to Gateway State, Nigeria was now shut. They had had no one to
beg from, for months. The border to Gateway State, Nigeria was under
heavy surveillance, no one was allowed to crossfor fear of intrusion from
Nigerians.
The piapiac finished her song; it hadnt changed all these years. She
remained on the branch, resting. She was tired, for she had flown around
the Island with her one wing, for the last one hour. As such, she knew that
Edna, at this moment, was probably still receiving the teardrop tattoo on
her face. It was to mark another major loss: Rene. She had flown in the
tattoo artist from America. She mentioned to her new secretary that it was
the same man that had done the first teardrop tattoo to mark her
husbands death. The piapiac also knew that at this moment, Efe was
likely still ordering around the men from the new Central Bank of
Blackgold Island. They had arrived at his Villa in a long convoy of bullion
vans filled with cash. They, along with the hulks, were carrying the GhanaMust-Go bags into Efes room. There was a secret chamber under his bed
they were taking it to. As she looked from a windowsill, Efe bragged to the

piapiac that the money was for his retirement. And that he hoped no one
would challenge him for the money, one day, or steal it. He told her that
he had no way of ensuring this, but had come up with a plan. In the
coming times, he would need to turn into an agbada-wearing juggernaut
with a loud bark, so people would be too intimidated to try him.
The piapiac stopped considering the happenings of the last hour, for
her attention shifted to a fleet of low flying airplanes overhead, sounding
like a pack of queen bees. The winds they were generating gradually
descended to her, ruffling the tree leaves on her branch, and her feathers.
One of them, flying some distance away from her, dropped something by
mistake, she reasoned. Youve dropped something, she harped. You
might want to pick it up, she sang on. The thing it dropped dived towards
the ground, and splashed into a lake. A plume of smoke billowed up from
that spotclimbing into the sky like an obeliskwith flames that formed a
red and grey mushroom shape, at a height greater than hers.
There were over ninety airplanes. They all continued to drop these
things. As she was trying to remember where shed seen such things
before, she felt herself scatter and become part of the air, part of the fog.

Her spirit transcended into the cockpit of one of the planes. She was
with the pilot that bombed her. Her soul knew it the moment she perched
on his shoulders, watching the horror with him. Each bomb sent vibrating
ripples across the surface of the land as they struck, causing people to
scatter in manic bursts. Stampeding folks ran into waters for refuge. The
piapiac tried to count how many heads were struggling to remain above

the water surface, and then sinking beneath it. She couldnt. The people
were all tiny dolls. It must have been a world of apocalyptical screaming
down there. She spotted trees falling dramatically. Forests were catching
fire and smoke clouds rose up from the rivers and swamps, almost
reaching her plane.
The pilot received a radio call, Dont strike Efes villa yet, President
Offoh is talking to him on the phone. Stay near target, but strike only on
command.
The planes flying just beside her plane sounded like electric saws.
They all dropped bombs on Blackgold Island for what must have been half
the day. The piapiac wished the Island would have staged a defensive
attack, but no military or Air Force had been constituted in all the months
of the new nation.
At last, the pilot received the instructions over his radio to strike
Efes palace. He obliterated it with the press of buttons. Then he radioed
someone superior to him. Captain, operation Wipe the Slate has been
successful. I recommend we begin to return. I, for one, am running low on
fuel. The piapiac examined the fuel gauge for herself, confirming.
A short while passed before a response came. Make sure. Make
sure. We cant afford to have made even one oversight. You know the
consequences.
Ten minutes later, the pilot reached Oloibiri stream. He radioed his
Captain again, looking out of his side window as he did so. Captain, now
Im very sure. Weve wiped the people out completely. It is officially for
Nigeria once again, with all our oil still under there, somewhere. I mean,

he broke out in mild fit of laughter as he spoke, the only thing I can see
are oil polluted waters.

Dedication
To hope of a new day throughout Nigeria
To innocent people living in the Niger-Delta
To lives taken by the counterfeit drug trade
To citizens resisting unsustainable corruption

Acknowledgements

This book would not have been possible without some extraordinary
supporters.
I thank you Lord for two disguised blessings. The first was in March
2008. I was a final year undergraduate student going through a period of
despondency and the idea for this book came into my mind like a
proverbial light bulb. The second was keeping all the doors I knocked on
closed, during my masters degree, and even after graduating in 2009. I
feel you did this so I could enter this special door and write the largest
portion of this book. Thank you. For Ive now come to understand that
every failure or rejection is merely an opportunity to succeed at
something else, and that faith is not knowing where Im being led, but
knowing and trusting the One who is leading me.
Thanks to my Mother, Folake Fawunmi ne Apara. Mom, at a crucial
and challenging period, you never lost faith in me, despite those letters
that came home from school. You helped grow my intelligence,
imagination and most importantly my belief in myself. This belief has been
my gift it has driven me to follow dreams, to strive, to become the best
version of myself. Thanks for the myriad and loving ways you supported
this book, for all the Google searches on literary agents, and then for the
consistent nudges to just share this with the world already! You have
constantly believed in me even when there were no tangible reasons to. I

hope to make you more proud, than those letters did. Im very lucky to
have you as my mother and I love you.
Thanks to my stepfather, Abiodun Fawunmi. For all the ways you
have shown your support of this project; it meant a lot to me. Thanks to
my siblings Michael, Bukunmi, Bimbo, Ronke and Tayo. Michael, you led
me to an epiphany at the lowest point I experienced while writing. Your
zealous check-ins kept me focused. You are one of the reasons laughter is
in my life and it was much needed during this process. Our relationship is
a good one because of you. Bukunmi, for you encouraged a path off the
beaten track. Bimbo, for telling your friends to watch this space. Ronke,
your ceaseless positivity after each read boosted my confidence. Tayo, the
first to see this story. I loved that you were constantly giving me your
second thoughts, critiques and encouragement all at once. Thank you for
your constant and uplifting companionship, even when mine wasnt good.
I am also grateful for the infinite number of times you excused me from
assisting with the dishes. Alicia, for the many ideas and uplifting words
you gave me at the crunch time. By giving me the gift, of you, throughout
the process of this book, you have all reminded me of the reasons Im so
blessed to have you as siblings.
Thanks to my other family members and family friends who
supported this journey: my grandmother, Mrs. Ekua Susan Emejulu, my
father, Luke Emejulu Esq., Davinia Douglas, Yewande Adegboyega-Panox,
Adeola Adegboyega-Panox, Aunty Funke, and Uncle Lawale AdegboyegaPanox, Uncle Mejebi and Aunty Amaka Raine, Adetoye Adewole and Grace
Adewole, Saran Sholar-Adogbeji, Aunty Mary Jane Arku and Susan Wright.

My friends and well wishers, who have surprised me with their

encouragement. Most vivid in memory: Jake Okechukwu Effoduh, for
making me believe in my book, again. Babatunde Majekodunmi, Dayo
Okeowo, Sofiri Ezekiel-Hart, Suzzet Telfer, Tade Olulade, Jesse Appiah,
Onyema Ugori, Chime Asonye, Donna Akumoah, Kendrea Tannis, Nikia
Hairston, Audrey Ezeh, Rebecca Olaniyan, Nene Ugoeke, Toma Omonuwa,
the Omofoyes, Matt Smith, Elizabeth Stuart, Jesse Haskins, Jonathan
Grunberg, Andres Weinseiss, Emmanuel Egwa, Henry Mphwanthe and Jalil
Dozier. And my Geneva family Seun Pedro, Ose Ayewoh, Alero
Okorodudu, Charles & Dash Deutscher and the Afias.
Thanks to my Professors and mentors at Duke: Jonathan Weiner,
Diane Dimond, Ruth Okediji, Adebola Ogunba, Thomas Metzloff, Madeline
Morris, Jerome H. Reichman, Deborah DeMott, Ralf Michaels, Jeremy
Mullem, David Guy and especially Noah Weisbord. And at SOAS, Dr. Akin
Oytd, for affording me your highly revered and faultless command of
the Yoruba language, Scott Newton, Gina Heathcote and Fareda Banda.
Thanks to my editor Lauren Sweet in Portland, Oregon and my book
cover designer Norden Cooper in Amsterdam, Netherlands. You were both
blessings and made my work better. Any grammatical or typographical
errors, which remain, are solely my responsibility.
I am truly grateful to everyone who supported this work and
apologize for any inadvertent omissions one inevitably makes with lists of
this nature. And finally, thanks again, to my immediate family unit for
understanding and tolerating the anti-social and somewhat distant person
I became while I wrote this. I only hope the boundless love I have for you

all, and the good this book may bring, will offer some recompense for the
lost times.