ℳ⌾ℛℰℕⅈKℰ did not allow the lovebirds leave that night. She insisted they stayed, threatening that the curfew in Ikeja was usually taken seriously at night because of the Corona virus pandemic: ' And besides, there are soldiers parading everywhere as we speak, see me I don't want any casualties o.' Fred laughed at the old woman's stunts and Cynthia only chortled shyly. ' Ah-ah, what's so funny?' she said vivaciously, knowing fully well that they knew she was lying.

Despite her fervour for religion and morality, her bad temperament, whatsoever, Morenike had a great sense of humour of which she had used in totally winning Cynthia's heart, making her almost forget the demon that had welcomed her with frosty looks and made her shudder a few hours ago.

She did all her best to make Cynthia feel as comfortable as she could. She made her reconciliation with her and came to the realization that she was not a bad person after all.

She was a presenter working with Patriots Television, PTV, and as famous as she was for hosting one of PTV's most popular show- ' The Girl Child Tomorrow ', alias, 'The G to the CT show ', as she was found of calling the show. It was a show created to give Nigerian women a voice, fights for gender equality and women's rights and against girl child molestation and early early marriages.

Most of all she was a very influential blogger.

Morenike who always claims to be a PTV fan had no idea whom she was. The only time she must have seen the programme was during the mid news news commercials.

Everytime she watches the news, she only watches out for Fred doing the broadcasting or hoped to hear his voice over in a report. Most times, she would anticipate for his signature closure and blissfully say it simultaneously with him: 'Thank you for watching the news at ten on P...T...V, I am Bamidele Johnson! Please stay tuned.'

Or at the end of his report: ' Bamidele Johnson! Reporting for PTV news.'

Fred had been promoted to becoming the news editor which made him appear on television less than before. It worried Morenike until he had one day explained to her that the reason she has not been seeing him broadcasting news on PTV any longer was because he was now the news editor, and he would only broadcast news on occasional basis.

Now that he has been fired, Morenike felt pretty hurt, but she had come to respect Fred even more for standing for the truth. Against all odds. For fighting for the right cause, the poor citizens whom government had always treated like a ping-pong ball. She couldn't have been more proud. Perhaps it was one of the reasons why she turned ice when Fred defended Cynthia earlier on. She admired his pluck.

|🔥🔥🔥|

About six months ago, Sir Lamido, the Head of Station at PTV had called Fred to his office and assigned him to cover a report on how far Kwara state government had gone with disbursing the three hundred and twenty million Naira fund allocated to them by the federal government for the welfare of the state's citizen due to the Corona virus epidemic depriving them of their daily activities and trade.

Sir Lamido had sent Fred all the way from Lagos to Kwara as an undercover reporter because he had lost trust for those working in the station at Kwara and there were speculations that there would be foul play.

The Media house was owned by Badamusi Afolayan, an indigene of the state.

He inherited it after the demise of his Father who was a prominent politician, a former chairman of the All Democratic Alliance (ADA) party. Afolayan was already a member of the party before his father died. Although, Sir Lamido was in charge of the Media house nation wide, Afolayan usually ruined the purpose of the company by always making sure that whatever information put out by the television must never put his party or the government in bad light.

But, Sir Lamido had always been a problem. After a confrontation with him one day he could not believe he had uncontrollably jabbed about him to one of his side chicks in an eatery. He was up the wall. ' How could his own employee be so adamant and disrespectful. He has too much guts. I told him if he doesn't do his job well I will fire him and he laughed and asked me if I knew his job. He told me to my face that I know nothing about Journalism, that I was just a pathetic graduate of Business Administration whom had always have a silver spoon between my teeth. He insults me! How dare him! How dare him!'

'Fire him already.' The girl said.

'That is the problem. He's my godfather. My father's best friend. He was like an uncle to me. I looked up to him while growing up.'

Sir Lamido gave PTV the reputation it had. PTV news was well known for their reliability, consistency and and most of all, truthfulness. Without an epitome of prejudice. He single handedly made it the number one news channel in the country beating the Federal television.

Fred followed the convoy of some of the commissioners to some villages in Edu local government area of the state. They were meant to disburse the sum of twenty million Naira amidst the communities in Edu. They travelled first to Lafiagi community. The government was meant to share the money in such away that each member of the community or every citizen of the would receive at least the sum of twenty thousand Naira depending on the population size of the local government.

When they entered the community, their first stop was at the ADA party leader's house. Where they had an indoor meeting for almost thirty minutes before handing the community party leader the sum of four million Naira. For what?

' Aba, Oga Fred na you dey talk like this? This is Nigeria, those kind question no dey get answer.' The camera man muffled.

They roved around for over an hour settling some prominent party members and community leaders with cuts from the money and amidst themselves, then ended up giving the sum of three thousand Naira to about eight hundred citizens living in the community and a thousand Naira to each of the six members of the National Youth Service Corp assigned to assist them with the disbursement.

Fred and his camera man who had been doing his recordings secretly with his smartphone had been doing a good undercover job until he blew it all at the end when one of the Corp members stood up against the injustice. He had refused to take the one thousand Naira note squeeze into his palm and complained outrageously about their unfairness. In the heat of the arguments, while they threatened to report the Corp member to his zonal inspector, they discovered his camera man prompting some of the security men to come after him.

Fred warned him not to run. He instructed him to continue recording with the phone's camera focused on the two policemen approaching them.

'Hey! Mr. Man! What are you doing!' one of them yelled.

'No be you I dey talk to!' They increased their pace.

Fred confidently walked up to meet them, warning the camera man to remain where he was and keep recording. He raised his Identity Card before their faces. ' I am with PTV news.'

'And so?'

' We are doing our jobs, just so as you. I am a good pal of Garuba Ndakudu, the governor's personal assistant, you know him?' He paused briskly but didn't wait for a reply, ' Besides there's nothing to be afraid of the party owns our media, so does the government. The footages will be edited. No worries.'

The policemen returned back to report to the commissioner that had pointed them out.

When they looked in the direction of Fred and his camera man. They had disappeared.

Fred made some enquiries about where the Zonal Inspector's office of the NYSC was before leaving the community.

He had been told Pategi was about a three hours drive from Lafiagi. He ventured anyway.

'But Oga Fred, you like wahala sha. Left for me, I would have suggested we go back to Ilorin, relax in that hotel and head back to Lag first thing tomorrow morning. What do you intend to do you want with that Zonal inspector now.' The camera man said with a tone of weariness and reluctance.

'It isn't a matter of what I want with the Zonal inspector, it's a matter of what I'd do for that young man whom had gotten into trouble for boldly spilling his heart out. Speaking the truth. You know, our biggest problem in this country is fear. We cannot stand up for ourselves, let alone stand up for others. Fela once said that. We fear to fight for anything because we don't want to die. Why?' He turned to look at the camera man who was slightly dosing off, ' We are greedy people, that's why. All of us, we are greedy. That is why at the end it doesn't matter who gets to be the leaders, be it the weak or the strong, poor or rich. Igbo, Yoruba, Hausa or Fulani, even Trotsky's ideas would never work here. We are all corrupt to the bone.'

He took a glance at the camera man again and this time he was fast asleep with his head lean forward, he drooled.

He made an intentional sharp swerve with his Corrolla, but the Camera man did not wake up from his sleep. He only readjusted and unconsciously made himself comfortable. Fred nodded and smiled to himself.

They met the Zonal Inspector in his office eating tuwo-shinkafa with stew and gbegiri. His office reeked of rotten dead mouse. Fred wondered how he felt so comfortable eating inside the stench.

'Thank you for having us sir.' Fred said.

' You're welcome. Please sit.' He covered the plates and washed his hands, chewing a piece of meat vigorously.

' We work with PTV news.' He showed his Identity card.

' So? What can I do you for?' He wiped his hands with a small towel.

' We were fully aware you received a report from the Local government inspector of Edu about one of your Corp members who had confronted some government officials disbursing funds in Lafiagi.'

' Yes?'

' I'm here to plead on his behalf sir.'

' No, no, no, you can't do that Mr. PTV man. This is beyond your jurisdiction.'

Fred chuckled. 'I'd suggest you rephrase yourself sir. Don't make me refute your statement.'

'Rephrase what? Refute what?' He was quite perplexed, ' He is a Corp member, he is supposed to serve his country, he was assigned to do a job by his Inspector and he dares to complain about how little they pay him? He is even lucky they gave him something.'

' It wasn't about how little he was paid sir. It was about the politics of these people, he was bold enough to stand up against their injustice, against corruption.'

The Zonal Inspector wiped some sweat off his face. ' See, I was about going out when you people came in,' he stood up, ' the heat his too much.'

' Well,' Fred stood up as well, so did the Camera man, 'I hope the heat would be very much less than the one to come when you hear yourself on television.' He played a recording of their conversation from his phone a bit.

' You came here to blackmail me?'

' No. I don't think you said anything that will get you in trouble sir. All I want to do is justify the actions of the young man that inspired me so much today. Only! Only if you make a call right here, right now to make sure he is not punished. Because I heard his service year would be extended or even worse. I don't want that, and as it seems to be going right now, I don't think you want that as well.'

He made the call with a grudging face.

'Thank you very much Mr. Zonal Inspector.' He extended an open hand for an handshake. The Zonal Inspector's hesitation made him stifle a smile. The man gave him a stern look. ' ' Alright. Farewell sir.'

On their way back to Ilorin, they had two minor accidents. The Camera man strongly believed there were some spiritual ties attached to the accidents. The second was more severe, although none of them got injured, they broke the car's right headlamp and it incurred some scratches.

Sir Lamido was so pleased with the report when it aired. He called Fred for a drink in his office.

They drank coffee and chatted with some thunderous laughter in-between until they closed for the day.

Two days later, a termination letter came in from Afolayan.

|☀️☀️☀️|

Morenike could not believe it.

Her boy's courage. Cynthia's wit.

Moments ago, she had judge the girl by her covers, getting to see the inside, she was one sweet berry. The 'don't judge a book buy it's cover' adage kept ringing in her head, yet: She holds a Masters of Arts in Media Arts of the University of Abuja, she spoke fluently and intelligently and... honestly, her English is quite flowery and very impressive but why on earth does she have a devilish looking butterfly tattoo on her right breast, and everything is just exposed, she could not even wear common brassiere. This world is turning into something else,God! Save your children o.

She almost dipped her eba into the hand washing bowl as she spoke to herself in her mind. She succeeded in overcoming the temptation of asking her for reasons why she had no bra on or a tattoo on her breast, the temptation of preaching her gospel of morality to her while they swallowed eba and egusi with their fingers during dinner before concluding that she would question her some other day.

In the late eighties, when Fred was still a kid, Morenike made sure she and her household never watched television. Her husband had beckoned on her to allow him get a television set for the children so that they'd stop joining other not so privileged children to scuffle at Oga Boniface's window because they want to peep through to watch television that their father can afford ten times.

Morenike was pissed. She quickly reminded him that the church forbade it and hence she will ensure that he never catches them there ever again.

One evening, she was about to cook dinner with her iron coal pot. She had arranged the coal and put fire to it, but the fire kept going out, she thought she could use Fred's assistance as it was getting dark already, she knows how much Baba Bami hates to come home after work and not meet food on the table. She needed to sieve some elubor for amala. She called his name thrice, as she blew the coal pathetically with a piece of carton. She called Nike.

'Ma!' the six years old ran out from inside the house with her oversized grey pants slightly falling off her loin and a plastic blue stiff girl doll that she plays with clasped under her arms. Lately, she have been learning how to braid hair with some of Morenike's used attachments that Fred had helped her fixed on the doll's head by boring holes with a hot nail to enable him tie the attachments on it's head.

'Where is your brother?' She received no reply. She continues blowing the fire. 'What kind of charcoal is this, it seems I will stop buying from Mama Rilwan, even wet charcoals are not this difficult to make fire with...Ah, Nike! Where is Fred? Why are you standing there looking at me like din-din-rin. I said where is your brother?'

'Mummy I don't know.'

'Uhn, you will not know o. He has told you to lie abi? Shebi his big head has carried him to Oga Boniface's window again to watch worldly films. American films! He wants to learn how to shoot gun and fight chinese abi?' She quickly retied her loosing wrapper over her floral satin purple blouse above her breast,' Oya keep that babee somewhere and help me blow the fire let me go and pull that your brother's long ears back here.

Getting close to Oga Boniface's window, she had noticed Fred's willy was on the full stretch underneath his dirty short, forming a little pyramid before his groin. The other boys too where hard and all their willies jerked one at a time. One of the older boys had quietly pursued his two sisters away, he scuttled with them few meters away in the direction of their house and pushed them lightly to keep walking home before he ran back to resume his position at the window, watching with one eye tightly shot.

She made sure she got there unnoticed, she took a peak, then took some steps backwards to grab one of the long sticks the boys had be using to push their bicycle wheels. With all the power she could muster, she flogged Fred hard on the buttocks such that all the boys gathered there dispersed immediately like a swarm of bees whose hive has just been shattered. Fred yelled. He ran stupid. Crying out loud. He had ran almost fifteen meters away before he looked back to discover it was his mother that had lashed him.

Oga Boniface had darted out to see what was happening outside. He saw Morenike yelling at Fred, telling him to head back home before she gets there. 'Ah-ah, Mama Freddy, wetin dey happen na?

'Oga Boni? Hmm, wetin you dey watch for inside your house?'

'I dey watch film na.'

'You dey watch film na... Which kind film?'

'Which kind question be all these Mama Freddy? When you turn CID?'

'I no go lie give you, Oga Boni, you don fall your hand.'

'I no understand you o. Ogini self?'

'You dey very aware say children for this neighborhood dey always play come your window to come and watch film. When you come know say na bad film you wan watch, if you no fit pursue the children commot, you no fit close your window? You come they allow small small pikin dey see wetin dem never reach to see for your television.'

'But I close my curtain na...' he checked his window and discovered the children had made a little hole in the window where they probably used a finger or stick to push aside his curtain.' Chai!Anwuola m! Mama Freddy abeg no vex for me.' He turned to face her, but she had already left.

She forgot all about preparing dinner that night and flogged him like a slaver. None of their kind neighbours could rescue him from her hands, she had locked the main door before serving the boy some discipline. She did not touch Nike, but the brutality of the whip made her bawl as if she was scourged as well.

It sounded as if a riot was happening inside the house. The sound of the lashes, glass shattering, stool falling, his yelling and plead for clemency, Nike's bawling, the heavy thuds her feet made as she ran after him and the way she spoke simultaneously with the whipping:

' Scallywag! At this your age... You're watching bad films... Don't go to Oga... Boni's...place...you will not hear... shut up! Oya ferm!'

Her husband returned home to be welcomed with the anarchy that night.

He was so mad at her. Even though she had every reason to punish Fred. Her claims that he caught him watching blue film did not ring a bell. He could not recognize his son. She had taken the punishment too far. It was more of an abuse.

They had a heated argument about television or no television that night and quarrelled for a very long time. The fact that he starved because of the issue made it worse.

He called her a lot of names that night. An hypocrite been one of them, that was what broke her down and made her burst into tears, she made the rest of her arguments and quarrelling crying. He promised her that he and his children would stop attending her church henceforth. 'They would start attending a new Church come Sunday.'

It was the first and the last time in their marriage that they were so close to fighting as the brain is to the cranium.

|🔥🔥🔥|

That morning Fred had received a call from Okemute. He told Fred he was in Lagos, that he'd love to meet. They scheduled a meeting for 5PM at Rita Lori Hotel before he hung up.

Fred did not mention his name at all during their conversation and he made sure his mother did not grasp whatever he was saying to whomever he was talking to.

He and Okemute had some coded ways of relating to one another in such a way that when there is a third party amongst they could sell the person down the river without he or she knowing it was them.

He was so excited to hear Okemute was in Lagos. He had always teased him by asking him if he wanted to live in the creeks as a militant for the rest of his life. Okemute will always reply him but say: ' You no go ever fit understand oil money! E dey sweet.' It was more of like a watchword to him. He says it to different people almost a hundred time a day.

He drove Cynthia to her house along Oba Akran Avenue. They did not talk much on the way. The only time they spoke was when a woman carelessly crossed the road whilst the vehicle ahead of them almost ran through her.

'Jesus!' she screamed, placing her hands over each other on her chest.

'All these women self ehn?' He siad, not looking towards her direction, 'They will not put someone in gbese.'

When they got to Cynthia's place, they bid themselves farewell with a light kiss before he drove off.

Okemute had gained weight a little. He was not has skinny as he used to be back in school days. He looked more muscular now.

He waited for Fred close to the pool. Sat there wearing a pair of designers shorts a round neck polo with a pair of dark sun shade. Fred recognized him immediately.

'Okemute!'

'Fredillion!'

'Okemute!'

'Fredillion!'

They gave themselves a big hard hug, it was almost like a collision. The tapped themselves hard on the back facing opposite directions with big grins.

'Mhen... You're not looking bad at all for a jobless man.'

' And you look far better than those militants we see on television and newspapers.'

They laughed.

'You no go fit understand oil money na, e too sweet! Make your order man,' Okemute said with a relaxed voice, ' bar man!'

'I'm so happy to see you my guy. How Delta? How all them Tompolo and Ayeri them?'

'Mhen, Delta bam. Those men you mentioned now ehn, them they always give me joy. Tompolo is my boss na. I know him on a personal level. He's a great man.'

' I'm here for your order sir.' The bar man cuts in.

' A bottle of Smirnoff vodka in ice will do.'

'Fredillion! Guy, you never change? You and this your Smirnoff vodka. Where's my phone? Let me call their company.'

' I don't understand.' He said with a grin.

' They need to make you their ambassador bro. They need to sign you.'

They laughed.

'You're not serious.'

' Here sir.' The bar man said.

'Good. How much is it?' said Fred.

' Hum,' Okemute cuts in quickly as he swigged a bottle of cold beer, ' don't worry Bar man. I will reason you later.'

The Bar man sounded like a woman when he spoke, he walked away swerving his hips from side to side like a runway model. Okemute frowned at the way the bar man walked pointing at him with a couple of pout mouth for Fred to take a look at his effeminacy.

' What are you doing in Lagos. Woman?'

' I'm I you.' he sniggered, ' You're the only one I know can travel to Iraq to see a woman. Not me.'

' Okay. One-zero. You got me. Your's is coming.' he sloshed some vodka into his glass. ' But really, why are you here?'

'Hmm...' Okemute sighed. He gulped from his bottle of beer again. ' I'm hear because of you bro.'

'Me?'

'Yeah. Us maybe. See, I no longer work in the creeks man. I'm done with that shit.' There was power in his tone now, it was obvious he was building as much confidence as he could to state the real deal. ' But before I tell you anything bro. How did you get fired? I've heard a lot of things. I want to hear from you.'

Fred was a great story teller. He told him everything, every single detail as much as he could remember. Anytime they laughed along the line, he'd remind Okemute that it wasn't funny at all when it happened.

__________
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eba: an indigenous Nigerian food made of garri.
egusi:. melon soup.
oga: sir/ boss
elubor: flour made from guineacorn, corn, wheat, dried yam,cassava/dried plantain.
amala: an indigenous Nigerian food made of yam/cassava flour.
din-din-rin: dullard.
shebi:. definitely.
chinese: Kun-fu/karate.
oya:. now
babee:. doll/toy.
tuwo-shinkafa: pounded rice
gbegiri:. beans soup