BAD EGGS

 

Her words rend  the silence in the room like  when a disused rag is torn. She didn't even bother about the baby on her laps who was trying in vain to lumber her breast back into her mouth.

'Foolish man! If this is how your mates are doing their job, will they feed their hungry families? Foolish man, he will not take bribe as if he is any better than those who take it.' The culprit had already left before she could have a chance to lock him by the shirt and dare him to beat her. The child on her laps gave a murmuring sound. She stopped her invective, turned to the child and began explaining the evil done by her father.

'It is your father o, my baby. He is a foolish man and he thinks he is  more righteous than those who take bribes to augment their miserable monthly salary'. The baby whimpers, evidently not in sync with her mother's explanations. It developed into a low cry. The mother is upset and turned the anger on her.

'Don't vex me with that stupid cry of yours. What do you even know. I am here fighting for you and your siblings but you want to add insult to injury'.

The child burst into a full blown cry. In anger too, her mother dumped her angrily on the bed. Her cry  rang even louder like metal clangs causing a disturbing echo in the ears. She watched her cry, continuing in her outburst which has now returned to her husband. She couldn't uphold her hardness much longer. Her baby's cry appealed to the tender side of her. She picked her up, sat on the bed, then put her breast back in the baby's mouth. The baby's cry subsided and she herself began to cry.

'If I hadn't dodged when I had the chance that stupid woman would have delayed me again. Giving my stupid greedy boss an avenue to talk trash at me. Do I blame him? We live in two different worlds. All he knows is to bark out orders like a rabid dog and block every incentives meant for the boys. Nonsense!'

He spat out the distasteful attitude of his boss  and crossed to the other side of the road to a joint where he daily drains part of his sorrows in the local gin before reporting to duty. He dare not come close enough to  the D.P.O, otherwise the local gin will be perceived. He tries to mimic  the way his will react if he discovers that he takes alcohol before reporting to duty.

'Are you sure you are an officer of the Federal Republic of Nigeria? Can you imagine this nonsensical attitude? A police officer taking alcohol in the morning before reporting to duty? No wonder innocent citizens are shot dead! I can as well suspend you or sack you immediately. You are one of the bad eggs bringing disgrace to the Nigerian police. You are of no use to the police!'

He was carried away with his monologue that he didn't know that those who sat close to him had given him a distance. They believe he was already losing it. It was his cellphone that brought him back to the present. He felt a light throb of pain on his temples as he saw the name on the screen. 

'What is it", he barked trying to sound hard and nonchalant.

Her voice was loud and he could picture the veins protruding on her neck as she spoke.

'Your children are back from school o'.

'What for?'

'Are you asking me? Have you paid their school fees? Useless man...

He ended the call before she could begin a new tirade. He drained the drops of the gin in his cup and sighed. The pounding in his temples has graduated to both sides of his head with mean intensity. It seems the quieter he remained, the meaner the headache advanced. The sun had risen with slight intensity when he got to the office. Thankfully, his boss had not arrived.  

The thought that he was already fulling his father's prophecy against joining the police was already manifesting.

'What has come over your head", he recalled his father saying and calling his wife to come and listen to her son. When she eventually came, he pointed at his soon with disdain.

'Your son wants to join the police'

His mother held her head has though a misfortune has befallen the family.

'Of all the jobs in this country, it is the police that interests you? I won't be part of this?

'But what is wrong in being a police officer', he asked amazed at the reaction of his parents.

'The same reason why my brother, Tade your uncle died in their hands when he returned from America with a suitcase full of cash'.

'But that happened a long time ago. I guess he was mistaken for a thief.

'May Ogun strike that mouth of yours. You choose either between this family or the police. With that, his father stormed out of the house.

'How dare you talk to your father like that? Are you supporting the fact that your uncle died in the hands of the same police you want to go and join?

'But the said officers have been dismissed from the service and have already served their terms in prison.

'What difference does that make, tell me. Will that make your uncle come back to life?If you want peace in your life it is better you learn a trade or do something profitable with your life. I and your father are not in support of your decision'.

'Tie gbo na? What do you intend to gain by joining the police?'

'The same reason you are condemning them. I want to help reform it.

His mother held her head and laughed a mirthless laugh, ending it in a frown that further contoured her aging face.

'You and how many people? What difference does one good egg make among several bad eggs?

'There are still good police men and women  in active service'.

'So you and the good ones will work to reform the devil?

'The devil?'

'So you don't know that the police are devils? Ah! So tell me, how can human beings reform the devil even when God couldn't'.

He is now confused like a rapist asked to choose between being castrated or having his manhood cut off.

'Wetin you dey think about', his colleague slapped him playfully back to reality.

He grunted and shook hands with him.

'Make we  go make money'. He said it as if they were traders going to their shops to make sales.

A sudden nausea seized his belly. How was he going to reform the police if he his given a quota each morning by their boss to meet as though is a marketer with sales target? The D.P.O is supposed to champion the crusade against bribery.

His friend observed him with a cursory look then grabbed him by the hand, speaking in soto voce as they exit the station.

'You know say me no fit speak grammar like you. If you think say  you fit change spot for leopard body, my fren, na joke you dey o. See this our work bah na opportunity to comot yoursef for poverty hand. You and me know say our government no care about us. You get wife and children. Same with me. Them go chop, wear cloth, go school and do other things. All those things dey chop money and you know say our salary not fit take us reach bus stop not to talk of home. Dis money for junction na him go support the tashere wey we dey collect for month end. Oga go get him own, we sef no go carry las. That na our daily bread my fren. Come make we dey go'.

He watched as his colleague stopped vehicle after vehicle checking papers and barking orders at drivers who either commit minor offenses or proved difficult about offering bribes in exchange to for their journey. Every argument is usually reduced to bargaining in naira notes.

He took over from his colleague. The first bus he flagged down for lacking one side mirror begged him and took him aside. When he opened his palm, he counted five thousand naira while the driver of the vehicle smiled away hailing and saluting him as he drove off. When they left the station after close of work, he had made twenty thousand naira. The rift between his wife and himself naturally died off. Each day afterwards became a Christmas day at road blocks they mounted at rode junctions in the early evenings to complete their quotas if they couldn't meet up with it in the morning.

No matter how he begged, this man would not even bulged. His colleague had left earlier after complaining of stomach ache. It was a good opportunity for him to decide what his colleague will get for the day's taking when a black jeep without plate number came in view.

'Stop there, he shouted on top of his voice at the driver who was proving stubborn.

'Come out of that vehicle before I lose my temper'. The driver came out and he plastered his face with was slaps.

'Didn't you see me waving you to stop'. The driver dodged mumbling his apology profusely.

'Where is the paper of this vehicle'.

'It is a new car sir'. His statement earned him more slaps and kicks.

'Did I not see that it is a new car, bloody civilian!'

'Sorry sir'.

'Sorry for your life'.

He is handed the papers. After flipping through he announced.

'This paper is not complete. That is offense number one. It does not have plate number. Offense number two. I waved  you down and you did not stop. That is offense number three. Now, you will come to our station to explain yourself better'.

'But oga, I...I...'

'Shut up your stupid mouth. You think you can teach me my job. Nonsense!'

Just then, the car's door opened and a thick set man came out, his eyes hidden behind dark shades . He is dressed in kaftan with an expensive looking leather palm sandal. He walked majestically towards the two men. A smile adorned his face as he announced the name tag on the officer.

'A.K Daudu', his voice was usually soft almost like a woman's but it was crystal clear and heavy with authority.

"And who are you', he asked begging his voice not to project the heavy thumping his heart was making.

'What offense has my driver committed for him to be treated like a common criminal'.

'That does not explain who you are'.

' Who I am is not important. What I am asking you is to tell me what my driver's offence is'.

Their argument went back and forth until the man brought out his identity card.'

'Oga...I...no know sey na you', he began kneeling and rubbing his palms together in a plea.

'I thought you were speaking queens English just now. What happened to it?'

'Sir...I am sorry sir'.

' You are not yet sorry. Wait until I make sure you are dismissed from the service.

"Ah... please...please sir. This is my livelihood  sir.

'Taking bribes you mean?'

'No sir...ah no sir'.

'What are you doing here then?'

He is now completely speechless. Looking like a man just woken from a terrible dream that turned out to be actual reality.

His pleas went to the deaf ears of the Inspector general of police drove him to the station. The D.PO froze in a terrific salute when he came face to face with the big boss.

'Is A.K Dauda under your command.'

'Yes..sir...sir yes'.

'And you sent them to extort money from motorists'. 

'Me...God forbid. How can I do such a thing.

I didn't send anybody anywhere'.

The I.G looked from the D.P.O to sweating Daudu.

'But he said you give them quotas they must meet everyday.

'Ah me...'. Facing Daudu, he asked:

When did I order you to extort money from motorists?' 

Daudu is now speechless, his tongue tied with fear and disbelieve. 

He looked behind for the support of the other police men who took their eyes away.  They knew if they did it will translate to hell for them.

The big boss was looking perplexed, with the way the situation stood, he will not get to the root of the matter. He knew quite well too that Daudu will not act outside of himself, the D.P.O is also culpable.

He cleared his throat and spoke.

'Since both of you are saying two different things, you are both placed on suspension until further notice.'

The D.P.O immediately prostrated himself and begged for his job but the I.G was done hearing anything more.

                            THE END

Glossary

Ógún- Yorùbá god of iron.

Tashere- a Yorùbá word for little or meagre.

Tie gbọ na- a Yorùbá statement used as exclamation. It means to listen

D.P.O- Deputy Superintendent of Police (Nigerian Police).

Thanks for coming today. 

I am still Yours truly,

Julius Topohozin.