Sita
"Can't you see she is ready to kill all of us with those tiny legs and hands of hers?" the lady who stole my phone yelled at her boys. Two were resting on the floor, the rest were scared of coming a bit close to me.
I had no interest in fighting them further. All I wanted was to walk away from the silly building of thieves who ran their business in the guise of a restaurant.
"Make sure you are gone from Abidjan," I said to the lady. "My next visit will be horrible."
I edged to the door and turned to her, urging her to come to unlock what her boys locked, else, the worst will come to the worse.
"Go get the door, you!" she yelled at the guy with the key.
The guy, conquered by fear, tossed the key at me and backed off. He probably didn't want a kick below his lower abdomen or a jab below his jawbone. I knew how dangerous it was to jab anyone below the jawbone, but how else do you take down a massive opponent whose punch on the chest or belly would be of no help?
I stooped low for the key, picked it up, and opened the door, then, like a heartless customer, I tossed the damn key at the owner. I didn't aim for his head, that was wicked, but the key landed on his face. I didn't stay back to see the damage on his face though. I had no time for it.
I hurried out of the building but not without checking if my phone was intact. They were yet to attempt flashing it and breaking its firewall before I pounced on them. it was handled with care for its market value, so, it was as though I picked it from a friend's purse.
Gone from the market and far from the restaurant of thieves, I made it to the hospital. Maybe, I would see the doctor, the orthopedist I had stuff with the other night.
His name was Alessandro Greco, special Orthopedist, he was white and looked Italian, though his accent is eighty-five percent American.
"Bon apres-midi madame." A staff nurse greeted me on sighting me.
I smiled at her, but I wasn't precisely interested in her greeting if I was to be honest. I was here for something very different from being greeted and honored with so much entitlement.
"Un plaisir de vous accueillir dans notre hospital." She smiled.
I smiled back. "Je cherche le service d'orthopedie."
She raised her brows and closed in to hold my hands with awe in her eyes. She probably thought I had a bone injury, and that should be the reason why I wanted to be taken to the orthopedic ward. That was cheap thinking, so, I shrugged off her hands, but that didn't stop her from going on with her kind words.
"Es-tu blesse a los? Montre-moi, je m'en occupe."
I smiled and thus came my response. "Je ne suis pas blesse. Je veux juste visiter la salle." My words were polite enough, I guess, but she still had questions to ask, and I didn't blame her because it was part of her job as a staff nurse.
"Avez-vous quelqu'un la-bas?" she raised her brows kindly.
"Non, je veux jute aller jeter un oeil a la salle." I returned her kind gesture. Of course, she should be fully aware that I am a philanthropist, and she knew what philanthropists do in public places like hospitals. I wasn't here for any of such, anyway.
"D'accord, viens avec moi." She smiled and led the way.
I knew the ward, but I followed her like a novice who knew not one bit of the corners of the hospital. But I knew the hospital inside out. I've been to it a thousand times for a lot of reasons. Spying in the times when my secret job takes the toll, paying people's hospital bills sponsoring hospital programs as a philanthropist, and canvassing for my party during elections.
She led me into the ward. Something was different now. The beds were changed, and Yapi's bills were being posted at the pillars of the ward. He donated hospital beds and was promoting his kindness.
Well, that's a good reason to be here. I could tell anyone that I was here to see the good done by the ruling party. I walked off from the staff nurse and made for the beds. They were the modern sick beds, some of them were better than what most of the patients had at home.
"Madam." A voice called on me.
I turned and saw her, the Nigerian nurse who made faces and called me badgirl! Because I wanted PEPs. I smiled at her as she approached me.
"I heard you are a politician, and it was your party chairman who did this good job." She said with a broad Nigerian smile. "By the way, good afternoon. Have you come to get more PEPs?"
I laughed. Nigerians were brutal even while being funny, and that could explain why white people didn't frequent their country the way they frequented other African countries, especially French-speaking countries.
"I'm looking for someone," I said casually.
"Wait, you are a politician and a philanthropist as I heard, and you don't carry an escort. You entered here alone." She came again with her undiluted words.
"Come on, that doesn't matter." I smiled it off. "So, I'm looking for a doctor here."
"The white Italian-American, right?" she asked with her brows raised.
"Sure." I nodded.
"Sorry, he is off from duty for a whole week." She replied. "You have to come back from the Next two weeks, or you meet the new guy who does his job even better than him. He is from Ghana and would handle your bones with care. His name is Akufo Ado and I recommend him."
That was a pretty suggestion. But I merely smiled at her and walked away. I wasn't here to fix my bones. I was here for Greco, so, I'm coming back next two weeks if that's what it should take. We needed to repeat what we did the other night. I craved that feeling.