Like Joshua Said

by AC Alegbo

  ‘Yes sir.’

  ‘Is there anyone else who doesn’t understand question 3?’ he’d ask.

  There would be plenty of ruffling as the kids would look for the question.

  ‘I don’t understand sir,’ a few more would admit.

  He’d read it again more slowly and close the case. Ten minutes later…

  ‘Excuse me sir.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Number 3 sir.’

  And the man would go berserk.

  Then the school devised a slightly different approach which they felt would be more helpful. The invigilator would go through all the questions slowly before the kids were allowed to start on the paper leaving the individual help option still open. The school must have been counting on our memory and it worked; there were fewer disruptions at exams besides that of the odd pupil here and there. Ireneh was usually one of those but not this day.

  I thought he was on self-destruct as failing that term after he had the previous one would almost certainly mean he would have to repeat the class the following year. Right now, even that looked like his best option.

  The exam weeks dragged on interminably, so long that I believed I was going to have a hard time adjusting to ordinary class lessons again. It felt like we were being ruthlessly squeezed for every bit of academic knowledge we possessed. Through it all, Ireneh didn’t climb down from what seemed to be a firm resolve to go the exam without any help but in the middle of the second week, he came back to class football. No one noticed; only the usual happened. We messed around for half an hour chasing a rubber ball that was constantly buried under a pile of bodies at any end of the playground at any time. One more addition to the chaos made about as much difference as a bearded man in Afghanistan.

  ****

  Mallam Ibrahim held a meeting in the garage on the first day we returned to work. Tolu and I had taken our time; it was our money we were losing after all. No one would care if we continued with the car business or not. Baba had his steady supply of income. Word had it that he had an array of garages around Kano, perhaps not owned by him directly, but in the hands of people in whose credit he was. These people would still draw from his expertise, drink from his fountain of knowledge about the business, use his contacts and make remuneration. The garage at Sabon Gari was simply one of the many for the Mallam.

  So we stayed away for four days more after we received news that the garage had opened again. I did not enjoy my period of inactivity; seven working days were a long time to hang around without work or hope of income after getting used to a schedule. However, the police raid had scared the dream out of me; this was reality. I had been in a criminal situation, an illegal environment. I dared not think what if things had gone but a little wrong. What if I’d been caught? How would I have put up against the indignity of police treatment, the boot in my face, batons whacking my head and body, that is, if I was lucky enough to escape being shot by an excited officer. That’d have been the end – of everything; I’d have been guilty, they’d have been the heroes. I’d have been guilty just for being at the site; the brand of justice the police meted out was direct and quick. You were guilty until proven innocent. And then, there was Shari’ah, I dared not think about that.

  Tolu agreed with me but tried to play everything down. ‘Don’t you worry about these things. That was just a mistake; those police people didn’t know that that was Ibrahim’s workshop.’

  ‘Yeah, and see how Ibrahim ran,’ I replied. ‘If he is that popular like that, why he didn’t he stay behind?’

  ‘Look, Rez. Ibrahim has got godfathers among the police; he will square this problem once and for all and it won’t repeat itself. Just don’t worry about it.’

  I didn’t even know why he was still so loyal to the business and to the Mallam considering what he’d gone through in the robbery. The more I thought about it, the more impatient I became. ‘Look at who’s talking!’ I shouted suddenly making Tolu jump. ‘We’ve used up all our money treating you. Now, you are talking about us trusting Ibrahim. Was Ibrahim there when robbers attacked us or when the police chased us? Abeg, don’t get me annoyed.’

  My outburst shook him and he didn’t utter a word in reply. But we had stayed away all the same. Tolu finally began to let slip, time and time again, that he too had been thoroughly shaken by the closeness of the raid. He also dreaded being a guest of the Kano police and certainly didn’t want to end up in any can of theirs.

  ‘By the time, you get out of the cell at the station, you’d be dead from mosquito bites and you would smell like a toilet that is if you are lucky enough to get a cell to yourself. If not, then, you go come out with your face beaten out of shape by the thugs you’ll meet there.’

  ‘Ha, ha,’ I laughed. ‘I thought you put your faith in Ibrahim. You should have waited for the police,’ I teased.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Tolu said a little irritated. ‘Ibrahim wouldn’t even notice if I got arrested. Is he my father? All I was saying was that I’m sure he will make sure this does not happen again.’

  ‘It had better not happen again,’ I said. ‘I totally fear the police o. But why would they even raid us in the first place?’

  ‘Someone must have tipped them off about the cars we have here,’ Tolu replied, ‘but Ibrahim will sort it.’

  ‘Our stolen cars,’ I emphasised. ‘We have become thieves Tolu. Isn’t that a sin against God?’ I teased. ‘I am not a Christian but you have no excuse.’

  ‘Ah, God will understand. I need to stay alive to worship him after all. There are lots of worse sins than what we are doing.’

  ‘Yes, like snatching cars at gun point,’ I replied sarcastically. ‘We are both criminals, full stop.’

  ‘But we are the nice kind,’ he said smiling. ‘What are you hassling me for? If you are so bothered, why don’t you stop?’

  I knew why not. ‘We’ll just give it about a month more and we will quit, okay?’

  ‘We will see,’ he said.

  Again Mallam Ibrahim seemed determined to sort this new mess as with a stony expression, he began to talk to all gathered at the meeting, the robbery episode quite forgotten. There was hardly anyone absent; he must have waited until everyone had returned to make his announcement. His voice was raspy and quick; he sashayed involuntarily as he moved from side to side in short steps, hands in dirty pockets. We were all in the workshop and not a man behind another; the structure was wide enough to take our width. The Mallam spoke in Hausa. He went the very fluent route but most of the group had grown up appropriately; we listened as much as we could and believed as he spoke.

  ‘I know the person who brought the police on us and I’ve dealt with him. Let’s say he won’t be eating his pap with a spoon.’ I got lost in the metaphor for a brief moment as he continued. ‘I spoke with the police chief and we’re cool from now on. But the chief’s not cheap, so, I’ll need you boys to work even sharper from now. I’ll need a bigger drop from every one of you every month and for those of you selling second-hand cars, I want twenty five percent cut from now. Let’s get back to work.’

  It was that brief and we got back to work hoping things would get back to normal.

  ****

  But Ireneh made a difference to the dynamics of Eze and me when he joined us again on our walk home. He slipped in without invitation as if he’d always been around. He even contributed to our chat right after he stepped up to us. I concluded he must have missed our company badly enough. Exams were all but over now so it would have been too late to require help from either of us – he certainly was a strange one. We got talking like the events of a few weeks previously never happened. In fact, we got so drawn into our chit-chat that anyone would have thought it had never mattered – at least, that was how it looked to me.

  But I didn’t care that our spat should matter now anyway; the incident was so long ago now and my anger had almost totally worn off right after he had been cut off me. Besides, there were a lot of fascinating stuff happening
in our little world and Ireneh was giving us the dirt on some of the latest and most daring.

  Our conversation was about everything other than the exams; there would have been no point to go on about sheets we’d already handed in. Talking about it would not save us now, only get us agitated, and it was useless especially now we had Ireneh for added company. Even if we had an inclination to discuss the exams, the fact that he wasn’t likely to have fared well would have dissuaded us. No one should be expected to go through such pain. Ireneh wasn’t even the kind for such conversations, never been interested in ‘intelligent’ topics; even at the best of times, he’d avoid them like the plague.

  ‘Two of you should come to my house on Saturday,’ he invited suddenly after thrilling us for about twelve minutes about a few new exploits of his. He was so animated that he failed to notice the traffic as he made to cross the busy road that separated us from Alaba market. A car narrowly missed him as he ran across looking back at us. The driver hooted so loudly that a few passers-by jumped and shouted angrily at the boy.

  ‘What’s the matter with you!? Small boy like you wants to die?’

  He didn’t seem to mind and waited impatiently for us to join him on the other side of the road. ‘We can make new shampe – flattened bottle-tops – and blow up bottles,’ was the first thing he said as we reached him. ‘I have done it before. Wonderful. You will love it. Come.’

  ‘I can’t come to blow up bottles,’ Eze protested. ‘It is dangerous. One of us could get injured.’

  ‘Forget that thing,’ said Ireneh sharply. ‘Do you know how many bottles I have blown up?

  I am an expert. I will show you how. Just come. Abeg.’

  ‘I don’t know if I’d be able to leave the house,’ I made my own protest. ‘My mama might want me to work.’

  ‘What kind of work?’ he asked daring me to come up with a lie.

  ‘There are lots of different jobs I could be doing,’ I said struggling. ‘I might need to wash my clothes or fetch water.’ Neither Eze nor I seemed to remember we were still writing exams.

  ‘Well, come when you have finished working,’ Ireneh answered back. ‘Go to Eze’s house and two of you should come together.’

  ‘Do you know how long it is going to take me to finish working?’ I asked.

  ‘What’s your problem Arinze? Just come, abeg. Stop acting like a bastard. And I will even buy minerals for all of us.’

  He’d put a different complexion on the negotiations now offering to buy us soft drinks – something that was a huge treat where kids were concerned. We only ever encountered soft drinks on big occasions – parties, religious feast days like Christmas and Easter. A child buying a soft drink without the backing of an adult would send tongues wagging. In all probability, they’d be seen to have stolen the money. But that wasn’t our problem.

  ‘Ok. I’ll come,’ said Eze promptly, looking at me with the faint hint of a plea in his eyes. How the tide had turned – these days, Eze and I were the duo and Ireneh, the outsider. Who’d have thought such a thing was possible at the beginning of the year when Eze had only been on standby? But Ireneh hadn’t really featured in the year, had he?

  ‘Where will you get the money from?’ I asked just to make sure he’d keep his word.

  ‘Forget. I have money,’ he said. ‘Just come.’

  ‘Our exams are not finished, you know?’ I reminded both of them as an objection. I suppose I didn’t want to be bought over easily otherwise I’d be handing over some of the ground I’d gained on Ireneh in my fight to bring him to our level.

  ‘There is only one paper left for Monday. We can study for it on Sunday,’ Ireneh replied.

  ‘Exam, exam, exam. Forget exam for just one day. You read too much.’

  ‘Yes, just come,’ helped Eze who must have thinking of the soft drink. ‘You can’t fail Monday exam. It is on Bible knowledge.’

  That swung it; well I decided to give in there. Eze had a point; I was more likely to forget the way home from school than to do badly in Bible knowledge. ‘Ok, I will come. Come to my house first Eze and we will go together.’

  ****

  Not all the workers of the garage had returned after the police raid. A few were lost for any reason but none of the missing hindered us as much as Usuman. The young Hausa mechanic was greatly instrumental to any work we could do at the garage and his absence gaped at us with wide eyed sympathy. For the first few days, therefore, we couldn’t do much and Tolu was compelled to go speak to Ibrahim about our predicament. The Mallam understood and promised to provide us with a substitute.

  ‘I wonder what happened to Usuman though,’ Tolu said when he returned from his mission.

  ‘Maybe he got things worse than us in the raid,’ I replied. ‘Are you sure that the police didn’t catch him?’ I asked, the thought suddenly hitting me.

  ‘Well yeah! Maybe,’ Tolu recognised. ‘The police could have caught some people, you know but anyway, Mallam should be able to sort it.’

  That was shaping out to be his ever enduring maxim. He couldn’t believe in much else I thought.

  ‘Well, he’d better,’ I replied, ‘or Shari’ah would sort them out.’

  We both laughed.

  Usuman’s replacement was called Muhammadu. He was a much older and experienced mechanic we’d seen around at the garage. He always wore a very busy expression that went quite well with his pudgy fingers and distended tummy. Worn out by the northern sun like everyone else, he was very dark and, at the garage, always very sweaty. He didn’t have to do too much at this point with us as we were preparing to take the Volkswagen Jetta to Mustapha’s for sale. But he was needed for the test to make sure everything in and about the car was in order. The test took two further days; Muhammadu was quite thorough checking and asking us to replace even the smallest of parts that he wasn’t happy with – and that amounted to just a little less than a lot. In the end, we spent a whole week more getting the car ready for the sales depot.

  On the Thursday, Tolu brought back some gossip. It was a very interesting piece of news – that Usuman had indeed been arrested by the police.

  ‘But I thought that Ibrahim knew the police chief,’ I asked surprised that the Mallam hadn’t got the boys out as yet.

  ‘Yes he knows the chief and I am sure he is working on the case right now. Anyway, that is what everyone is saying.’

  ‘You really believe in the Mallam, not so?’ I asked again. ‘I just hope that he is as good as you think because Usuman is a friend of ours.’

  ‘He is also a friend to Ibrahim so don’t worry about it, the Mallam will get him out. I mean how will the police keep Usuman and the two others they got without arresting their boss too?’

  He had a point I thought. And I believed.

  ****

  Shampe was a new craze that had just hit our world – well, it really hit mine and Eze’s world after Ireneh introduced it to us. To make one, a bottle crown was beaten out until it became a flat disc, then, two holes would be drilled at the centre of the disc with a nail. A string was passed through these holes and its ends knotted so that the disc dangling in the middle of two lengths of string. Fixing a finger at both ends of the double string, we would swing the – now two - strings in a circular motion so that they wove and tightened around the disc. At some point – which cannot be precisely pinpointed – the woven strings would become inextricable enough to spin the disc in a very quick buzz when we pulled our fingers apart. To keep the buzzing movement going, we’d keep pulling our fingers apart and bringing them closer, keeping the weave alive.

  We called the disc and the game shampe pronounced shampay after the pidgin short for the word ‘champion’. Kids would have duels with their discs, sharpening them first to razor capacity sometimes. The disc that cut an opponent’s string won the duel and in the true spirit of jibing, every child referred to their disc as the shampe and every other person’s was not.

  Ireneh was showing Eze and me how to make one. It w
as Saturday and we were crouched on the cemented section of the backyard of his home. He had a big but well formed stone in hand. With an edge of the stone, he kept beating right into the middle of the crown and in time, we saw the top hollow out more and more. It took about ten minutes in all for him to expertly flatten out the crown while completely avoiding any creases. Then he drilled two holes in it and handed it to Eze; job done.

  We talked as he proceeded to make another two for me and himself; well, back to form, the Ireneh did most of the talking. He explained with every blow to the crown what he was doing, why he hit at some angle, why he turned the crown over at some point and the effect that would have on the end product. His past problems did not feature at all in our conversation; there was no space for that topic in our captivated minds - such was the depth of our attention. In fact, if I remember anything about that day, it was that that was one rare occasion when I completely forgot about everything Ireneh had been, done and gone through. We were just children at play.

  We sharpened our discs and battled against each other like crazy. For about an hour, we raced around the little backyard, changing strings, sharpening blunted discs and making inspirational noises. I was knotting my fifth string when Ireneh said, ‘Let’s go and blow up bottles.’

  ‘How are we going to do that?’ Eze asked.

  ‘Simple. We light knockouts, put them inside a bottle and throw the bottle away quickly before it explodes,’ Ireneh answered with a cheeky smile that dared us to refuse the challenge.

  ‘Are you sure that it won’t hurt anybody?’ I asked.

  ‘We will do it in that small bush at the back, the back of where my brothers keep their weights,’ Ireneh said pointing behind him. ‘There is never anyone there.’