Episode 3: My Encounter with James

MY ENCOUNTER WITH JAMES

“Please let me go” I pleaded. “I’ve got no money on me.”

“Shut it!” The voice ordered, poking me below my rib cage with something. I paid close attention to the environment. It was too crowded for a criminal to rob, and so, if I gave out a shout, surely, someone would come to my aid. And secondly, the smell of alcohol was gone as he spoke the second time, unlike the first, where he commanded me to move away from the crowd to a destination known only to him.

“Guy it’s either you move, or I move you!” Those word order, the pronunciation of words, the intonation, all betrayed the speaker’s tribe. It was an Igbo man. But his was of speaking was too fluent for a thug. The voice sounded so familiar. Then something clicked.

“James?” I called out, turning to face the bearer of the voice.

“Guy you be witch” replied James laughing hard with his eyes closed,  head thrown back, and his hand clutching his stomach.

“Oboy you don do make my heart cut.” I said smiling, as I punched his shoulder playfully. “You made me think I was being robbed.”

“That was the point nah.” He replied, still laughing. “How the hell did you know I was the one?”

“I’m Shylock Holmes, remember?” I replied winking at him.

James and I, were childhood friends. Back when we were neighbours, I we often played a game called Shylock Holmes, where something would be hidden, while the other person tried to find it. Often times, I came out victorious. Hence, the nick name, Shylock Holmes.

We attended the same secondary school, and finished together. But unlike him, I didn’t enroll into a University immediately. But waited for a year. I told my dad I wanted to go on a computer training before furthering my education. Surprisingly,  he obliged. So,  James was a year ahead of me. I was a fresher,  while he was a two hundred level student.

He was therefore the closest person to me in the school,  and thus,  was the one who introduced me to life on campus – the good,  the bad,  the ugly, and often times,  the sweet.

“I guess now you’re a hacker?” He teased.

“Get out jorh” I replied jokingly. “I had to develop myself,  you know. Those six months were truly fruitful.”

“Ah… I like those words ‘truly fruitful’.” He replied, stroking his chin, and stressing the words ‘truly’,   and ‘fruitful’ with a wink.

“You’re crazy, man.” We broke into a laugh.

“Guy come on. We’ve been friends for a long, long time now. Tell me, are you still a virgin?” I don’t know what scared me the most. Was it the sudden flash on the last night I had with Dorothy? O Dorothy. Dearest Dorothy. Or could it be the keen interest with which he asked the question, and how he looked straight at me,  as if he could see through me.

Read about my lovely experience with Dorothy

“Young man, change topic abeg.” I replied,  turning to pay for the shoes I picked.

“Oga that shoe na two-five last” said the middle aged man,  refusing to collect the one thousand five hundred naira I had on my stretched out arm. “Two thousand naira last” he concluded.

“See me o!” I exclaimed looking at James,  who was now,  by my right.

“Watin happen?” He asked,  taking the shoe  from me,  while examining them closely.

“The man no gree collect the one-five we been agree” James didn’t answer,  but kept looking at the shoes. “OK,  you go collect one-six?” I asked the man,  who was now wrapping a shoe for another customer of his.

“Oga that shoe na better Okrika. And na even leather. One-six no good. Given me the two thousand I talk.” He concluded,  spreading his hands as if he was about to take an oath. “I no…”

“Oga two-thousand no set na, ” said James,  cutting him off. “We sabi say na better shoe. But na that one-six we get.”

“OK bring one-nine. Just one thousand,  nine hundred,  and take the shoe” replied the man,  bringing out a polythene bag to wrap the pair in our hands.

“How much are you with?” James whispered.

“Just one-six. The rest is my transport.”

“No wahala” he replied looking at the man. “We go take the shoe for one-eight.”

“What?” I exclaimed pulling his polo.

“Guy calm down.” He whispered,  pulling off my hands “na better shoe. Just bring the money  you’re with.”

I gave him the money,  then noticed him add some  notes from his pocket an handed it over to the man,  who collected them reluctantly. We appreciated him,  and walked off. James decided to help,  with my rolling box.

“Thanks a lot for that,  man.” I spoke first,  after strolling few feet away,  with James beside me. “But you didn’t need to do that. The shoe was not that important to me.”

“Guy shut-up!” He replied chuckling ” you wouldn’t find that kind of shoe for such price easily around here. You really need it bro. You’re now in the university. Not secondary school. You’ve got to tush up,  man.”

“Do you have lectures tomorrow?”

“Yeah! I think so.” I answered,  frowning. I was about pulling my phone out to confirm,  when he swiftly reprimanded me.

“Don’t!”

“Why not? I want to…”

“Guy, ” he started in his usual manner. In a conversation,  this friend of mine,  could use the word ‘guy’,  a hundred times. “This plaza no safe o.”

“But…”

“Guy just listen.” He interrupted abruptly,  and continued. ” I’ve been around here to a year and some months,  and have gathered a lot of stories and experiences about this place,  which I wouldn’t want you to fall a victim of.”

“What kind of stories?”

“Bad ones bro. Bad ones.”

“How bad?”

“Guy!” he replied,  looking at me in frustration “you dey interview me?” I laughed.

“I just want to get clearance.”

“No worry. I go clear you tomorrow. It’s late now.”

“Where will we meet tomorrow?” I asked,  keen on knowing the bad stories of plaza.

“I’ll call you.”

“You don’t have my number,  do you?”

He smacked his forehead lightly “I totally forgot.”

“Nonsense man.” I said,  laughing.

“Drop it on  facebook jorh!” He replied,  smiling.

“No wahala.”

Now that you’re in Uyo,  if you like be carefree with your gadgets. Someone will simply help you keep them.”

“Shut up jorh!” We laughed,  shook hands,  and bid each other farewell till we meet the following day.

He jugged cross the road,  and then stopped at a ramp between the two lanes,  just beside a traffic light,  and called out. “And remember…”

“What?”

“For this Uyo,  I go flex you!” And that is how it all started.

I boarded a tricycle, – popularly known as keke among the populace – to my apartment. While in the keke, I reflected on what happened that day. From the incidence with the soldiers, to my meeting James,  who tricked me into thinking he was a thug. Apparently,  the strong stench of alcohol was from a man close-by, who was trying to buy a shoe.  While the object that poked me was a book folded into a tube. I noticed the book in James’ pocket as he jugged across the road. “I can’t believe I fell for that” I said,  smacking my head, with a wry smile.

See what the soldiers did to a middle aged woman on my way to Uyo

On getting home,  I called my parents to inform them of my safe arrival. I also got them acquainted with the high points of the journey.

Before sleeping,  I texted James my phone number. His words came back to me there and then. ‘For this Uyo,  I go flex you’. I smiled, and dozed off.

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Does evil communication really corrupt good manners? What influence could a close friend have on another?

Anticipate the next episode…

Did you miss the previous episode? Here’s a quick link:  Episode 2

Check out other WEBNOVELA series:

Untold Stories of Me            Dairy of a Call Girl

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