Tuesday, March 25, 2014

TALES FROM THE GHETTO: “IF YOU MOVE, I’LL SHOOT”!


My dad was watching the late night news on NTA when I walked in. “Good evening daddy”, I greeted him, but he didn’t answer me. Like a magic trick, one of his eyes remained on the TV, while the other followed me, as I walked slowly into the room. My mom was sleeping already, and my brother, Ochuko was doing his usual ugly sketches of super heroes. I tried to whisper some questions but the fool kept talking loud, like he wanted my dad to hear our conversation. So I flashed five fingers at him and faced the cupboard, to see if they kept food for me. They did. After dinner, I stayed in the room, hoping that my dad would come inside, so I could take my mat out to sleep. I was also worried, because my father’s silence could mean ‘danger’.

I was kissing and smooching Margaret, one of the bustiest girls in my class, when our teacher walked in on us, with a very thin cane. He landed a perfect stroke on my head, and another on my shoulder. The strokes were so painful and there was no space to escape… only for me to wake up to the reality that my dad was dealing with me. Apparently, I had slept off sitting on the floor with the mat in my hands.

I got a few hot strokes before I could escape to the sitting room. If my dad had ran after me, I was sure to break through the front door, which was not even strong at the time. The hinges were bad, but we managed it, because our compound had two strong doors (back and front), with iron bars behind them. That night, I slept with one eye open.

I couldn’t wait to share the story with my friends the next day. I laugh at myself a lot, so it was no big deal to have my friends laugh at me. After our first night at the motel, we couldn’t wait to do it again. We started sampling various motels within and outside the neighborhood. The crazy thing is that, I stopped caring about the girls I used to crush on in school. After all, I was getting it from older ‘aunties’ at the motels. “All these school girls be small peer for me”, I would brag to my boys in class. They would listen to my motel stories with ‘envy’.

On one of the evenings, Michael, Nuru and I decided to visit one of the motels we’ve never been to - Ahmed Hotel; beside Orege Cinema. Ebi, our friend from the other street begged to follow us, so he can also join the ‘Men’s Club’. He also offered to sponsor the evening’s escapade.

As usual, we started with drinks from one of the roadside sellers. The woman didn’t have ‘jedi’, so we all had a mix of monkeytail and dongoyaro. The interesting thing about these drinks, is that they’re cheap and the highness is guaranteed. After three shots each, we were good to go. Ebi was already in high spirit and would not stop asking what to do when he gets inside with the girl, something that Michael had explained repeatedly to him. Before we went in, I said to him, “Just tell the aunty say you wan piss, she go understand”.

When we entered the gate of the hotel, we could just tell that this place was not for ‘kids’. Weed was so legal here, and the girls were half naked and good-to-go. There were clusters of tables and chairs outside the hotel, with loud music playing from giant speakers, positioned everywhere. There were no empty seats outside, so we went inside. The girls here looked younger and finer. We liked the place. We saw an empty couch at the reception, which also served as a bar, so we made ourselves comfortable and ready to do our thing.

Nuru was first to pick a girl; I had to go next, because Ebi was beginning to annoy me with his nervousness. On getting inside, I thought to show the babe, I was not new in the game, so I cleared my throat and asked her, “How are you?” she probably found my confidence amusing, but looked away as she demanded for her money. I stretched a folded fifty Naira note, but she raised her eyebrows and said, “Your money na one hundred Naira; I think say you be customer for this place, why you come dey give me fifty Naira?” I thought she was joking until she said, “abeg comot from my room, if you no get money”. I probably should have left, to avoid embarrassment, but I started begging her to manage the fifty Naira.

“You funny oh; abeg come dey go, I no get time”, she replied.

“Ok, just let me do small”, I pleaded.

“This one no be tomato wey dem dey price for market; comot from here, now!” She wasn’t going to give me nothing.

When I walked back to the reception, I saw Michael and Nuru waiting already. Apparently, they had the same problem. “Omo, see fuck up!” said Michael, as we all roared with laughter. Ebi, obviously, had more money, because he gave us the little money we had. Not long after I joined my friends at the reception, the lady that kicked me out, strolled out to meet the barman. She had changed into a long t-shirt that suggested little underneath. I had just labelled her, “wicked” to my friends, when we heard something that sounded like gunshots, outside the hotel. If we still had doubts, people running back into the building confirmed that those were gunshots for real. I jumped out of the couch in confusion, asking one of the guy in room, “bros wetin dey happen”? And he replied, “ol boy na AK oh. Dem don surround the whole place”. I felt warm pee in my pants. Nuru was already crying, while Michael was looking for where to hide.

The loud music outside had suddenly gone mute. All we could hear, was policemen shouting, “If you move, I’ll shoot!” I knew this was the end of my stupidity. It was a Police raid.



To be continued…










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