To Aginlinti, a rural outskirts on the road to Ogombo, where the Lekki Peninsula hugs the sea and the lagoon in precarious splendour. Our destination is the Aimasiko Bar where snooper often plays draughts before engaging the local cognoscenti in verbal fencing riddled with recondite Yoruba wisdom.

The bar-owner is Atingisi Omowon, aka Gbabi-magbabe, an old acquaintance of yours sincerely who had dropped out of secondary school in Igbo Elede after beating up Reverend Peter Morris, the revered British principal and veteran of the Second World War. Despite this educational reversal, Atingisi remains as sharp-witted as ever and a celebrated master of the game of draughts where he could anticipate ten moves in a sequence before unleashing a devastating counter offensive.

If you are looking for a good old-fashioned beer parlour still serving the ancient Yoruba pepper soup of crocodile meat, buffalo and alligator all washed down with a generous measure of raffia palm wine, Aimasiko Bar is it. After that, you can philosophize till daybreak with the local dialecticians and masters of open-ended ambiguities otherwise known as amphibology.

With Amotekun nationalism and Lukumi nativism on the ascendancy, snooper has decided to hone his considerable skills as a native raconteur. This is not the time to take any social or political risks as one may be forced into instant recital if stranded between the national army and the armies of enemy nationals. Snooper also decided to take Okon along so that he can appreciate the deep wisdom of the Yoruba people and their immense verbal facilities in case he might need them.

The fireworks had already started at Aimasiko Bar on this wet and soggy evening. A deep riddles’ session was already underway. It was a modernized and more challenging version of the old Yoruba riddle-solving. Somebody would get up and mention a word or a phrase. The successful challenger is then expected to fill out the allegorical flesh.

“Worukutindintindin…….. worukutindintindi”, one short and stumpy man suddenly blasted.

“Beans!!!  Kosi awo kankan l’awo ewa. There is no riddle to eating beans, my friend,” a fair-skinned man with deep tribal marks rallied with a cynical guffaw. There was mild applause.

“Esurugudu, majority boys”, a dandy-looking man with abetiaja cap croaked with immense self-assurance. There was pin drop silence. Will this agrarian mystery man get away with his arcane mumbo-jumbo?

“It is football, and I think that song was either by Aka or Ojindo”, Atingisi responded, rubbing his hands together in relish and affected self-importance.

“Thank you very much sir. May elders live long in this land”, the deflated man noted and sat down.

“Excuse me, if Yoruba want to succeed and leave dis yeye Kontri dem better let us know, all dis surugudu surugudu bizness na juju”, Okon suddenly screamed to snooper’s mortal embarrassment.

“Shut up!! Who put your Okampi mouth for elders’ matter? “one stout-looking local enforcer screamed and began making his way towards Okon.

“Amodemaja, leave am, na small boy and him head no correct”, Atingisi pleaded, eyeing Okon with avuncular disgust. The session resumed with a tall distinguished-looking Lagosian.

“Oribande!” the Lagos man crooned as if he was about to start singing.

“Okoto okun. That is the Okoto game on a sandy beach which relies more on luck than skills”, the dandy-looking man noted and sat down.

“Hmmm ogbologbo, afinju amugbo to nle tiro”, his admirer chanted. It was at this point, determined to break the dead lock, that Atingisi got up.

“Osenatu…Osenatu”, he began in a sing-song manner like a possessed musician. Baffling silence everywhere. Nobody seemed to have a hang of the riddle. After the silent count-out, Atingisi began to sing as if he was in an old NCNC rally.

“Osenatu….Osenatu Iyawo olope t’adelabu gba nijosi o ti bimo…” (Osenatu, the wife of the Action Grouper that Adelabu took some time awhile has delivered a bouncing baby) the mad fellow crooned to deafening applause. As the din subsided, a lean and hungry-looking man sprang up.

“Koronatu, Koronatu!!!” the man screamed.

“Kai, oga, dat one na Coronavirus. Na corona two be dat one I dey go home”, Okon boomed as he leapt up. Everybody scampered for safety. There was commotion everywhere. As snooper fled towards the car, somebody shouted at his heels.

“Don’t bring this IPOB lunatic here again ever!!!”.

 

The Nation