CHAPTER FOURTEEN: MAYHEM
1504 Words
Mami had faced many things in her life—hunger, heartbreak, heartbreak caused by hunger, and even the agony of finding out that her best friend had been secretly borrowing her favorite wrapper and posing with it on i********:. But today, none of those compared to the frustration of trying to bribe a Nigerian hospital police chief.
She was standing outside Ward C-17, where Ron was being kept under what the hospital called “biological surveillance.” Mami called it nonsense.
She adjusted her scarf, drew a long breath, and stepped forward. Two officers stood before the steel door like human fence posts, their arms folded and faces carved out of concrete.
“Good afternoon, officer,” she began sweetly, channeling the tone she used when asking meat sellers for extra roundabout.
The taller officer nodded stiffly, like someone whose neck was owed money.
“I am the mother of the boy inside there. My son, my first fruit, my fish in the soup of life,” she said dramatically, placing a hand over her heart like she was reciting the national anthem.
The shorter officer sniffed.
“No entry,” the tall one said flatly.
Mami’s eye twitched. She leaned in, smiling like a trader about to hand you fake Ankara.
“I brought something… small,” she whispered, digging into her raffia bag like a magician pulling out a dove.
The officers both watched as she produced an envelope. Not just any envelope—a brown one, the official Nigerian currency of corruption.
“Just pure appreciation,” she added with a wink. “From a grateful mother who only wants to see her son and maybe… ask a few things about his blood. Nothing serious. You know these doctors with long coats and long stories.”
She slid the envelope forward slowly, like she was offering communion.
The tall officer didn’t blink. The short one took a step back as if the envelope might explode.
“Madam,” the tall officer said, “this is a high-level biohazard security zone. Bribery is an offence.”
Mami blinked. Then she burst out laughing.
“Ehn? Bio-what? Officer, please! That boy used to suck mosquito nets as a baby, what biohazard are we talking about here?”
The short officer tried not to smile.
“Please take your envelope and go,” the tall one said firmly.
Mami looked genuinely offended. “You mean you don’t even want to discuss it? Just like that?”
“No discussion.”
“You won’t even open and look inside? What if it’s Bible verses?”
The short one chuckled. The tall one shot him a glare.
“Madam. Please.”
Mami sighed deeply and retrieved her envelope with great ceremony, as though the rejection physically pained her fingers.
“Well done, o. God will judge all of you. When your own children are locked inside chemical rooms, may they refuse you entry too.”
With one final hiss loud enough to disinfect the hallway, she turned and stormed off, wrapper flapping in defeat.
---
Back at the hospital waiting area, Jerry was chewing dried coconut like it owed him money. His fingers tapped nervously on the plastic armrest of a chair that looked like it hadn’t been cleaned since Nigeria won gold in Atlanta ‘96.
“Any show?” he asked as Mami approached, puffing like an angry train.
“That man is a mountain,” Mami spat. “Even money could not shift him.”
Jerry raised a brow. “You tried to bribe them?”
She nodded. “Envelopes. Respectfully. Politely. Like a citizen who understands the Nigerian language of appreciation.”
“And?”
“They rejected me. Imagine! Even refused to check if there was five hundred or five thousand inside!”
Jerry whistled. “They’ve been trained by soldiers, not Nigeria. This one is serious.”
Mami sat beside him heavily, her bottom flattening the cushion with authority.
“I fear for Ron o. What if they decide to experiment on him? One minute he’s a boy, next minute—poof!—he’s an army project named ‘Operation Blood Fountain’.”
Jerry chuckled but then turned serious.
“You think they’ll harm him?”
“I don’t know. But when Minos howled yesterday, did you see the way everybody scattered like dry garri in rainwater? This thing is not small.”
She leaned closer. “And now the doctors want the source of Ron’s blood? To make some medicine? That boy is not a tap. Where do they think his blood is coming from, a pharmacy?”
Jerry looked around the hallway. Nurses bustled past. The walls echoed with rolling stretchers and murmured diagnoses. But beneath all the white and blue decor, something cold was settling in the air. Fear. The kind that wore gloves and walked in slow steps.
Then, Jerry did something he hadn’t done in days.
He smiled.
A slow, dangerous, thoughtful smile.
“Mami,” he said quietly, “I have a plan.”
Mami turned sharply. “You?”
“Don’t insult me.”
“I’m not. I’m just… shocked. You haven’t had a plan since you tried to put diesel in our kerosene stove.”
Jerry waved her off. “This one will work.”
“What is the plan?”
He leaned closer. “I can’t tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because if you know, and it fails, you’ll blame me forever. But if you don’t know, you can pretend I went to buy malt and just never came back.”
Mami crossed her arms. “You better not make it worse, o. You know we are still owing NEPA and now Ron is their prisoner.”
“He’s not a prisoner.”
“He can’t even open the window without one man in helmet shouting ‘Step back!’. How is that not prison?”
Jerry stood up, brushing coconut dust from his lap. “Just act normal. Keep crying or bribing or whatever you want. Distract them.”
Mami’s eyes narrowed. “You sure you’re not going to sell one of my goats?”
“No.”
“My wrapper?”
“No.”
“My—”
“No! Trust me small, Mami. I have watched ten seasons of crime documentaries on cable. I’ve been preparing my mind for this day.”
“That explains why you sleep with your shoes on.”
Jerry winked. “Operation Coconut Storm begins.”
Then he slipped off, pretending to head for the vending machine.
---
Later that evening, Lady Hew arrived, her heels clicking across the hallway like a countdown to someone’s punishment. She glanced at Mami slumped on the bench like a dying tulip.
“Any news?” she asked briskly.
Mami looked up, her eyes red and voice hoarse.
“They said no entry.”
Lady Hew raised a brow. “Did you try asking nicely?”
“I tried bribe.”
Lady Hew chuckled despite herself. “Of course you did.”
“I even added a sachet of Peak milk in the envelope.”
That made Lady Hew pause. “Peak milk?”
“Symbol of sincerity.”
Lady Hew turned her head slightly, eyes scanning the hospital corridor. “Ron is a case now. Not a boy. You know what I mean?”
Mami nodded slowly.
“They’ll study him. Poke, test, and maybe…” Lady Hew didn’t finish.
“I will not let them cut him open like ewedu leaf,” Mami growled. “Over my dead body.”
“Well then,” Lady Hew said calmly, “you better be ready to die spectacularly.”
---
Outside the hospital, under the glow of a flickering streetlamp, Jerry crouched behind the canteen window. He was watching. Studying. His eyes danced over the perimeter like a war strategist planning to steal a goat from the king’s backyard.
He muttered to himself:
“Two guards on the west wing. One dog. Nurse with suspiciously wide shoes. Possible smuggler. CCTV camera above the ward door—fake wire. Ha! Budget cut.”
He scribbled notes in his mind.
“Plan A: Disguise. Plan B: Diversion. Plan C: The Great Lizard Release.”
Then he tapped his forehead.
“No need to rush. The best kind of rescue is the kind no one sees coming.”
As he melted back into the darkness, someone from the night shift cafeteria called out, “Oga! Are you stealing suya again?”
“God forbid!” Jerry whispered and ran.
---
Meanwhile, back in Ward C-17, Ron lay awake.
He could hear murmurs outside his room, boots on the floor, hushed arguments between nurses.
But mostly, he kept thinking about the howl Minos made.
And the way everyone’s faces changed after it.
He wasn’t a boy anymore.
He was evidence.
A cure wrapped in human skin.
And it was only a matter of time before someone decided to unwrap him.
- Writer
