Years back, a friend of mine at Ibadan decided to use "African Technology" to his benefit. He claimed that there was a man, known to us then as "Baba Jinta" who could provide a certain manner of jewelry. This ring, when worn upon the third finger of the left hand, and which when made to contact a member of the female humanoid species, would cause an irrevocable feeling of lust to settle and dwell upon the female.
Therewith it would be up to the bearer of the ring to assume any role as he sees fit; the most logical being the Casanova type. "Come with me to see Baba" he urged me, and though Baba would not be the first person I would rush towards and spend time, I thought it would be an interesting experience. We got to Baba's house having tranversed the length and breadth of Ibadan. If you do not know Ibadan, let me inform you that Ibadan is an extremely large, but poorly planned city.
The town-planners, it seems, just decided to toss houses anywhere, looking up from above. We had abandoned the car at a friend's house and searched for the address, SW4/333. We had reached SW4/332 when suddenly we were at NE2/441. It was nothing short of a miracle that we found Baba's house next to SE3/128. There was a young naked toddler outside rolling a tire. "Se Baba wa'nle?" we asked. He nodded his head and ran inside to inform the occupants that Baba's guests had arrived. There was a sort of mocking gleam in the kid's eye. I remember wondering if we were safe. We entered the house and I almost fell down in surprise.
As much as the outside was shabby and populated with chickens, goats and several other mammals and birds, the inside was so lavishly furnished that I began to wonder what it was exactly that Baba did for a living. There were two or three video-tape players, a CD player, lush carpet, a couple of large-screen TV's, and several family pictures. The pictures, I recall, were what struck me most. Baba Jinta was prominent in every picture, his features almost alarming. He looked evil. Very evil.
From behind a curtained doorway I heard someone chanting some incantations. At the same time I heard a large pot fall down somewhere in the back yard and decided that it was time to leave. I turned around to leave and would have been back at the University of Ibadan in seconds if my friend had not held me and forced me to stay. A smallish woman emerged crouching from the curtained doorway and asked us to "henta and see baba." She told us that we would have to walk in backwards, crouching, for no one was ever to stand taller than Baba Jinta in that room, and no one was to see his face before seven o clock. "I'll just be here waiting for you" I informed my friend, but he was not having it. So we, crouching and walking backwards, entered the inner sanctum. We sat with our backs to someone, presumably Baba, and I broke out into a cold sweat.
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