One of its Own

You rarely see them in groups but a group of eagles is called a convocation while a group of owls is called a parliament. Oh you’re welcome. 

“Iyalaya e, won o bi e!” a frustrated Abere had fired at one of his infuriating customers. Quite a fitting name, Abere, as you’ll almost see his bones through his skin at a glance. He deals with sales of household electrical appliances after a seasoned professional career in street thuggery. Eventually, he graduated into an Agbero (a lower level of road transportation occupation) terrorizing bus drivers and conductors who dared not pay their dues. He stood at six feet tall and barely weighs 110 pounds yet wreaks havoc the likes of which you don’t see often. His name sends shivers down the spine of the average bus conductor not because he has an intimidating frame but because of the plethora of backup at his disposal. Once, a handsome young man who just moved into the neigbourhood had a misunderstanding with Abere and just a snap of his fingers sent the man through hell. Abere’s boys trooped out like a swarm of bees ready to defend their hive and pounced heavily on the unlucky man. The rest became history. 

Such is the kind of power wielded by Abere until one unfortunate (or fortunate) day. One of his boys came of the blue with a neat I pass my neighbour generator. “Egbon, e bami toju ishe yi d’ola,” he had told Abere. “O kere gan, omo iya mi,” Abere had replied. He woke to the sound of heavy pounding on his door the next morning. “Ewo ni werey gan, e rora gba ilekun nah!” he shouted angrily. Much to his surprise, the first things he saw upon swaying his door open were heavy firearms. In the blink of an eye, his boy from the previous day went in under duress and exclaimed “Oga na the gen be dis!” Still confused and trying to protest, two heavy slaps landed on Abere’s face as he was dragged out of his house into the police van and taken away. His boy had stolen the generator and sought a safe haven to keep it till the smoke settles but thorough investigation led the police to Abere’s house that morning. Two weeks later and Abere was already languishing in Kirikiri maximum prison for conspiring in the theft of one Major Yakubu’s generator. “Zan koya masa darasi, I promise you,” the military official of northern descent had threatened. 

The street knew peace in the months of Abere’s enforced leave, not without the rage expressed by some of his more loyal lieutenants in the first few weeks. Eventually, they all moved on, a gentle reminder that the world does not revolve around anyone. 

Time flew and Abere was out again at the end of his appointed term which lasted one year. Whatever happened to him during his time behind bars, he became a calmer, easy-going figure that rarely involved himself in vain talks. “Just a matter of time and he’ll reveal his old self,” the street murmured. 

In his first six months out, he would leave home very early and return late at night, no one knew what he was up to. About two months later, it became clear, he had been learning a trade. He rented a shop and started selling household electrical appliances. He dissociated himself from many of his boys and became a lovable person. Anyone can change for the better it seem. 

He was about to lock his shop and head home at the end of one very long day when a little boy came and requested for a 60watts electric bulb. As is customary, he inserted the bulb into his seemingly idle lamp holder he had specifically designed for that purpose - testing. Once the bulb flashed on, he retrieved it and handed it to the boy. 

Some two minutes later as he was leaving, the boy showed up again, this time with three men, and complained that the bulb didn’t flash on upon getting home. Dumbfounded, he asked the boy if he didn’t see the bulb flash on just moments ago but the boy replied in the negative. The boy had also lied to his father and two uncles that Abere didn’t test the bulb. 

“Abere, replace this bulb if you no wan make I change am for you!” the boy’s father said with firmness in his tone. “Iyalaya e, won o bi e!” a frustrated Abere had fired back at him. After a few hurled words at one another, the three men ganged up and beat Abere mercilessly. His desperate cry for help had been reduced to a muffled sound. He laid still on a rain-soaked mud gasping helplessly and the thoughts of how this was impossible just over a year ago crossed his mind. He huffed and puffed but no one showed up to help. The street had abandoned one of its own. Or not, he chose to walk away. Perhaps thuggery has its own benefits after-all.