Maiden Meet —Babatunde Ishola

 

Maiden Meet —Babatunde Ishola

 

( written under the Influence of Idowest's “Who”)

 

Idowu Buraimoh knew the end would come for him. But he neverthought It’d be as quick as this.

He sat in between the two hooded men sitting beside him in the Lexus, palms sweaty, his heart skipping beats rapidly as he remembered gory tales told about those who messed with Alaga'sọjà.

 

The latest he heard was about a certain middleman who corroborated with dealers to supply fake coke to one of Alaga's most trusted customers, who in turn wasted the boy who delivered it.

 

Alaga’s favourite delivery boy.

 

Alaga sniffed the middleman out, got hold of him, and as the story went, sprinkled chilli on his eyeballs as his famous pliers crushed the offenders’ testicles. It was too horrific to imagine.

Such was the fate that awaited him that night, too.

 

 

 

Idowu was not the son of a pauper. His father, as he once heard, was the sole head of the Motorcycle Riders Association, Surulere, in his heydays. He later rose to become a baba isale, a godfather. No one knew who or what he godfathered, but the story made rounds still. It was an open secret.

Idowu never saw his father, not even once. He only heard about himfrom Maame Kodei, his grandmother. Her daughter was the agboseller from Benin who got pregnant for the park’s chairman, and died during childbirth.

 

Surulere rears up the demons in everyman. Dashing out into the streets the moment he knows his right from left, Idowu soon built a reputation as a credible street guy. From the regular pickpocketing,he delved into car thefts and burglary. He then changed lanes into being an informant for the igara olosa, as the robbers when then called, and the latest undertaking of his was this one which was slowly but steadily bringing him to the walls of Alaga's den.

 

It all started when he was approached by Inspector Majekodunmi, alias Majek. Majek was also a credible street policeman who started from the regular bribe collection. He then delved into supplying arms for the igara olosa and changed lanes into being a recruiter of boys for drug barons.

Idowu couldn't resist the offer. Eight hundred thousand nairas for every successful delivery was just too sumptuous. A  lot more different from the usual.

But deep down, Idowu knew this was the beginning of his end.

 

Oluomo Buraimoh paced about in the dimly lit room that was the headquarters of his den. His eyes were bloodshot and he tightly gripped the plier in his right hand now and then, in fits of anger. His left hand had his gold wristwatch, a VIP souvenir from the Motorcycle Riders Association’s anniversary. He squinted into it as the gem glinted in the shadows.

 

7:11 pm.  “They would soon be here” he thought.

'The culprit lives in Surulere, afterall”

He smiled as he remembered this fact. Imagine this small boy trying to outsmart me in my hood, he mused. I will make him pay for it. He will pay for it!. He shouted and banged the table.

200 wraps of coke, and he threw it away like that. just like that!

And he dared to lie he heard gunshots and the men he was to deliver to fled, so he fled too. Does he think I'm a fool?

Even when I was at the park, I never for once got outsmarted by any of my boys,not to talk of this one. When was he born?

Well, I'll know today. I have never even seen his face. Majekarranged everything, and told me he was reliable. Reliable indeed!

 

He paused in his thoughts, and decided he wasn’t going to trust Majek anymore. That Inspector must be up to something for making this deal fold up, just like that, due to this errant errand boy he chose for the job.

 

The door creaked open.

Skuri! Where is he? He bellowed.

The boys brought him in. Idowu was blindfolded, and visibly shook at the sound of Alaga's voice.

“So it's you, the little coconut head who wants to dupe his grandfather, abi bee kò?”

Each word was  accompanied by a slap. The slap echoed around the walls of the den, and Idowu pee in his pants.

Loose the blindfolds. Let's see the face of the bloody fool! Alagathundered with yet another slap.

Skuri loosened it.

And the scales fell.

 

Alaga felt as if he was staring into the mirror some twenty, thirty years ago. The hair that coiled at the slightest touch, the bushy eyebrows, the dark lips, the fire mixed with fear in the eyes staring back at him, were all his. Was he imagining things?

 

Idowu stared back more fiercely now, maybe as a last respect to his ego. He needed to see the eyes that would take his life away.

 

Hey boy. what is your name?

 

Idowu. Idowu Buraimoh'.

The famous pliers fell off  Alaga's hand.

 

Bio:

Amuda Abbas Oluwadamilola is an undergraduate majoring in Literature at Ahmadu Bello University, Nigeria. His works have appeared in the Trouaville Review and a few other online platforms. When he's not writing, he's doing mobile photography. Abbas tweets at @aadamilola.