Yesterday I took a break from work, and for the first time since the Covid outbreak in 2019, ventured out.
With Adetola Wewe, my friend visiting from Nigeria, I went on a boat ride.
He was unable to eat or sleep, as anxiety and depression began to unravel his characteristic calm disposition. Only a couple of months prior to the abduction, the wife of the Commissioner of Works was kidnapped and an undisclosed but generous ransom was paid for her release. Kidnapping had become the new strategy adopted by members of the underworld, who targeted the rich and famous in their bid to get rich quick. Business tycoons, expatriate oil executives, journalists, politicians, and even religious leaders and their families were constant targets. Abduction had become a multi million naira enterprise in Nigeria, and the police seemed unable to find any solution to the problem. No kidnapper had been arrested, and huge sums of ransom money had been paid. Many people complained that there was evidence of collusion between the security forces and the criminals.
My friend called me that they scammed her of $750 last Monday.
After listening to the story of how they scammed her, I realized it was the same syndicate that scammed me in 2019 that scammed her last Monday.
As a Nigerian, I consider it a disgrace to be scammed—after all, I belong to a country that is notorious for always winning the Olympic gold medal in the 419 game.
Steve quickly realized that it was a bad idea to take off his shirt to enjoy the breeze. He hurriedly wore it back. He had complained about the heat, which was one of the reasons we left the house.
Steve, finally, decided to take us to a place not too far from the house to show off the body of water he said he discovered. He had been raving about it, but we were unable to go and see it, distracted by the various things happening in such rapid succession.
Prominent on the list of my to-do-things was a visit to River Steve.
Weather is turning cold.
Really chilly and rainy
Time to look for those warm things, and drink tea laced with honey. Or whatever.
REPORT OF SEXUAL ASSAULT AND MOLESTATION
AGAINST PROFESSOR XXXX
My name is XXX with matric no. XXX. I am writing to inform you about the unpleasant experience I had with one of my lecturers in the person of Prof.XXXX on Friday 18th of March, 2022.
“I just discovered a river!” Steve announced, breathless, as he ran into the sitting room with enthusiasm. “And it’s just fifteen minutes from here.”
I said, “Mungo Park.”
Rufus, spreading out on the sofa, said, “Where is it?”
“Hidden in plain sight!” Steve said. “I was driving down Ekenwan Street, and there was this dirt road by the side. I decided to explore it.”
“What’s the name of the street?” I asked.
“No signboard,” Steve said.
“There is no Benin street without a signboard,” Rufus said. “Benin people are good with signboards. Even narrow paths have signboards.”