STREET DOGS VOLUME 1: (The Rise of Ajasa.) Chapter 1 A mother and a Whore



Prologue

Ajasa swerved sideways using his left hand to pin the head of the man sitting to his left, with brute force he rammed his head into the car window, gripping the gun the man held with his right hand to avoid him firing, he turned his head as broken glass flew destructively into the vehicle The surprise move took his captors unawares, the car swerved uncontrollably as a shard of glass slashed the back of drivers neck forcing to hit the car brakes.

Smartly angling his body over that of his captor, he forced open the car door and flung himself and the man sideways out of the moving vehicle, a sharp sound was heard as his captors head hit the hard pavement, by his calculation the move had either killed the man on the spot or incapacitated him for the moment, without pausing he ran headlong into the forest as they were three more men armed with guns coming for him, he jumped over scrubs and bushes agilely maneuvering in the dense forest to avoid a direct hit from a gunshot, he  could hear the gun shots become fainter as he increased the distance between him and his abductors, he ran faster into the thick forest his mind intent on one thing To survive. He stopped only when he saw mounds on the earth indicating he had now entered   a farm Land and calculated that he may now be in another village.


He leaned against a tree as he caught his breath. his plain white T shirt was soaked with sweat and his hands were still shaking from the attack.this was the third attempt on his life this month, he knew these signs he had seen them play out time after time, his time was up, He would have to step down as an executive of the NURTW, he knew he may not survive a fourth attempt on his life.


CHAPTER 1 A MOTHER AND A WHORE

Donald threw stones at the frogs croaking loudly in the gutter in front of him, he ignored the pitiful looks passersby gave him as he sat alone on the sidewalk in his dirty pair of shorts and shirt, he had not had his bath for three days, he was accustomed to the smell of his own stench but the dirt was beginning to stick to his face and cause him to scratch repeatedly every ten minutes. He could hear his mother’s voice in the background, he was only Five years old but he knew she was fighting in the streets again.

“Ashawo kobo kobo, witch leave my husband alone, I reject you in Jesus name” a woman screamed in the ensuing commotion as the crowd held his mother back from doing more damage to the woman’s clothes.
Without turning his neck at the direction of the commotion he knew his mother had probably torn part of the woman’s attire to shreds, he had overheard Ade’s mum say to one of their neighbors one day that to survive around here you must learn the rules of Sheila, the first rule was that never attack Sheila because she could fight like a man, the second rule was never advise Sheila because she would fight you like a man, the third rule should have been never allow your man within five yards of Sheila because her one weakness was men.

He may be young but he knew there was something fundamentally wrong with his mother Sheila, She dragged him from door post to door post, from under one bridge to another, she did not care that he was left out in the cold at odd hours of the night whilst she “discussed” with uncle.
Every day they were different uncles and some days they were even more than three uncle’s to “discuss” with, but he was always happy after those discussions because he knew he would finally be able to eat something for the day. It may be 2.00 a.m or 7.00 a.m but after her nightly discussions she would carry him happily on her arms as they went to look for something to eat, it may be fried yam or yam and beans or his personal favorite rice with suya but there could always find something to eat in the slums of Lagos Island.

Days like this were his worst, when his mother fought on the street they were no discussions, she would rant and curse and attempt to fight everybody for hours until when she finally exhausts her energy she would crawl into one of the empty stalls and sleep off, days like this his mother did not remember she had a son, her temper was so hot and volatile that any attempt to go near her when she was in a fighting mood would get him a serious beating.

So Donald played with the frogs, he threw stones and copied their stances as they tried to run away from him, he had learnt early on life to always try and make himself happy, maybe tonight  he would find left over food from the dust bin of the beer parlor near their make shift tent under the Bridge, for now he would not think of his empty stomach or think of the rashes on his skin growing worse by the day because of dirt , for now he would play with the frogs whilst Sheila fought yet another woman on the streets . This was the only coping mechanism he knew.

Passersby who recognized him looked at him with pity, “poor boy” some mumbled, “Father unknown, Mother a dirty whore all he had in this world were the frogs and lizards to play with in the gutter, maybe someday he would find some respite but for now this was his own slice of heaven, mimicking frogs in the gutter and chasing down lizards on the roads.”

Popular posts from this blog

Press Release by NALT CLUB International on the Xenophobic attacks against Nigerians and other African nationals in South Africa.

Nigerians, Greed and Wonder banks