Two days later when Edegbe's car arrived, he was ecstatic to leave the house. He had spent the past two days inside, whining about the transport fare he would spend going to and fro the farmland. Mr. Abdullah had called him non-stop, making sure to remind him that, wallahi, he was the best. They had spent the two days arranging the house the way they wanted, and everyday by five Efe would wake up and walk stealthily to the gym. But his grunts and huffs still woke Edegbe up, and when he came out from his room to see him all sweaty and out of breath, he would look at him disapprovingly. But he didn't tell him to stop, the other man needed as much liberty he could get.
And so the arrival of the car was another type of liberty for him. He wore one of his most priced suit and studied himself on the mirror, turning this way and that way until he was satisfied. He hurried Efe, who thankfully and surprisingly had not worn a tuxedo, but a regular old suit, and when they got into the car, him at the back, Efe at the driver's seat, he turned the ignition on. The car hissed into a start, and he handled the steering.
"Did he give you the receipt for the fuel he bought?" Edegbe asked, referring to the man who had been paid to bring the car.
"Yes, Sir." Then he started driving. Slowly he moved towards the gate, then swerved away from it and moved to the fence. Then he moved to the tree, dodged it and circled the yard. He circled the yard again, and again, and Edegbe who had slumped into his seat sat up.
"What are you doing?" He asked.
Still circling the yard, Efe replied. "I just wanted you to realize that simply because I can drive a car doesn't mean I know all the routes in the world."
"What are you talking about?" He sounded more pissed than curious.
"I don't even know where we are, how do you expect that I know how to get to the farmland from here?"
"There are maps. Even if there weren't, we could ask for directions."
"You very much know how I hate either of those. I already called Mr. Abdullah to find a driver who knows this routes." Efe stopped circling and got down from the car.
Edegbe went after him. "You could have told me from the beginning instead of wasting my time," he snapped.
"I'm of the opinion that if we go once, using public transport, I can easily master the route."
"Wouldn't you easily master the route if you trek?"
Efe nearly laughed at the palpable sarcasm. "I already called Mr. Abdullah to tell him we weren't com—"
"So you knew we weren't going from the beginning, but still decided to waste my time, letting me get dressed and all." He rubbed his hands against his chin. "I would have known since you didn't wear those if those your stupid tuxedos." He retrieved his briefcase from the back seat and shoved it into his hands. "You're going to trek to that place and you're going to do all the paperwork."
Efe adjusted the bow tie and laughed nervously. "Sir, Mr. Abdullah is not even on site."
Frustrated, Edegbe raised the briefcase up but his friend was quick to move back, so it sliced through air when he hauled it down. Efe laughed, he leaned against the car and laughed.
"I'm stepping out for a while, you want to join me?" He asked.
"Go to hell." He stormed angrily into the house.
Efe had not reached the gate when he came back. "Did you change your mind or did you realize the house would be boring without me?"
"I realized that if I wanted to kill you, poisoning would be more effective."
They stepped out of the gate into the street. The paints on the wall were peeling off from beneath, smeared with lichen. But it was not the wall that had their attention, it was the surrounding. It had an ambience of liveliness, people clustered around the provision shop whose owner had the Fate or Faith name. It was written in capitals on the signboard above her shop; MADAM FATE OR FAITH PROVISION SHOP. Down the road another person sold foodsuffs. Houses were patched around, houses of people predominantly southern and as they walked, those people stared at them.
"I think we should have changed our clothes," Edegbe said, obvious of the gazes in them.
"I think so too," Efe agreed, but tightened his tie and smiled.
"What are you doing?"
"First impression matters. If these people should remember seeing me, they should remember seeing a handsome man. Who knows," he shrugged, "incase I want to get laid."
"You're going to sleep with all these prostitutes here?"
"What a biased judgement."
"HEY!"
They both turned to the voice and saw a man running to them. When the man came upon them, he grabbed Edegbe's shoulder and panted for his breath. Edegbe shrugged his hand off his shoulder and took a step back, his face contorted in disgust. Efe quickly took a step forward to shield him.
"Calm down, calm down." The man fanned his face with his hands, sweat streaking down his face. He was tall, good looking but old, a poverty stricken oldness. "My new neighbour," he man hailed, "the both of you just came and locked yourself inside, you did not even say 'Ah, let me go and greet my neighbours'? That's not how it's done o. When you come to a new place you'll look around and see who has been there before you and try to make them your people. You cannot leave in isolation for long now." The man laughed.
"Oh." Efe took a step back.
"See the way your bouncer rushed to defend you. Kai, it must be nice having money o, fine men." He eyed their suits sheepishly. "When you arrived two days ago, I was like 'Ah, who wants to occupy this house?' I even knocked on the gate a few times to say hello, but no response. "
"What do you want us to say?" Edegbe asked. He did not like that Efe had been called his bouncer, did not like that it meant he was to be protected.
"It is not something that should be said under the sun. Let's look for a place to sit, let the sun not burn your skin."
Seeing no harm, they followed him to MAMA CHI RESTAURANT that was written on a signboard, pinned to the ground, in front of the shop whose rusted zinc danced with the breeze. A small shop that house a few tables and chairs, and paid one or two Hausa girls to serve her customers. At the back of the restaurant Mama Chi cooked beside the firewood, arranged and lit, her smoked stained pot atop and boiling with the sweet smell of soup. Another pot was cooking the water for baking the garri or boiling rice or making stew.
They sat down after the man hailed a few people, all the while talking about how important their knowing the neighbours was. He talked for so long on the topic that Edegbe was no longer sure he was speaking in English.
"So how long have you been in the north?" Efe asked him.
"Since I was a boy. I am Victor, from Igbo."
"It's funny how you can decide to leave in a place that killed you not less than sixty years ago."
"Our people have a saying." He said it in his dialect, then translated it. "It means, let what passes under bridge be water. All those are things of the past, did I fight the war? No. Are they still killing us? No. Plus, this side does not have so many northerners."
"Excuse us," Efe turned to Edegbe to say in Bini. "If he has been here for that long he should know the route around here. He would make a good driver."
"He talks too much," he replied in Bini, and glanced at the man who gave them questioning glances.
Efe turned back to him and said in English. "So tell us about this place."
"If you want to survive here, don't ever employ an Hausa or Fulani man, never. Those people do brother-brother too much, even if you're paying them millions, when they see their brother they'll betray you. They'll say wallahi but still betray you. And don't ever tell them how much money you have, they'll bring kidnappers to your house. Why do you think nobody owns big houses around here? It's not really because they don't have money, it's so that they will not be targeted. And don't ever argue or get on a wrong side with them, they'll just kill you."
"So in essence we should never do anything with them? This is madness, does it even make sense?"
"You're lucky you're in a place like Sabon Tasha where there are few Muslims, suppose—"
"THEY ARE COMING! THERE ARE COMING!" Somebody shouted, and what Edegbe witnessed next was something he did not expect. People left their food, their shops, unturned the tables, pushed the chairs to the side and ran. It happened so fast and before he could make out what was happening, Efe had already hauled him to his feet and they too were running along with everybody, Victor in front of them. The person beside their table had knocked his table down and his plate of Okra soup had jumped and landed on him, staining the whites of his suit, and as he ran, he inhaled the smell of soup.
He heard the sound of moving bikes next and he turned back to see a few of them, boys on top, guns on their laps. Guns on their laps? He doubted. The gunshot cleared his doubt. It was shot once but resounded in his ears over and over again. Victor dragged them into a safe spot and they his, holding their breaths, as if breathing would betray their hideout.
When the ruckus stopped and a calmness was regained, Victor stepped out and peeked to make sure that were really gone.
"What was that?" Edegbe asked, still shaken. He fanned his face off the Okra soup smell.
"Bandits."
"Bandits?"
"It happens all the time. Sometimes boys from town come here to rob. There are mostly Muslims, and sometimes the Christians would fight back and it would lead to bloodshed. But some other times like this, we just allow them to take what they want."
"This is madness. Why don't you report to the police?"
"You want to report an Hausa man to a fellow Hausa man? Even the police would wish you good luck. I told you, they do brother-brother too much."
"So in essence, this place is not safe?" They walked out of their hideout into the street. People were also coming out from theirs, checking their shops to know what went missing. The women swore and said God would punish the boys, and went around putting things back in place. He groaned as he looked at his soup stained shirt.
"It has never been safe o, but the rent here is cheap, very cheap, and that's why people flock around it. Places that are very safe and both Christians and Muslims stay without too much trouble is in GRA. Places like Barnawa, Unguwan Rimi, ah, if you have serious money you want to flaunt you go to Unguwan Rimi, serious Big men are there. And security is very tight."
Edegbe turned to Efe. "I thought you made your research?"
He nodded. "Very detailed one. But you don't expect me to gather everything under few minutes."
"Sometimes I feel like you hate me. With search engines like Google, even I second is enough time."
"One second? Don't you think you're exaggerating too much?"
Edegbe ignored him and turned to Victor. "I suppose to know where this Ungu—whatever, places are?"
"Like the back of my palm, there is no place I don't know here."
"Then I suppose you would not mind being our driver?"
Victor wondered if they would be offended if he kissed them. "Mind? I can even lick your shit if you tell me to."
Edegbe shook his head. "Man has lost his dignity."
"It has been replaced with hunger," Victor argued, "you may think it has been lost because you have the money to afford these suits, but people like me knows that it has been replaced. See, people are hungry, they don't care about their pride anymore, they will roll on the floor if you tell them you'll give them something to eat."
Edegbe nodded knowingly, it was the same hunger that made me come to the north, the urge to eradicate the hunger and poverty.
"You have your driver's license, right."
Victor laughed. "I nearly sold it to suya men in exchange for some suya."
"Then you'll bring it along, pack your bag, we'll going to that Ungu—place. I can't stay in a place that does not offer me security."
Victor looked like he wanted to fly. Now him, who could not even afford to pay rent in the small apartment he stayed in, would live in a place like Unguwan Rimi, and drive nice cars for Big men and meet other big people. He laughed, startling the two men. He started to imagine that he had not run up to them, then shook his head.