HE HAD done well for himself. There was no way he was going back to the slums. He walked into one of his camps in this part of town. He was flanked by two guards with black shades over their eyes. They both wore black tight fit shirts to put their chest and abs on full display.Ā They looked tough as nails.
Some workmen who were playing card quickly stood up at the sight of him. He smiled faintly as he waddled forward.Ā He was monstrously fat, poised on slippered feet so tiny that he seemed to walk on tiptoe. He was so far below middle height that he seemed wider than he was tall. He head was completely bald but he sported a massive bushy beard that extended from his temple to meet down his chin. In the lobes of his left ear he wore an enormous golden earring. All his pudgy fingers flashed with precious stones. Round his middle was a pouch that contained sweetened meat that he constantly chewed on.
He was proud of himself. Even if no one in his hometown was. To them Nicholas Amadi was dead after he moved to the city. Well, Nicholas Amadi was dead long ago. Now he was called Joe Amadi.
"Oga, those packages don arrive." A henchman told him in pidgin.
He frowned. He didn't like people addressing him in anything but English or Spanish. He expected fluent English fromĀ his workmen that talked to him. Pidgin English didn't sound professional.
"I'll be there shortly."
He watched the lad go. The thoughts of castrating and then selling him to people that needed labourers flashed through his mind. He knew people that needed castrated eunuchs.
Walking into the building where the packages were being received, a small man with glasses and a clip board stood up and walked towards him.
"We have received the packages from downtown and the west, sir."
"Is that all?"
The man checked his clipboard in a professional way and said, "We still await those from Ghana and Cameroon, sir. They should be arriving any time soon."
Just as he spoke, a long truck drove into the compound. The guard at the gate spoke to the driver, nodded once and let the truck through.
"That should be from Cameroon, sir."
He nodded and waddled his globe figured body towards the door.
"Follow me." He liked this young man. He sounded intelligent and professional.
The truck had driven to the opposite end and was unloading. Amadi walked over to inspect the packagesĀ some were not as he expected. Some were below standard but the rest were perfect.
"What is holding the Ghanaians?" He asked the man with glasses.
"I don't know, sir." He pushed the glass up the bridge of his nose. "they could have problems with the border entry. It is specially hard to transport through countries."
"But Cameroon does it easily, don't they?"
"They are closer, sir. I think we should expand and move our arms to Ghana. From there, we could interest neighbouring countries too." The glasses man said nervously as if fearing Amadi's reaction to the suggestion.
There was an awkward silence as Amadi kept mute for some seconds then He beamed and turned to the glass man.
"Brilliant idea."
He went to the camp's overseer and asked for the report sheet. Glancing at it half-heartedly, he looked at the glass man.
"Young man, what's your name?"
"James, sir."
"Well Jamie." He stopped and laughed at the nickname "You're coming with me. Now you roll with the big boys."
The camp overseer looked stupefied. He was the one supposed to get the promotionĀ not this little kid. He looked in despair as the black limo drove them away.