By Victor Kwame Sampong
I went to bed on Friday night with plans of heading to Buguma first thing on Saturday morning. I had already finalized plans with a client to take him there the next morning.
When my phone rang to wake me up, I thought it was him, but it wasn't Egbon Tunde who called. Dubem was on the other end of the phone, asking me to get to his house immediately. I enquired to know why and he said his kid sister was getting married that day and I had to take him to Imo State right away. I said okay.
I waited for Egbon Tunde's call for signal to head to Buguma, but none came. I preferred the Buguma trip because it was a shorter ride, even for a round trip. I'll be back in no time to attend to other clients, but unfortunately, I had to settle for Dubem's movement, after dragging my feet for an hour or thereabouts.
I got to his house, picked him up and off we went. The journey was smooth all through, up until we got to around Okehi Junction in Etche. We were flagged down by a tactical unit of one of the security agencies.
After a thorough search of our bodies, they proceeded to search the car. And that's when our ordeal started. They found a wig in the backseat and almost immediately, tagged us as ritualists. They said we're either on our way to use the wig for rituals or we are on our way back from the act. Omo! Na there I tear better laugh. I laugh wetin no good. {I just started laughing uncontrollably}
I approached one of them, and explained to him who I was and showed him my press card. I also told him what I did in Port Harcourt. I told him the wig belonged to my client's sister, who hurriedly forgot it in my car when I took her to get some stuff earlier in the day. The man would have none of it.
Before we knew it, we were directed to drive back to their station in Port Harcourt for further investigations. Two of them got into my car, while the rest joined their vehicle as they drive closely behind us.
We were allowed to make calls while making our way back to Port Harcourt. We got to the station and waited for the true owners to come identify their property using accurate verbal description and visual confirmation from their phone.
Despite all said and done, my client still had to drop something for the boys before they let us go.
But hey, that's not how my day ended.
We got to his house in Port Harcourt again and this time, another drama was unfolding inside.
One of Dubem's sister was on top of their eldest brother, dishing him some clean slaps in a bid to revive the young man. Kenneth was lying on the floor having some kind of seizure, while Adaobi was busy pouring water on him and slapping him intermittently.
She succeeded in ensuring that her brother didn’t join his ancestors that early in life.
Dubem asked those present to explain the sight that met us on arrival and one of his boys narrated the circumstances that led to Kenneth's convulsions.
They were out on an errand and on their way back, Kenneth picked up what looked like a small rolled up blunt on the ground, a left over. Man took it home and lit it. Upon dragging it 3 consecutive times, it almost fried his brains. His eyes rolled backwards and he fell down with the seizures taking over immediately.
It was Adaobi who came to his timely rescue otherwise, he might have been a goner.
My client picked the stuff up, examined it and gave a damning verdict on this particular substance. He said this very one that almost knocked his brother to the great beyond couldn’t be taken by just one person. It's usually a groupie thing and nobody drags it more than once at a stretch. It must go round 4-5 persons and after the second drag, the thing is put off and kept safely until those involved must have recovered from the effects. He further explained that this particular brand can't be finished in a day by 5 people.
Surprisingly, my client doesn't smoke. How he came about this in-depth knowledge and subsequent analysis of this substance surprised me though.
Well, Kenneth got back to his feet and within the next few hours I spent there, I saw him rolling something else at the backyard. No be me go tell am sey fowl no dey piss.
Our elders say that the tree that doesn't know how to dance, will soon be taught so by the wind.
I went to bed on Friday night with plans of heading to Buguma first thing on Saturday morning. I had already finalized plans with a client to take him there the next morning.
When my phone rang to wake me up, I thought it was him, but it wasn't Egbon Tunde who called. Dubem was on the other end of the phone, asking me to get to his house immediately. I enquired to know why and he said his kid sister was getting married that day and I had to take him to Imo State right away. I said okay.
I waited for Egbon Tunde's call for signal to head to Buguma, but none came. I preferred the Buguma trip because it was a shorter ride, even for a round trip. I'll be back in no time to attend to other clients, but unfortunately, I had to settle for Dubem's movement, after dragging my feet for an hour or thereabouts.
I got to his house, picked him up and off we went. The journey was smooth all through, up until we got to around Okehi Junction in Etche. We were flagged down by a tactical unit of one of the security agencies.
After a thorough search of our bodies, they proceeded to search the car. And that's when our ordeal started. They found a wig in the backseat and almost immediately, tagged us as ritualists. They said we're either on our way to use the wig for rituals or we are on our way back from the act. Omo! Na there I tear better laugh. I laugh wetin no good. {I just started laughing uncontrollably}
I approached one of them, and explained to him who I was and showed him my press card. I also told him what I did in Port Harcourt. I told him the wig belonged to my client's sister, who hurriedly forgot it in my car when I took her to get some stuff earlier in the day. The man would have none of it.
Before we knew it, we were directed to drive back to their station in Port Harcourt for further investigations. Two of them got into my car, while the rest joined their vehicle as they drive closely behind us.
We were allowed to make calls while making our way back to Port Harcourt. We got to the station and waited for the true owners to come identify their property using accurate verbal description and visual confirmation from their phone.
Despite all said and done, my client still had to drop something for the boys before they let us go.
But hey, that's not how my day ended.
We got to his house in Port Harcourt again and this time, another drama was unfolding inside.
One of Dubem's sister was on top of their eldest brother, dishing him some clean slaps in a bid to revive the young man. Kenneth was lying on the floor having some kind of seizure, while Adaobi was busy pouring water on him and slapping him intermittently.
She succeeded in ensuring that her brother didn’t join his ancestors that early in life.
Dubem asked those present to explain the sight that met us on arrival and one of his boys narrated the circumstances that led to Kenneth's convulsions.
They were out on an errand and on their way back, Kenneth picked up what looked like a small rolled up blunt on the ground, a left over. Man took it home and lit it. Upon dragging it 3 consecutive times, it almost fried his brains. His eyes rolled backwards and he fell down with the seizures taking over immediately.
It was Adaobi who came to his timely rescue otherwise, he might have been a goner.
My client picked the stuff up, examined it and gave a damning verdict on this particular substance. He said this very one that almost knocked his brother to the great beyond couldn’t be taken by just one person. It's usually a groupie thing and nobody drags it more than once at a stretch. It must go round 4-5 persons and after the second drag, the thing is put off and kept safely until those involved must have recovered from the effects. He further explained that this particular brand can't be finished in a day by 5 people.
Surprisingly, my client doesn't smoke. How he came about this in-depth knowledge and subsequent analysis of this substance surprised me though.
Well, Kenneth got back to his feet and within the next few hours I spent there, I saw him rolling something else at the backyard. No be me go tell am sey fowl no dey piss.
Our elders say that the tree that doesn't know how to dance, will soon be taught so by the wind.
RSS Feed