To Masomaso Police Station on the outskirts of an ancient Awori settlement near the Okokomaiko marsh this foul and rainy morning to secure bail for Okon. This is the third time in three months that the crazy boy would run afoul of the law, dragging yours sincerely into the dangerous territory of negotiating with criminal cops.
Okon had graduated from being a houseboy to an antisocial kingpin as the social fabric of the nation began to give way under relentless assault from jobless miscreants and other sociopaths. It was just a question of time before one’s number comes up.
Okon had been nabbed by a police patrol team as he snored away in a decrepit abandoned vehicle after a nocturnal tryst with a woman of easy virtues. Too drunk and disoriented to find his bearing, the mad boy had decided to seek shelter and solace from the pounding rains in the abandoned bus. But unknown to him, the vehicle was loaded with subversive and incendiary materials from a group calling itself, Movement for the Liberation of Ethnic Nationalities (MLEN). The police quickly impounded both the vehicle and its human exhibit.
This morning the ground was soggy and slippery after the unyielding rains. This contributed immensely to one’s irritation and discomfiture. You have to pick your way through one muddy pool after another as the ground squelched and mulched in sodden disgust. There were fat crabs crawling all over the place in indolent leisure. This must be the forward assault unit of the police, snooper thought as one of them made a dash for one’s trousers. The ambular miscreant lumbered away without any remorse as one kicked furiously at it.
“Baba rere, this one no be Yoruba crab oo. Na dem Bayelsa crab and dem stubborn well well. Dem no dey carry last. Yesterday dem chop one man’s blokos as him dey make Lagos yanga”, one of the resident criminals chortled as he observed the drama with wild relish. Yours sincerely almost froze with fright and premonition.
“Baba olowo, your boys are here and we dey very gentle”, another crook with bleary eyes intoned.
“Shut up, I am not your baba!” snooper screamed as panic overtook him.
“You see dis yeye Yoruba man now? We dey respect and dey salute you and you come dey use your tolotolo mouth talk nonsense. If no be say we dey light duty, you for don see thunder”, their leader screamed at snooper as he barged through the door. To one’s surprise and amazement, the intrepid and daredevil Baba Lekki was already running rings round the desk sergeant and his befuddled subordinate.
“Officer, I put it to you that you are a blockhead”, Papa Lekki thundered.
“Na your papa be blockhead. Abi no be dem people who dey get oil blocks be blockhead?” the wild cop retorted brimming with savage malice.
“We are applying for Habeas Corpus and an order of mandamus. This is a clear case of illegal detention”, Baba Lekki shrieked.
“All dat na stupid grammar. He no fit remove one hair from me. Corporal, bring me dictionary make we see wetin dis yeye old man dey say”, the desk sergeant bellowed at his junior. As he made to comply, one hefty insane-looking thug, obviously the resident enforcer, emerged from one of the cells giggling with sinister relish. After chanting his native oriki, the desk sergeant got up.
“Ha, Denge how market with dis Okon boy? You don reach fifth amendment?”, the sergeant demanded.
“Oga we don pass dat one. I beat dem boy sotey. He don shit but him never sing”, the crazy fellow sulked as he eyed everybody with satanic disregard.
“Ah leave am. Tonight I go use dem big plier remove him front teeth”, the desk sergeant threatened.
“At this point, we will end up inviting the United Nations to come and see what is going on in this country”, Baba Lekki suddenly exploded.
“Useless old man, if you like go bring Manchester United. Dem country don pass dat nonsense”, the sergeant retorted with a sadistic grin. At this point, an officer in mufti walked up to the sergeant and whispered something into the sergeant’s ear. It was an order from above to release all detainees.
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