Palmwine Nipples

CHAPTER ONE

Ajegunle is a highly populated place where all sorts of talents, crimes, and diseases are common. It usually attracts different kinds of quacks and fast-money-seeking sales men and petty magicians to its environment.

One particular Saturday, a petty drug seller came to the popular Boundary Market at Malu Road junction in Ajegunle, Apapa, Lagos. In the ever rowdy crowd of people coming and going endlessly like ants with no break time, Ominigbo, a seller of drugs found a small space beside the pavement that divided the road into two sides. He spread out a white rumpled nylon that has turned light brown, having been baptized by dust and mud over a long period of time of usage. While the nylon seems to be crying for replacement, Ominigbo refused to buy a new one.

"I don come again-oo, Ajegunle my jaguda people," (I am here again-o o my tough and troublesome Ajengunle folks), he said to nobody in particular, that Saturday.

The sun was wickedly hot that particular day. Business has been very dull and things have not been going smoothly for him since the recession of the economy started taking its toll on the buying-power of his usual ever demanding target audience. Without much ado, he formerly made up to ten thousand naira sales daily from the fake and genuine drugs he sells to his gullible wretched clientele. But nowadays things have drastically changed to the extent that it takes the grace of God for him to make up to two thousand naira after spending five hours on any spot he found space to display his wares along the road..

The poor sales he has been recording made him to look for extra means to attract both old and new onlookers to whichever spot he chooses to shade. "Heaven helps those who help themselves. I must look for a magician to learn some tricks to attract a large crowd to my business. If I continue like this, the way business is dull, I am very sure within a short time, I may not even have money to enter transport to Akpakpasimagha, my village in Edo state," he had thought inwardly one Wednesday evening when sales were so poor that he could not make up to a thousand naira.

On that particular Saturday in focus, after he had been able to learn some magical tricks as he had contemplated before going to Malu Road, he wore an uncommon pride of hope and confidence that he would certainly make those who cared to listen and watch, know that he is no longer the ordinary Ominigbo who sells drugs for the cure of gonorrhea, syphilis, gum, and teeth pains etc along the roadside. He looked at the sky, and blinked as if to command the sun never to disappear and allow a drop of rain to spoil his business. At that juncture, he released a thunderous belch as a result of three bottles of beer he had consumed on his way from home. The sound of his belch frightened two passing matured young girls. One of them almost fell because she wore a stiletto she just newly bought to upgrade herself as one of the happening big girls living in a close by street called Bambiallah.

"Sorry-o o, my sister. I beg no vex. Man no fit do this kain business without using beer to power the brain and tongue," he apologized to the girl as she slightly rested on him for support, pressing the full weight of her turgid breasts upon his left shoulder.

Momentarily, he had wished they were in a private place, and could have used the opportunity to tell her how much he cared for her instantaneously like some facebook guys who immediately express how much they have been missing a lady who had just accepted their friend's request online. Ominigbo waved that thought aside as he wanted to whisper into the lady's ear, to ask for her phone number in order to call her later for intimate discussion. "This is not time for chasing any lady. All ladies are parasites one way or the other. You either spend money or waste your energy and sperm on them, yet they will still think that they are doing you a favour for an exercise both of you enjoyed, with you putting the greatest effort to satisfy them. Men must be stupid for wasting their time, energy and blood on women in the name of enjoyment," he thought inwardly as the girl was going away, struggling to find her balance as it was clear she was not used to wearing such shoes.

With that little scene created by his thunderous belch, some of his familiar clients were already gathering to hear any new joke he had for them, or some of his favourite old jokes he usually employed to hold them spellbound with laughter. A good sales man must not only just be eloquent, but should possess an encyclopedia of jokes to entertain people in such squalid environment to buy his supposed good health wares.

"I know say una don dey wait for my powerful medicines wen dey work wonders. Despite recession, I know those wen no dey fail to buy something from me. But today, my people, una go know say Ominigbo no be the same person wen una know before. Somebody shout halleluyah!" he addressed them.

"Halleluyah!!!" they responded.

"Now, I wan make una know say I don go my village go cook myself come back. I fit comot disease from any person body by ordinary words of my mouth," he bragged.

"Hmmm, hmmm," some of the spectators sounded, thinking it was one of his new jokes he wanted to use to entertain them that day.

"I dey serious-o o," he said emphatically.

"Which time you become T.B. Joshua?" one of them asked.

"No worry, you go soon see something," he replied.

Thereafter, he told them he could lift objects up and make them hang in the air by merely looking and blinking at the objects. He also said in the same manner, he could tell any type of ailments to fly out of people's body to hang in the sky forever.

"What if the disease gets tired of hanging won't it fall down on anybody standing or passing by?" one learned curious passerby asked.

"Oga, that one no concern me-o o. Everything get im own law wey dey control am. Just wait and see," he told him.

With mouths ajar in amazement, the spectators watched when he looked intently and blinked at a forklift machine driving by, and made it go airborne and remain static in the air while the driver was frightened beyond his wits, wondering what was going on.

Thereafter, Ominigbo pointed at a handsome young man in the crowd and said, "Hey you, whistle like a drunken Shaolin Master." As soon as the man complied, the forklift machine descended gently to the ground.

"Wow, wow, wow! Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful," was the ovation that rented the air, from the spectators.

"Una never see anything yet and una dey shout. Una see that trailer wen dem park for there?" he pointed, and the spectators nodded, "I go lift am up without touching it, as I do to the forklift now-now," he told them.

Some of them thought he was taking his magic too far, and doubted his ability to lift a whole trailer fully loaded with goods, to hang in the air. But before one could pronounce Okokomaiko, Ominigbo merely focused his gaze on the trailer and blinked thrice. To their utmost surprise, the trailer rose gigantically like an aircraft going airborne. It remained static in the air for a minute. Some people standing close or walking beside it, took to their heels, thinking that the much talked about rapture had begun.

Looking pompous and swollen with pride like an overfed toad at that moment, Ominigbo asked a little girl of three years old, strapped to her mother's back, to whistle. She did, and the trailer gorgeously descended back to the ground in a manner like the Holy Ghost descended on Jesus. The people were perplexed.

"Una don see say my levels don change, abi?" he asked.

"You too much, you too much, you too much!" the spectators chorused.

Just as he was about to tell them how much his drugs can command diseases to fly out of their bodies in view of the magical vibrations he claimed he had specially used to prepare them unlike the previous ones he had been selling, a ninety-nine years old looking man who was passing by and had witnessed the lifting of the trailer, managed to struggle through the crowd to talk to Ominigbo. At first Ominigbo was frightened when the old man reached where he was, looking straight into his eyes as if to disarm him of his magical tricks. He winked at the man stylishly as a way of pleading to him to keep secret, secret. But what the man said surprised him.

"My son, for long, long time, my walking stick no gree stand for over 35 years. You fit make am stand make e no fall again? Just make am stand make I go sammer all those small girls for my street wen don chop my money and I no fit sleep with them as my walking stick no dey gree get up," he had pleaded.

Ominigbo smiled while the crowd roared with laughter. He told the old man to give him some few minutes to attend to the spectators who were becoming impatient to buy every available fake and real drug at his disposal that day. If there was a way he could pack ordinary sand into small nylons and sell to them, he could have done so. Having exhausted the stock, he brought that day, he said he would only perform a healing miracle on the old man's dick as a special free request by him. He immediately claimed that he is a servant of God sent to set any captive free. He asked the old man to remove his clothes and be totally naked.

The old man dutifully obeyed. For some seconds, Ominigbo looked towards the sky like Jesus disciples watching his ascension to the right hand of God. He brought his gaze down to the man's dick. Suddenly, his withered dick started rising gradually to the amazement of the old man and the spectators pushing each other to get a better view of the live drama unfolding before their very eyes. His dick became fully erect and burning with energy as he was eyeing one young pretty and matured teenager looking at it intently among the spectators. Ominigbo told the old man that the only thing that could bring his erect dick down is if anybody whistles.

"If any idiot dare whistle, I go cut the person throat,"the old man warned as everywhere became tense, while his eyes were scanning the crowd to see if anyone would dare him.

Ominigbo, quickly sneaked from their presence as all eyes were planted on the old man. When he got to a safe distance, he entered a special beer parlour where he ordered for five bottles of beer and three plates of pepper soup for a job well done on that day. He had made over 1000 per cent profit within thirty minutes unlike his previous outings that took five hours for him to make up to a thousand naira. He counted the money he made that day and it amounted to a total of two hundred thousand naira. He was very pleased.

While loading his stomach with beer and pepper soup, he forgot that he had been warned by a magician who taught him the object-lifting-tricks, not to eat the tongue of a goat at any time. Ominigbo had never patronized that beer parlour before because of the high prices it offers to customers, which was conspicuously displayed on a sign board outside. He had decided to have a taste of their services that day as he had made so much money. After unknowingly eating the tongue of a goat which was part of the "orishirishi" (different types of meat parts) used to prepare the pepper soup, all the money he made vanished like vapour after he paid for what he had consumed, and the beer parlour woman had asked him whether he enjoyed the special goat tongue she served him.

Ominigbo knew he was in soup when the woman mentioned goat tongue. He held tight to his trousers pockets, trying to make sure nothing happens to the money he made that day. He stepped out gently from the beer parlour into the ever busy Boundary Road, as if when he walks fast, the money will disappear. But suddenly, he bumped into a woman with very wide hips, who almost made him fall as her right hip shoved him sideways. He lost balance and staggered left and right, which caused his hands to leave his pockets, as he was trying to regain balance. There and then, the whole money said goodbye. He wept and wept thereafter, but his weeping did not make the money resurrect to his pockets, like Lazarus when Jesus wept.

At that juncture Omoromor Iroro, one of his long time 'Lagos lookers'(folks who usually gather at road sides to watch different types of sales men using various stunts to attract passer bys attention), met Ominogbo lamenting his woes to whoever cared to listen in a society where a lot of folks prefer minding their own business as long as it is a cry of lamentation about a lost or vanished amount of money.

"Hey Mr. Doctor Cure All of AJ City, what is the problem?" he ventured to ask Ominigbo.

"My brother, my brother, my brother! Ah, ah, ah, this life no easy for poor man o o,"he managed to respond amidst honking of cars and roadsides sales vendors shouting different types of slogans about their wares.

"Just let me know what happened, and I will know how I can be able to assist in my own little way. There is a saying that 'nobody is a monopoly of knowledge about how to tackle human challenges. It is not good for s popular guy like you in AJ City to be seen lamenting by the road side like this. Don't you know many other hustlers along the road like you have been envying your popularity and followership in this Lamageh? (a slang some Warri folks used to call Lagos)?"

"My brother, it is better to be in an enviable situation than a pitiable one. Hence, I prefer to be envied than the pitiable situation I am now. It is not something that I can discuss with you right now. Even as I am talking to you Ino get shishi (a kobo or dime) to enter motor to go back to my house.

Omormor got the message clean and clear that it is only lack of money in a precarious situation that could make a matured man weep so shamelessly in the public. He pitied him intensely at that moment, and decided to give him money to assist him to go home that day.

"Take this one thousand naira for support. I know that no matter how far the distance your house is within Lagos; this can take you home through transportation by bus."

"Oh, thank you bros. Na God send you come this right time when kasala jam my pocket o o."

"You are welcome. I see you as somebody who is very experienced about life issues since I have been listening to how you give free advice to customers buying your roadside products at times. There is something that has been disturbing my mind for some time, which I wanted to seek your opinion about by tomorrow before I just met you unexpectedly in lamentation. Please, let me have your phone number, so that I can give you a call or call me to know when you will be available in this area again, so that we can discuss the issue."

As soon as Omoromor mentioned phone, Ominigbo's heart almost sprang out of his clothes, thinking that maybe his handset had also vanished with his money. He quickly grabbed his breast pocket where he usually keeps it. He heaved a sigh of relief as the phone was still there safe and sound. He told Omormor his number off hand and asked him to flash him immediately so that he could store his number too. His hope of bouncing back to business was rekindled as he parted from him while thinking of any possible ways he could use to get some money from Omormor based on whatever he wants to discuss with him.