Pyrates’ Inferno In Abeokuta

Warri

Why would anyone even think about a Pyrates’ Inferno In Abeokuta? It a a good question to ask and answer. When men have had enough they revolt. Its a blessing. I won’t mind engaging in the good fight even though I am no longer a young man.

I first see Ahoy Skinless Bones walking towards his office but he acts as if he did not see me. Before I get angry, it hits me few expect to see me in person – they believe I’m am languishing in the Locker. I could call his attention but I prefer to eat and drink well first.

I enter a food joint near Enerhe Junction, Warri. The weather is hot and humid while the air carries waves of strong strong broken English spoken by women and men alike. “No try me O,” “I go hammer soon, dey look,” “You wan contest Wafi Guys?” and more varieties of slang flow well. Warri and Sapele are the towns broken English is manufactured. Warri slang has a lot of drama to go with it.

Warri No Dey Carry Last, they say. I was last here two decades ago. The town is different. Structures I never saw before stand everywhere. Warri has grown in concrete. What else?

I drink my Gulder beer waiting for starch and amiedi, my favourite meal. My surprise is a familiar face approaches me.

“Yobo!” I hail with a high-pitched voice.

“Aein!” he replies.

Two other men in the joint turn around to look at us with curious stares. The Aien always sound like a sharp cat’s miaow.

That greeting began in the 1980s. Each time friends hail him Yobo with a high pitch voice he never fails to respond Aein similarly. His real name is Ojakovo but his Pyrate name is Young Blood de Melee. Truly, he is a melee man. He built a reputation in teenage as a fighter who could take on and defeat several opponents at the same time. The rumour is he has metaphysical powers of violence.

Yobo smiles as he stretches out his right hand to claw mine. His following hug is tight and warm.

“Did you fly into Nigeria today?” Yobo asks.

“No, I came with my submarine,” I reply.

“Davy Jones Locker pay you well o! The Wrong Someone, you are a later fifty-something like me but still love to put head into crisis,” Yobo says.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Have you heard of the coming Egbe at the Ash Montana Converge in Abeokuta? It will be bloody!”

“No.”

“Wrong, go and sit down. Nothing happens in the Confrat without you knowing about it in detail.”

“You guys attribute to me a capacity don’t deserve.”

“Look my eye. I am Young Blood de Melee. You are a Non-Deck Intelligence Operator. I tell no lies. I am sure you are here for the Ash Montana Converge.”

“Not at all. I came to Warri in search of a Tsunami babe.”

“Who?”

“Maggie Oborhwere.”

“I am not sure she is up to fifty.”

“She is,” I say producing a photo of her.

Her heavy chest is a breastological masterpiece juxtaposed with her slim body and pleasant symmetrical face.

“Okay. Once sailors see you now, they will believe you came for the Converge,” Yobo says.

“But I am on an Ultra Violet Spot. That’s why I dwell in Davy Jones Locker.”

“Wrong Something, your Ultra Violet Spot is an institutional fiction. To me you are sailing unobstructed.”

“Once you see the bonfire, your are a Pyrate. Let Captain Blood play his pretend power games.”

We both laugh.

“How is your oil services business. Good but I do most of my work in Port Harcourt these days. I and my wife have also stared an insurance firm. I now prefer office work to being a field engineer.”

“How is madam?”

“She is fine and business is good.”

“Great. I too left engineering too for economics. Career change is adaptation.”

We order a second round of beers.

The Problem

“So, what is the problem that must be ironed out by other means in Ash Montana?”

“Dirty politics. You know the election riggers sponsored by NAS Capoon Jakarta Jakarta with the help of some fiscatic Tortugaurdes?”

“I do. Its one of the reasons I am in the Locker.”

“He and his cohorts failed to put their man in power this time and are tempting bloodshed. They disqualified the legitimate winner on truped up charges. Sailors are now much wiser, better equipped, fully motivated and raging anger at the nonsense.

“They don’t realise there are no more sheep on deck. Only cowards who can be angered into action.”

“Yes. We are tired of the rigging and corruption. The Motor Cycle Boys ‘soup don sour’ and no amount of warming will resuscitate it.”

“That means war is brewing in the Confrat.”

“Sure, it is, a war of ending.”

“The chicken have come home to roost.”

“Did Captain Blood not spend his recent birthday with you in Davy Jones Locker this July?”

“No. He preferred to spend it in Doesis Locker Subsea.”

“Doeing what?”

“He was breasting well.”

“Captain Blood is rugged. It seems breastology is a great secret of longevity.”

“That’s why I like tsunamis with big bouncy breasts.”

“I hail O!”

Young Blood de Melee breaks into song about Captain Blood in Doesis Locker Subsea.

He was there I was not there

He was there I was not there

He was there I was not there

CB was there and was breasting well.

Forevermore he shall be breasting well.

We repeat the song in unison three times.

My starch and amiedi arrive my table. Yobo orders a big bottle of Guinness stout with some fried goat meat. We say “Ahoy” and start eating. After we finish our meals, Yobo breaks the long silence.

“I may be joining you in Davy Jones Locker by transition not conviction.” Yobo says looking mournful.

“Are you terminally ill?” I ask.

“No way. I may not return from Ash Montana.”

“Why is that?”

The Metaphysical

Yobo looks away then stares me deep in the eyes. His intense gaze unnerves me a little. A smile from him eases his demeanour.

“You know I was the only boy and last born of my parents. My eight older sisters were strong, bold and militant. I as a male was the opposite, weak, fearful and avoidant. My softness horrified my mother forcing her to take me to Kokori to do Osharevisi medicine, that is medicine of great physical strength, anti-gun, anti-cutlass, anti-poison and vanishing.  

“Really?”

“Yes. The condition of the medicine is I don’t fight family or friends. Or steal or lick a woman. The medicine is only effective when fighting enemies. But the cabal in the Pyrates Confraternity have proven enemies to me, to the Confrat and to society.”

“O Boy this election palaver vex you O. To the point you are ready to die? Sailors are your brothers, though not all brothers are good. Anyway, you will not be able to enter the Converge ground.”

“Why not?”

“Jakarta Jakarta orders that sailors must submit passport photographs and hold new I.D. cards to enter the Converge Ground. That will prevent someone like you from entering.”

“See who says he does not know what is going on in the Confrat,” Yobo says sharply. “The Confrat’s cabal out of arrogance, cunning and wickedness have pushed matters to the point where it becomes sweet for all of us. I am not alone. The New I.D. scam will not stop anything.”

“Cool down O! Oppressors always prepare well for a backlash.”

“No cooling down necessary. The Elders always gyp us into believing we are “gentlemen” and “non-violent.” Yet the actions of the cabal and their cohorts constantly create major provocations.

Provocations that trigger both violence and misbehaviour.”

“They assume we will “always be passive no matter the shit thrown on us. But now the Elders have lost the respect of sailors. Their interests are in themselves, not the Confrat’s.”

“Yobo, what will you do at the Ash Montana Converge?”

“I won’t tell you. First, I will give some Totuguardes resounding slaps, double palm gbokhra!” Yobo say slapping his palms explosively together. I pity whoever he slaps.

I say nothing.

Yobo then disappears without moving from his seat opposite me at the table for half a minute. He reappears holding his forefinger to his lips urging me into forced silence. Yobo can vanish! The Jakarta Jarkata I.D. card barricade or the police will not stop him in Abeokuta.

“Wrong Something, you know melees get out of hand and anything can happen. Let me assure you, whatever you hear I did after the Converge, know I did it.”

“Is that what you call sweet?”

“Sometimes the ending is sweeter than the beginning and the middle. The Pyrates Confraternity will either end or begin completely afresh at Ash Montana, from the ashes burning. The choice is theirs, peace or war. Hopefully, I will see you at the Ash Montana Converge or in Davy Jones Locker next week.”

Will there be the Pyrates’ Inferno in Abeokuta? I ponder. Captain Blood will dread the collapse of his private empire. Well, its just a few days away. What an event it will be. Kpemkolomo!

Yobo gives me his business card and takes his leave unceremoniously. It’s his style, may be a requite of his metaphysical powers to leave people without goodbyes.. Meanwhile, I rush off to see Maggie with compulsion. Abstinence make the urges stronger.

Be good, not Lucky.