PUNCH
I didn’t shoot the sheriff. I was only a member of a three-man gang that robbed a friend in Lagos in the mid-80s. Thank God, he survived the robbery and he’s alive to tell the story. Despite the incident, we remain friends. So, I’ll shield him from klieg light by referring to him by his first name and middle name, Abiodun Oluseyi, because he never liked being in the public eye. He’s an introvert, I’m an extrovert.
Towering above six feet, Biodun, a man of few words, doesn’t throw his weight and height around. When secondary school set our feet on the journey of friendship more than 40 years ago, lying ahead unbeknownst to us was a shared future of mutual respect, love and understanding.
We had our strengths and weaknesses; I was better than Biodun in football, table tennis, scrabble and non-school activities which our parents must not know. Biodun played excellent guitar and chess. He loved serenity. He also loved to be underrated. Like the Piscean that he is, the whale in him loved to swim from the depth of the deep, shooting up in the air, and splashing back into the ocean, swimming to the belly of the sea. Don’t think he didn’t see the shock and admiration in your eyes as he wowed you with his prowess, yes, he did; Biodun loves being appreciated but he won’t demand it.
His nickname, B-Fat, an amalgam of his first and last names, is incongruous with his slim and straight physique. However, B-Fat was fast like a pilot whale reaching a speed of 75.6 kilometres per hour at short bursts, and was intelligent like the killer whale, smashing the Joint Admissions and Matriculation Board examination in 1985 to set a record and gaining admission to study medicine at Great Ife aka King of Nigerian Universities, a title bestowed on the Obafemi Awolowo University, Ile-Ife, by prankish students.
Another friend living in the neighbourhood, Lanre Akintunde, paid me a visit at home in company with his relative, whose name I can’t recall. Then, there was no smartphone to save time and money on wasted journeys. People risked lives and limbs crisscrossing the length and breadth of Nigeria only to discover that the relatives they went to visit had also travelled on a long journey like Apostle Paul.
On the fateful day of the robbery, I was seeing Lanre and his cousin off when I told them I was going to see Biodun, who lived two streets away. Lanre said he would like to say hi to Biodun, too. His cousin didn’t need to know Biodun; friendship then was as instant as making a coffee or splurging N160m each on 360 exotic cars to be enjoyed by heartless National Assembly members driving on toxic roads.
Was Biodun happy to see us? He showed it in the lavish food he provided. He fetched a massive bowl and went to buy rice, beans, fried plantain and pieces of meat enough to feed six hungry men. After all, he was a big boy studying medicine at Great Ife. So, four spoons, like shovels, set out to demolish the white and brown mound of food covered in a stew like magma covers a volcano mountain.
We all turned up in our best table manners. No one uttered a word as our teeth and tongues worked, crushing and grinding. There was no time to drink water even though we didn’t rush; we were all young, responsible adults, and our spoons didn’t clash. The mountain of rice and beans was going down gradually, like Stamford Bridge.
As the mountain finally gave way, hitting rock bottom, Biodun let out a shout, “Ha! Eyin people yi, e ti je gbogbo eran tan! Mi o ri nkankan je!,” lamenting, “You these people, you have eaten all the pieces of meat, I didn’t get any to eat!” Gentleman Biodun was waiting for the delicious meal to climax in the eating of pieces of orísirísi meat, but his patient dog didn’t even get a bone to eat. In the serenity of Biodun’s room, three separate spoons held by Lanre’s cousin, Lanre and Tunde airlifted the pieces of meat secretly and deposited them into colluding mouths. We didn’t connive to rob Biodun, there were no furtive glances, each of his guests was just concerned about his stomach, collective good was alien to them. We were the ajélójú onílé house rats that eat in the presence of the house owner.
Thank goodness, Biodun survived the robbery. He’s now a renowned consultant paediatrician in Nigeria while Lanre went on to become a lawyer, setting up his practice in Lagos and yours truly remained a journalist. The three of us are still friends to date.
Denouement in literature is the final part of a play, movie, or narrative in which the strands of the plot are drawn together and matters are explained or resolved.
