LAGOS, NIGERIA
Steam rose steadily into the air, the steam from roasted food and from vehicle exhaust pipes fusing together, corrupting the already polluted air while angry drivers honked at each other, screaming profanities at each other in their local language. The traffic in Lagos was notorious for it's dense atmosphere.
A slender, tall, chocolate skinned girl was seen rapidly fanning roasted plantains and yams that was placed over a makeover skillet that was actually gotten from the back of a refrigerator, on a big metal basin filled with burning charcoal.
Customers trooped in and out of her little makeshift stall, some buying her food to go while some ate it there, dribbles of red oil going down some of their mouths.
What stood out most was the deep scowl on her face, it almost marred her beautiful features. Her lips were set in an unattractive line as the lines on her forehead wrinkled deeply while she turned over some pieces of yam to roast on the other side.
"Oyinda?", One of the rough looking customers called out to her, his dirty clothes and veiny trunks for arms made people sit far from him, not that the jaggered scars on his face and red eyes didn't contribute.
"Yes?", Oyinda answered with an edge to her voice, anticipating his next words.
"Give me more oil", he gruffly commanded.
"Are you a worm?", She spat angrily.
This is the second time he requested for more oil in his yam and beans meal. At this point his intentions were clear. He was a bully and used his buff build and connections to the local thugs as an excuse to bully the hell out of everyone that encountered him.
That was expected of him but another thing that people always knew to expect was Oyinda's cutting replies. The girl didn't care if you were built like Goliath and could bend her like a straw or if you have an AK forty seven pointed at her, she would mouth you off and fight you off, period.
Her customers made a collective gasp, some excited for a fight, some shocked at her audacity and some out of pity for the girl.
"You dey craze!?", He bellowed while springing up, a crazed look in his eyes.
"Joker leave my shop", she glared down at him or in this case, up at him, nose flaring and fists shaking.
The little crowd that had gathered for the show immediately dispersed when another presence made itself known.
Omobolanle. Prince of thugs. A bastard in the making albeit, a somewhat handsome one. And oh, he has the softest spot for the young girl.
"Joker I'm quickly loosing my patience with you", he calmly announced.
Joker made no attempts at protesting, instead he backed down immediately and left the shop but not before Omobolanle roughly grabbed his trunk and pulled him back. From an outsiders perspective, the latter should be scared to his boots by the sheer size of Joker as compared to his smaller one but, power is power.
"I see you close to her again, I send your head to your mother's asun shop, are we clear?", Omobolanle sneered at him.
"Yes, Baba", Joker affirmed and was roughly pushed out of there.
The excited chatter dulled, disappointed that they didn't get a show, Lagosians always craved shows like that.
Oyinda went back to her work, her scowl deeper than ever.
"Iyawo mi", Omobolanle hailed the frowning beauty, a splitting smile adorning his formerly scary face.
"Bolanle what are you doing here?", She snapped while giving a food pack to a paying customer but when she took hold of the money, her scowl deepened even more.
"Wetin be this?", She snapped at the young lady.
"Your money"
"I know it's money, I'm not stupid but this is not MY money. Where is the remaining two hundred?", She flashed the old and worn five hundred naira note at the lady who realized her mistake before fishing out the remaining money and slapping it on her hands before stomping away.
"I won't ask you again Bolanle", she got back to work while the man chuckled at her attitude, after all, that's what attracted him to her in the first place.
"Are you not happy to see me?", He mused, perching on a stool beside her and had to endure the snarkiest glare the girl could afford at the time.
"You and I know I'm never happy to see you"
"Okay fine. I came to see you. I have something to do around here and I decided to visit the queen of my heart and maybe eat her delicious ewa and dodo", he replied her, causing a deep eyeroll from the angry girl.
"I'm not the queen of your dead heart Bolanle, how many times will I tell you this? And besides I am not the only one in the business of roasting yam. What happened to Salewa just down the street, hm? Didn't you just pass her shop?", She started cutting up more than to put on fire.
A deep chuckle erupted from the man's throat, deep smile lines forming at the sides of his mouth as an innocent twinkle chinked in his eyes.
"Ah, Oyindamola! You are something else. Is that jealousy I smell off you? You know Omobolanle got eyes on only you", he poked at her sides and was quick to retract his hand when she swatted at him with the sharp side of her huge knife.
"The gods rip those eyes off your head and feed it to some mysterious bird, get your paws off me Bolanle. I don't care if you shove that dick of yours to whatever girl you come across, isn't that why you are a man, hm? You're wasting my time Bolanle, what do you want?", She snapped at him.
"Just the regular babygirl. I didn't cheat on you you know", he sighed while eyeing the girl he has been chasing for the better part of five years.
Oyindamola. She was a mystery he couldn't unfold and by God did he try. She always had a chip on her shoulders and a frown on her divine face, as if the weight of the whole world was on one young girl. He knew there was something about her the first time he set his bloodlust eyes on her, a defaulters blood on his butcher's blade.
The way the girl carried herself, her chin set high, her dolcet voice, commanding and soft with a rumbling edge to it. He, for the life of him couldn't explain it, the attraction he felt towards her. It wasn't just sexual, he knew that. It was fierce loyalty, so fierce that it shook a thug like him to his boots, no matter what Omobolanle did, the thought of Oyindamola being hurt, pains his non-existent soul.
He remembered when he met her.
"Come here", his rough voice had bellowed. He was ready to put the rough blade through the young girl before him, just for the sake of it.
Beside him, his boys were shaking to get a taste of the supple, newly grown woman standing before them, the soft curvature of her hips accentuating her new emergence into womanhood. They ached to satisfy all their sexual urges with the siren before them and he knew it.
"The blood in your hands calls for yours. Wash it off before it makes you do stupid things. Now, out of my way boys, I have somewhere to be right now and you are making a mess", she challenged but the fire in his eyes was quelled by the look in her dark orbs.
He had been hooked ever since then.
"You can't cheat on who you're not committed to. Do me a favour Bolanle, be gone", she handed him a food pack and shooed him away, not paying attention to the wad of cash he slipped into her apron and ran off, chuckling like a boy who got a puppy.
She turned to pay attention to her market, sneering at envious girls and lustful men. The ever present anger in her being very much active.
From her young days, anger boiled deep within her, rumbling and spiting fire at intervals. Oyindamola knew she was as daring as she had a death wish but the tingles in her fingertips told her otherwise. The sheer power she could yeild with a flick of a wrist, the demons she could summon if she gave in, just a little bit to that fire.