There is a place in ancient Ibadan, Nigeria, known as Jericho. It is located in a portion of the city where the population is generally limited to those affluent enough to live in grandeur fortresses. Some of the land is home to government residences, while every now and again you will find a store, hairdressing salon, or even a "bukateria." (For the unaware, a bukateria is the working person's eating joint).
Frances and her family lived in Jericho. Her father, if my memory serves me correctly, had something to do with government. As a kid, I often wondered if this same Jericho was the one which was spoken of in the bible--the one around which the children of Israel marched for seven days and seven nights.
I didn't think it made much sense for the children of Israel to march continuously for seven days and seven nights. I was under the impression that had they just marched twice a day, every other day, or even just one really intense march on that seventh day, the walls would fall anyway.
Seeing as each individual house in Jericho, Ibadan, had it's own walls, I was convinced that the people had learned their lesson and decided not to have just one wall around Jericho, but several one around each house. This way, the children of Israel, should they wish to march again, would have to march around each house for seven days. By the time they got to, say, Frances' house, people would have complained to the Dugbe police down the road. The reaction time for the police in Nigeria ranges from 2-days to 3 months, so it is reasonable to assume that the children of Israel would be contained eventually.
The Dugbe police as well as the police in the compound where I lived never did inspire in me any amount of confidence. Once when an auntie’s house was being visited by men of a criminal disposition, sometime after the midnight hour, my aunty heard the noises in the living room and promptly dialed the police from her bedroom.
"Madam our patrol car has broken down" the policemen lamented. They would only be able to assist her if she came to pick them up. The irony of it all is that right at that moment, there were probably a billion and a half other patrol cars parked strategically at "checkpoints" in order that these policemen be able to make enough money to treat their families to the barest necessities of life.
It was this dearth of security that allowed the instance of "night watchmen" to flourish. In my juvenile opinion, these watchmen were all of the same family, for they seemed to share the same name--mallam. They had bows and arrows and often made a small bonfire so that they could roast corn--a necessary pastime for night-watching-- while guarding the house.
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