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Wednesday, February 21, 2024

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    My Travails With My Landlord

    My landlord is the most troublesome person I know. He’s always frowning, scowling at everyone.

    Naturally, we keep away. His wife and kids have tried to convince us that he’s not all. That hard, and that he could be a loving dad and husband. However, after having a one in one encounter with him, everyone became weary of his troubles.

    My own episode was not even funny. I had woken up that morning, and went to the front gate to wash my face. That’s what I was doing, when he walked up to me, scowling as usual.

    “What are you doing?” He asked.

    “What does it look like sir?” I replied like a smart a$$, “I’m washing my face.”

    He stiffened. I could feel it.

    “My friend, will you get inside your apartment and do that rubbish… or do you want me to call the police?” He was pulling out his phone. That’s when I knew he wasn’t kidding.

    I couldn’t imagine someone calling the police for such little offense. I didn’t want to get arrested by the boys in blue, all for what? I bolted inside, and jammed the door. Since then, I avoided him like a plague.

    On my way home from work today, I saw him bolt out of an uncompleted building. It’s one that stands over our compound, and usually houses the rough, rugged, and raw.

    “Good evening sir.” I acknowledged him, and made to walk past him when he stopped me.

    “Excuse me.” He called, “young man please… I have a problem.”

    I asked what the problem might be, and he answered, saying his phone had been snatched from him.

    “Really?… Where?” I was amused.

    He pointed to the building, and went on to narrate how it happened.

    He had returned from work, and had sat down outside, collecting fresh air, when he noticed some boys walking into the building, blasting loud music in an mp3 player.

    He was not comfortable with this. He knew they always smøke there, yet today, he decided to stop them. So he picked up his machete, and went into the uncompleted building.

    He got there, had a word with them, and asked them to leave.

    “I counted 16 boys in all,” he said to me, “all of them are bad boys.”

    They refused to leave, saying the house belonged to nobody, and even if it did, they’d have to finish the “evening classes” before heading out.

    He pulled out his phone, threatening to call the police like he usually did. He was making efforts to dail the number, when a hand reached out and grabbed the phone. They all admired it for a while, after which they asked him to leave.

    “I tried protesting, but they showed a gùn to me, and said they’d put groundnuts inside my head…. I ran out with speed… that’s when I saw you.” He finished his tale.

    “So,” I waved my right hand, “what do you want me to do about it sir?”

    “Ah… Let’s go back inside and collect that phone… I’m sure they can’t over power the both of us….” He was talking too fast. I’ve never seen him like that.

    “Thought you had police friends?” I asked, “I thought the DPO of C-Division is your good friend.”

    He nodded. “Yes.”

    “Then call him… call all of them… as for me, my father didn’t send me to Jos to d!e for anybody.”

    With that, I walked in and slammed my door behind me.

    Nonsense. When you were threatening me, you didn’t know.

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