Last Thursday as smoke billowed from incinerated warehouses, torched supermarkets, police stations and a major bus terminal with over a hundred luxury buses, yours sincerely began to entertain the thoughts that an apocalyptic meltdown might be underway. It was looking like a fiery finale for the Lugardian contraption, snooper noted with a mixture of weary despondency and eerie euphoria as one crouched near the window watching humanity running helter-skelter.
Words came later that even the office had been fired. A huge boulder which was apparently aimed at snooper’s skull should he have the brainless temerity to hand around was found lying near his chair on the floor after it crashed through the window.
But as usual, the old girl was not for turning. She had been in a very low spirit of late pining for her rural pile in Igosun on the ground that Covid-19 had been completely eliminated and that what remained was a gargantuan scam designed by government to steal money from the ordinary people.
This morning, dressed like an ancient high caste Yoruba female warrior, she sat right there in front of the house, old local short gun in hand, swigging from an enormous bottle of native concoction laced with high octave illicit gin. Her eyes were bleary and bloodshot. One look suggested to the rampaging looters that this was not an apparition to toy with.
When events were not moving fast enough for her liking, the great lady decided to move to direct offensive. She had accosted one of the looters who was lugging a small generator set.
“Come ooo, all dis Yoruba buildings you dey burn and you dey empty, se na your baba’s grandfather who go replace them?” Mama Igosun charged at the swarthy youth who took a look and increased his pace.
“Ah so mad dog dey sabi fire? I think say you go answer me back make I pump iron and pellet into your yeye Kukuruku brain”, the old woman screamed at the youth who now broke into full scale running at the urging of two fellow looters who had shown up with one pushing a brand new tricycle he had obviously stolen.
“You see now if not for dis stupid Oyinbo man dem dey call Lord Lugas who come cause all dis wahala. He come put fowl and pigeon together for inside one casket”, the old woman lamented as she lapsed into a long reverie.
After the lull, the commotion picked up again with the sound of distant explosions. People began running in different directions. The big burly police officer was seen at this point quietly stealing away with fright and panic writ large on his face. His uniform was draped over in agbada dress but his boots and gait still betrayed him.
“Ha officer how market? You no wait collect your pension?”, Mama taunted the distraught fellow. The cop made a furtive sign across his lips to suggest that the old woman should keep her peace.
“ Iya, market don finish porogodo. Dem don burn market”, the man whispered.
“So wey your uniform?” the old woman insisted with a hint of irritation.
“Ha mama, old man come burn and you dey ask for him beard”, the stricken cop whimpered and the old woman shook her head in amusement and regret.
“Kai, kai dis one no be police of Elekuru and Sergeant Abidogun and Inspector Adewumi”, the old woman lamented.
“Mama, I don tell you if dem like make dem bring Alalubosa him no fit”, the cop sniggered. It was at this point that a rogue looter driving a stolen caterpillar headed haphazardly in their direction. Both mama Igosun and the cop ran inside.
The Nation
