28th September 2024, NewsOrient, Books, Arts, Culture, Lifestyle, News
By Dapo Thomas

My midnight blue encounter with those “midnight terrorists” who were banging and knocking playfully on my door had increased the pressure on me to hasten the process of my recall.

No doubt, I was scared but seeing that there was no attempt on my life or any form of forceful invasion into the room, I concluded that they were friendly UWO (Unidentified Walking Objects). For that reason, I was ready to stay in that house for the duration of my exile. It was not a bad idea to interact with aliens that posed no threat to my life. I could recall being called an Abiku by Alfa Ligali but throughout the night, they didn’t invite me to any meeting nor did they hold any meeting. All they were doing was jumping up and down as if they were in an amusement park. Even at that, they should have realized that some people were sleeping at that unholy hour and probably shift their “Jangilova” to the nearby forest or bush.

What kind of mysterious hoodlums would turn another man’s mansion to a midnight playing ground! A man built a mansion to display his wealth and promote his name only for strange deliquents to inhabit it after his death to signpost the vanity of his architectural opulence.

Having resolved to use the mansion as my “hibernation centre”, I began unpacking my luggage and putting shoes and clothes in the right places and hoping to device strategy for day lifestyle and night blitz amidst the rascality of these strange hoodlums. As I was doing this, I felt like visiting the restroom. I went out of the room for the first time since yesterday to inquire about the location of the restroom. It was the same woman who took us round yesterday I saw outside. I couldn’t believe what she showed me as the restroom. She pointed to a nearby bush.

I looked at the bush and saw a college of environmental polluters defecating with familiar and unfamiliar postures and routine convenience. More pathetically, was the fact that some of them were grossly engaged in national conversations, debating Awolowo and Shagari in a forest of “mess”.

I didn’t see any single individual among the participants that obeyed simple hygiene protocol of covering their nostrils in such a horrid condition. I became more curious about the condition of the bathroom. I asked the woman about the bathroom. She made a sign to me to follow her. We moved to another corner of the house where she pointed again. It was a stream, not too far from the “restroom”. I saw a multitude of locals bathing with local sponges and black soaps.

There were children who wore nothing while their parents bathed for them. Those who wore something left me with a puzzle as to the appropriate definition of their apparels. It was difficult to say whether those things were “Bante” or “yeri’. In their own imagination, they would label those things as panties. The scenery could best go for “Olúwẹri festival “. As soon as I saw this, I rushed back to the room to start packing my things in the box again.

I didn’t have anywhere in mind at this time but under no desperation would I mortgage my anatomical propriety for hibernation magnanimity .

I was packing when my journalist friend walked in with an elderly man he introduced to me as their Olori Ebi.

The first thing that struck me about the Olori Ebi was his mien and personality. He was too tush for Obantoko. His skin glittered with a preponderance of multiple creams which could only have been procured from a cosmetics shop in Lagos.

He was a town’s man with local ascendancy. He was a rare Olori Ebi. Most heads of families that I knew always lived in the family houses with other members of the family. But this one lived in the metropolis and only visited the family house in Obantoko once in a while. The woman who took us round the mansion yesterday had gone round to inform other people in the house of Olori Ebi ‘s presence. My friend only introduced Olori Ẹbi to me, he didn’t tell me what he had come to do. Olori Ebi himself revealed the reason for his visit when he was addressing me: ” Your friend told me of the crisis you have with your Principal. You children should understand that you cannot fight government and win. He (your friend) has therefore implored me to follow you to the school to appeal to the Principal. I am traveling tomorrow but when I come back next week, I will follow you to your school.” I was so grateful for my friend’s thoughtfulness because I was waiting for him to come so that we could arrange family members to go and beg the Principal not knowing that he was a step ahead of me in putting this together. In my presence, the Olori Ẹbi informed two other women that would follow us on the appeasement trip.

In fact, he said he was at the mansion to inform the two women so that they could prepare “all the necessary things” before his return. When I asked my friend what his Olori Ebi meant by “all the necessary things”, he simply told me: “iwo ma worry nipa ìyẹn, Dapo” meaning I shouldn’t bother about that. All the same, I showed my appreciation to the Olori Ẹbi for his intervention.

In order to have proper arrangements for the trip to Ayetoro, we finally agreed to go on Monday, May 5 , 1980, some days after Olori Ẹbi’s return from his private trip. He left with my friend and I was left alone again with the “remaining wives of Oduduwa “in the mansion of a thousand deities.

Much as I would have loved to stay in the mansion till the return of Olori Ẹbi, my cosmopolitan attachment was incapable of accommodating Obantoko’s “forest of mess” where defecations of sated humanity are deposited for forest fertilization. My anatomy, irrespective of its innocence, was not a mannequin for public exhibition.

I then decided to go to Ayetoro to stay with my friend, Olagesin till Olori Ẹbi’s return. In Ayetoro, my interaction with my associates, disciples and “succour relatives” would inject new energy and social contents in my system to prevent gradual slide into atrophy.

I enjoyed my stay in Ayetoro with my army of sympathizers swarming and dotting around me with atypical companionship. I ate and purged my bowels as many times as I wanted without engaging in any fellowship with forest defecators.

Some of my associates, disciples and succour relatives wept openly when I left on Sunday, the 4th of May, 1980. I consoled them with the fact that I was coming with my surrogate family the following day, Monday, 5th of May.

They all prayed for me. It was a teary parting notwithstanding that only a night separated us from the next reunion.

Back in my mansion of trouble, “those things” disturbed my night as usual. They did the expected-banging on the door but never barged into my room. They respected themselves by not taking their extraterrestrial exercises beyond their sovereignty. My small territory (the room) was spared from any encroachment.

As soon as it was 7am on Monday, May 5, I refused to join the “Olúwẹri Circus”, I only took some water from the big pot in the balcony to wash my face and my legs. That was after brushing my teeth.

As promised, Olori Ebi was in the mansion at exactly 8am. The two women going with us were also ready. In no time, we were inside Ayetoro-bound bus. Needless to say that Olori Ebi did not have a car and my friend was not in the team because he had to go to work. Right from the school gate, my surrogate family knew the type of person I was with people and students hailing me from different directions.

At a stage, Olórí Ebi had to ask me in Yoruba: ” kini nje 4040″ (what is the meaning of 4040?). I told him it was just an alias.

Suddenly, Olori Ebi stopped when we were about hundred metres to the Admin block. He faced one of the the women and said : “Awọn kini yen da Iya kékeré? (Where are the things with you Iya Kékeré?). She opened her purse and brought out two black”things”. She gave them to Olori Ebi who now gave one to me with usage directions: “Put this under your tongue. Make sure you don’t swallow it. Don’t let it touch your teeth. Don’t miss it with any phlegm. You must not cough. Your hand must not touch it once you have put it in your mouth until we leave the place. Don’t open your mouth too wide. When we get to the Principal, prostrate for him and keep saying: “e gba mi pada Sir” (Sir, accept me back ) Don’t say any other thing. I am the one that will do the talking. I hope you understand. “

I knew instantly that I was in trouble. I asked Olori Ebi what that was all about and he told me it was a harmless jazz called “eyonu ayé”.

How could anyone do concoction by proxy for me when I was physically available? Why should I be ambushed by a flurry of taboos all because of a native “chewing gum” that I must not swallow? What kind of Olori Ẹbi would be rehearsing amulet enchantment with a member of the family few metres to the “battlefield”.

The Education Commissioner’s advice was simple and unambiguous: ” Get some family members to follow you to the school to go and beg the Principal”. He didn’t say I should go with “Lalude” and the remaining wives of Oduduwa to go and use jazz for an innocent man because of banishment.

What kind of trouble is this? I needed to decide fast whether I wanted to go ahead or pull back. I didn’t send my friend all this nonsense. What did we steal, what are you throwing? Before we were apprehended for holding “evil meeting” on the road, I decided to go ahead with Olori Ebi ‘s plan. Half way to the Principal ‘s office, I put the “thing” in my mouth. I struggled to get it underneath my tongue because of the avalanche of prohibitions.

As soon as we got to the Admin block, students who saw me started saluting me but because I didn’t remember to ask Olori Ebi if I could reply greetings, I remained mute.

Some of them were wondering about my abnormal behaviour. I was just waving my hand like a boxer gallivanting to the boxing ring.

When we got to the Principal’s anteroom, we saw him sitting on one of the chairs. I wanted to prostrate but he objected. I didn’t say anything because by this time Olori Ebi had interjected by pleading with the Principal to allow me to lie on the floor as a mark of respect and sobriety. I didn’t know what to do. I was not standing nor was I prostrating. I was just there like a danfo conductor.

I kept to the instructions by just chanting “e gba mi pada Sir.” By this time, the “chewing gum” had started misbehaving underneath my tongue and adjustment became a herculean task. I was chanting “e gba mi pada Sir” and at the same time struggling to put the “chewing gum” in check. Olori Ebi tóo was playing his part very well.

The remaining wives of Oduduwa were just gazing at the Principal (I think that was their role). When the Principal had had enough of our acting, he faced me and said: “4040, o ba pon enu la jube lo, mi o ni gba e pada” meaning “4040, if you like lick your lips sore, I won’t take you back.” He stood up and entered his personal office leaving the four of us in the anteroom with his staff. It was a bad outing. As soon as we got out of the anteroom, I removed the chewing gum and threw it outside through one of the staircase holes. Till we got to the mansion of troubles, nobody said anything to me.

Olori Ebi was the first to speak: “I am going back home. I will let your friend know our next move.” I told myself “GOD forbid. Next move ko, next move ni”.

Immediately he left, I moved back to my Aunty’s place without saying anything to the remaining wives of Oduduwa.

At my Aunty’s place, I didn’t have any problem than the fear of being seen by somebody who knew me and would now go and tell Senior that they saw me in Abeokuta.

In short, I didn’t want Senior to hear anything about my banishment. I couldn’t sleep in the night as I started replaying our drama in the presence of the Principal in the morning.

There was no doubt that Baba Ibikunle knew we came with some strange objects otherwise why did he tell me: ” O ba pon enu la ju bẹ lọ, mi o ni gba e pada.” It wasn’t my fault anyway. The rules and the regulations surrounding the “chewing gum” were damn too legion.

Besides, there was no proper rehearsal for the drama. I gave myself a pass mark. By the way, who told them to use jazz to beg the man? Who said they should do “eyonu ayé” to beg an Ilaro man whose only mode of dressing was traditional attire?

Now, “eyonu ayé” had become “ìyọnu ayé” for me because I was now in a bigger trouble. No wonder he was telling the women to prepare “all necessary things” as if I was preparing for “Ogun abele” ( internecine war). I didn’t really come to any conclusion but I made up my mind not to follow my friend’s path again. It was a dangerous path.

By the time I woke up on Tuesday , May 6, I decided to go to my friend’s office at OGBC, at least, to give him a feedback on our trip to Ayetoro. I didn’t know if he had gone to look for me at the “mansion of trouble”, I just felt that courtesy demanded I brief him on the outcome since he was instrumental to everything from the beginning. I shouldn’t visit the sin of Olori Ẹbi on “Omo Ẹbí”. By the time I got there, he was about to go out for a private appointment. He apologized for not coming to see me at the mansion yesterday. That was when I knew that he had not been briefed at all by his Olori Ẹbi or the remaining wives of Oduduwa.

I suggested we go to a bar or a canteen at Lafenwa so that we could discuss the details of our “misadventure” to Ayetoro. We were enjoying our lafun and ewedu with palmwine when bottles started flying over our heads inside the canteen. There was a mass invasion of the canteen by an angry mob protesting the death of Ayinla Omowura, an Apala Music legend who was a local idol in Abeokuta.

As soon as I saw “flying saucers” all around me, I hid myself under the table, crawled to the kitchen and vanished from their. It was a case of “Eni ori yo o dile” (meaning run for your life scenario). I managed to look back to see if I could connect with my friend. Unfortunately, I couldn’t because he was on the southward hemisphere while I was westbound even though I didn’t know where in particular I was going because the mayhem was too much for me to add to the list of my travails in this month of May.

The whole town was being set ablaze with bonfires here and there. By the whiskers, I missed death as I finally navigated my way to the Adegbenros where I took refuge being a licensed refugee of a member of the family, Dele Adegbenro.

Fortunately, I had met their own Olórí Ebi too before he traveled out. By now he was back from the trip but he was still in Lagos and my roommate too was still in school. It was in Adegbenro’s house that I got the details of Omowura’s death. Ayinla Waheed Yusuf aka Ayinla Omowura was struck on the head with a beer mug by his own manager, Fatai Bayewu in a beer parlour during an altercation. Ayinla, whose mother’s name was Wura (Omo Wura), died of cerebral haemorrhage at the age of 47. Though Bayewu was sentenced to death by hanging, he did not have the privilege of exhausting his legal opportunities before he was executed on the order of the then military Governor of Ogun State, Oladipo Diya who was on a prison tour some years after the incident.

Before my asylum expired, I left for my Aunty’s place the following day. About two weeks after the Omowura’s incident, precisely, Tuesday, May 20, I woke up with a prophetic conviction that my banishment would be reversed by Baba Ibikunle if my aunty could follow me to Ayetoro on that day. I told my Aunty that she had to follow me to school because I had overstayed my excursion duration.

My Aunty, a very quiet woman, agreed and we set out without “preparing all the necessary things” like “eyonu ayé”.

In fact, it was when we were inside Compro that I told my Aunty that I was not in Abeokuta for any excursion. I told her that I was banished. She was just saying “Ah, ah, ah, iwo ọmọ yi”. She was angry with me but she had to follow me to beg the Principal since we were already in the school. As we were about to enter the Principal’s office……..
(TO BE CONTINUED)

Dr Dapo Thomas’ From Primary To Tertiary, Here Is My Diary Is Serialised Here Weekly Every Saturday.

~ NewsOrient

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