SOMEWHERE IN THE HEART OF LAGOS
This is an Eid Mubarak' story of what happened on Sallah day in the house of Àgbà Akin.
Somewhere in the heart of Lagos, the excitement of today's Eid wakes the whole house before Subhi prayers. Kids, already running around the compound in coloured pants only, displaying their Àṣọ Ọdún to every aunt & uncle who gives them the tiniest bit of attention.
The ìyàwó ilé which is basically the name given to every daughter-in-law gathers somewhere in the large kitchen at the end of the compound still debating how they will cook the jollof or whether to prepare the Amala first, since Àgbà Akin's visitors would make their way into the compound right from the Eid prayer grounds.
Rashidatu & Mulikatu, the youngest amongst them are already boiling yam & making stew & eggs. That is the tradition. Everybody in the house eats yam & eggs & stew before going for Eid, every year.
Alhaja Moriamo, the matriarch of the house, is on the phone with the tailor. Broda Kazeem disappoints every year, but there is no one else capable of sewing the kind of Mecca style abaya that she wears. How else is she supposed to pepper Alhaja Sekinatu, her market competitor today?
Boda Kazeem pleads for extra 40 minutes, claims that kerosene finished in the generator whilst he was helping her iron the clothes. Claims he is done with the sewing even though there is a small embroidery left to do, but the large white scarf will cover that side. That he would be at their gate very soon.
Àgbà Akin sends Ibrahimo, his last son & the husband of Mulikatu, to quickly go carry all the drinks he had paid for at King of Boys CoolSpot since a week ago. Today may be Eid but Allah forbids that Àgbà Akin, the bàbà Adinni of Lagos, hosts his friends & colleagues & well-wishers today but there is no surplus of alcohol & malts & soft drinks to go round.
Tayelolu, the first son did not come home last night, & Sodiki, his cousin is in Àgbà Akin's room to tell on him. They said they saw him at the brothel with some girls. Àgbà Akin is furious & cussing. He is threatening hell & high water, he says he'll cut him off his inheritance & disown him. Àgbà Akin is coughing & his veins are visible.
Moriamo hears the noises coming from Agba Akin's room & rushes to his bedside to calm him down. Moriamo eyes Sodiki, calls him a basket mouth. She tells him to go & focus on his own wife who is yet to experience motherhood & act like a man such that Khadijatu will carry a child from dawn to dusk in her belly.
The ìyàwó ilé are almost done coking, so they fetches their kids to go dress them up for Eid. Biliki, the eldest daughter-in-law & wife of Tayelolu, decides to go inform the remaining members of the household that breakfast is ready.
She walks to the last quarter of rooms in the compound & without knocking, opens the door leading into Ashiata's room. Then she screams so loud. So loud such that everyone in the compound runs towards her.
Ashiata is Àgbà Akin's youngest wife & the same age as Ibrahimo. Right there on the bed is Ashiata with Alhaji Sumaila, Àgbà Akin's junior brother, having some steaming, early morning, orgasm-inducing lovemaking. The kind of sex that attracts Alihamdulilahi, indeed all praises belongs to Allah instead of Awusubilai, I find safety and protection from Allah against the antics and manipulations of the devil.
The fornicating duo rises up quickly trying to cover their nakedness but Bilikisu's scream already called everyone's attention on them. Àgbà Akin, a man of seventy-two years old, walks into the room, sees the carnage that is ongoing, rushes towards his brother in a fit of rage.
His left leg kicks the yellow, custard bucket of urine, lying at the foot of the bed. He slumps face flat into the urine, & couldn't breathe & couldn't get up & couldn't move.
Pandemonium breaks loose somewhere in the heart of Lagos.
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