“MBzers,
I got locked up … they won’t let me out!”
You may envisage my crossed arms “Konvict” sign as you read that line
again… I bet you clicked on this post with many crazy questions on your mind
like: “what is this again?”, “is Mikell going crazy or something?”, “did he
really spend a night in jail?”, “why on earth would Mikell stay a night in a
cell?”, and some of you presently in jail will ask, “what brought you here?”
2200hours
“What brought you here?”
“Like
seriously?” I thought to myself; in this same small cubicle where I had
shared the story of my life for like hundred times in the last four very long
hours, another nigga was still asking me this same sickening question again! “Were his ears on vacation when I started the
regale that I finished just two minutes ago? I don’t understand these guys;
were they in this place for being dullards or for having 8KB memory cards for
brains?”
Almost every one of these guys had
asked me that question more than three times and they all had received the same
goddamned five-to-ten-minute answer every time they asked the question! As a
newbie in the room, who was really not welcomed with the usual violence—that others
received—and not prepared to give them any reason to get aggressive, all I
could do was tell the same story again and again… I guess my story must have
been so entertaining; otherwise, this stupid looking ‘mofo’ wouldn’t have
dragged his bum to sit beside me to ask me to repeat myself again.
“If
they had allowed me to bring in my device now, this could have been better,”
I thought to myself as I stared at the guy with disgust on my mind but smile on
my face, “I would’ve recorded several
stories and just be asking these ‘mofos’ which one they want and I’ll playing
it for them, since my story is now like Africa
Magic Yoruba to them.”
 |
| "Oya, tell us the story of your life...on REPEAT!!" |
I turned and saw another newbie—who
had been welcomed with several slaps and kicks—as he started giving cry-mixed
and carefully worded reports to the cell’s ‘board of directors’. Then, I wondered if this was how the whole
night would go in this place… I turned at the guy that just asked me question
but his attention was with the new storyteller, and I felt super relieved as I
wouldn’t have to tell him shit again.
“And
wait, where on earth is sleep? Didn’t they always poke me when I was younger
that ‘I could sleep on water’?” I started thinking as the thought of “what
brought you here” instantly faded away… or are you—I mean you, my reader—waiting
for me to tell you “what brought me here”, after you just read that I finished
the story just two minutes ago? Ooohhh!!
Even you want me to do this all over again? What a wicked world….
1600hours
You know what they say about Jesus coming back anytime; tell
you what: anything can happen at any time! Many people woke up this morning
never to sleep at night again… and most didn’t wake up with that knowledge, if
you must know. Or did I wake up that morning and a spirit gave me the to-dos of
the day and showed me “sleeping in a jail cell” at the bottom of the list? No,
life is not like some Big Brother TV
show!
I remember going for an entertainment
show off-campus at a guarded hall opposite one of the most expensive hotels in Ado-Ekiti then… I met a nigga at the
hotel’s lounge that evening, when I went there with a friend to chill, and even
collected the magazine he had with him, to briefly go through. To cut the long
story short, not long after we left the lounge, there was a cult brawl on the
road parting the hotel and the hall… and that same nigga I met in the
lounge—less than an hour before—was the first guy to die! He was stoned to
death in the drainage system, where he tried hiding, while on a hot pursuit by
the rival cult… true story here—I was there! Please, why didn’t anybody or
spirit just tell him to leave that vicinity an hour earlier? Or was he served a
to-do list for that day, and “die by stoning” was listed?
I did something that probably could’ve
warranted that I was arrested, however, getting arrested that day was the last
thing on my mind… hence, anything can happen at any time, readers, be
prepared.
My phone rang and it was Deji calling
me… instantly, his family’s problem that I had been living without—since I left
their crib—weighed heavily back on my mind. “And if I knew all this bullshit would happen I wouldn’t have involved
them at all in this business… or fuck it; when they made 400% profit from it
earlier, were they disturbing me with calls like this?” It is true when
Yoruba says “Ibi owo l’atin mo oju ore” (It is when money is involved that
you will identify who your friend is) or how do you explain it when I helped
‘my friend’ to multiply his money by five and all he could shamefully share
was… “Oh just forget it!”
“Hello,” I picked the call.
“How far, you dey hostel?” he asked and I replied affirmative, “abeg, you fit show for downstairs; I
quickly wan see you.”
In summary, he came with a
plainclothesman, who explained that he knew he was wrong to come and arrest me
on campus and that he could chill and
take the necessary steps to take an arrest permission from the
university administration the next week—wait, the next week was my exams… “Dafuq! ‘My friend’ came to arrest me on a
Friday preceding my exam week!”
 |
| "You're not my FIRST FAT friend, hommie...no padi for jungle" |
1700hours
Writing statement was new to me, I
changed papers like three times… and all the while, I was writing something
different from what the nigga told the cop. And after writing my statement, was
I not supposed to be left to go back home? Or did they see any way in which I
had implicated myself by trying to help a supposed friend get richer but
failed? Or did he report to them when it was successful on the first attempt?
Oh sorry, my friend denied ever having a first successful attempt… did you also
say “wicked world”?
“DPO no dey around now… just pray he comes tomorrow, otherwise you will be
staying here till Monday” the policeman said.
“Are
you fucking kidding me? This wasn’t what this bastard told me back on campus…”
I almost screamed at him, but I was already in the lion’s cage, I would have to
play by his rules to earn my exit….
“What brought you here?”
…MikellzBluez Continues…
#MBz42 ©
2014
**********
WE
LOVE COMMENTS
WE
want to read from you as well … drop your opinions, suggestions, love,
praise, criticism, thoughts and all you feel about this post and #MikellzBluez as a blog in the Facebook (mobile view only) and Blog Comment Boxes … thanks!
Na to treat that bastard fuck up after the whole gbege
ReplyDeletewoah am luving dis
ReplyDelete