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Chapter 4 Sir Skido pondered the evening's drama as he was driven out of the prison. 'Them laugh too soon,' said the chauffeur as the passed the jubilant protesters. 'Where there is life…' said Sir Skido. 'There is hope O!' said the chauffeur and they both laughed. Silence followed. Doubts appeared from nowhere in Sir Skido's mind about the wisdom of getting involved in the electric chair importation business. This is blood money he thought. He soon found an antidote for the sprouting conscience. The thought of his plush flat in St John's Wood area of London brought a wry smile. After all, business is business, he thought. At home Lady Skido was dressed for war. She bore a military frown on her face, which Sir Skido recognised instantly like the voice of an unwelcome visitor that insists on daily visits, 'Where have you been?' 'Is that the greeting I get?' 'Is it not you who says don't answer a question with a question?' 'Woman just leave me alone. I am not in the mood,' said Sir Skido collapsing heavily in his favourite armchair. An awkward period of silence passed. 'What's for dinner?' 'I thought you said I should leave you alone?' 'Look ,I am not in the mood for games.' 'There's nothing for dinner.' 'What?!' 'No gas, no kerosene and you want dinner. I should use my blood to cook, eh? What's the use of all this money you are making when we can't even cook?' Sir Skido changed into his green tracksuit and gathered three of his male relations from the small bungalow behind the house; the boys' quarters. 'Don't forget diesel for the electric generator O! Ehen and no branching in any beer parlour O. Driver, watch your master well, well. And most important, sofly drive that my jeep' screamed Lady Skido from the partially open door. ' Yes madam!' answered Sunday the driver. As they drew closer to the filling station jerry cans of all shapes and sizes became the essential accessory. Almost every pedestrian had one. 'Chineke!' screamed Sir Skido on seeing the long tortuous queues. There was one each for petrol, kerosene and diesel and they all went round the filling station at least twice. They found a parking space with great difficulty and made their way to the front of the queue. Sir Skido led the way. 'How can I be lining up with jerry can like a refugee? A man of my class.' His relations hailed him 'Uncle Skido! Na you O! Oga sir! Suddenly Sir Skido heard a loud and somewhat familiar voice screaming at people to make way for him. He spun round to see Killiwee heading in their direction. The other two chairmen were present and each of them held a jerry can in one hand and was handcuffed to a prison officer on the other side. 'Commot for road or I kill you all! I will die tomorrow so what difference does one more murder charge make. Commot!' shouted Killiwee, his heavily made up face making him look like a cousin of the rare White throated monkey of Okomo sanctuary. Beads of sweat drew lines in the white powder on Killiwee's face, further increasing his ugliness. Killiwee led his group through till he met an old school mate seven places from the front of the queue and stopped to chat. The schoolmate for his part was embarrassed to be known so well by a psychopath but forced a smile. Sir Skido enquired of the prison officers as to why they came here only to be told the prison's quota for fuel had been stolen and they had to now queue like anyone else. The rationing of fuel meant the only way to get around the 'one-man one jerry can' rule was to bring all the chairmen to queue for their diesel. 'After all, it's them who need the fuel tomorrow,' added the prison officer. Sir Skido didn't laugh. A man whispered to Sir Skido that his place in the queue was up for grabs. Money exchanged hands and the man left with his empty jerry can and bulging breast pocket heading for the back of the queue. Sir Skido gave his driver and relatives money and ordered them to the petrol and kerosene queues. 'Find professional queuers like that man. I need to leave soon,' he said glancing at his Rolex with exaggerated movements Bibi J appeared on the scene with a film crew to cover the fuel crisis for K-TV's news at ten. He intercepted the P.Q. who had done business with Sir Skido. 'What is your name?' 'I be Charlie.' 'And what's your business here?' asked Bibi J. 'I be P.Q.' 'What's that?' 'Professional Queuer.' 'How did that come about?' Charlie smiled. 'Before before, I be messenger. Small time Internet begins to carry file so them retrench us. Na im I use ma number six begin dey queue for a living. When I reach front I go either buy fuel go sell for market or I go sell my place.' 'Man must survive ni O!' said Bibi J laughing. 'Which level? Man must wak. In fact my wife dey kerosene queue and I don commot my children from school make dem tanda for petrol queue.' 'Charlie you dey O!' said Bibi J laughing. 'Na im now. I must dash,' said Charlie running off to the back of the diesel queue. Firemen arrived on the scene holding jerry cans. Bibi J extracted a familiar tale from them. Someone had stolen their fuel at the fire station. Bibi J then headed for Killiwee who was holding up the queue. He refused to move until he had finished sucking his orange. The street vendor had her tray on the ground and was peeling away in artistic strokes. Every one in the vicinity had an orange stuck in their mouths. The pretty girl could slice the orange down its equator into two perfect halves or cut out a cone at the top. Most preferred the cone, which meant a lot of squeezing to get the juice out. Her tray was soon empty and she asked for money. 'I have no money jo! I'm dying tomorrow and you ask for money!' screamed Killiwee. Sir Skido reached out to pay but it was too late. Killiwee unleashed a vicious kick, which connected with the young girl's face. Her jaw instantly took on a different shape and she collapsed to the ground with blood spurting from her mouth. Everywhere went dead silent. Loads of 'Area Boys' rushed to her aid. She was well known and well loved. They ferried her away hurriedly to her Auntie's house. Killiwee oblivious to the commotion continued with his orange. Sir Skido gave a wad of notes to one of the 'Area Boys' for the girl's oranges and medical treatment. People began to murmur about a possible reprisal however no one dared to question Killiwee about his attack on the girl. Soon shouting and screaming could be heard in a distance. The girl's aunty was on the way. 'You again' screamed Mama Bom Boy. 'You killed my brother you useless armed robber now you want to kill my niece!' Many of the 'Area Boys' struggled to restrain Mama Bom Boy. 'You will injure the baby on your back O!' a woman warned. Mama Bom Boy calmed down. 'He's not worth it Mummy. Let's go home and take Sikira to the hospital,' pleaded Mama Bom Boy's daughter. The filling station manager was now very apprehensive. He knew one of the treatments meted out to armed robbers was the 'burn alive' treatment, which would no doubt wreck his station. 'Please this is a no smoking, no matches zone O! I take God beg una O!' He pleaded. He then called one of the tallest Area Boys into his office for a small "business meeting". Next, commotion gave way to pandemonium. A woman caught a glimpse of Oga Landlord's make up face from the kerosine queue and thought she had recognised a ghost. She screamed loudly like one who had her pants full of angry stinging scorpions. She ran wildly and threw herself at Oga Landlord's feet crying. A man shook his head. 'See what fuel shortage can cause. She don craze finis'. Another said 'No bi fuel shortage. Na money shortage make am craze'. Some laughed while others shook their head in pity. All the pump attendants stopped working to watch the 'free cinema'. The woman on the floor screamed 'Ghost of Oga Landlord, don't take me away. I confess I killed my husband and dropped the knife through your open window. Don't kill me. Please o!' 'Who is this woman?' asked Sir Skido to no one in particular. 'Mama Kunle, my tenant, the late Fatayi's wife' answered Oga Landlord visibly shaken. 'You mean…?' began Sir Skido. 'Oh yes. The wife of the man they said I killed'. Oga Landlord lifted both hands towards Heaven and screamed 'Thank you Lord!' Even the depressed Mile Two managed a faint smile. 'Ghosts, please don't kill me'. Pleaded the woman on the floor afraid to look up. 'Sharrup ya mouth you daughter of Jezebel!' screamed Killiwee. This time the prison officers caught him before his boots swang into action. Sir Skido transformed into a judge and took control. He made Mama Kunle stand and repeat her confession. Between much sobbing and nose blowing she told how when Oga Landlord had left their flat that 'fateful night', she challenged her husband on his drug taking and his acts of disgrace. He gave her a beating. She picked up a knife and threatened him. Next minute it was buried in his stomach. 'Sorry to disappoint you madam but this is no ghost and you are going down' said Sir Skido. 'But..but..but I saw him dead on TV ke. Ah-ah, I watched him die on K-TV before the power cut interrupted my viewing'. 'The power cut affected the execution madam' said a prison officer. 'You don become 'Chair lady' be dat O!' 'Ehen? So you are not a ghost. In that case I didn't kill Fatayi. You killed him. You killed my husband o!' screamed Mama Kunle. Her tactics didn't go down well. Some police officers in the petrol queue rushed over and had to rescue her from being lynched. 'Oga Landlord I will testify to all I have heard this day in any court' said Sir Skido. 'So will I' promised Killiwee. 'How can? You will soon be dead ke' said Mama Bomboy. 'You again. What do you have against me? Your brother whom I killed was a thief like me'. 'Mummy let's go se' said Mama Bomboy's daughter tugging at Mama Bomboy's fat arms. 'You sef, you look familiar. Have we met?' asked Killiwee of Mama Bomboy's daughter. 'Earlier today. I won the K-TV contract to supply your Turkey Suya'. 'And I helped with the preparations' said Mama Bomboy smiling wickedly. 'I don die' screamed Killiwee before struggling to attack Mama Bomboy. He was easily restrained. 'Before nko? This will teach you not to mess with my family. Electric or no electric, you will die today' 'Are you hearing? I have many witnesses o! No wonder everyone I offered the Turkey Suya declined. I have been poisoned. I don die!' cried Killiwee. 'Yes, but not from poisoning' came a hoarse voice from behind Killiwee. The owner of the voice was a well-known 'Area Boy'. He fled away while Killiwee slumped face down to the ground taking with him his Prison officer. The 'Area Boy' had left his knife behind in Killiwee's back. 'Does anyone recognise that youth?' asked the prison officer handcuffed to Killiwee as the Area Boy went. He struggled to free himself, jumped up and ran off after the 'Area boy'. As soon as he turned the corner the prison officer went home. 'I no fit die for government work!' he exclaimed aloud dusting off his uniform. 'Anyone foolish enough to identify that Area Boy must be wise enough to leave money for his funeral' said a man aloud. Everyone knew who the murderer was. He had gone into the filling station manager's office to be bribed to ensure fire was not used to kill Killiwee. He was also Sikira's boyfriend. 'The fool must leave money for his wife's and children's funerals also O!' said a youth in a threatening tone. It was soon back to business as usual. Everyone returned to their places in their respective queues. A few arguments broke out as to who was in front of who in the queues but were soon resolved. Killiwee's body was side stepped as the purchase of Diesel commenced. The peace was further broken by the filling station manager. He ran out excited with 'breaking news'. 'The senate has just announced the abolition of the death penalty!' A murmur swept through the crowd. Mile Two cried bitterly. He knew life imprisonment was a prolonged death sentence. Oga landlord shook hands and hugged new found friends and well wishers like a politician certain of victory. On the way home, Sir Skido's phone rang. 'Park the moto,' he told the driver. Very few business associates had this number. So he reckoned it must be an important call. He got out of his jeep and walked a few feet away. Street vendors rushed to him. They sold everything from groundnut and puff-puff in wooden boxes with a glass side for "window shopping", to oranges, bread, bootleg copies of popular music recordings, batteries and spring water. He gesticulated violently and they fled from him. 'Hello,' he said. 'I will make this quick, you know who I am. We are going to be selling all the electric chairs to a neighbouring African country. Naturally you have won the contract. My usual cut in the usual place.' 'Yes Sir,' said Sir Skido almost prostrating on the floor in respect. The line went dead. All the way home Sir Skido had a new song on his lips. The driver and his relatives joined in. He stopped at a roadside bar to 'tank' the boys up. Back in the car they all sang with great zest. Winner Oh Oh Oh
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