DON’T
JOIN
JOLLY ROUGE SER IES
A z u b i k
e A .
A h u b e l e m
Bloomington,
IN 47403 USA www.authorhouse.co.uk Phone: 0800.197.4150
This book is a fictional representation
of the bitter realities of certain aspects of life. Similarity to persons,
living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
© 2014
Azubike A. Ahubelem. All rights reserved.
No
part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.
Published
by AuthorHouse 07/22/2014
ISBN:
978-1-4969-8697-9 (sc)
ISBN:
978-1-4969-8696-2 (hc)
ISBN:
978-1-4969-8698-6 (e)
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disclaims any responsibility for them.
DEDICATION
To my family and
friends whose enthusiasm kept this story going.
Uju and Joe
“A man has less conscience when in love
than in any other condition.”
—Arthur Schopenhauer (1788–1860), German
philosopher
My name is Uche
Abdullahi. I know you’re wondering about the combination. My mother is a native
of Igbo extraction, while my father is of Hausa. I would describe myself as a
perfect gentleman and a devoted Christian. I am tall, good-looking, and
intelligent.
I gained
admission into the university several years ago. Liberation from my parents and
the joy of studying had come, and my dreams came true at that time. I was
astonished by what I saw. It was a different environment; there were lots of
stressors and struggles, beginning with the registration process and continuing
with the rest of the process. I also noticed that you didn’t have to look for
trouble at the university; it would always find you. The conditions of the
hostels were bad, so I decided to stay up gate.
Upgate was the
name of a piece of land very close to the school gate. It had a market,
restaurants, pubs, and numerous houses that were privately owned and rented to
students. My room was painted blue and furnished with a rug, a table, a chair,
and a mattress. Since I was a gifted artist, I decided to draw a picture of
Thor on my wall.
I came to the school environment with a wide array
of clothing, but I was advised not to wear certain colours. I was told that
those who were linked with those clothes saw it as impersonation and dealt
mercilessly with those found guilty of this charge. I also learned to avoid
beautiful ladies because they always led to trouble, especially those nicknamed
“high tension wires,” because a mean individual linked with any of the dirty
1
groups may have
an interest in these girls. All these and others made up the unwritten laws
that guided our activities within the university environs.
One morning, I
woke up, said my prayers, took my bath, and went straight for lectures. We were
having mathematics. On this particular day, I was privileged to get a seat.
There were far more students than what the classroom could accommodate. The
lecture was long and boring: Mr. Isacca, a wrinkle-faced man with a coarse
voice, waffled continuously. In a low, gentle voice, my neighbour asked for a
spare pen. She had an attractive aura around her. I searched my pockets for an
extra pen but came up empty, so I shook my head. She nodded in return. An impulse
came over me. It was so strong that I began to ask everyone within my reach for
a spare pen, and as fate would have it, I found one to give her. I watched her
write in her notebook, which was far more interesting than listening to Mr.
Isacca.
After the
lecture, she returned the pen, which I later took it to its owner. I had a
friendly chat with the woman who borrowed the pen and requested for her name.
“Kemi,” she replied.
“Oh, what a
unique name you’ve got. Where do you live?” I quizzed. She replied that she
also lived Upgate, but in a different hostel than mine, so we decided to stroll
out together. We reached the junction where we should have gone our separate
ways, but she asked me to accompany her to a nearby shop so she could pick up
some items. Once there, a tall boy with a scar on his head walked towards me
and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned towards him, and he whispered, “My
chairman wants you to bring this lady to him,” pointing to a nearby bar filled
with seven dopey-looking individuals. I looked at the dude, smiled as if he
were talking trash, and told him to pass the message to Kemi himself. He walked
towards her and spoke to her. She went into a rage, raining curses on him, and
walked away swiftly.
I was still trying to come to terms with the scene
when he turned towards me and ordered me to go to the bar. I glanced at the bar
and would have resisted, but the sight of several hands signalling me to come
there sent a
2
chill down my spine. I walked towards them in fear,
this being my first encounter with gang members. They threatened me, claiming
to have been insulted because of me. I explained to them that it wasn’t my
fault, but they wouldn’t listen. All they wanted was a crate of beer. I laughed
and tried to become aggressive. One dude arose from his seat, took a deep puff
from his cigarette, blew the smoke all over me, and attempted to burn my cheek
with it. I began to plead. He left me after I handed him 300 naira, which was
all I had. Before I left, though, he said to me, “I admire your courage. Come
closer, and I will make you like me.” I walked away swiftly. I couldn’t imagine
myself being anything like him.
I got to my
room, and joy filled my heart because it was neat and welcoming. It was indeed
a place of peace. I took off my clothes and laid on my bed, thinking about what
had happened. I flipped through the pages of my notebooks and mathematics
textbook. It was known by all that Mr. Isacca sets his exam questions from the
examples given in class, so all I needed to do to pass was to make sure I had a
steady hand on those. I worked on a couple of them, and when I tired, I put on
my T-shirt and jeans and left for lunch. Afterwards, I came back and had my
siesta.
For several
months, I had managed to live with little or no stress, avoiding problems as
much as I could while finding ways to solve the few I had gotten into. One
morning, I woke up and my head was pounding. My memory clouded, and suddenly it
flashed back The day before had been a crazy day.
I realized I had
been woken by the sound of thunderous knocks on my door. I jumped up in panic
and screamed, “Who goes there?”
A little voice
replied in panic, “It’s your guy, Joe. Please open.” I opened the door, and he
rushed in, sweating and shivering, looking scared to death. Behind that fear,
though, I could see anger and a lust for vengeance blazing through his eyes.
Joe wasn’t any
ordinary guy; he was a tall, huge man with a mean face and a hint of
handsomeness. It was obvious that his participation in bravado exploits caused
his face to look rugged. His skin was light brown with
3
prominent scars
left by knives, broken bottles, and other crude implements. He had a carriage
that could be described as a mixture of style and pure military masculinity.
He looked and
said to me, “My brother! My friend! I just escaped death. I went to see my
girlfriend, and unknown to me, an ambush had been set for me in front of her
room. I could see nothing but pure darkness, and from this darkness emerged a
figure I couldn’t make out. The bulge in his pocket made me realize he was
armed to the teeth. I paused for a second, and I took to my heels. Instantly,
several gunshots were fired as I was chased. I got far enough, and like a
monkey, I hid in top of a tree. They looked for me like addicts who were
looking for cocaine, but they searched in vain. They all left but one, who
looked up and said to me, ‘Come down, my friend. I know you are there, and
today is your lucky day.’ I jumped down, not knowing he didn’t initially see
me. He looked me in the eye, and in fear, he shot and tried to escape. Thank
God it was a Dane gun that needed to be loaded after each shot. Like a demon, I
grabbed a tree branch and smashed his nose. He let out a sound that seemed like
a squeal, but I wasn’t satisfied. I pounded his face until it looked like a
nylon bag of tomatoes a train had run over. I could see he was in misery, so I
decided to put an end to it, forgetting that the sound of his gun would have
attracted his men. I pulled my little pen knife and went for his neck, but I
was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Again, I was in motion. My legs were
tired, but fear and the will to live kept me going until I got to your door.”
As Joe concluded
his explanation of the ordeal, I looked at him and asked if he was sure that
nobody had followed him. He looked at me in a weird manner, which meant I had
insulted him, but he replied that he was sure. For hours, I preached to Joe,
condemning his membership in the gang. After all, it was wrong and against the
will of God. He told me that God judges based on what we believe, and he
believed he was a Warrior. Therefore, when he died, he would dwell in that
great place called Valhalla, the place where all great Warriors go. He pulled
out his phone and asked for a charger since his battery was completely flat.
After a while, his phone came on, and several messages rushed in. His fellow
Warriors had been looking for him, so he sprang up and left. I felt relief, but
not for long: He
4
came back with
his girlfriend, and I noticed that his shirt was torn and that there were
bruises on his back. His men had drilled him for endangering his life and going
into the enemy’s territory after they had sent him several distress messages. He
pleaded with me to allow his girlfriend stay in my room until it got dark. I
agreed, and he left.
His girlfriend,
Uju, was a tall, fair, and beautiful girl. She had these eyes that made me
wonder if she were a girl or Venus, my favourite Greek goddess. She looked
innocent, and her soft but deep voice sounded like Toni Braxton. Everything
about her was drop-dead sexy, and I could feel a little tension in my loins as
I looked at her. Joe wasn’t the kind of guy you would want to mess with,
though, so I quickly extricated every evil thought from my mind.
Uju looked at
me, and her lips moved, but not a word came out (or was I too busy focusing on
her lips to hear the words she spoke?). There was a similarity between Uju’s
lips and Angelina Jolie’s. “What did you say?” I asked.
She replied,
“Thanks.” Not waiting for a response, she continued. “Yesterday was terrible.
Three boys burst into my room with guns to do heaven knows what, but luckily
for me, one of them was my brother. He shook his head in disappointment and
left. I could see fifty or more hiding in the dark outside. I was gripped with
fear, so I tried to call Joe, but I couldn’t get through. I heard a gunshot and
the footsteps of people running.”
Tears rushed
down her cheeks. “I was so terrified,” she continued. “Scared to death that Joe
would be killed, I rushed out of my room thinking I would see my brother, but
the whole place was like a ghost town. I went back into my room, and seconds
later, I could hear them coming back and assuming their positions. The next
thing I knew, I heard a gunshot, and they all ran out again. This time, they
came back with my brother, whose face was completely disfigured, and they began
to administer first aid in my room.”
She paused for a
while and held me close. My shirt absorbed her tears, and my hand patted her
back. She continued. “In the morning, we took him
5
to the hospital,
and when I was taking my leave, Joe called me. I didn’t know what to do. How
could he do such a thing to my brother? Finally, I answered, and he told me to
meet him somewhere. I wanted to talk, but he told me there wasn’t time for
that. He never listens to me. I just wonder what I am doing with him.”
I
kept saying, “Uju, take it easy, okay?”
She looked me
straight in the eye. It wasn’t just an ordinary look. She said, “Do you want
me? If you don’t mind, I want you.” It was a tough decision, but her looks
broke my defences, and I made the first move: a kiss. We both kept our eyes
opened. It was weird, a mixture of pleasure, fear, and extreme paranoia. It was
worth the risk.
The next day,
which was a Sunday, I visited some friends, and we began to talk about the
fracas. I was told it all started when a member of a gang called the Assassins
mistakenly stepped on a rival’s foot. Without hesitation, the rival gave him a
slap, which led to a small combat. The Assassin pulled his knife and stabbed
the rival, who was a member of the Warrior gang. Blood spilled, and the Warrior
echoed out the rescue word while the Assassin did the same. Instantly, a group
of Assassins and Warriors arrived on the scene. Nobody waited for an
explanation as bottles were smashed and gunshots were fired leaving many with
wounds of various degrees as they all took to their heels in all directions. We
all laughed, thanking God we didn`t belong to any gang because gangs remained
in hidden places as they moved in groups with the fear of being shot dead.
Joe began to
have problems with Uju after then. Uju began to flood my phone with text
messages. One said, “My sweet charming you, don’t know what to say, but the
truth must be told. You are not just good with listening alone but also in
making a woman smile. My body begs for the feel of your touch, even if it would
cost me my head.” I got scared, especially with the words “cost me my head,”
because everything that happened that day was nothing but fun. I didn’t have a
gun and wasn’t interested in picking a fight with Joe, who wasn’t scared of
death. I deleted the message and asked
6
myself why I
tasted the forbidden fruit. Then I laughed and said to myself, “Once you go,
you can’t go back.” problems
On this blessed day, Joe sent me a message saying he
wanted to meet me at Swings, a cool hangout were boys like me rarely went for
fear of the likes of Joe. I was gripped with total confusion. But being a man,
I mounted my feet and marched there. Upon arrival, Joe looked me in the eye as
if he were trying to read my mind. He was surrounded by five guys, crazy as
hell, who were known for their notorious soft touch for triggers. Beer bottles
adorned the plastic table, and cigarette smoke clouded the air while rap music
played in the background. I took a seat, and he said to me, “Do I consider you
as my brother?”
I
replied, “Yes,” trying to hide my fear.
Then he
continued. “Do you see us as bad people?” while pointing to the five guys
behind him.
I let out a
laugh, purely fake but full of emotion, accompanied by the word, “No.” Then one
of them looked me in the eyes as he held his bottle of beer, and two things
came to my mind. One, this guy was about to burst open my head with the bottle
and disgrace me. Two, he may have wanted to kill me.
The guy who
looked me in the eyes continued, “Then why aren’t you consuming your beer?” I
smiled and took a big gulp. Then Joe continued, “Have you ever betrayed me?”
I whispered to
myself, “Now I see what’s going on; it’s all about Uju.” So I replied, “No,” in
a voice so thin and tiny.
Then Joe lifted
his hand and rubbed my head as if I were a kid and let out this strange laugh.
I expected a knock, but it didn’t come forth. The next words that came out of
Joe’s mouth scared the hell out of me. “Do you think my girl, Uju, is
beautiful?” For a second, I paused and thought that whatever answer I gave him
would be wrong. So I looked Joe in the eyes as I held my bottle firmly, even
though it shivered in my hands. I had read
7
that fear could
make a good guy bloody. Yes, bloody. I was ready to go out fighting like a man,
not for Uju, but for my pride and ego.
Then
I said to Joe, “Yes.” He and the other guys smiled.
Then Joe said,
“All that and much more could be yours only and only if you have the courage to
let go of your boyish ethics and join the men.” Now I knew where all this had
been going: Joe wanted me to join his gang. I felt slightly relieved, but
scared at the same time.
Then
I said to Joe, “My man, you know I don’t have the mind.”
They all
laughed, and Joe cut in, “That’s how I felt before I became who I am now: No
one can rob me, and no one dares challenge me.” He let out a roar, and they let
out theirs. Then he said to me, “It is your destiny. What made me your friend
isn’t your charming looks or your good heart. It is the picture of Thor you
painted on your wall. You might not have known what it signifies, but Thor
isn’t just a hunk with a hammer but a warrior who controls thunder and
lightning.” On hearing this, his men screamed out something that sounded
exactly like the wolves howling to the moon.
Joe stood me up and took a walk with me,
telling me how much they all loved me. He explained many things I had never
understood, and then he said to me, “Brother, follow me, and one day we would
both have a story to tell.” I wasn’t ready to be Achilles. Joe smiled and said,
“Think about its glory today or sorrow tomorrow,” as he walked away, leaving me
lost in thought.
Nothing he had
said made sense except for one line I could remember vividly. Guys like me
couldn’t get girls like Uju. They belong to men like Joe, and for the first time,
my ego was shattered. I’d been fighting my feelings for Uju not because they
were not there, but because I was scared to death of what Joe could do. My
heart was filled with pity; Uju deserved far better than Joe. She needed me but
in this little world of ours, the most rugged takes it all. My memory flashed
back to another girl named Chika. She was fine and short, and like a pet, she
ruled my world. For a while, I only got to shake her hands before Bigbug took
interest. One day,
8
I saw both of them talking, and she called. I waved
at her and pretended to have seen her wave. Bigbug was an infamous living
legend; I knew him too well. Going there would have cost me much. I looked at
the picture of Thor I drew on my wall and almost knelt down to beg his spirit
to possess me. Of course, though, the gods won’t fight our battles.
For the first
time since Uju and I got entangled, I called and invited her to my room. She
was filled with excitement, but as she came in, I got on my knees. I said, “Uju,
my beloved, I have never met a woman I desire as much as you. Please forgive
the fact that my fear of harm has kept me from expressing my emotions to you. I
truly love you, and I could swear to it.” Uju burst into tears as she pulled me
up and gave me the best kiss ever, not minding that my door was wide open.
She looked at
me, smiled, and said, “I understand.” She moved towards the entrance to lock
the door, and once again, we were at it. It was quite different because we had
pure sex. Words like, “Don’t leave me” and “I love you” occasionally popped
out. We were not scared. When we were finished, we chatted a while about music,
cars, and colour and had the greatest time of our lives. Then she left. Much
later, this became a routine. She would sneak into my place. Sometimes, we
would talk. Other times, we would kiss and then go our separate ways. Joe kept
bothering me to join his gang, but I would be a loser. If I needed to join a
gang, it would be one that would protect me and Uju from Joe and not put me
under his authority.
One day, Joe
came in smelling of marijuana and then he rolled one for me. “Take a hit,
soldier,” he said to me, and I took several puffs. Don’t get it twisted: It
wasn’t peer pressure. I used to get stoned back in the day. Then we began to
reason in the Ganja way. He told me, “Bro, since you have refused to become a
warrior, make me a promise.” Then he paused and looked at my eyes, which were
blood red. He laughed and said in Pidgin English, “O boy, you don high.” He
continued, “Promise me that if I die in this game, you would tell your children
about me. Tell them how intimidation and revenge made me who I am today. Skip
all the dirty parts, and tell them how I saved you from trouble, tell them how
no one
9
could tamper
with you because you were my friend, tell them I died a hero and that my spirit
dwells in Valhalla, a place where all great warriors go. Tell them that I am
brewing [drinking] from Mimir, the fountain of wisdom with the gods.” Then he
growled like a wolf.
I
said to him, “You will live! Friend, stop talking about death.”
He looked at me
and said, “You are a Christian, and you believe in heaven, right? If you don’t
die, how do you expect to get to heaven? I believe in Valhalla, and you need to
die in battle before you get there, so promise me, friend!”
I replied,
trembling in fear, “I will tell not just my children but the world.” Then he
walked out happy.
I then understood that my friend had
been programmed to fight until he died in battle, for only then could he be at
peace. I couldn’t sleep all night, not after what I just learnt. This guy was
something else. If I wanted Uju for myself, I would have to be Joe, even though
he wasn’t my match. His enemies feared him and often missed shots whenever they
aimed at him. Mighty Joe, my hombre, friend, and foe.
10
Trouble
“Real
tragedy is never resolved. It goes on hopelessly forever.” - Chinua
Achebe, (1930 -)
Nigerian
novelist, poet, and essayist
One day, Uju and
I were on the phone when she suddenly screamed, “I love you,” and dropped the
call. The next day, she came to me with a bruise on her cheek.
“What happened?” I questioned. In tears, she
narrated how Joe came in and heard her say, “I love you.” He asked for the
phone, but she rushed into the bathroom and deleted my number from the call
log. When she tried to explain that it was her mother who called, Joe slapped
her and said that whatever it was, she should have given the phone first.
Not a minute after
she explained her ordeal, Joe walked in, and on seeing him, she left. I raised
my voice at Joe. He watched for a while, shaped his fingers like a gun and
placed them between my eyes, saying, “O boy! This one wey you get mind dey rake
me because of my woman, dey focus o, na Joe you dey talk to o.” He was asking
what gave me the courage to shout at him because of his woman. I kept mute, and
he gave a friendly push, saying, “That’s why you are my brother; you always
tell me the truth. Thanks, I won’t hit her again.” He thought I was helping
him.
One fateful day,
Uju called and suggested a wicked plan. She said, “I have invited Joe to come
stay with me in a hotel filled with bars on the windows, and it is on the
middle floor so he can’t break through the ceiling. My brother and his men will
come kill him.” I discouraged her thought, but she threatened that I say
nothing else, lest her brother’s men be after me, too. She made me understand
that it was for our good and swore that if
11
I left her after
Joe was killed, she would tell Joe’s men that it was all my fault. She dropped
the call.
I became
confused as I tried calling back without success. I tried to call Joe because I
didn’t want to lose my friend, but his number was unavailable. I got on my
knees and said a sincere prayer, “Dear Lord, guide and protect Joe for he is my
friend, please.” As I wept like a child, I prayed for hours. I prayed sweating
and full of remorse.
Several hours later, Joe burst into my room with
blood dripping from his left hand; he met me on my knees, grabbed me by the
shirt, and lifted me up. Tears dropped from his eyes as he spoke, “Brother, Uju
tried to kill me because of some guy. I met Uju when she was about being robbed
by five men twice my size, armed with knives. I fought them tooth and nail, but
it didn’t end there. They came back for me, and it led to a war. Like all wars,
there are fallen heroes like my man Bigbug. He was my Hector; he shielded me
away from my enemies, but it cost him his life. This was the price I had to pay
to get Uju, but she tried to kill me. Yes, I know I didn’t treat her too well,
but that’s because I want to make her tough.” He dropped me and apologized, and
I was shocked the almighty Joe was heartbroken. He looked me in the eyes,
smiled, and said, “Finally, it is war.” He asked me for some money to treat his
injuries and left.
After he left,
my mind was in a state of anguish. If Uju could attempt to sacrifice Joe, the
one-time love of her life, what was the probability that she would not do the
same to me? If Joe found out it was me Uju was in love with, what would happen
to me?
My thoughts were
interrupted when Joe returned and showed me his wrist, saying, “My doctor said
I could still clench my fist and hold objects, but it would be bent for the
rest of my life. My brother, Uju invited me to a hotel. When I got there,
normal me, I looked up for any exit just in case I was followed, but I found
none except the bars on the toilet window, which were a little frail, so I went
along. The door was kicked open, and three godforsaken men bust in, armed with
pump actions. I rushed into the bathroom and shot at them with my pistol to
deter them while I searched
12
for my exit. I
rushed to the iron bars and struggled with them. Then Uju’s brother entered and
aimed at me. He missed his shot; it hit the wall and weakened the bars more. I
pulled out the burglary proof and jumped out of the window, not knowing what
awaited me there. As I landed, a guy holding a Dane pistol pointed it at me. I
blocked its nuzzle with my left hand, and he shot, releasing the pellets into
my wrist. I screamed in pain and blew his brains out with my colt and ran
straight here. My brother, your room is a fortress and a shrine. The picture of
Thor protects us.” I hugged Joe, for indeed I was happy my friend was alive,
but I wondered what was next.
The attempt on
Joe’s life led to a long-lasting grievous war between the two rival gangs. One
day, Joe came to me, trembling as hell. He said to me, “My brother, all my
life, I fought the good fight without fear, but today is different. While
dreaming yesterday, I saw a lady; she was fair and skinny and had blue eyes and
blonde hair. She had a beauty that defied the imperfection of an everyday
woman. She was dressed in white, and I guessed she was an angel. She was
mounted on a horse holding a sword and a shield. On a second look, I noticed
the horse had wings, but something was wrong. She flew around above me, not
saying a word, like a vulture waiting for an injured animal to pass on so it
could devour its carcass. Then it occurred to me she was a Valkyrie, a
warrior’s angel. They hover around the bravest of warriors when they know they
are close to death, so they could snatch their souls and take them to Valhalla
once the final breath is drawn. They are usually armed with a sword and a
shield to ward off other forces, wanting these brave warriors to be on their
side at Ragnarok. The final battle between good and evil might make attempts to
snatch these souls. I laughed a little, but I was suddenly filled with fear.
Was I about to die? I cried out to get her attention, but she moved swiftly as
her winged horse lifted her higher and faster, my eyes in an attempt to follow
the speed of this magnificent beauty spun and I began to feel dizzy. I woke up
sweating, but full of excitement for it has just been confirmed that in death I
would be a hero: yes, a fallen hero worthy to be lifted high, riding behind the
Valkyries as they fly high on their wings of glory. I don’t want to go for this
mission, but my men are gingered and command must be obeyed so I don’t want to
dull their spirits. Please my friend, if I die, take care of Uju
13
for me. Yes, be her boyfriend, I know she likes
you.” He laughed. “Who won’t like you? I have given a command to my men who are
members of my cartel to treat you like a prince if ever I leave you behind.”
He smiled and was about to leave when I called him
and told him I had a confession to make, but he said to me, “Brother, hold your
peace. The greatest wars are the ones fought for a woman, one for which a true
warrior would die.” Then he walked out, not looking back. I wondered what those
words meant, but could not comprehend, so I went down on my knees once again
and prayed. My prayer wasn’t answered. Joe died in the battle; he was shot
right in the eye and died with a smile screaming, “Take care of my brother, for
this fight was for him.”
The next day, the five guys who sat with
Joe at Swings the day he asked me to join them came to me and promised me that
as they had promised Joe that any finger that dared touch me would be cut off.
Later on, Uju’s brother and some of his men also came. They warned me not to
hurt Uju and promised me security and strength. They also tried convincing me
to join them.
I tried avoiding
Uju until after Joe’s burial; she confessed to me that it wasn’t her fault and
that her brother made her do it. I didn’t believe her, but I couldn’t help my
attraction for her. Uju’s presence had a way it made me feel; I guess it was a
mixture of desire, strength, and gullibility. It was obvious she didn’t love
Joe and might have gone into a relationship with him to compensate him for
saving her from thieves, only for him to become a thorn in her flesh:
possessive, controlling, and violent. Uju was a soft girl, both in character
and mind; she must have told her brother about her problem with Joe, and he
jumped at the chance to settle his vendetta with Joe. She must have been
unwilling, but it was made clear to her that it was her only way out. It should
have been a secret between her and her brother, but Uju, being weak, told me
and had to switch off her phone so that her brother wouldn’t find out if I
called back. The mission failed, but it intensified the war. Even without Uju’s
evil plan, Joe might still have died. Since he didn’t when the ambush was laid,
though, I felt what killed him wasn’t the bullet that hit him in the eye, but
the actions of Uju that
14
pierced his
heart so deeply. He was willing to keep on fighting and not turn his back on
danger, hoping to be taken down as a hero so he could go to the only place
where Uju wouldn’t matter: Valhalla. There was no way to justify what Uju did,
but I wondered what would have happened if Joe had caught us red handed.
Uju and I dated.
It was a very lovely relationship. Everybody knew us, and I walked around like
a prince. One day, though, I thought to myself that Joe was my brother. He
protected me from harm and made me the prince I was. We called him and his
friends thugs, but they were not. We lived in a violent society, and they stood
against that. It could never be said that Joe stole or robbed. He only defended
his pride as a Warrior. Girls liked them because they were the only ones who
could keep them safe from the evils of this environment. He knew his girlfriend
was crazy about me, but trusted me with her and willed her to me in his death.
I didn’t put the picture of Thor on my wall for nothing; it had to be my
destiny.
I told Uju, and she tried to stop me, but not even
the word of Thetis, mother of Achilles, could stop him from going to battle of
Troy. So I walked straight to Swings, stood before those same five Warrior
brothers of Joe’s, and I said to them, “Brothers, I am here to stand by your
side like Joe did. People called him a beast, but when a hero lives too long,
his thirst for battle could make him be mistaken for one, but Joe was no such
thing. He was a man who held steadfast to his beliefs and died for that belief.
So, today, I say to you show me the way of a Warrior so that when I die in
battle, I and Joe would drink from Mimir, the fountain of knowledge in
Valhalla, screaming AWOO! AWOO! AWOO!”
The five of them told me to sit down and offered me
beer. As we drank, they explained that I would need to apply first by selecting
a form, after which I would be invited for the Warrior rites. We began to talk,
made jokes, and laughed, and one of them left. I had gotten drunk, and one of
the others said to me, “Let’s go to my house.” We got to the house around six.
We continued laughing and talking in the parlour. I didn’t know that a place
was being prepared for me to pick the form.
15
Someone came
into the parlour, walked directly to me, and asked, “What are you doing here?”
Without giving me a chance to respond, he gave me a hot slap. I expected those
who brought me there to help out, but to my surprise, they joined in and began
to slap me.
One of them said
“O boy wetin you dey do here? See this Jew o.” He was asking what I was doing
there in the midst of the gang members. I was still in shock when they invited
me to a dark room, and I saw the one who departed earlier, sitting on a chair.
He said to me,
“Welcome.” He asked me to remove my shirt. I was reluctant and asked what I had
done. Before I finished my sentence, I was given a terrible banging slap, and
he said to me, “Go down.” They lit two candles, and I noticed there were four
boys in the room; the curtain was black with a picture of a white skull with
crossbones on it. On the table, I noticed two machetes, a form, and a pen. They
told me to hold the table, and they removed my shirt and administered fifteen
strokes on my bare back with the flat side of the machete. Afterwards, I was
ordered to complete the form and submit two passport photographs. They took all
the money I had on me and then let me go. My face was swollen, and my back
hurt.
When I entered
my room, Uju looked at me and asked if I had picked the form. I looked at her,
wondering how she knew all this. Then she replied, “This is exactly what
happened to Joe. He fought five robbers with his bare hands. As of then, he
wasn’t a member of any gang, and just as he was to you, Bigbug was to him. So
he rushed and told Bigbug. Bigbug swore to protect him, but he was killed in
the process. In order to avenge his death, Joe became a Warrior. Now it’s your
turn. Why am I cursed?” I saw her tears, but I wasn’t moved because my mind was
made up to join the gang.
One blessed day,
the five Warrior brothers took me for a stroll. That was the day I cursed my
birth. Several other boys and I who wanted to be Warriors were led to the bush
to be tortured. They made us dig six-foot trenches, and they to beat us
mercilessly using the flat sides of machetes, sticks, and whatever they could
lay their hands on.
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Later on, they
blindfolded and ordered us to search for objects hidden in the bush. We
continued looking for this objects to no avail, while they continually attacked
us. We screamed and begged for mercy, but this only brought on more attacks.
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