…

An Igbo woman supplicated as she passed, “Chineke! May your Chi deliver you from the witches.”

The hasty faces I see every morning were also watching. I felt sorry for them because their Chinese boss will not take nonsense if they are late to work the following morning. They will be dismissed and forgotten because there are lots of Nigerians at Chinko factories’ gates pleading for work. If God dismisses me on earth, I know Rosco and the gamblers who ask for lucky numbers will not forget me.

Pardon my digression. That is how my mind works uncontrollably. I tried to keep my worry and move nearer to get the true story as I saw a man approaching the strange woman. The man caressed her tender breast before he kissed her. They settled on the ground beside the container. He had untied his trousers before the crowd noticed him.

“Were! Olosi! You want to blind us?” the crowd exclaimed. Some men almost burnt the duo before they started begging and confessing. The black devils that stand on Rosco ways to collect fifty naira soon came with their siren.

I cannot forget the day I was told that uncle was beaten to death and was dumped near Ogunpa River in Ibadan by these men. I screamed and all I knew was that I hit my head on something and things were never the same again. I found myself here in Lagos. They were there now. The men that call me “government pickin”. Everyone ran away with their name, “police”. The strange man and woman were later driven away.

About four people said that the strange beings live at Victoria Island. People were saying that they will be freed by the police later.

Chidi came to express his feelings in his raucous voice, “na death make fish bend. Those big men thought say we be mad person by living here. Money na the root of all evils. My danfo, gari and Eja here without unclean money pay me. Abi, we be mad?” Everybody answered no. I too said no.

Rosco called me that evening and inserted it into me again with his usual 100 naira note but I rejected it this time.

“Chidi said we are not mad because we live here,” I asked him.

“Yes, Rosco replied.”

“He said money is the root of all evils.”

“Yes.”

“He said we will not do what most charcoal car owners do because of money.”

“Yes.”

I told him that I feel dizzy and uncomfortable with my stomach these days. I even spit too much. He took his sight away from me and murmured, “She has started again”.

I didn’t know why Rosco said I have started again. I left his yellow bus and money. I knew I am not mad because I will not do what most Charcoal car owners do because of money. I only satisfy my urge by allowing Rosco on me. Don’t prove a saint, we all do it.