One Bad Turn

ONE BAD TURN! 

By David Nwajiuba

It was the twenty-third of December. Oke looked at his wristwatch, 6:22 pm, a few more minutes to the close of the day’s work but the day still held a little light outside. He hated his life more now that Christmas festivities were on all around town and he and other workers still had to stay late at the boutique because the season was favourable for sales. The only consolation he had was the elegance about the boutique, the beautiful Nkechi, the new employee and the quality custom made uniforms they all had to wear- it gave him some form of importance- three short sleeved shirts and two golf styled premium t-shirts for the male workers. The uniforms were so good and of top quality, Oke had considered wearing them, severally, to occasions and events. He hated Madam Mabel for having ordered the word, “SECTION ATTENDANT”, to be sewn unto all their uniforms in bold cursive font.

 Nurmbergers was one of the large boutiques in Port Harcourt. It was well air conditioned and partitioned into three man segments- Adult Male, Adult Female and Youngster. It had soothing light décor and serenading musical blues playing continuously over the tiny speakers all over the place providing a calculated psychological ambience that made it easy for customers to spend like they had black belt in shopping or were nuclear relatives of Aliko Dangote. You never knew what hit you, until you came out of the boutique, saddled with purchases you had no budget for or need of.

Oke and a few other staff members that had worked for a while at Nurmbergers had, each, devised a unique means to gaining extra cash. The unwritten code was, no one was to know the other’s strategy yet each was to help cover the other’s track when requested or as appropriate. At certain times they executed joint sabotage against the boutique but this was rare.

It didn’t help that Madam Mabel, the boutique’s owner was arrogant, selfish, stingy and rude to her workers. She had heard how workers had ripped off their bosses and had determined never to let that happen to her. Hence she treated all her ten staff members, with great suspicion and severity.

 Everyone but her knew that, she had raised an army of very sleek and ingenious thieves as staff members. She had noticed that most times when she made unannounced visits to the boutique, they appeared to have funny looks on their faces that suggested that they were covering up trails from her, but she just couldn’t place her hand on any clue as to any wrongdoing on their part.

 Edidiong, the boutique’s disposal guy and longest serving staff member, often joked that, the staff members had so perfected their rip-off act, complete with sign language and gestures to communicate when needed; such precision that even the United States FBI, with all the forensic help it has, would have a hard time detecting any foul play at Nurmbergers.

Oke spotted a young man walking in idly, approaching the adult male section of the boutique. He looked very well dressed; an almost overly starched sky blue military-styled, short sleeved shirt, an expensive-looking cream coloured chinos trousers and shiny polished black pointed shoes. Oke smiled to himself, he stood up from the long stool and brushed off the creases on his shirt. Part of their job as section attendants was to help customers find their way around and encourage them to buy as much as possible. The workers got bonus for doing that.

‘Jackpot’, he thought.’ Rich, young, indecisive and ready to tangle; malleable species- just the way, we like them.’

Oke walked towards the young man with an exaggerated smile.

‘Good evening and welcome to Nurmbergers, sah, how may I help you!’

The young man turned to him, he nodded in response but gave no other reply. He had a look that played between disgust and mild amusement.

‘An intelligent, trendy young man like you, I’m sure, wears nothing but the best and I know just the section where you’ll get the best of the best, sah!’ Oke enthused, maintaining his plastic smile and nodding vigorously for no reason.

‘Oh, Really? ’ the young man asked in a very pronounced British accent that seemed almost like a fascade. He was now giving Oke his full attention, a grin appearing on his face.

“Aaah…seeing is believing sah, just come this way.’ He replied, leading the man towards the section of the boutique tagged “ITALIAN.” The clothes hanging in the section looked obviously top quality, the suites were suave and the seams and ornate designs on the shirts, trousers and other accessories seemed to explain even more the reason why few people came to that section of the boutique. Nurmbergers was by no means an average boutique, in fact, its logo was brazenly put up as: “Nurmbergers: not for everybody!” 

As Oke took the man through the items, picking and analyzing them one by one, he couldn’t hide his excitement. He was gradually moving the man to the maga-spot. Maga-spot, was the Nurmberger staff slang for most the convenient point in a section of the boutique were they could do their manipulations under minimal surveillance. For Oke, he had mastered the spot in the Italian section were the CCTV cameras rarely rotated to. This was going to be good. The young man seemed eager to play along once he presented the preposition, despite his seeming refined personality.

‘Oga sah! Just point out any number of things wey you want and with a little amount, your boy go arrange am for you later.’ Oke put in sheepishly, having switched to Pidgin English to better communicate the sentiments of the shady deal he was offering.

 A look of shock flashed across the man’s eyes, briefly and then it seemed an understanding of the preposition dawned on him. Oke almost rescinded on his offer to the man. The man seemed too eager to buy in on the deal and for brief seconds, their seemed a roughness about the man. At Christmas periods, Nurmbergers shipped in many clothes, which would wait till early January for stocking. It gave staff opportunity to steal items. Oke’s strategy was to sneak items out to customers and sell them off at thirty, forty or fifty person discount rate. None of the money returned to the boutique’s account.

‘Are you sure about that?’ The man drew his last word, coming down to the hushed tone Oke was using.

‘Yes. Just point out wetin and wetin you go like buy, I go mark am for my mind, then once we close in like twenty minutes time, I go arrange am come give you, then you find me small thing…’

‘You don’t even know me, so where will you see me to deliver the items.’ The man asked still maintaining pure English, almost absentmindedly, as his eyes scanned a woollen one-button black blazer.

‘You can park outside, a little distance from here, near that Durables Fast food and wait for me. Once our garbage guy is moving out some stuff in about thirty minutes, I’ll come out…’

‘Not to worry, I stay just around the corner at No. 2 Mbonu Street.’

‘Gracious Father! Even batter.’

‘How will you bring the items out of here with all this security?’ the man asked in his polished English, gently picking out his words while at the same time covertly pointing out the items he wanted Oke to bring for him. Oke laughed nervously as he noted the things the man was indicating. He looked around in several directions before answering.

‘Chairman, no be you be the first person, I dey do this kind arrangee for oh! Leave that one to me.’

‘What about the CCTV cameras around?’

“Oga, monkey say ‘jungle don mature’ no be for am wey grow and live inside the jungle, na for outsiders wey come visit. I don tell you, no drink Panadol for my headache. I go arrange am.’

‘Much ambivalence about this matter…such vacillations and palpitations of my heart.’ The man seemed to hesitate, after pointing out four expensive ties to make up his choice items. Oke loved how the man maintained the conversation in English despite his Pidgin. It seemed to assure him, he would really get a good price out of the man. Naïve, rich people, he scorned inwardly.

‘No 2, Mbonu Street. Don’t forget it. I’ll be waiting for you.’ The man squeezed some the bills into his hand. Oke quickly pocketed it without checking how much it was. ‘Don’t miss out any item I pointed out. When you come, I shall settle you appropriately.’ Then, he walked straight out towards the reception area and then out of the boutique.

Oke, quickly calculated the actual amount of items selected and it summed up at One hundred and twenty thousand naira! Even if he traded the items off for a giveaway prize, which was at 50% discount, the items for the man would still make enough for him to enjoy his Christmas and get the Samsung Galaxy Grand Duos android phone he coveted. He dipped his hands in his pocket and brought out the tip he had been given by the man. It was two N1000 notes. Lucky day; a man who tipped in thousands doesn’t come by every day, he reasoned!

Grinnnnnnnnnn!!!! The Boutique bell rang out, signalling for the attendants to tidy their sections in preparation of the day’s closure. He quickly set about to arrange the items for the man, he knew his way around the boutique.

                                                                                                   ****

He was sweating yet smiling as he walked towards the squalid group of houses that the last man pointed him to as he asked fordirections to No. 2 Mbonu Street. He felt slightly disappointed that such a refined looking young man would live here. He had expected better. Anyways, there were rich men who liked to live without all the trappings of the wealthy.

He walked into the compound and began to knock on various doors and ask questions. He had forgotten to take the man’s name at the boutique. Finally, someone guessed whom he sought from his extended descriptions.

‘Ah, maybe na Baba Funky, you dey find. Knock on the last door on the left near the coal tar tank.’ The girl said, pointing down to a stretch of the huge compound. He thanked her and made for the house as instructed. It was past eight in the night but he could see  with the outside bulbs of some of the houses illuminating the compound. As he knocked on the door, he seriously doubted he was at the right place.

‘Na who be that again for this night na?’ Came a strong male voice from inside. Oke, didn’t know how to answer, so he just knocked again. The door swung open and he found himself staring at an angrier and rougher version of the man he had met at the boutique.

‘Ah! My distributor from the boutique. You made it!’ The face softened with a big smile and his countenance changed. ‘I was beginning to think you were undependable. Do you have my order here with you?’

‘Yes oga, of course, I do. Here’s the bag. Check everything; complete to the last needle.’Oke handed him the bag, smiling.

‘That’s good. I trust you so I won’t be checking the items. Do you mind coming inside for a drink?’

‘Urhh…no, thank you sah. I still get waka this night.’ Oke replied laughing to cover his impatience. He just wanted the money.

‘Ok. Well-done then.’ The man said and turned to go into the house.

‘Erh Sah, you never see me sha…’

‘See you again? How? You be ole?’ The man’s language, voice and tone changed in an instant.

‘No sir. Remember you only gave me two thousand naira!’ Oke found himself suddenly taking the position of the one speaking the refined English and stammering.

‘Ehen? Sooo? Wetin again you want? Ole!’ the man went inside leaving Oke standing outside, dumbfounded. It began to dawn on him, he had met a superior crook with traces of thuggery. He couldn’t imagine gaining only two thousand naira from a deal worth at minimum Sixty thousand naira! He was determined to gain some more before leaving the compound.

He knocked again on the door.

‘Boy-o-boy! Dey match go ya mama house.’ The man screamed from inside.

He knocked again. This time, more impatiently and louder. The door opened more swiftly. The man stepped out and shut the door behind him this time and walked up to him.

‘Oluku! You dey crase? You wan die?’ the man smelt of marijuana and alcohol. Oke knew instantly that force wouldn’t work. He changed to an apologetic tone and approach.

‘Sir, what I brought you is worth over One Hundred thousand naira na…try and understand me, please.’ He entreated. The man seemed touched.

‘Okay. Because of my sweet mother wey dey villa, I go give you three thousand naira more so you can…’

‘Ahh! No naa. Three thousand naira is not…’

‘Sharrap! See monkey oh? Oya get out of this compound now. I don vex!’

Oke changed his tactics again. ‘Remember I know here oh, shebi here is your house, I shall call the Police! You must give me that money!’

‘The Police?’

‘Yes!’ Oke insisted, seeing his only chance coercing the man to give him the money. The man walked back to his door and entered quietly. Oke stood outside prancing about and fuming. He thought the man was going inside to get him some money.

Then, he heard a voice talking inside in low tone, ‘…just carry Boy loaf and tompolo the merciless dey come…just enter my compound…yes. My house na…’ Then the door opened again and then man came out pocketing his phone. He had been making a call.

‘Today, you go hear nwi!’ He said threateningly as he let out a mirthless laugh. ‘No go, oh, just stay here and wait...’

Now, Oke knew he was in real trouble. He figured he had a few minutes to make a clean yet dignified escape before Armageddon descended on him. Rather than leave empty handed, he decided to take the first offer of three thousand naira, however meagre it was. But he didn’t know how to ask without hurting his pride or appearing afraid. The names he had heard over the phone provided inspiration for base level negotiation; “Tompolo the merciless?’ The name was pretty much self explanatory, he reasoned. He didn’t need to meet such fellow in such conflicting circumstances, whoever the fellow was. He needed to beg for that three thousand naira in the most indirect and least embarrassing way possible.

‘Just say, you don’t have my complete money here and I can manage the three thousand you have now and maybe come back later for the remainder.’ Oke used the meekest tone he could feign. He wasn’t pacing about as before.

‘Hahahaha…you never know where you dey. You still dey speak grammar abi?’ The man was now relaxed- the ball was in his court. He sat on the rickety bench near his door, whistling away to an unfamiliar tune.

‘I’m a man of peace, for peace sake, I shall accept your lowly offer of three thous…’

‘Thunder fire me and my generation to ashes scatter, if I give you shi-shi or even one kobo here today! As he spoke, he drew his index finger in the sand, moved it to his tongue and then pointed into the air. He spoke with such fervour that the veins on his neck could be seen bulging out in the fluorescent bulbs. He fiddled with his phone a bit then put it to his ear. He was obviously making a call. ‘Hafanaa? Why una dey dull me sef?...I say the mugu dey my cabal now-now as I dey talk, here eeh, now-now…Ok…Ok. Una don dey near…You tight.’ Then he dropped the call and got up and began to approach Oke.

A thousand thoughts raced through Oke’s mind as he drew back steadily. For the first time, he noticed that despite their loud enough exchange of words, no neighbour had dared come out to mediate- a testament to the reputation of his antagonist.

‘Oga mi, this thing wey you dey do no good oh…’ Oke noticed, his Queen’s English has dried up, leaving a residue of Pidgin. He kept taking steps backwards, maintaining a safe distance from the man.

‘After we beat you finish, you must call that Police wey dey scratch your mouth today and you go tell dem how you take thief all this things from Nurmbergers. Oleburuku! Come here!’

Matters came to a head when the man lurched forward to grab Oke by his belt. Oke jumped backwards and knocked over an iron bucket, half filled with water. In one breath he manoeuvred his frame away from facing the man and in his door and broke into a sprint. He had been a champion runner back at Government College, that ability was put to use. His assailant, though a young man, had dull reflexes which may not be unconnected with his substance abuse. He sped through the corridor of the compound and out into the red dust road. He ran a little distance then stopped to catch his breath.

‘Oh God! I’ve been scammed! I’ve been scammed.’ He kept repeating.

His heart was pounding. Then he saw four silhouettes of varying sizes hastening in the direction of the compound he had just run out from, in the dark. His instincts told him, he was about to encounter Tompolo the merciless and co. He thought quickly. He had no chance against these men. But then, they did not know who he was. He walked fast towards them, mustering all the courage he could.

‘Hey you! Who be you?’ One of the men spoke, in a voice that was part drool and part growl as he got close to them.

‘Make una dey run go back oh, dem they fight for that compound!’ Oke feigned a tone of alarm, like he was an unconcerned passerby.

Whaaam!

‘Mummy eeh!’ He got a hot slap covering his mid face. The hand was so callous, it felt like sand paper had been run over his face. It was dark, he didn’t see the slap coming or who gave it.

‘E dey madt? See this barger oh! You know who we be before you dey tell us to run?’ He got two more slaps from others. He couldn’t tell who was slapping him amongst the men. Each slap undid the adjustment his eyes had made to the darkness of the night. He staggered backwards, trying to put some distance between him and his assailants.

‘Bros!  Abeg, make una no vex, I been dey try explai…’

‘Kai! The Oluku still dey talk…Caman came miea!’

A phone rang. One of the men brought out his phone- it was ringing. ‘Na Baba Funky dey call again.’ He announced.

‘Answer na. Tell am say we dey come…we don reach make we just treat this mugu small.’

‘Hello Baba Funky, we….Ehn?! Wetin? Im don run?...Shet, we dey check road dey come!’ He dropped the call. ‘Men dem! Funky say the maga don run comot oh…’ Oke who had been grabbed from his belt by one of the men saw his opportunity.

‘im go be the man wey I see dey run with speed dey go that side just now-now…’ He shouted amidst the slaps.

‘Ehn? Why you no kukuma talk since…? You say you see am?’

‘Yes, I see am. With my two korokoro eyes…the man run out from that compound dey go down-down that side!’ he said, pointing in the opposite direction.

Two of the four men broke out in pursuit in the direction Oke had indicated. The third one called out to the one who had Oke in firm grip, ‘Tompolo, leave that oluku make we go catch the main idiot!’

Whaaam!!! Whaaam!!! Two more unanticipated slaps sent Oke sprawling on the floor.

‘God don save you, you for understand the meaning of merciless today! Idiot!’ The short bulky figure that stood over him warned.

They then joined in the pursuit running towards the opposite direction into the night.

As Oke got up, he knew he had escaped from what would have been a much worse ordeal. As soon as his eyes adjusted to the night, he ran as fast as he could back the path he had followed down to the area. Never again would he try another shady deal.

                                                          THE END.