ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY 1981 (Part Five)

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY 1981 (Part Five)

Obaseki, looked cornered. He certainly was not anticipating an encounter with me at the restaurant. His shrunken face looked collapsed with fatigue. The anxiety that he was feeling was palpable. His face began to twitch. It was bad enough when he saw me entering the restaurant. But the moment I informed him that Rufus was on his way to join us, his system could no longer handle the tension. He stood up. He patted his pockets.

“What is the matter?” I asked him. “Is everything fine?”

“Oh, I was-was-just checking my—my—my pocket. For my-my-my-house keys.”

“And is it in your pocket?”

a picture showing moyo okediji poised for the camera

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981, (Part Three)

They took Obaseki to a native doctor in Benin, straight from the police cell.

I ran into him about six months later when he was released.

His condition had deteriorated remarkably. He looked gaunt and shrunk. He must have lost about fifty pounds, (and he weighed not less than 175lbs and stood at 6’ tall when he assaulted Steve). His face had dark blotches and rashes all over it, and he moved with a stoop that made him look much shorter, as he gingerly carried his tray of food from the counter to a table.

I knew that he saw me as I entered the Ekewan campus cafeteria. But he quickly averted his face, pretending that he didn’t notice me. I went to the food counter to place my order. I decided I would surprise him by joining him at his table once I got my food.

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981, (PART TWO)

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981, (PART TWO)

Rufus was in a murderous mood. Steve, the one who Obaseki pummeled, became worried when Rufus went into his room. “What’s he gone to do in his room?” I asked Steve, whose only interest at that moment was diving into the fried rice we just brought for him.

Steve said, “He’s gone to change into his shorts. Looks like he’s really upset. He is changing into loose clothes to take out that guy who attacked me.”

“Na shakara,” I told Steve.

“What?” Steve asked.

a picture showing moyo okediji poised for the camera

ENGLISHMAN IN BENIN CITY, 1981

As soon as we drove to the front of the house, we knew something was wrong. There was a crowd of nearly twenty people waiting for us.

“Mr. Rufus, good thing you are back,” said a neighbor stepping forward from the crowd. “Nobody knows what the problem was, but we had to break down the door to your house….”

Before he could complete his story, Josephine, ran to the Mitsubishi bus, breathless, “Papa Ru. That your friend almost killed Steve! I ran out to call the neighbors, but when I went out, he jammed the door. They had to force the lock to free Steve from him!”

The Day We Went to Steal Yams in Benin City

The Day We Went to Steal Yams in Benin City

1980: One Friday, Rufus told me that we should visit the messenger of the University of Benin, Department of Creative Art, whose wife just gave birth to twins, both boys.

I told him that we needed to go to the bank to withdraw some money. I kept the purse for both of us. We were out of cash, and it was the end of the week. But Rufus said we would go to the bank later.

a picture showing moyo okediji poised for the camera

POLICE CHECKPOINT, BENIN CITY

It was in 1980, in Nigeria, when this police encounter occurred.

I will start by swearing

in the name of Ogun

that this event, strange

as it sounds, actually happened

in the middle of the night.

They say when you want an African to tell the truth, make the African swear to an indigenous divinity—not to the Bible or the Quran. Those two books are just books. The real book that they believe and consider real is not written. It is oral, and tied to the indigenous divinities.

a picture showing moyo okediji poised for the camera

Last night, I went to get some fruits at the groceries.

Last night, I went to get some fruits at the groceries.

As I returned, there was an unusual line at the intersection with a gas station.

Rather than wait, I cut through the gas station and joined the road to my house.

Immediately, a police car followed me, it’s light flashing like it was Christmas, commanding me to pull over.