‘What about us?’ Eze asked looking a little unsure. ‘Won’t we get hurt?’
‘You will be fine if you throw the bottle away quick. Have you never thrown knockouts before?’
Eze was quiet; it was easy to tell he hadn’t. I hadn’t too but I was not going to admit that. I certainly was not going to back out of this new proposal first even though I could see Eze silently imploring me to object with him. He must have come only for the shampe and the soft drink.
‘You’ll blow up your bottle first,’ I said, ‘and then we’ll blow up ours.’
Ireneh needed no more encouragement and leapt into action, leading us out of the backyard. I followed closely and Eze brought up the rear looking like he was sure he was going to die.
We came to the grass patch from where we could just make out the outline of the shed Ireneh’s brothers kept the weights in. It was almost completely obscured from view by the now much taller grass in the middle of which it stood. I made to step onto the footpath that led to the shed when Ireneh put a hand on my arm to halt my advance. He looked around for a few seconds, a very watchful air about him. Presently, he convinced himself that all was well and motioning to us to stay where we were, he ran off towards the shed. He wasn’t in for long and reappeared with a wave; we could proceed, it said.
The journey through the grass went uneventfully until Eze let out a very loud yelp. I jumped round in shock in time to make out the end of a cord like object rustling through the grass behind me.
Eze was beside himself. ‘Yaa! Snake! Snake!’ he cried jumping up and down on the spot. ‘Where are we going Ireneh? I don’t want to die o.’
If I wasn’t so scared myself, I’d have thought it really funny.
‘There! Let’s run!’ Ireneh yelled back pointing to a raised concrete platform about twenty metres in the distance and breaking into a run as he did so. It was surprising we hadn’t noticed the platform before then but it was a relief to see it. We sprinted so determinedly towards our goal that we didn’t notice the swamp that muddied our slippers or anything else as we thrashed through the giving grass.
We leapt onto the platform panting and flopped down on our bottoms; only then, did we really notice that Ireneh was carrying a bag. As he brought out the bottles and the pack of firecrackers in it, I understood the source of the clunking noise I’d heard during our run wondering where it came from.
As agreed, Ireneh went first. He took out a firecracker shaped like a huge cigarette but with a pinkish inflammable end. He scratched it against an empty matchbox and when it lit up with a strange orange glow. He dropped it quickly into an empty coke bottle he’d got ready and, springing to his toes, hurled the bottle into the grass, a good distance from us. We got up and watched trying to locate where it landed and then we knew; a frightening explosion blew glass fragments into the air, visibly above the grass and kicking up a sweeping movement as it did so. We recoiled from reflex at the sound but found it fascinating and for the next quarter of an hour engineered about ten explosions.
‘Ireneh! Ireneh!’ A male voice shattered our violently peaceful world. I thought I recognised the voice and seeing the effect it had on Ireneh, knew I did. I turned around and looked at the direction it was coming from. The shed was directly visible from our position of prominence and standing in front of it, staring at us with a wildly threatening look that numbed me even from that distance, was TJ.
****
The following Monday, we took the car down to Mustapha’s. This time, our new mechanic drove. The city had worked itself up to a fevered pace as we left Sabon Gari so traffic was a little slow going. Hawkers with their wares filed past us glistening in the baking heat of the car, their cries barely reaching us above the din of hooting cars and rush of people. Muhammadu made a good job of weaving through tight spaces in roads crammed with buses and pedestrians until twenty minutes later, we hit some free space and he stepped on it.
Mustapha was ready for us when we arrived and showed us to the space he’d marked out for our vehicle. He had a brief conversation with our mechanic who left presently leaving us to our task. Trade was slow on the first day as we expected. We’d already figured there weren’t going to be that many potential car buyers during the week and that those who came would be interested in something several cuts above a used Volkswagen Jetta car. So we waited for the weekend and, while at that, worked hard at the few shoppers who paraded the depot and who wouldn’t have given us a glance otherwise. But we got lucky early as four days later a man in flowing robes and a turban took interest in our vehicle. He was accompanied by an overgrown teenage boy and our guess was that they were father and son. We didn’t have to do much squealing; the man didn’t seem the type for plenty of display and he went straight to the point.
‘Eighty thousand sir,’ Tolu replied in Hausa, raising the price a little bit higher.
‘You like it?’ the man questioned the boy by his side. The lad gave the car the once over and turned to Tolu.
‘Show me what it can do.’
‘Okay, let’s go for a drive.’
The three got in and Tolu repeated the test drive he’d done once before but somewhere along the way, he let the boy drive. We watched as Tolu got out and ran to the passenger side of the car as the boy squeezed his bulk past the gear and into the driver’s seat. As the car let out a splutter under the new driver, the dad roared with laughter. I didn’t mind; I just hoped they’d buy the vehicle before they ruined it. What was Tolu thinking? But then, he would have had to acquiesce to the brat – in the teenager’s hands was our near future and Tolu’s action was such a small risk in comparison.
I wrung my hands in anxiety as the boy brought the car, jerking back and forth, back to the depot. He jumped out grinning in unmistakable self-congratulation; I was perplexed. He clearly wasn’t steady at the wheel as yet but did he know that? But as I had more important things to worry about, I turned to Tolu.
He had got out and had begun a long drawn out conversation in Hausa with the older male which could be nothing else but more haggling.
‘We are selling for sixty-eight grand,’ Tolu reported to me ten minutes later beaming before returning to his customers. He took them to the office to finalise arrangements while I waited happily.
We boarded a bus to take us back into town and to Sabon Gari. We had split what was left of our profit and stuffed our pockets full of the money. Now, we had to give the Mallam his percentage, see to Muhammadu and head for home. This was the moment I’d been waiting for; I knew this sale was going to be relief on a massive scale. The business had promised a lot and would have delivered, no doubt, but it was fraught with too many dangers, too many for my rather safe expectations. In it, I couldn’t really hope to prosper and the signs were all around me. I was going to let Banjo know that I wouldn’t go on another job. He’d been a great help finding me this opportunity but between my silenced conscience and the Shari’ah law of sensitive Kano, I’d had enough.
All of that changed, however, with the smell of notes in my hand and with the feeling of power money brought. All of my previous plans and resolution suddenly became insignificant; it was this easy. There was money to be made and plenty of it too. We had only been grossly unlucky the past few months – rare misfortunes that were the exception. We were due a good run soon enough and maybe this was the beginning. We sat squashed in the mini bus on the last row for men, each engrossed in his own thoughts, almost passing out from the loud smell of sweaty bodies.
The sunny heat was a welcome relief when we alighted and walked through town. As we walked, we talked and already, I was beginning to let Tolu know that I might go for another round after all why worry when nothing bad had happened yet. I let him know that one of the great mottos I lived by was to worry only when things happened and not before. Tolu didn’t argue with my faulty reasoning. He badly wanted the money too. Wouldn’t we be rash to quit?
The workers must have been at lunch break when we entered the gar
age. But we didn’t notice immediately. We strutted in holding our heads high; nothing and no one could have been able to dampen our spirits that day or knock our confidence. We’d just turned metal into cash in good time for the second time so we must be doing something right. Even the garage grounds seemed larger as I walked in swollen with pride but quickly I realised the real reason for that. The garage was empty except for three people loitering about. Three cars that some of the mechanics had been working on a few days before when we’d last been in and that had adorned the space directly in front of the workshop had been removed. In their place was only a bench on which lay a pair of dusty sandals. It was like walking into a camera view, zooming out. The workshop seemed farther away, smaller.
We made our way over to it. It was empty as well but from behind the door to Ibrahim’s little office that held the safe came voices. This was not usual; Shehu hadn’t returned to the workshop after the robbery incident and the Mallam was not often at the garage and certainly wouldn’t have been expected to hang around during lunch hour. Ibrahim was ever a busy man so maybe, if he was the one in the office, he was attending to business. But we had our own business to attend to and wouldn’t even consider waiting.
We stopped outside the door and Tolu raised his hand to knock looking at me first as if unsure. I gave several firm nods still heady at our success so much I could barely stand still. But at that moment someone inside mentioned ‘Usuman’ and we both froze instantly and involuntarily out of curiosity. Nodding even more firmly, I motioned to Tolu to follow the conversation and watched his face assume an attentive expression. He was now eavesdropping, well we were but I couldn’t understand the language. If the discussion on the other side of the door was about Usuman, then we wanted to know; the young mechanic worked well with us and was good for our future prospects.
From where I stood, I found it interesting to judge what Tolu was hearing from his changing expressions and two minutes after he stopped outside the door, I figured the news wasn’t good. No, the news must have been ghastly because that was how the young man looked. He gripped my shoulder and turned me slowly around towards the exit. We walked out of the workshop and leaned on some of the discarded vehicles.
Tolu was still a picture. ‘They are going to cut off his hand, Arinze,’ he muttered in vague disbelief.
He’d called me Arinze so I knew he wasn’t fooling around.
‘Cut what hand off? What do you mean?’
‘Usuman!’ He yelled anxiously. ‘That was Ibrahim inside there with some police guy. They are talking about it. The police was saying that they can only release two of the workers they arrested but that they need one person to swing off Shari’ah and show the country that they are serious. And that since all the people seized are Muslims, one of them have to face amputation.’
‘And Ibrahim picked Usuman?’ I asked dumbfounded.
‘Yes, the bastard was afraid for himself. The police man said that someone has got to go down or Ibrahim himself would be arrested for possession of stolen vehicles and they would shut down the garage.’
‘But it is not Ibrahim’s garage,’ I protested. ‘It is Alhaji Sanni’s garage.’
‘Why are you asking me?’ Tolu was frustrated. ‘Ibrahim is the master here and I am simply telling you what I heard. Ibrahim actually named Usuman as the man to go. I heard him myself.’
‘I heard him too,’ I said remembering the mention of the mechanic’s name. ‘That’s very bad. What are going to do?’
‘What can we do? This is dangerous business. Our friend will lose his hand and he worked with us. I can’t continue with this work now. My conscience won’t allow me. We should take this money and go back home.’
‘Are you sure Tolu?’ I asked frightened at the suggestion. At that moment, I was thinking of Mamu in Kaduna; there wasn’t any doubt in my mind that Mallam Ibrahim would have even more connections in Kano. I wasn’t going to offend such a person in his element. ‘Because unless you want us to leave Kano right now, and I don’t want to do that,’ I said. ‘I don’t want the Mallam to come after us while we are still in Kano. I am too scared to even consider that.’
‘Then we’ll leave right now,’ Tolu said with a set expression. ‘Let’s just go and get our things and go. He can’t get to us in Lagos.’
I looked at him; it was amazing how, in a flash, all his trust and apparent loyalty to Mallam Ibrahim had fizzled out. ‘No Tolu,’ I replied stubbornly. ‘I am not going on the run. That’s no way for anybody to live. We will give him his money and take our share back to Lagos in our own time. Besides, I’d like to see how this Usuman issue plays out. Maybe we might be able to help; he is our friend after all, remember?’
Tolu thought for a moment and nodded. ‘Okay, we will give the bastard his cut but after that, I’m out of here.’ He turned around and walked back to the office and this time, he knocked.
****
‘Come here now! Were - madman. You will die today.’ TJ looked like he would keep his promise; there was danger in his eyes and I was so intimidated I was ready to face any number of snakes in the grass. I looked at Eze; he was wringing his hands. I turned to Ireneh; he was a frozen inscrutable picture. Without a word, he jumped off the platform and walked towards his brother. Eze and I jumped down and followed behind, our dread of snakes completely overridden by our fear of TJ. Naturally, the journey back was much quicker. Ireneh walked straight towards TJ and stopped a few inches from him. The youth did not speak; he hit out with his fist and I heard Ireneh scream and go down. TJ was on him immediately, pulling him up by his ears.
‘Don’t you ever listen? Didn’t I warn you not to touch my things? Didn’t I!?’ he spun the boy around like a yoyo and hit him again. Eze and I ran past and stood not far from the shed listening to Ireneh screaming through a bleeding mouth as his brother kept knocking him about.
Then, help arrived. It was their mother. The way she half ran, I could tell with relief she was aiming for TJ. Her wrapper was falling loose again and she kept gathering up the folds as she moved.
‘TJ! You want to kill my child? Do you hear me TJ? You are not going to kill my child, you devil!’ she announced from a distance as she came closer.
‘He never listens to anything I say. I will kill the idiot,’ TJ yelled back equally infuriated and still swinging Ireneh by the arm. Then, Ireneh did what I thought was a stupid thing; he hit back at TJ, punching the arm that held him repeatedly. It was merely a pat but TJ replied with a resounding slap that felled the boy again and echoed past me.
The mother was spurred on faster by this and she broke into a quicker run, launching herself at TJ when she reached him. She slapped him once and made to repeat the move but TJ was in bad form. Holding the woman’s hands, he pushed her so hard, she fell into the overgrown grass, shouting and crying.
‘TJ! You are no child of mine. I curse you! Go back to where you came from! I curse you o!’ I was now so overcome by what was happening before me that I stood rooted to my spot. The mother was now up and made to go for TJ again. She had just begun her charge when there was a shout behind us.
‘TJ! Are you crazy!? You beat Mama!?’ It was Uyi. He was charging down from my right wearing a shabby looking singlet that aptly left his formidable biceps exposed. There was going to be a fight and TJ was already preparing. He tore off his shirt, jumped aside from his mother into the centre of the clearing and, with fists ready, waited for Uyi. They clashed forcefully and traded blows for a few seconds, weaving around each other. The mother kept calling curses on TJ and spurring Uyi on. ‘God bless you Uyi. Beat this devil for me. What kind of child is this? He is not going to kill me o, he can’t!’
It didn’t seem, however, that Uyi was doing very well. TJ was as good as Ireneh had told me; within a few minutes, he had brought Uyi to the ground and had him in a powerful restraining hold, seizing every opportunity he had to land a punch in Uyi’s exposed face. By this time, a few people had gathered but apart from three other little boys, they
were all women and so couldn’t break the fighting young men apart. They just stood there screaming. Ireneh’s mother was still shouting as well but this time she had changed her tune; the devil TJ wanted to kill another child of hers.
‘TJ! Leave us alone o! You hear? I curse you o!’
There was so much noise about that no one noticed Ireneh had disappeared. I didn’t as well but I saw him reappear – out of the shed. He was quite close to the grappling boys on the ground when I saw him; his face was a snarling mask and there was that look in his eyes again. As I realised what was about to happen, I looked around frantically and heard his mother raise an alarm pointing at the boy.
‘Ireneh! What are you doing? Are you mad?’ There was impatience in her voice but she remained where she was. She must have been shocked to see her young son with a blade. She might not have judged him capable of anything major or she might just have been holding her breath hoping he wasn’t. Whatever it was, she and the rest of us forgot the main characters on the ground for a brief moment. An inaudible but felt gasp rippled through the crowd as Ireneh pounced.
TJ was too engrossed in his quarry not to notice the point of the gleaming blade pushed in a stabbing motion towards the side of his neck.
****
I realised I was beginning to tire of the dream when I saw White coat again. I had never bothered to look at him. Today, I did but his face wouldn’t register. Just kept fading from me.
‘How are you today?’ he asked.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked in return.
‘You came here,’ he said.
‘No. This is my dream. I don’t like you in it anymore.’