Ese Efeduma Drums No More
My obsession with Tsunamis is becoming a clinical problem as I dwell in isolation on board Davy Jones Locker. Only shots of goscolene seems to tame it. Three shots of goscolene taken in one go keeps my obsession with Tsunami doesis at bay for three days.
If I smoke Likpi, a wonderful dried seaweed, on top of goscolene I can be without Tsunami obsessions for a full week or longer. But I dream a lot about matured things; mature whiskeys, wines, tobaccos, meats, cheeses, and matured conversation I have already had or those yet to happen. An Ahoy to Goscolene and Likpi. Guynes!
The lights turn indigo once again. The weather is warm and damp-free. The noise of the ocean currents above feels hypnotic. I see a slim guy walking as if he is running but moving at a slow pace. It is Ese Efeduma nom de guerre Jairus Jupitus.
“Ijairusio!” I yell.
Jairus refuses to reply.
Less than a metre away from me, I land a descending head butt on his for head knocking him to the ground but not out.
“What is this now!” he shouts.
I feign booting him in the midsection and his reaction was to curl up into the foetal position like a helpless baby.
“You don’t know why I head butted you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“When you come to Jand you never asked after me not to talk of coming to see me.”
“You were on Black Spots and a Ultra Violet Spot at the time,”
“So that’s why?”
I feign another a right-hand lead and he leaps backwards stumbling a bit.
“We are not in secondary school anymore, Senior!” he says with weak sarcasm.
“Was I wicked to you in secondary school?
“Yes and no. You conked me and Philip outside the dining hall.”
“Was that not because I warned junior students not to run when they see me coming and that afternoon you guys ran away as if I was a brutal prefect.”
“You almost busted our skulls. Didn’t you know you were big and strong?”
“And that’s why you say I am wicked, eh?”
The violet light flashes throughout the Davy Jones Rendezvous. Oh no not Captain Blood again. With a dignified gait Professor Tunde Bajah approaches us. He is his usual congenial self with a strong hint of firmness or seriousness present in him.
“Migwor,” I say and Jairus echoes me.
“Be pyratical!” Bajah says sternness in his tone.
“Omi Black Dog II, An Ahoy to you!” I say.
“O Wrong Someone, Ahoy!” Bajah says stretching his right hand to claw mine.
The generosity of BDII’s smile has a warm infectiousness to it. Jairus rushes to hug him his aura full of delight.
“O Jairus Jupitus, Ahoy! It is good to see you. I came here to facilitate your transition to Fiddlers Green.”
“O BDII, please where is Fiddlers Green?” asks Jairus.
“Tell him,” Bajah says pointing at me.
“Fiddlers Green is where all the hardworking and conscientious sailors go when they are forgone. It’s the Sailors Heaven. Davy Jones Locker is the general population of Forgone Terrors. Ijairusu, you must have done as well as the top 0.1 per cent of sailors to get an invitation,” I say.
“O Wrong Someone, thank you. Jairus Jupitus are you ready to go with me.”
“An Ahoy!!!” Jairus screams with ecstatic energy.
The lights in Davy Jones Rendezvous change again. Captain Blood arrives looking indignant. He is wearing an unfriendly tired look throughout his persona.
“Ahoy Black Dog of Two Iterations, why are you changing the rules of Davy Jones Locker transition,”
“O Captain Blood, I did not change anything. An Ahoy!”
“So why are you mascotting a Forgone Seadog to another Cove of Rest?”
“Captain Blood, this is a surf action. It does not concern you.”
Sailors undertake deck actions with the permission of a Captain be it on a ship at sea or in the harbour. Or on land in a cove. Mutinies occur when the captain does not bless the deck actions of sailors. Any member of the Original Fifteen can decide a surf action in response to an emergency crisis brought on by the currents or weather of the sea. If a surf action meets the criteria of the Seven Rudder Blades and resolves a real need, it is forever valid.
“That sounds mutinous,” The Man says.
“For over half a century you have ruled the flagship with unilateral decisions often unpalatable. Now you question a surf action of mine?” Bajah replies his eyes over-widened.
“Hmm,” Captain Blood grunts.
“Did we not agree to surf actions in 1954, seventy years ago?”
Memory and reality converge upon Captain Blood’s sensibility like a sober awakening. But he was yet to finish.
“Okay, that is true. What disturbs me is it appears Warri ethnicity is the basis of this your surf action.”
“How dare you call me a tribalist? Do you ever review your actions and not see ethnicity drenching them.”
“Like who or when?” Captain Blood asks looking bemused.
“CB’s Motorcycle Boys and Illegal Initiation Conspirators (MBIIC) getting away with countless unpyratical infractions if not crimes. Ethnicity, biko mirevwe.” I say like it is a special Christmas gift to myself.
“You sent the Wrong Someone here not I, now he is fomenting kpokpority for you et al. It was much safer and prudent to keep him on board the flagship from his records.”
“He quit.”
“He was pushed by cowards,” Bajah growls.
“Interesting.”
“And your people deprived Jairus Jupitus from becoming NAS Cap’n.”
“My people? What is that supposed to mean?”
“If you know you know.”
“Ha ha ha!” Captain Blood chuckles with visible discomfort.
“Black Dog of Two Iterations, why don’t you use surf action to rid Davy Jones Locker of this damned specimen of humanoid?”
“Surf actions are set in unbiased justice. You know that.”
“CB what did you just call me?” I ask interrupting the Original’s exchange.
I approach Captain Blood in a slow purposeful manner. I know right now my ‘eyes no good’ as they glare with murder. The Man notices and alarm fills his eyes in response. I inch so close to him he takes a step back.
“Wrong!!!” Bajah yells at me.
Fine dissembling on my part. I take three steps back and do a monkey dance for amusement to diffuse the tension in the air. I do it funny enough for all three other men to laugh. Happy I am to see the enormous relief on Captain Blood’s face. I then ask myself what did I just do?
Captain Blood gives Black Dog II the handshake and leaves Davy Jones Locker without a further word.
“This man Wrong, why are you so defiant? Pranking CB is not good or acceptable in any book. You used to be a quiet, easy-going, happy-go-lucky person. What happened to make you so crapious”
“When Pyrates with pretend power decided to without remorse or brakes put pepper in my eyes, my eyes come strong reach them.”
“I will have to regroom you in that case.”
“I concur as long as it is not Ahoys Martini Olololo or Etc Etc regrooming me,” I say my face smirk ridden.
“We are leaving for Fiddler’s Green; I will be back for the regrooming.”
No handshakes, no bye-byes they depart
Jairus is the youngest person to come to Davy Jones Locker under my watch. He walks away looking fidgety in comparison to the graceful movement of Bajah. He is also the youngest Pyrate to qualify for Fiddlers Green. His undying commitment to the Confraternity and his widespread generosity within and without earned him that most noble and privileged of transitions. He was also a fine drummer all his life. We had no time to hear him sing and drum one more time. The drumming shall continue in Fiddlers Green.
Meanwhile, I do as I like!
Jairus Jupitus, O Great Sailor of the Finest Competences and Merit continue being Good and not Lucky.
Be Good, not Lucky.
