Chudi's hustle

Photo: Debahis Biswas

It was a typical hot afternoon in Lagos. There was no respite from the blazing sun and scorching heat. It felt like the clouds had disappeared, leaving the earth to soak up the direct glare of the sun. Lagosians went about their day—the rich cocooned in their air-conditioned cars and offices and the poor congregating in the yellow and black buses held by bits of wire and welding. The heat was no respecter of persons.

In Chudi’s self-contained apartment, in a suburb off the LASU - Igando expressway, it was no different. Lying on his mattress with his eyes to the ceiling, he willed the blades of the fan to miraculously rotate and produce the soothing breeze he longed for. Electricity had been cut off two months ago after the transformer servicing the area had packed up due to excessive load. Getting a new one had turned into a nightmare. The constant accusations among the inhabitants, landlord association and the power holding company over whose fault it was, was never-ending. There seemed to be no solution in sight.

Electricity was the least of his worries though. He had a greater problem—hunger. Chudi hadn’t eaten a proper meal in the past two days. He turned restlessly in bed as his stomach churned and groaned in protest.

“Make I no die here o,” Chudi muttered to himself as he grabbed his protesting stomach.

He knew he had to get out of the room and find help. Both his pockets and bank account were empty. He silently cursed his former madam who had taken the okada from him without prior notice. Things had been much better when he still had the okada. But his madam thought he was stealing from her. She just didn’t understand that the business no longer yielded sharp money like before; the number of okadas on the road had tripled since the new year making it difficult to meet weekly demands. Now, he had no okada to ride and was penniless.

He struggled to get up from the bed; his legs were weak. His hands trembled as he pulled on his shirt. He was starting to feel cold inside. He needed help or he may become bedridden, he realised. He barely made it to the door before his legs gave way and he dropped his weight onto the floor.

Minutes went by before he gradually rose up and stepped out the door. The heat from the sun worsened his headache. He could feel the sweat gathering under his unwashed armpits as he adjusted his gaze to take in the sights around him. Nothing caught his fancy so he took steps ahead, dragging his way forward.

The aroma assailed him even before he saw Mama Peju at her famous spot by the corner of the street, roasting corns with her charcoal fire. He felt a thick wad of saliva go down his parched throat as he took in the sweet smell. As he drifted near, he could hear the crackling sound of the corn as it roasted. He had to get his hands on it. But Mama Peju beat him to it, even before he could make a sound.

“Ehen Oga Chudi! Welcome o! I hope you have come with the money you owe me.”

He stopped in his tracks. What could she possibly mean? “I don’t understand,” he managed to stutter. “What money?"

"Ah! Ah! Oga Chudi, wetin be dis now? You don forget the 200 naira you dey owe me for the corn wey you buy last week. You tell me say you go pay me two days ago,” she finished.

He had completely forgotten. Was dementia one of the symptoms of hunger? How was he supposed to get her to give him another on credit? His stomach groaned aloud and the pain registered on his face.

“Oga Chudi, are you sick?”

“No! Yes!” He answered in confusion while she stared at him. He stole another look at the corn and gained courage.

“Please Mama Peju, I didn’t forget your money. I will pay you everything very soon. Please just give me this one,” he said pointing at the largest.

The change was instantaneous. Mama Peju’s eyes rose out of their sockets as she re-tied her wrapper, shouting at him. “You are a thief! Commot make I see better customer! I look like Father Christmas? Nonsense! No go find work."

Shame enveloped him as he walked away. He hadn’t the energy to beg further. Where would he go? Desperation filled him. He knew he couldn’t return home hungry. He had to find a way.

Just then, he heard a loud noise and turned around to find out what it was. It was a sight he had become accustomed to in the area. Jobless youths had started a trend of coming together to harass people for money. They dressed their leader in a funny masquerade-like attire with a mask on his face while the others held long canes. They harassed both innocent pedestrians and those plying their trades in their shops. Anyone who failed to give them money was rewarded with strokes of the cane. They had harassed him a couple of times when he still rode his okada. He always parted with some money, cursing and swearing under his breath.

Today, they were on the prowl seeking for money. From the spot where he stood, Chudi saw them stop a car. It was a black coloured 2018 landrover with a number plate that read 'Olowo 1'. The driver stopped and got out of the car. He was dressed in a long flowing white agbada, his stomach protruding. He looked well-fed. This wasn't a hungry man.

Chudi watched as the man opened his wallet and produced a 500 naira note, waving it at the boys. Chudi felt a force suddenly take control of him. It was as if the hunger had lost its patience and decided to take matters into its own hands. Chudi saw himself running towards the pot-bellied man, his adrenalin pumping. He ran past the boys, including their leader and stood before the rich man trying to contain his anger.

“What is this?” He yelled dramatically like someone possessed. “Don’t you know us? Awon boys! Show respect o!”

The rich man looked momentarily stunned. He stared blankly at Chudi, before reaching for his wallet and producing five more 500 naira notes. “Awon boys! Please manage this 3000 naira for the weekend. Next time, I will do better.”

The leader of the gang collected the money and waved the man off. The steam in Chudi had subsided at the sight of the money. He looked at the faces of the boys wondering what would become of him due to his interference.

The leader eyed him slowly and then nodded to the man beside him. The man produced a cane and held it to Chudi. He looked at their faces. Without blinking an eyelid, he grabbed the cane and joined the fray.

Later that evening, he dipped his hands into his pocket feeling, for the umpteenth time, the notes inside. He felt reassured once more and still couldn’t believe it as he recalled when his share of the money obtained at the end of the operation was handed to him. The sight of the notes made him feel like a millionaire.

He joined the queue at Mama Peju’s and was excited to see an identical twin of the corn he had wanted earlier in the day. When he stood before her, she tried to talk but the sight of the money in his palms shut her up. He pointed at the corn which she quickly wrapped in old sheets of newspaper. He paid for it, including what he owed her.

“Oga Chudi! Thank you o! Make you come tomorrow o!”

All that was lost on him as he walked away, unwrapping the corn. The feel of it in his hands filled him with happiness. As he sunk his teeth into it taking his first bite, he looked up at the skies, wondering when the next masquerade outing would be.