CRAZY FELLOW-1

CRAZY FELLOW-1

I am looked at funny, these days. Everyone around me says; Am crazy. Well, I guess they are right. No sane man sits on a grave 1:00am at night consistently, singing a lullaby!

You’ll ask Why? I’ll just reply Money! Oh yes! Money all the way...

It all started three weeks ago. I reside in Ayobo, twenty five kilometres south of Lagos. Ayobo, a sprawling settlement which although close to the commercial capital of the country, has managed (quite ingeniously) to remain afloat from it. To be blunt, it is still a village! Mud houses with corrugated roofs, paths linking everywhere with everywhere, the bush the community garbage dump (and public toilet), children running around naked (and mischievous), are just some of the ‘beauties’ of my place. I was born here. Orphaned young, I was raised by my Uncle Akanji, a typical Yoruba farmer. Having made up my mind that I will not end up like him, hitting it big and fast became my life’s pursuit...

On a clear Saturday morning, three weeks ago, Kollington came calling at my place. Kollington (Kolawole his real name), a very good friend and partner in crime, entered my room with an enthusiasm I haven’t seen since the time we went tusk hunting ten months ago (another failed attempt at making ‘quick money’).

Adesky (my nick), we don hit am!

Wetin happen? I replied.

I say we don hit am.

Talk na.

You don hear about Egbere, the mystic pygmies?

Who never!

So you know about them and their mats?

Say wetin you won say! I was getting exasperated.

I hear say na one of them mats Lekan snatch to make money rituals o.

You dey serious or you dey joke?

I dey serious like die!

Where you hear am?

Na lekan himself we yan me.

Eehnnnn.....

Before he left later that day, we had decided to try it out. But two quite serious challenges were before us; where do we get the mats and which ‘babalawo’ would conduct the ritual for us? Kollington (ever the strategist) suggested Baba Fadeyi, a fearsome and quite infamous herbalist in the next village of Adenle. One problem solved! Where could we encounter the mystic pygmies and how do we collect the mat? Kollington reminded me of a story we were told as kids that Egberes usually pass through the Government cemetery at one in the morning, once every three days. They were said to be responsible for the wailing sounds that could be heard by those who live close to the cemetery. All we need to do was position ourselves at strategic along their rumoured path, sing a lullaby to them at sight (which would lure them to sleep) and make away with their mats. The more mats we get, the more money we make. Always the cautious one, I asked him,’ don’t we need to be empowered before embarking on this quite precarious venture.’? No problem. I have gotten two protective charms from my father, he said.

So our latest money making adventure was kick started two days later. Since then, at twelve thirty in the night, we are at our designated points. His, at the gate of the cemetery, mine at a grave close to a connecting footpath. Obviously we are yet to be successful, although we are optimistic. Our duet at night has not gone unnoticed by our cemetery neighbours. Word of our nocturnal activities has spread all over the community. My families’ reaction is a story for another day!

                                                                                                LAMS