By Dapo Thomas
Alfa Ligali must be right with his Abiku deductive logic. Some time, I used to wonder at the kind of affection or passion I had for “street assembly”. I was the one who loved dancing to the songs of “Alumongiri”, following them round the streets, dancing to their “Babiyala” appeals with harmonious delight. I was the same person who followed “Ajiwere” from Surulere to Mushin at 3am. In the course of my “Were” mis adventure, I lost my precious “sari”. Though Iya Ibadan made it my breakfast, I still didn’t feel happy that I missed it. I also slept outside because of it. The dust of my midnight misadventure was yet to settle when I got involved in another street assembly. Maybe in my first coming to this world, I was born into a royal family where I was never allowed to go out. Call me, “ọmọ get inside”. But my second coming this time, was a different ball game entirely. I was now “ọmọ ghetto” walking about like Mungo Park learning street names for commercial purpose and following crowds and clowns everywhere as if I was under a spell.
That afternoon, the midnight carnival to Mushin took a serious toll on me. I was sleeping like a nice boy who regretted his action when I heard an air horn sound in my sleep coming from outside with some chorus interjections. I woke up suddenly from my sleep like someone who had nightmares to join the mobile chorus chanters. I started following them as usual. There was a man, (whom we later knew to be a photographer) on a decorated bicycle blaring the air horn and responding to the children’s slogan. The children started the slogan by adulating the man on the bicycle:
Children: Afro Ringo Star (hailing the man with his business name).
Afro Ringo Star: Wa de’le ( He responded with a razz slogan like “you will reach home”.)
Children: Ti nba de’le nko? (What if I don’t get home?)
Afro Ringo Star: Wa ma sun n’íta (Be ready to sleep outside.)
Children: Ti nba sun ni ta nko? (What if I refuse to sleep outside?)
Afro Ringo Star: On ba ara è je (You are paving the path to your destruction)
Children: Ti nba bara mi jẹ nko? (What if I don’t destroy myself?)
Afro Ringo Star: O ku s’owo e (That’s left to you)
Children: Ti o ba ku s’owo mi nko? (What if I don’t make it my own problem?)
Afro Ringo Star: O d’ọwọ OLORUN (GOD help you)
This banter exchange went on and on until we
followed him to his photo studio at Nathan Street, Ojuelegba not far from Odus Bakery – bakers of the delicious and famous Odus Bread and De Facto Confectioners. Unlike other street assemblies that always ended without rewards, this one ended on a sweet note with plenty of sweets and biscuits to show for our sprinting parade. At least, we had something to chew on our way back home. This bicycle parade was his own way of advertising his business to the world. He was always dressed in flamboyant attires . It was much later that another photographer called Zesco adopted this strategy with clownish adaptation. Afro Ringo Star was a popular photographer in Lagos Mainland in the late 1960s up till the 1980s, taking birthday, burial, passport, wedding pictures for all and sundry including celebrities and famous lagosians. He later became a famous photographer for national football stars. He was the official photographer for football clubs such as Calabar Rovers (He was from Calabar), Super Stationery Stores Football Club (Flaming Flamingos) of Lagos), NEPA Football Club, Ìkòròdú Oga FC, National Bank FC, Leventis United FC, New Nigeria Bank FC. His clients included great Nigerian Green Eagles stars such as Goalkeeper Best Ogedegbe; Midfield maestro -Mudashiru Atanda Lawal; “Mathematical” Segun Odegbami; Master dribbler – Haruna Ilerika; Chairman Christian Chukwu, Sani Mohammed, Baba Otu Mohammed, Kunle Awesu, Tony Igwe (World 2); Joe Erico, Peter Fregene, 6-footer Emmanuel Okala; the Atuegbu brothers, Godwin Odiye, Henry Nwosu etc.
Talking of Henry Nwosu. Since he dribbled me to score several goals thereby ruining my soccer career as a potential defender hoping to play for Stationery Stores after school, I had been looking for a way to deal with him as his senior. So, when I was promoted (on trial again) to Primary 5, the opportunity to deal with him came when I was chosen as one of the senior students to mobilise junior students for the collection of sawdust at the Tejuoso plank market. The sawdust was to be used to mark the lines in preparation for the school inter-house sports. I deliberately went to his class to choose those that would go to Tejuoso plank market for the packing of the sawdust. He was in primary 3C. Expectedly, I chose him as one of the sawdust collectors. Because of his popularity as a soccer maestro playing for the school team at a very tender age, he refused to go with other students to collect the sawdust. I suspected that he was older than his class. He was big, cocky, and bullish. He probably was given a lower class during his transfer to Salvation Army Primary School from wherever he was coming from. I didn’t think he started his primary school in my school otherwise he would have accorded me more respect.
I hated reporting junior students to teachers otherwise I should have reported him to Mr Iroko, our Games Master and a senior Maths teacher. As far as I was concerned, it showed weakness on my part. I, therefore, decided to handle his case my own way damning the unforeseen consequences of my action. Worse case scenario, I would be expelled from school! As a primary five drop-out, I was qualified to be an office messenger on level one. So, my gang and I had a special plan for him. During this time, around 1971, the National Stadium was nearing completion. It was our next door neighbour. Part of our school land was snatched to create access road for those who would want to access the National Stadium from Yaba and its environs via Onitana Street. They were just doing the finishing in readiness for the 1973 All Africa Games. Henry Nwosu was fond of going to the Stadium after school hours to play set on some of the grassy pitches around the main National Stadium that was still under construction. We had our plans for him.
Walking through the bushy path to the National Stadium after school, Henry was coming with some of his friends not knowing that my gang and I were lying in ambush waiting for him to approach. As soon as they got to our side, we rushed all of them, dragged them into the bush on the side of Bishop Howells Memorial Church on Hogan Bassey Crescent. We dealt with them and they (Henry and his gang) also replied like brave warriors. We all had bruises to show for this “1971 Bush War”.
The following day, my gang and I were all arraigned at the morning assembly for proper public flagellation. This was the kind of assignment that thrilled both Mr Cane and Mr Iroko (that was his real name. Iroko kan, “Sambe” kan. “Sambe” was the nickname given to my school by those who disliked our fame. Sambe, Sambe, afekuru je’ko. ) Both of them loved beating me. I didn’t know why. Maybe because of my toughness or stubbornness. That was their problem. Remember, La-tua told me that “Ọmọta o gbọdọ sunkun”. I stopped crying when being flogged. Since then, no matter the number of strokes, I had the capacity to absorb it with painful energy.
I was expecting to be expelled in addition to the flogging but nothing of such happened. Ever since I went to the school with EPG (Eminent Personality Group led by Iya Ibadan, Alhaji Dindin and Alhaji Raji), I had been accorded a celebrity status. As usual, after being flogged by both men, sitting became a tortuous task. Unfortunately for me, the following day after being flogged, we had to go on an excursion to Super Cinema in Akerele Street. We were taken there by some of the teachers to watch ANTAR, THE BLACK PRINCE. It was the trending film in the 1970s. It’s about Antar, a black slave who challenges the servant of a Prince for molesting an innocent old woman. Instead of the expected reprimand by the King, ANTAR is employed by the King as a Palace warrior. While working in the Palace, Antar, the slave son of Shaddad, son of Emir Bani Abs, falls in love with his cousin, Abla, the daughter of the King. Though Antar faces so many challenges while trying to marry Ablah, he overcomes them all before he can marry his heartthrob. It was an interesting filḿ but I didn’t enjoy it at all because I was standing for more than the two hours that they showed the film. To sit was a major challenge. To stand was another hurdle. I couldn’t even say I watched the film. What kind of human being finds fun in the throes of agony? Mr Cane and Mr Iroko had dealt with my engine leaving me with a figurative body that was covered by my school uniform. Thank GOD, I wasn’t a woman. There wouldn’t have been any delicious and big bumbum to show to my husband as marital asset. The lashing and lashes suffered by my bumbum in my primary school and my childhood years were sufficient to change my destiny completely. But I thank GOD that I still have some flesh left on my bumbum to showcase to the world that I was a complete creation of GOD. As for the movie, I wished I could collect my money back from the organisers. I had to force myself to the Cinema because I didn’t want to waste my money which had been paid some days before the showing of the film. Besides, most schools in Lagos were organising excursions to different Cinemas to see the film. By 1pm, the film which started by 11am had come to an end.
On our way back to school, I sneaked away from the long convoy of tired children to go and rest in the house considering that it was almost closing time. Unlike others, I took my bag with me to the Cinema knowing that I was not planning to return to school after the film. On getting to my street, I saw a well-dressed man surrounded by some of my friends. He was looking for Salawu Street and nobody seemed to know it. Before I came, they were telling him that the only person who could know the place was Dapo. I was the chief navigator and cartographer of Surulere. No wonder, immediately I appeared in the street, they started hailing me not knowing that my engine was almost getting knocked having stood for two hours watching ANTAR, THE DARK PRINCE or was it ANTAR, THE BLACK PRINCE? Anyway, I didn’t want to disgrace or disappoint my friends. Besides, I could see that the man was desperate to locate the place seeing that his clothes were well-starched. Though we didn’t normally charge for this service, we expected our clients to appreciate our efforts and assistance in helping them to locate the addresses of their toasters, mostly!
Ordinarily, on a good day, I would have taken him through a longer route so that he would give me something reasonable. But because I was very tired, I took him through a shorter route. We just went straight as if we were going to Ojuelegba. We turned left to Akintan Street, moved to Ayilara Street then to Karimu Street. At the back of Karimu was Salawu Street. In less than 15 minutes, we were at Salawu Street. I saw the man moving his hand as if he was about to give me some money for my efforts. He bent down to greet me in Yoruba: “O se, àbúrò. Se wa mo ona pada sile?” He was saying: “Thanks my little friend. I appreciate you. Will you be able to find your way back home? I opened my mouth, transfixed on the same spot for about 2 minutes, picked a stone on the ground with just one thing in mind……
TO BE CONTINUED
