Tag: Okon

Okon falls to Mama Igosun

It was the longest day, and the cannons of Kiriji were already booming. Even before commencing on the great march on Mama Igosun’s redoubt, Okon was already dreaming of sweet victory and sweeter revenge. “I go tie up dem Yoruba witch as dem dey do for Akwa Ibom. Dem small children go pepper am and im go confess. Dem go know say na dem yeye Yoruba people dey trouble dis kontri. After dat na dem OPC house I go head make I go finish dat were man who come beat Okon just like dat”.

 After Okon was forcibly dislodged from the house in a civil commotion that lasted a whole day, he had taken up residence with Baba Lekki who promised him a medical concoction that would make him invisible to any human-being.  But the crazy boy still had his doubts about Baba Lekki and his bogus charm. As he evaded Baba’s lunging walking stick, Okon suddenly rounded on the old crook.

   “Baba as una dey chase me, dat means you dey see me? So when dem medicine go start work, abi na Yoruba wayo?” Okon demanded.

    “Na by remote control I go trigger am. I get dem remote control from dem Agbanrere (Giraffe) neck and dem buffalo horn”, Baba replied.

     “So, how one go know say one don become spirit?” Okon pressed.

     “When you hit dem LASTMA people and dem no reply”, Baba answered.

 “Baba  wetin if dem charm no work?”, Okon asked the ageing scoundrel.

      “Foolish boy, he come be like the case of dem apprentice pilot who dey ask him oga wetin go happen if parachute no open. Na dat one dem dey call jumping to conclusion”, Baba Lekki retorted with a sinister smile.

     “Baba, walahi, if dis yeye juju no work, as you come draw blood from my head, naim I go draw blood from una mouth”, Okon snarled as Baba Lekki tried to hush him away. By now, Okon knew he was on his own. But he was determined to press his luck.  Very soon, Okon arrived at the sight of an uncompleted building that had just collapsed. It was a scene out of the apocalypse. While people were wailing, open looting was also going on. His sense of natural dignity and justice affronted, Okon blocked the path of a neer do well. “No be dem dead people property you dey thief so?” Okon demanded. Before the mammoth urchin could give a reply, Okon dealt him a resounding slap on the face.

   “Allah wa kabr, awon omo ogun orun dide”, the illiterate vagabond screamed and fled.

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   By now, Okon had arrived around the neighborhood. He was now convinced that the charm was working and that he was truly invisible and invincible. Earlier, he had accosted a policeman who was openly taking bribe and dealt him a blow to the plexus. The rogue cop fled screaming “Chineke dem ghost from Atan don destroy me”.

    But the first sign that all might not go well on the home front came soon. There was Mama Igosun dressed like a local hunter swigging directly from a bottle of Seaman’s schnapps even as she swung to a 1930 classic by Denge in honour of one Maggie Macaulay.

As Okon made to sweep past her thinking that all this was an elaborate bluff, the Amazon blocked his path and stated cursing his ancestors.

    “Ekolo, abi wetin you call yourself, you no dey greet your mother for dem village?” she hollered as she tried to collar Okon.

     “Move”, Okon thundered as he sidestepped. Mama Igosun was so taken aback by the vehemence and ferocity that she tripped and fell. Okon rushed towards her room.

    “Hen hen, o ti lo gbagbara, abi?” the old woman screamed as she sprang after Okon. Overconfidence overtook the crazy boy. Before he could look back, the irate woman dealt him a blow on the back with a frying pan.  The effect of the blow was electric. Okon wound up like a stung millipede and upon recovering his senses, he took to his heels with Mama Igosun in hot pursuit.

An old classic republished by popular demand.

As daily existence takes on a decidedly surrealistic and absurdist hue in Nigeria, not even the sacred laws of reality are sacred anymore. Welcome to Kafkaland. Reports reaching snooper indicate that the thief that turned to a goat has been auctioned to a popular Lagos food seller who journeyed south specifically for the purpose. So then if you order for goat leg at your local eatery and you find human toes popping out of the bowl, don’t be dismayed, it is all part of growing up in cuckoo’s land.

Actually before the said auction, it had been drama galore with a substantial portion of the police equipment fund going to crack herbalists who had promised to force the stupid goat back to the hell of human existence. Alas, it was all to no avail as the mad goat stuck to its guns. You can trust Okon to cotton on to the dark fun, having recovered from the last fiasco with Baba Lekki. One fine morning, Okon showed up in court claiming to be an interpreter for the goat who happened to be his bosom friend in real—or unreal—life.

The presiding lady judge could not understand what all the fuss was about as she descended from her chambers into the court room. The police quickly explained to her that they were on the verge of cracking a major mystery that had turned the entire force into an object of public ridicule. The good old lady could not believe her ears. She eyed Okon with a mixture of concern and bewilderment.

“And what did you say the gentlemen is here for again?” she asked the police.

“Na goat interpreter. Na him go talk to the goat, and the stupid goat must to answer today today”, the police sergeant said with malice and drunken frustration.

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“I see”, the lady judge said shaking her head. “Mr Man, is that correct?” she asked Okon.

“My sister, na true true. See me see trouble oo. You come resemble one woman  I dey hammer for Mushin Olosa. Abi na you true true?” Okon replied with a devilish smile.  The lady judge was not amused. She eyed Okon with a ferocious scowl.

“Please conduct yourself properly before a court of law”, the lady snapped.

    “I no be bus conductor oo, I be houseboy”, Okon snorted.

“All right, all right. What is your name?” the lady asked with a hint of panic and exasperation.

“I be Etubom Okon Anthony Okon”, the mad boy answered.

“And what is the goat’s name?”

“Surulere”, Okon replied instantly.

 “No, no no. I don’t mean his nickname. I mean his real name”, the judge asked as panic and confusion began to set in.

“Sebi im nickname na the name him dey use when him dey nick dem pocket for Tin Can, abi? Him name na Ejimofor Anikilaja and him be wharf rat no be armed robber at all at all” At this point, the goat let out some heavy bleating.

“You see now”, Okon began with a triumphant grin. “The goat be angry and hungry. Him say he never chop since dem capture am. Him say dem wicked and crooked police dey take all him chop money drink burukutu so tey dem come dey smile like dem asinwin for court”. At this point everybody, including the police, broke into hilarious laughter. The whole place became a bedlam of raucous mirth. The lady judge brought her gavel down on the table with great force.

    “Order, order!” She screamed.

“Me I want Apu and stockfish. Make dem give dem goat banana and ice cream”, Okon croaked.

    “What?” the judge said, straining her ears in utter disbelief.

     “My sister, I think say you say make we order?”

      “Oh my God!” the high strung lady judge shrilled.

      “My sister”, Okon began with sadistic glee but the irate judge cut him short.

       “Stop calling me your sister. I am not your sister. You say my lord, you hear?” she screamed.

       “My Rod”,,Okon began, eyeing the poor woman with criminal intent.

       “ What?” the poor woman shrieked.

        “You know say I be Efik and I know sabi call dem Yanminrin word,” Okon crowed with relish. At this point, the goat let off a prolonged bleating. “You see the goat say all of una na crooks and criminals and dat dis kontri don yamutu sam sam”, Okon intoned.

    On this note, the stricken lady began frantically gathering her paper as she back-heeled into her chambers. The police, sensing that they have been taken for a big ride, made a move to arrest Okon but the goat began barking furiously even as it strained its leash. “If you touch me, I will turn into a lion”, Okon threatened . Upon hearing this, the police fled, leaving Okon to walk out of the court room with a majestic frown.

     First published in 2010

May you live in interesting times, the Chinese, wise and inscrutable in their ways, often note with a wry chuckle. The children of Confucius have seen it all. There is nothing new under the sun. Civilizations come and go, leaving wonderful specimens of the human species. While female soccer divas are scaling new heights, Okon has been conquering the Atlas Mountain in his own way, this time around the kitchen ceiling. Yours sincerely noticed that the crazy chap has been behaving in a strange and unpredictable manner of late. After completing his daily chores, the weird one would disappear without apparently leaving the house. Yours sincerely decided to solve the mystery for himself. After due surveillance, the discovery was startlingly mundane. One evening, Okon was caught scrambling the ceiling in the kitchen in panic and fright.

  “Okon, what is the meaning of all this nonsense?”  snooper screamed at him as he peeped from an opening in the ceiling.

   “ Ha oga meaning na menini for dem mala language”, the mad boy snorted.  

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   “Meaning what?” yours sincerely raved, beside himself in rage.

   “Ha, oga no vex, I beg. As dem yeye Yoruba people dey say, the thing wey drive monkey come climb palm tree him still dey wait below palm tree”, the crazy boy rumbled.

  “I am tired of this nonsense. Lamidi please bring me my shotgun”, snooper charged at Lamidi, the half-crazed violence-prone driver, a recuperating NNDP thug and veteran of the Wetie campaign.

    “Ha beere (big master in Yoruba) mi. No need to waste agba (bullet) on this Kukuruku. Make I bring my plier make I remove him blokos and him go dey dance super kelele” Lamidi droned as he began a traditional war dance. Sensing trouble, the loony began disembarking. “Mad person pass mad person. Make I come down” Okon whined.

   “You fit?” snooper sneered.

    “Oga na killer Yoruba I dey run from. You know say dem Obonge king for Ijebu come quench and na de time Yoruba people go dey hunt people, dem go dey catch dem, dem go kill dem and dem go dey whack dem from dem big pot”, the mad boy sang breathlessly as he fell on the kitchen floor with a thud.

   “Idiot!”  snooper rumbled with a prolonged hiss as he retreated. 

The muted celebrations of the Sallah having petered out, Baba Lekki lapsed into a protracted meditative mood and mode. The old contrarian had spent the entire period holed up with his bosom childhood friend, Ibrahim Domingo, who had managed to slaughter a scrawny fowl to commemorate the occasion. This was in response to the biting economic condition. Of solid old Brazilian-Lagosian stock, Ibrahim Domingo was given to Sufi mysticism and end-of-the world-as-we know-it intellectual peregrinations. The dearth of good Sallah ram meat was to be regretted, but if this would cure the denizens of the biggest black nation on earth of their red tooth, the development was wholly welcome, the old man miserably concluded. By red tooth, the old scoundrel meant a predilection for the unrestrained consumption of raw red meat which harks back to some old cannibalistic ethos wired into the DNA of the Black person. But on Monday evening, the old man broke free of his meditative trance. He was back in his warlike default mode. He had bumped into Okon in a nearby street while the crazy boy was moonlighting as an itinerant cobbler.

 “Okon, I am going to Panti Building. Enough of this nonsense”, Baba Lekki growled.

  “Baba, abi dem don nab you for Indian hemp again? “ Okon sniggered.

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  “You are a fool. I am not going to that Panti “, Baba Lekki fumed, hiding a miserable grin.

   “Baba, I don tell you I no dey go near dem Panti place. Na like dis dem Yoruba people go dey put people for trouble. Dem last time for Panti, he get one Sergeant Pepper from Owo and him finis me. Him wan pull out my front teeth with dem old klipa. That one na real scorpion and him don be sergeant for fifty years. Even dem big policeman for Abuja dey dobale for am”, Okon croaked, looking furtively across his shoulder. The old codger could no longer contain his mirth.

  “Okon, I say you are a fool. This is not that Panti, na another Panti be dis one”, Baba Lekki croaked as he convulsed with laughter.

   “So, which one be dis oo?” Okon demanded with a cynical grin.

    “ Na where dem dey warehouse dem abandoned and displaced and yeye politicians, flotsam and jetsam of Nigerian politics. Dem boku there. Na from there dem go transfer them to dem main dining hall after proper registration”, the old man responded matter-of-factly.

   “Baba, wetin be flosam and jesam?” the boy demanded.

   “Rubbish and refuse meant for the dunghill. They contaminate everything. They pollute everywhere and by the time they finish with their invasion nobody will be able to recognize Akanbi or his party again”, Baba Lekki charged, trembling with indignation.

   “Excuse me baba, how dat one go bring down the price of garri and manpower? Se na defection we go chop?”

   “You are a bloody fool. Isn’t that what we are talking about?” the old man fumed as he stormed off with Okon in hot pursuit. “Baba, baba!!” the crazy boy screamed at the old man. “As you dey go meet dem panti politician, he get one of them who get juju pass dem Arochukwu people. Him be Senator Kitikiti Wotowoto and him owe man small change from last job. But tell am say as dem dey decamp, na so people dey camp too”

Despite the recent presidential charm offensive and promises of wondrous sweeteners, all is still not well in the land of the rising sun. There is still a lot of turbulence in the air. With the dreaded IPOB threatening another massive lockdown which will shake the entire beleaguered enclave to its roots, there is reason to believe that something nasty and sinister is in the offing. Like an old metrological savant, yours sincerely has been monitoring the inclement clouds with mounting concern and anxiety wondering whether it will all fizzle out or end in a malignant downpour. IPOB and its trigger-happy affiliates have promised to honour and celebrate the departed icons and heroes of its struggle even if it means putting the entire region on a war-footing. How it expects the authorities to sit idly by and watch this challenge to the legitimacy and authority of the state remains a source of profound mystery. The only problem is that the Nigerian security forces are fighting off too many challenges to the sovereignty of the state on many fronts.

  All of a sudden, Okon crashed into the living room and dropped a heavy bag on the floor, disturbing the peace and harmony of the hour after the gentle drizzles which went on all night. A startled snooper sprang up on the sofa. But before one could say a word, the crazy boy opened up.

  “Ha, oga no vex at all. I wan quickly reach dem old Orlu Province make man join dem Biafran volunteer group”, the mad boy announced with flourish and excitement. The heart warmed and glowered at the prospects hoping that this time around the lunatic will meet his terminal comeuppance.

  “General Okon, welcome to the front!” yours sincerely noted with a cynical guffaw.

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  “Ha oga, I no be general at al at all. Dem general no fit shoot and dem dey run even from dem rabbit. I be Commander Gburugburu from Oji River”, the mad boy shouted. At this point, the ancient generator that had been working all night suddenly hissed like a mad camel and then went dead.

  “Ha oga, you see yourself now? We never chop meat for dis house for six months now. Na so so Yoruba insect and dem ancient mushroom. Now dem generator don kaput. Even dem Biafran people no dey treat dem old officer like dis. At least dem still dey supply dem with monkey meat and manpower. And….” At this point, yours sincerely tried to hush up the crazy fellow and his subversive ranting.

  “Wo, Okon shut up and face your own problems. By the way, you never said you are Ibo and a member of IPOB”, yours sincerely noted with a blackmailing frown.

   “Oga, na double-barrel question you dey ask me. I no dey answer double-barrel question”, the mad boy retorted.

   “So, how are you going to get to IPOB heartland?” snooper demanded from the crazy fellow.

    “When I reach Uturu Junction from Afikpo, I go cross to Ihube in Okigwe and from there I go reach Isuochi from the backdoor and then on to Mbala and Agwuata,” Okon reeled out as if reading from a war map. His knowledge of the Igbo heartland was so compelling and detailed that it set off a quiet wave of panic in yours sincerely.

    “If I had known that I have been harbouring a rebel insurgent in the house, I would have invited these people to come and take you away a long time ago..” yours sincerely moaned as fright and premonition set in.

  “ Ah oga no be like dat ooo. No be like dat at all. I no dey fight oo. I no be soldier. I just dey supply dem with  fresh palm wine from Itigidi and Biakpan. You no say na my papa dey sell better palm wine for Calabar. Even dem Awolowo dey come drink palm wine for dem place after dem mala capture am. At time, dem old Yoruba witch go disappear and him go reappear just like dat”, Okon sang.

  “Shut up, Okon. Awolowo was a teetotaler “, yours sincerely screamed at the mad ruffian.

    “Taller dan who? Oga, Awo na short man, him no tall pass nothing”, the crazy boy retorted and then winked. “Oga, I no be dem IPOB. Na dem mad boy for Anambra who dey fire and wire all dem Ibo women who come invite me make I become him assistant. Him say work dey boku and Ibo women plenty yanfunyanfun and dem go pay me for direct gbam and for assist”. On that note, snooper threw a shoe at the urchin which sent him packing.  

As the Natasha affair degenerates into ethnic sabre-rattling among some cultural groups and their affiliated unions, the dreaded Ebira Cooperative Assembly has issued a proclamation from their deep forest reserves around Ogaminaza demanding for the manhood of all Efik/Ibiobio free born citizens for sacrifice to appease their native deities for the grave injuries done to their daughter in the senate and the resulting loss of repute and means of livelihood. Failure to comply will result in the forfeiture and confiscation of such manhood and their owners as may be deemed appropriate.

  Not surprisingly and since dry bones were being freely mentioned in the presence of an old woman, Okon was the first to jump into the fray.

 “Oga, he be like if say na dis Godswill  boy go finish all dem Efik and Kukuruku men. Dem Efik elders say make him sumbit him discharge papers but him no gree”, the mad boy noted with a wink.

  “And what is discharge paper?”

“Ha oga no be dem thin dem go take go Rainbow Laboratory for Calabar to see if na true, true? Rainbow no dey waste time”, Okon sang with relish.

“Get lost, idiot!” yours sincerely screamed at the urchin.

 But knowing the capacity and reputation of the dreaded group for the enforcement of their writ, all hell has been let loose at the National Assembly. Some serving and undeserving senators were sighted on the hallowed precincts of the senate fearfully clutching at their midsections and emitting a groan of acute discomfort. Okon joined the fray again and was having none of that nonsense.

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  “No mind dem yeye people. Na dem emergency loot dem dey hide. Dem no dey use dem head and dem cap again like dem Kano wuruwuru man. Na dem blokos and dem dross dem dey use for now. But dem don forget say Oyinboman sabi dem foolish Afrika man, well well.” Okon exploded as he fidgeted frantically probably thinking that his temerity had taken him too far. It did not take him long to find out. A few days after, the mad Saro dustbin woman charged into the living room, heaving and panting.

“ Ha oga katakata come burst for Freetown. He get one better Oyinbo woman for outside who say him come see Okon ooo. Him name be Natasha. I don see her dey cry for inside television before before. Na touch and don’t go. Okon don carry firewood ants inside your bedroom. Dem don soak him garri finish ooo”, she charged breathlessly. Upon hearing this, Okon back-heeled and scaled through the perimeter fence, screaming “Ah, market don mature oooo at last!”

  “Ha Okon, wont you say hello to your visitor?” yours sincerely called out.

  “Oga, I no want dem woman trouble ooo. She don dey cause trouble for Efik people since him dey Secondary school for Abak. Him get one boy like dat…”

   “Okon, enough of that rubbish. What do we tell the lady?” snooper demanded, brimming with mischief and mirth.

   “Oga tell am say man don perish for Otedola Bridge”,