Boys On Rampage

CHAPTER 1-4

That usual Wednesday morning around 8.30 a.m., people were cautiously walking like the ancient chameleon to avoid damaging the slippery soft wet ground. It had rained throughout last night. July was known for its round the clock rainfall and frightening thunder lightening that struck down trees and ripped off zinc roofs and caused untold damages to some primary schools’ walls and threw them into the streets.

Briskly walking, Shaba Boss entered the street. At the adjoining street that preceded another junction, the outnumbered waiting commercial cyclists clustered around their bike-stop as they were popularly called okada were calling on people to come take a ride on their second-hand Belgium imported motorcycles. Sometimes when there was glut in the business like it was that day they’d derogatorily embarrass anyone who reject their greedy offer. When Shaba approached them under a shade, three of them rushed to her but being in her outfit, she conveniently could not mount any of their motorcycles without exposing her womanhood covered under a red silk pant. The okada commercial cyclists exploded when she had out rightly ignored them and walked on. To embarrass her, they circled round her shouting all the vulgar names they knew for a prostitute. Not that they knew her trade but because she was provocatively dressed. Shaba have had this sort of experience before hence, she had suspected that such experience would repeat itself and so, she decided to humour them by stopping short amidst them. Already, some passersby had surrounded them in what seemed like they were around one herbalist displaying his wares for auction in a market place or motor park.

The shouts of ‘Ashewo! Ashanti! Endless hole! Shameless dirty hen!’ rented the air. She managed to walk out on them, pretending as if nothing had happened, keeping up a careless proud gait and swiveling her hips as she walked, much to the barbaric lust and admiration of the commercial motorcyclists. They turned the whole thing into a singsong affair in a way fans of a particular football team would to kill the spirits of the opponents. With every swing of her hips, they’d shout and boo her in this singsong... Eh! Eh! Oh! Oh...! and clapped hilariously. Shaba was stupidly laughing within her.

These crude shouts of dizzying noise reached the ears of Kendo and without disturbing his juniors, he walked down to the scene. When he saw Shaba, the male admirer in him mounted its pressure on him to clinch the girl’s attention and unavoidable acceptance. The investigations that had brought them out would wait till he had warmed his way into the delectable looking Eve’s daughter’s heart by playing the good knight. He gave the motorcyclists a look of disdain and followed Shaba till they were out of their sights before accosting her.

“You’re a policeman?” Shaba asked in accusatory voice, looking Kendo full on the face. “You saw what those uncircumcised savages did to my right as a fun loving woman?”

“Yes, but what you’re wearing is enough to spark off chaos among those stupid animals.” He tried to be on her side. “Look young lady, are you a s*x hawker?” He had asked in a business-like voice.

“Yes and No. Or do you see me calling on people to buy me for a night?” Shaba put up in self-defense.

From her outspokenness, Kendo could see that she was a mature call girl and he then decided to try his luck real home.

“No, but I like you. My boys actually asked me to strip you as they do in Lagos areas, but...”

“That would be great fun. I am at the Prosti.” She interrupted sarcastically. Kendo was moved by her unusual business reply and invitation.

“So you are like this?” He asked instead as he had become short of words.

“In spite of appearing macho-like in your fading police uniform, you talk like a toothless old woman. Anyway, I’m going to see my sugar daddy in his office. Good day.” She made to move.

“Please don’t go yet, my likeness for you is genuine. I’ll come around at...”

“9 p.m. on Sunday. So, it’s a deal. See you at the appointed time.”

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When he returned to his subordinates, he told them a story of what on his last mission to Lagos he witnessed. It was the stripping of a girl by the street urchins who accused her of harassing young males in her mini skirt that revealed more than they were covering, but for the timely intervention of the police, she would have been r***d in the full public glare. They all laughed. Anyway, his mind rested on the girl he had met. Even the unusual invitation was very tempting. His only fear was that of his adversaries using the girl to get at him and clink champagne glasses on his downfall.

“No, I must go out with my service pistol anywhere, for in everything, it’s an adventure and I still have to report to the DPO on the progress of my investigations.” He thought. There and then, he made up his mind to meet the girl on Sunday.

After twenty minutes, he drove his subordinates to a new road junction where they mounted another bribe-collecting roadblock.

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