Emeka stepped down from the bus to empty his bladder for the last time before the bus he was in would commence the long and dangerous night journey from the then notorious Ojota motor park to Mission Hill in Umuahia, Abia state. He had eased himself about two times that night before he decided to do what he later described as to be ‘double sure’ urinating. On each of the occasions that he went to the corner to urinate, he met men and women busy emptying their bladders too. Nobody cared whether it was a woman or a man squatting and standing at a corner peeing; the most important thing was the business at hand. Maybe nobody cared because the place was already dark; so, no one could see clearly see the myriad of male and female urinating organs on display. Again, nobody cared about the stench that announced itself some meters away unless you were not really pressed to urinate. No other corner was allowed for that kind of business within the park except that dark and hidden corner.
Emeka had heard a lot about Ojota Motor Park and the calibre of touts that operated there. He had been warned by friends and family members who knew the park very well not to stay alone in the dark or at any corner where he might be vulnerable to the hawks that paraded the Motor Park in those days. However, this particular time Emeka needed to quickly urinate and run back to his seat. The driver had issued his last reminder to whoever wanted to ‘ease’ him or herself to do so before he changed his gear from the neutral position where the gear had been since he cracked on the ignition and left it to warm for some good minutes; a ritual the drivers belive reminds the brain box of the luxury bus of the long journey ahead. Nobody came down again from the bus after the reminder was issued except Emeka. He wasn’t so sure of himself hence the last attempt at emptying his bladder.
Emeka was done urinating but was still vigorously shaking his ‘urinating devise’ just to be sure that the last drop of urine did not go back with him to the bus when three men smelling of weeds accosted him. Emeka knew instantly that he was in a deep trouble when the strange men circled him.
Emeka did not know exactly what to do until action began; the first asked what he was doing at the place. Emeka did not answer. The second person took over and asked the same question this time even louder and even added he should surrender everything in his pocket, Emeka did not move, instead he continued shaking his tool like he was doing before the men approached him. The moment the third person stepped forward and held him by his shoulder and started shook him, Emeka burst out, the way an angry dump person would have done
3rd Man (sholving Emeka): Ogbeni answer us joor
Emeka (pretending to be deaf and dump): Mbebebe be be be
2nd Man: You no go talk now before we design you?
Emeka (with palms opened): Hee hee, Mbebebe be be
1 Man (gave a Emeka a hot slap): I say talk!
Emeka: Ahhh! Mbebebe be be be ou ou Mbebebe be be
The men looked at themselves and affirmed that Emeka was indeed deaf and dump and decided to leave him alone. Emeka ran into the bus as quickly as his legs could carry him. “Cunning man die, cunning man bury am” he muttered to himself as he reached for his seat.
Image credit: thenationonlineng.net (just to illustrate a Motor Park)
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