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“Kala, Daju, Ma Rerin, Wuwa Ika” were some of the hardest words in Olamide and Portable’s 2021 street banger, Zazoo Zeh. However, thanks to the recent cult slang conversation on X, I’ve come to realise there’s more meaning to these words, which loosely translate to “Be stern, show no mercy, don’t laugh and be wicked.”
Apparently, the lines are language-altered versions of slang peculiar to some cultist groups in Nigeria. For instance, “Ma Rerin” is associated with the Buccaneers Confraternity’s “No laughing on board,” lingo. This discovery led me on a quest to find more Nigerian cult slangs and their purported meanings.
Some slangs in this list have been loosely used in afrobeats songs by Davido, Shallipopi, OdumoduBlvck, among others.
General cult slangs
Sticker: a cutlass.
Talasa: To hit a person till he/she bleeds.
Manoeuvre: Steal.
Jetesin: Let go of something or an issue.
B40: Brother.
Ancho: Means to give out something.
Belle: Often used to refer to a female member of the Vikings confraternity.
Identify yourself: Members say this to unknown people, wearing colours associated with their cult.
Sangry for Sangry: “Sangre” means “blood” in Spanish. This cult lingo means “blood for blood”.
Dey gbam: Stay calm or keep still. Usually used when they’re trying to intimidate a non-cult member into mellowing down for them.
Wida you? This is cult lingo for “Who the hell are you?” The tone is harsh on non-cultists and softer on fellow cult members.
Ruff sea: Conflict or crisis.
Obembe business: A cult gathering where they share dues and allowance.
Iceland: A place where non-cult members are forbidden to enter. If you do, you’ll either be beaten or forced to join the cult.
Omila squad: Armed robbers.
Slangs peculiar to different cult groups
According to news reports, there are several cult groups in Nigeria domiciled in different regions. Some cult groups with widespread popularity have members who go on to start small chapters and sub-divisions of the mother group. Each of these cult groups have slangs peculiar to them and used by members.
Deby na Debt
Source: Skabash
Also known as the Eternal Fraternity Order of Legion Consortium, members of this group call themselves Klansmen. It was formed in 1983 at the University of Calabar. Their official symbol is the human skull, and their colours are white and black. Some of their common lingo include:
Peaceful man in a deadly mood, disagree to agree
The affairs of a klansman before any other thing in life
What concerns a klansman concerns all klansmen
Oath of secrecy abides by all members
Black Axe Confraternity
Source: Faz
Known for their bright yellow colour, this cult group members are known as Aye, Axe-men, Seven or Amigos. It was founded in 1976 at the University of Benin. Their official symbol is a black axe, and Nigerian cult slangs peculiar to them include:
The Blackman will be freed with an axe
No fuck ups
Forgiveness is a sin
Don’t betray your brother in the hood
Obey before complaining or abeyance
He who price must pay
Buccaneers confraternity
Source: Naira Diary
The Buccaneers are known for their high intellectual standards, a major requirement if you want to join the cult group. Members of the group are known as Fine boys, Alora, Bucketmen, Lords, etc., and their colours are white, yellow and black. The group’s symbol is a human skeleton with a head wrap. It was formed in 1972 at the University of Ibadan.
No price, no pay
No brothers in the wood
No laughing on board
Blood for blood
Let the devil that leads you guide you
Supreme Vikings Confraternity
Source: Skabash
Formed in 1982 by some members of the Buccaneers, this cult group was originally called De Norsemen Club of Nigeria. Members call themselves aro-mates, adventurers or vultures. The group’s symbol is two crossed axes and a boat. Some Nigerian cult slangs peculiar to the group include:
Never hang a leg
Even in the face of death
Blood on the high sea
Songs of Hojas
Pyrate Confraternity
Source: Wikipedia
Founded in 1952 by Nobel Laureate, Wole Soyinka, and his friends at the University of Ibadan, this cult group set out to revive the age of chivalry and elitism and abolish convention. It was disbanded in the 1960s to form a new group called Secret Cults. However, in 2022, Soyinka clamped down on the group over a video of members mocking Bola Tinubu. Their colours are yellow, black and red, and their symbol comprises a skull, two cross-bones and an anchor. Their slangs include:
Cultists are known to be responsible for violence, robberies and killings around Nigerian campuses. In this article, eight Nigerian women talk about either experience with cultists.
Eme, 21
In February this year, a random guy ran towards me and introduced himself as Chris. He said we met in primary school, but I did not remember him. We exchanged phone numbers and went our separate ways or so I thought. He started calling me every day, asking me to meet with him. He wanted me to hug him and get paid. The first amount he proposed was ₦50,000. I had to block him on WhatsApp. He kept calling. I tried to block his calls as well, but it didn’t work. He would call me at odd hours and ask me about my whereabouts and what I wore.
He increased the money to ₦80,000. He was begging. He just wanted to see me and hug me. This continued for four months.
In June, he insisted I saw him where I usually went to have breakfast with my friends. I agreed because it was a public place and my friends were going to be there. When he came and saw my friends, he asked why I wasn’t alone. He got angry and left. Later, he called saying that I should bring all my friends to his hotel room. I said no.
He continued to call me every day and sent me messages from different phone numbers. Sometimes, he would impersonate other people. He said if I hugged him and cuddled him with my clothes on, he would give me ₦300,000. I insulted him and blocked him on that number.
He started threatening me, so I took the matter to my school’s security. I pretended like I had agreed to hug him and he was supposed to come and pick me up. When he arrived and was forcing me to hug him, they came out to arrest him. He tried to run but they caught him.
They found two bottles of liquid substances on him. When he was asked what they were, he said they were his drugs. They asked him to drink, but he smashed the bottles on the floor. One turned black immediately. The other started foaming. He was transferred to the chief security officer’s office where he was thoroughly searched. They found pictures of different girls in his bag. He said they were his cousins. In his wallet, they found a vikings pass, indicating that he was a norseman.
The case was transferred to the Anti-cultism and Kidnapping squad, where he confirmed that he was a cultist. He said he wanted to rape me or kill me, depending on how I behaved. But they had no case because he wasn’t caught in the act. He signed an undertaking that he would never contact me, my friends and family, and would be held responsible if anything happened to me.A restraining order was filed as well. After everything, I had to move home. I was scared of going out and whenever people looked at me for too long, I confronted them. I don’t know if I have gotten over it.
Ay, 23
One of my friends was dating a cultist in 2016. He was their leader, so whenever my friend and I hung out with her boyfriend, I would see this other guy. Let’s call him H. H and I used to exchange pleasantries. One day, my friend and her boyfriend told me H liked me. I already knew they were cultists and even though they weren’t violent, I didn’t want to say no to dating him because I was afraid.
We started hanging out, and he wasn’t so bad. One day, we were kissing in his room when he asked me if I was on my period. was, so I said yes. He started saying “fuck” and looked stressed. Then he said the baba said he wasn’t supposed to come near any girl when she’s on her period. He brought out something from his bag. It was wrapped in black and red cloth. That’s where I blacked out — I don’t remember what happened after that.
I just know I left that place. I moved out of my room to a friend’s place in school. I used to take very long walks in the evening but after that incident, I stopped and only took cabs if I had to go out. I also changed my phone number. About a month later, I ran into someone who told me he had been removed from the cult because he was trying to organize a coup, and they found out. I was still scared so I continued to avoid going out throughout that year.
Arin, 20
In my first year at the university, I met a guy while my friends and I were taking a walk. He asked for our names and where we stayed, and we told him. The next day, I met him in my faculty. He said he likes me and would like to date me. I told him I would think about it.
He started coming to my hostel every evening. My friends told me I should tell him I wasn’t interested, so I gathered courage and told him. He looked angry but I tried not to bother myself about it.
Three days later, I asked a coursemate who lived in his hostel if he knew the guy. He said yes and added that he was a cultist. My eyes almost popped out. A few days later, my friends and I went to a show where we met mutual friends. One of them told us a story of how a guy was “paraing” in their hostel that a girl turned down his proposal. I asked for the guy’s name, and it turned out it was the guy that was disturbing me. I wasn’t myself for the rest of the show. At some point, I burst into tears. I started asking my friends if I was wrong to turn him down. They told me they would follow me wherever I went to make sure I was safe.
The following week, I saw him on the road. Luckily, I was with my friends. I greeted him and he didn’t answer me. He walked past me and gave me the “fuck you” sign.I didn’t say anything in response. I haven’t seen him since then.
IY, 22
The first guy that asked me out in university was a cultist. He was my neighbour at the time. He was just a floor member in his cult but later, one of his superiors, Ade* started asking me out. I didn’t agree to date any of them, but we had a good friendship. Because Ade was always around me, his subordinates who would usually bully others on the streets were like my errand boys. They would buy me food, drinks, anything I needed. We eventually hooked up a couple of times, but I never dated him.
A few years later, I dated someone else in a different branch of the same cult. Our relationship lasted for a couple of months and it was interesting. One time, this guy showed up at my house with a gun. I was just 17. It wasn’t funny. I told him never to do that again. Another time, I overheard them planning to go and cause trouble. There was a day I was upset and he was trying to find out what was wrong with me and he said, “Shey na person vex you, make we go arrange am now now.”
I also dated another guy in a different cult some months later. Dating cult boys gave me a different perspective of them outside of what everyone thinks they are. I think some of them are really nice people and they know how to take care of women.
Juachi, 20
I grew up in Diobu in Port Harcourt. Diobu is a no-go area for non-residents and people who aren’t familiar with the area. It’s a cultist den. Being female in such an environment put me at risk growing up. Plus I was an Ajebo. My body matured early, so I had big boobs and hips before I was 14. It drew a lot of attention to me.
One day I was on an errand my mum sent me. On my way, I passed a group of cultists who were smoking and drinking. As I walked, I prayed none of them would call me but I was unlucky. An armourer of beta marine deck in the area called me and asked me to come. I ignored him and hastened my pace. He got angry and started following me while shouting, “Omo, baba start to dey pour me charge oh. Who you think say you be, na because of small ynash wey you get? I go fuck you up for this area, nothing go happen. Shey you dey live for street A, I go draw your map. I go feed you groundnut, wey go weigh you.”
I was so scared I ran into a compound to seek refuge. When they were done, I came out to do what they sent me. I was too scared to tell my parents but I told my brother, though he couldn’t do anything about it. The cultist started coming to look for me — he would stand at my junction and wait for me. My house was a 2-storey building with a balcony, and we stayed on the top floor. I would always go to the balcony to check for him before I leave my house. I also followed different routes that I knew he wouldn’t be on. This continued for a while until one night, there was a clash between alpha and beta marines, and he shot an alpha marine. He had to leave the environment, I never saw him again till we left that area.
I am still very traumatized by the event, so I rarely leave my house without a man following me. Once it’s 6 p.m, and there is no man to go out with me, whatever it is has to wait till the next day. I also never pass a cluster of men again. If I see them anywhere, I’ll turn back and follow another route or cross over to the other side of the road if I have no choice.
Amarachi, 20
In 2018, I was the rep of my class. There was this guy in my department that liked me and always looked out for me. Let’s call him Mr X. People told me to stay away. One of my coursemate’s mum told her daughter to tell me to stay away from him but I didn’t see the need to. The signs were everywhere — the tattoos, bloodshot eyes, marks on the skin, but I refused to see it.
One time I asked him why his eyes were always red. He said his friends were always smoking and the smoke got into his eyes. I foolishly believed. He used to try to keep my boyfriend away from me because he liked me. People would tell me how he terrorized them in the hostel but I refused to believe that too. In my eyes, he could do no wrong.
Everything went well until his group fell out with another. Everyone from his fraternity ran away except him, and that was how he went down. He died on school grounds. Omo, I wasn’t myself for days. That was when I realized everything everyone said was true.
Anu, 20
There was this guy asking me out, but I had no idea he was a cultist. He seemed like a normal guy. He was nice to me. He would come to see me in class, follow me to the park where I’d get a bus to go home. He bought me food sometimes.
One day, I was at his house and his friends came over. They all looked like cultists. I told him I felt uncomfortable around them, and he said they are harmless. There was this other guy that was also asking me to date him. One day, while we were hanging out, the other guy’s friends surrounded us. They asked why he was messing with a deity’s property. They didn’t talk to me, just the guy. That’s when I realized that he was a cultist. It was scary because I never felt threatened by him. I started avoiding him and when he realised, he asked why. I told him I don’t mess with cultists and I was done. My luck was that he liked me. so he didn’t disturb me.
Bibi, 28
My first boyfriend was a cultist and I was in love with him. I was 17 at the time. I met him at the place I used to take jamb lessons. He used to make me laugh like crazy. When we first met, I didn’t know he was a cultist. I was naive and didn’t know anything about that scene. So we used to hang out a lot but then when we were supposed to meet somewhere, he’d be so late and I would be upset.
One day he told me, he was part of the Aiye confraternity. I asked if it was a good thing and he said “Some things that are good for some people are bad for others.” I loved him, so I didn’t break up with him. I asked if he had ever killed anyone and he said no, but he’d kill for me.
One time, he disappeared for about a year. He didn’t answer my calls or my messages. When he showed up, I was so happy. I realize now that he might have gone underground to stay safe from a rival gang. I continued to hang out with him but eventually, I broke up with him because I was unhappy in the relationship. I was unhappy for a while but I got over him.
Cults, or confraternities, as they were originally known, was first established by Nigerian Nobel Laureate Wole Soyinka and six of his friends to counter the classism and elitism of colonial and wealthy university students of the University of Ibadan in 1953.
Since then, due to a multitude of corrupting factors such as factions, military regimes that used cults to fight against student union bodies and university staff who opposed them, and politicians who used them to intimidate opponents and disrupt elections, they have devolved into violent gangs who often engage in violent clashes for supremacy. Many Nigerian lives have been affected by the spate of cultism in Nigeria. I spoke to seven men who had been affected, directly or indirectly, by cultism.
Uti
Cultists try to lure you with promises that university cultists hold major positions in the cult and go on to be leaders. They promise connections and benefits from being a cult member. In reality, it’s not worth it. You can’t be yourself and constantly have to keep looking over your shoulder. Some cultists go on to be political office holders but they are in the minority. Most people get killed and maimed, with their hopes dashed. I’ve seen loved ones and parents get sacrificed on the altar of cultism.
While I was in the university, two of my cousins were cultists. One of them was a strike chief, someone who decided who was going to be killed, in the Buccaneers Confraternity. During a gang war, called “banter”, my cousins had to flee to nearby villages to hide out. I was with the strike chief in the lodge where he was hiding out with his girlfriend, playing video games. He always protected me from being initiated into any of the cults that courted me because he thought it won’t do me any good, and I knew too many things and that might make me a prime target.
One night when he went out to buy food, a rival cult member saw him and alerted others. Around 4:30 am, they broke into the house, and macheted and shot him to death and left his body on the road. Two other students were killed. In retaliation for my cousin’s death, my other cousin masterminded a hit on the rival gang and killed 5 cultists a week later. It was bloody.
Emmanuel
I was born in Mushin and I’ve lived in Shomolu, Bariga, so while I might not be able to say much about campus cultism, I know too much about street cultism. People argue about which is worse but I can assure you that street cultism is the more brutal version. Dozens of guys I played with when I was a child now belong to various fraternities.
With street cultism, different areas are controlled by various cults. If two cults are at war, boys and young men from those areas can’t just walk into the enemy area. I didn’t know this when I decided to see off two friends who had visited me back to their own neighbourhood. At some point, they told me to go back home since it would be dark when I was returning. Just after I left, they were ambushed by cultists who had seen us. They were beaten near-death and were asked about my whereabouts because the cultists had sighted me earlier. They were about to be killed when my friend recognised one of them as his childhood friend.
Only God knows what would have happened if I, who was from a neighbourhood they were at war with, was with them that night.
Anthony
I was this close to being killed during an attack. I was walking with a couple of friends in school when we heard gunshots at close range. We all ran for our lives. When things settled down, I realised my friend was one of the people who had been shot, along with the supposed target who now lay dead and another girl who was injured. My friend was rushed to the hospital but he didn’t make it.
Uduak
When scores have to be settled and cults start fighting and people flee, it’s called Temple Run in street slang because you better not stop running. There are many cults in Calabar. However, they’re so discreet, you wouldn’t even know if someone close to you was a cultist.
In my case, it was my older brother. He was a fire-brand Christian, or so we thought. No one would have believed he was a cultist. Violence erupted in nearby Akwa-Ibom State one night in 2009, and he told my parents he had to visit our uncle who lived there. We didn’t hear from him for many days until we were told that he, along with several members of his cult were summarily executed by policemen from the Ikot Akpan Abia station because they were caught with guns and machetes.
My mother had to go through the humiliating ordeal of going to Akwa Ibom to beg for his corpse. We never got his body back and that made the experience so much more crushing for my parents. I don’t know if they ever recovered.
Samuel
There’s no positive in cultism. It’s just dues upon dues that are mostly exacted on newer members, which they are always struggling to pay.
I was a student at Kogi State University from 2012-2017. I was a big part of the Aluta movement and my core friends held different positions in the student union government, including the president. They routinely socialised with cultists. At first, it was fun hanging out with Aye and Confra boys, driving in convoys and doing dorime before dorime became dorime.
Then came the scariest night of my life. I vividly remember Portugal played against France that night because I was watching them play with a couple of guys. I was sick and recuperating in the SUG president’s room when a group of cultists stormed the room. They were looking for the president because he hadn’t paid “dues”, but he escaped. They shot one guy in the leg and they were about to kill me with a cutlass when one of them recognized me and told the rest of them that I wasn’t a cultist. I really thought I was going to die.
Kelechi
In my first year at the University of Port Harcourt, I and a couple of friends went to a party to chill out as our exams were rounding up. We were walking back from the party when we were accosted by three men. One of them introduced himself and his cult and asked us to hand over our phones. We were laughing, because we taught it was a prank due to how calm and laid-back he was when he pulled out a gun. He told us he didn’t want to shout and asked for our phones again.
I gave mine up immediately but one of my friends was begging desperately to keep his phone. Another cultist approached us threateningly and he surrendered the phone. One of them gave me his number on a piece of paper and asked me to call him if I wanted my phone back. I threw it away because I knew it was one of their strategies to bully boys into joining their cult.
Tobi
Many years after graduating from the University of Benin, I still have PTSD from my time there. One time, I was at my friend’s house playing games when we heard gunshots. As it wasn’t out of place to hear them, we didn’t think much of it. We later heard that it was a friend of ours who had been shot in the head. The fact that he survived is one of the reasons I still believe in a higher power.
I once watched someone get executed, mafia-style, in front of my hostel. A compound I lived in had someone butchered in it. They even threatened me once because of a girl I was dating.
Last year, I thought it might be interesting to talk to a student cultist for Aluta and Chill, the flagship series I was writing at the time. I put the word out, but it was futile. I was about to give up my search when a friend told me there was a guy at his church who had just left a cult and had started rehabilitation. Let’s call him Philip.
Philip agreed to talk to me under one condition: I had to meet him at the town where he was hiding out. He wouldn’t do the interview over the phone. On March 7, 2020, I travelled from Lagos to this town, also in the South-West, with no promises that I would get the story I was chasing.
Luckily, he decided he could trust me. We talked for close to two hours, and I was on the edge of my seat the entire time. After the conversation though, I realised it wasn’t an Aluta and Chill story. The question I asked myself in the following months was if I still wanted to write it; if it was even safe to do so. Last weekend, I decided that I wanted to. And I got to it — I retrieved the recordings and started writing. And now, I’ve written it in the as-told-to format.
My grandmother always wanted a son, but she had four daughters. When I came along, my mum thought I could be the son her mother had always wanted, so she shipped me off to live with her. I was just one at the time.
At four years old, I started hawking fried fish on the streets of Ibadan for my grandmother. If I didn’t make enough money in a day, she would send me back out to make more. Sometimes, she locked me out of the house and made me sleep outside. I don’t remember much from that time, but I know that because I was always out on the streets, I was running errands for the boys in the neighbourhood, getting them packs of cigarettes or wraps of weed.
I returned to my mum when I was seven. I started smoking cigarettes when I was 10. By the time I turned 15, I was experimenting with weed and drugs. It was about that time that I decided that I’d had enough of school. Not that we had enough money, anyway. Things were tougher than ever at home because my dad had died, so I dropped out of school and went to live with a cousin who sold phone accessories. The plan was to learn the business from him and go out on my own, but he wasn’t exactly the model teacher.
He would buy fake phone accessories at cheap prices and sell them at a ridiculously high rate. He was also the first person that introduced me to girls and clubs. In fact, he facilitated my first sexual experience. I was 16.
***
I left my cousin when I was 20 or 21 and went to work at a hotel as a housekeeper. One night in 2018, this group of guys came to party and lodge at the hotel. I was immediately drawn to them. They were all the things I wanted to be: rich and lavish. I knew what not having enough money meant, and I wanted what they had.
I served them until it was time for me to go off-duty. One of them asked me to sit with them for a while, and I agreed. Let’s call him B — he will come up in this story again. We partied together all night and when they were leaving, they gave me ₦15k, promising to come back.
They did come back. The more I talked to B, the more I wanted to be one of them. A part of me knew that they belonged to a cult, but they had what I wanted — wealth or some semblance of it. I was disappointed when B told me that they were leaving town in a few days, but I quickly got over it and asked if I could come with them. He said I could, but I had to be ready to leave in three days. I was ready to leave anytime. The way I saw it, if I was with them, I’d never lack.
***
We left Ibadan on a Saturday and travelled to Abeokuta. They were students in a school somewhere in Ogun State. The first thing they did was throw a big party to welcome me. That felt very nice. Around 1 am, they said it was time to meet other members of the gang, and we left the house. I was going to my initiation.
The other guys accepted me into the fold. There was something really weird about a part of the initiation process. They dug the ground up and asked me to lie in it. The deal was that I’d be there until I had an orgasm. I was confused, but B calmed me down and told me it was easier than it seemed. All I had to do was think of someone I liked a lot and imagine myself having sex with her. For some reason, it worked, and they congratulated me. They scattered something over the wet patch before covering the ground up. Afterwards, we went to a club to celebrate a successful initiation.
I got into a new world of debauchery, but I quickly became restless. I had everything I wanted, but they weren’t telling me anything about where the money came from. Yahoo would have been my best guess, but they weren’t doing anything like it. B was like my teacher and mentor at this point, and every time I brought it up with him, he told me to calm down. Oh, I should say something about B: his most distinguishable features were his fingers. He was missing a thumb.
They eventually thought I was ready and began the next phase. This time, we drove to a part of town to a herbalist of sorts and told him I was a new recruit. The herbalist asked if they’d explained everything to me, and they said yes. That was a lie. The man got down to business and prepared this thing inside a bowl wrapped in white cloth. I opened it and found the heart of an animal inside. Then he handed me a bottle of gin and asked me to eat.
After that, they revealed that I’d been sworn to secrecy. I couldn’t talk about it to anyone if I didn’t want to risk my life. Also, I had to return every three months to renew the process.
Now, the gang told me what they were really up to. They worked for ritualists. And now, I was one of them.
Their targets were girls, but they didn’t kidnap them. All they had to do was sleep with them and clean them up with a handkerchief. Their masters needed only the used handkerchiefs.
The girls who were involved either became barren or died a slow death.
I was baffled at first, but I got over it. Now, it was time to prove myself, and I wasn’t about to mess it up. I pitched the idea of returning to Ibadan — I grew up there. I knew how the town worked. They agreed after a few months, and we relocated.
I don’t think I processed what I was doing for a while. There wasn’t a lot of time to even think about it — we had a target of three girls per week. I also didn’t know who exactly we were working for. I just know they were rich and powerful. I also never received a payment. They only provided whatever I wanted.
There was this immunity that came with our crimes. It didn’t matter how badly we messed up, we always got away with it. There was a time the police stopped two people in the gang and found two bodies in the trunk of their cars. I thought that was it, but they were out in two weeks. And that was the end of it. The only way things could go sideways was if we clashed with a rival cult. We were practically invincible.
***
One thing I didn’t understand about myself during that time was that even though I was quite brazen about a lot of things, I was always interested in listening to conversations about religion. One day, I went to this pharmacy with my girlfriend at the time to buy a bottle of codeine. The woman at the pharmacy must have thought we were kids who had lost our way. Before we left, she asked us if we knew the use of what we wanted to buy. My girlfriend was livid, but I calmed her down. Then the woman asked if we had a bible. That was it for my girlfriend, but I answered the woman and told her that I didn’t have one. She said if I came back the following day, she would have gotten me one.
I actually went back the following day but something had changed in her. I think she had time to think about what she was about to do and decided that it was best to stay away. I noticed her reluctance to talk to me and cursed her out before I stormed out. On my way back home, I saw a church I’d never been to before and decided that I would go there the following Sunday. My plan was simple and heinous: find church girls to sleep with.
When I got to the church on Sunday, everyone’s attention was on me. I didn’t fit into the category of the people who usually came to worship there. My hair was blond, and I was high as a kite. I was uncomfortable throughout the service. When it ended, nobody came to talk to me. The same thing happened the following Sunday. I decided not to go back.
I would later meet the pastor’s son on the street. He started a conversation, and we exchanged numbers. Nothing happened for some time after that. He only kept in touch.
On my own part, I was growing disillusioned with the cult activities. It wasn’t working out the way I’d hoped it would. Sure, they gave me whatever I needed, and I wasn’t hungry anymore, but the other guys had things going for them. Things they had bought or built. Gifts were where it ended for me.
Shortly after, a beef with a rival cult culminated in the death of a friend who died from gunshot wounds. I think that was when I began to get more clarity on what could also happen to me. It was inevitable.
One day, I called the pastor’s son I had met months earlier. We’d kept in touch. He asked if I wanted to meet up at the church, and I agreed. The moment I got into the church’s premises, I felt this calm I hadn’t felt in a long time — possibly ever. Then I burst into tears. It was as though the events of my life up to this point were replaying in my head and the things I saw weren’t pretty. I told him the same story I’m telling you now, and we prayed.
When I returned home, I told the others that I was coming from church, but they didn’t answer me. It wasn’t important at the time, I guess. But when they noticed that I wasn’t giving them my 100% anymore, they chalked it down to my recent interest in church and told me to stop going. They gave me two options: leave the church or leave the house. Leaving the house could be dangerous for me, so I stayed.
Eventually, they kicked me out. When this happened, I returned to the church and told them what happened. They took me in and got an apartment for me.
After that, things got a little difficult. A week after I was kicked out, three people in the group were murdered and there were no traces of who could have done it. That was a problem for me because they thought I set them up. They found me and told me they knew what I had done, but they would let it go. The point of that conversation was to let me know that I could never leave them as long as I’m alive. It was practically a threat to my life.
The next time I saw them was December 31, 2019. They stormed the church during crossover service. I had a tight feeling in my stomach when I saw them. They must have come to cause trouble. When the service ended, they beckoned me to come out to talk. The reason they came was to let me know that I was still in their grasp and they could always find me. Besides, it had been three months since I last ate the concoction thing and it was time to do that again. They reminded me of my duties and what would happen if I refused to do them. They actually said that they were going to commit a crime and blame me for it.
After they left, I told the pastors at the church what happened. They decided that it was time for me to leave town. The problem there was that I had to tell the cult that and they had to agree to it. If I fled town without informing them, they would take it as an act of war and come after me. I tried appealing to them and luckily, they agreed. The agreement was that I would travel for a while and return to them. I think they were sure that they could always find me, so they didn’t think too much about it. I left Ibadan and went into hiding. I haven’t been back since.
The last thing I heard about them was that B had fallen terribly ill, and they were looking all over for me. B didn’t survive — he’s dead now. When I joined them, there were 15 people in the gang. Now, there are only eight. Am I out of this? I don’t know. I’ve started my rehabilitation. But again, I took them to that town. That’s going to be on me forever.
Editor’s note: This conversation was had in Yoruba and was translated to English and edited for clarity.
When I try to picture what the practice of cultism looks like, I imagine people dressed in red wrappers, gathered around a T-junction, sacrificing goats and speaking incantations. Maybe I’ve watched too many Nollywood movies or maybe I just have an overactive imagination, but after a conversation with an old friend who is convinced he almost joined a cult a few years ago, I decided to do some research about what cultism really is. I found that a cult is a religious organisation with unusual religious, spiritual, or philosophical beliefs, and “with its followers often living in an unconventional manner under the guardian of an authoritarian and charismatic leader.”
So I called my friend and asked him to tell me about the story of his church-cult experience. Here’s how the conversation went:
“I grew up in a Christian home and all through my formative years, I went to religious schools. In university, I had a period where I was skeptical about religion, faith and God. That period led me to have a lot of questions that I couldn’t ask because of the type of environment I was in. You see, I went to a university where if I asked a question about tithing, for instance, people would rather judge me for not wanting to part with my money than open the bible with me and show me what I needed to know.
A few years later, I was serving somewhere in the North, and I met this really cool guy, Peter*,who was also doing his NYSC there. We became friends almost immediately. He was fun to be around and whenever we talked about spiritual stuff, he always had a bible verse to back his points. He was a spiritually sound guy. He’d also always quote a Pastor Michael* whenever he spoke and so, one day, I asked him who this pastor was and why he hadn’t taken me to his church. I was tired of going to my own church, and I thought it was time for a change. He obliged.
The first thing I noticed when I got to the church was that there were only about 10 members around for service. I thought, “Okay, maybe this is just a small, close-knit church.” The service was good. After church, the pastor and his wife came to say hi. They were really cool people, so at that point, I was thinking, “I could really get used to coming here.”
After a few services, I got my first red flag. This man started bad-mouthing a member who had left the church. He got on the pulpit and started insulting someone because they had the audacity to leave. I didn’t have any context, so I decided not to think too much about it. And then other issues started springing up. I realised that every single service ended with two things: fund this ministry and honour me. Every single service. Even if he was talking about something unrelated, he would find a way to bring it back to those two things. That seemed really weird to me too.
A woman in the church was taking these instructions very seriously. You see, Pastor Michael didn’t have a job, and his wife just sold small items, but he had a nice car and lived in a nice neighborhood. How? One church member funded his livelihood. She basically paid for everything he wanted and so, he made her the church secretary.
Then all the brainwashing started unravelling in front of my eyes. I wish I could explain how bad it was. The thing is, the people being brainwashed, like my friend Peter, didn’t even know how bad it was until they left. You know what? I’ll call Peter now.”
“Right now?” I asked.
“Yes.”
After a few tries, we successfully reached Peter. They caught up on old times and laughed about the days of Pastor Michael. And then, Peter spoke about his experiences. Here’s what he had to say:
“I met Pastor Michael at a bible school I was attending. He told me he had a church and invited me.he first service was good. I invited my girlfriend at the time, and we became steady members. He wasn’t so old, the pastor. He’d always talk about how he was a cultist before he met Christ. He was a cool guy.
My first bad experience in the church was when my girlfriend and I got to a workers’ training meeting about three minutes late and he told us to kneel down, raise our hands and close our eyes. Omo, as we knelt, I was just quoting scriptures about honouring one’s leaders in my mind to justify the madness that was happening. He always made his sermons about honouring him.
A few months later, my girlfriend started making plantain chips and they were really good. She took one to him during one service and just like that, it became a tax. Whenever she didn’t bring one when we came to church, he would call her and scold her. I remember thinking, “We’re NYSC corpers earning N19,000 every month and trying to survive. How can you demand so much from us?” It was getting really weird, but we stayed.
Whenever I remember my time at the church, I try to convince myself I wasn’t brainwashed. But then, I remember the time here was a program coming up, and he told us to contribute some money towards making it happen. I told my girlfriend, “Let’s drop N10k each”, and she looked at me like I was crazy. This feels like a good time to point it out again that we were earning N19,000 and that was all. I eventually managed to beg her to drop the money and when we gave it, he looked at us, and the reaction on his face was like, “Is this all you could bring?” He managed to successfully make us feel terrible about giving almost all we had. And here’s the thing: I didn’t give all that money, or convince my girlfriend to give all her money because I wanted to contribute to the program. I did it because I knew that if I didn’t, he would be disappointed, and I didn’t want to disappoint him. Look how that turned out.
I remember the guy who played the piano in the church. He had no money, and he was just struggling to get by. This pastor treated him the absolute worst and spoke to him so poorly. It was terrible seeing someone get treated like that.
When my girlfriend left and my other friends left, I realised I was going to be there alone and so I left as well. I heard from other church members that he was saying terrible things about us behind our backs too. It’s people like this that make people lose faith in God and leave Christianity. I hope he’s no longer there brainwashing people and making them fear him, but I’ll be honest, he was really good at it.”
Our subject for this week is Ronald*, who left Lagos to study at the University of Nigeria mostly to experience a new environment. He was doing that and having the best time of his life until a cultist attack reminded him of his mortality.
Can you tell me a little about Nsukka?
Nsukka is a small, quiet town. There’s not much to do here. The only thing giving it a facelift is that it’s a student-populated area; that’s pretty much the reason everyone goes there.
Did you know this before you decided to study at UNN?
No. I was born in Lagos and lived there my whole life. I’d never been to Nsukka or Enugu before university. My decision to study at the University of Nigeria was born out of a desire to explore. If I could get an education and use the opportunity to live somewhere new, why shouldn’t I take it?
Also, Chimamanda Adichie’s Purple Hibiscus played a role. After my first JAMB which didn’t work out, I had a gap year. During that year, I read Purple Hibiscus. There’s a way Chimamanda described Nsukka that made me fall in love with the place. When I got to Nsukka, I found out that the places she described were real, and that added to the allure of the book. Like how can you make something so vivid?
We all stan Chimamanda; one of the best to ever do it. So you packed your bags and made for Nsukka.
I did, man. I wanted Medicine, but I got another course. I didn’t want to stay at home for another year, and I needed to explore Nsukka as soon as I could. Hehe.
Settling in must have been easy for you.
You could say that. For starters, there was new food to try. I also enjoyed the process of blending in. The language was the only major barrier. My Igbo is not the best and everywhere I turned, people were speaking in Igbo. Yes, I got stuck for some time, but I’m good now.
I also didn’t get to visit home as often as I would have liked. During the first semester breaks, I stayed back because there was no point in travelling back to Lagos to spend only ten days. I guess I made good use of that too because it gave me more opportunities to explore other places in the South-East.
Was homesickness the worst thing though?
Hmm. I wish it was. See, I’ve had it good at Nsukka. The past few years have been magical — until about 4 months ago — when everything took a really tough turn.
This sounds serious. What happened?
A cultist attack.
A what now?
I was attacked by cultists. I wasn’t at “the wrong place at the wrong time” or anything. This happened in my room.
Slow down. How?
The day it happened, a friend came to see me from Abuja. He asked me if someone else could come to see him in the room. He said something about a business transaction; I wasn’t paying a lot of attention. I didn’t think I needed to. I just told him they could come as long as they would be leaving the same night. The guy came and left after a while. That was supposed to be the end of it.
But it wasn’t
No, it wasn’t. Later, there was a knock on the door. We didn’t think there was anything to worry about, so we opened it. And there they were; the guy that came to see my friend earlier and three other people. They barged in and pushed us into the room. They warned us not to make any noise if we didn’t want to complicate the situation.
Did they say what they wanted?
No. It was really confusing. I was rooted to a spot in one corner of the room, not sure of what would happen next. These guys had knives and guns.
By a stroke of luck, I guess, my friend dashed past them and ran outside. The element of surprise worked for him, as it was one guy manning the door. Two of them went after him and the remaining two stayed with me. I was really scared at this point because I knew we’d riled them up. I still didn’t know what they wanted. I panicked and started screaming for help. I thought luck would be on my side too, so I managed to run out of the room. It was all chaotic at best. I screamed for help, literally banging on people’s door, but nobody opened up.
That’s scary.
Finally, someone did and dragged me into his room and asked me what was going on. I briefed him and he was like, There’s something wrong with this story because cultists hardly target people without cause. Anyway, he hid me in his room, but that only lasted for a few minutes as the cultists were looking everywhere for me. They had my friend already and they briefed people in the lodge about what was going on. Eventually, they found and dragged me down the stairs, questioning me and hitting me everywhere they could. It was terrible.
Did you know what they wanted now?
They were asking me questions about my friend’s sexuality. Apparently, my friend hooked up with the guy that came earlier on a dating app. They were beating us because they believed my friend and I were gay.
Whut?!!
My neighbours stood by and watched as everything unfolded without trying to help us. Eventually, the beatings stopped. They ransacked my room, took away my phone, laptop, and most of my clothing. They took my friend with them too.
I couldn’t stay in that house anymore. I packed what I could, moved out and squatted with another friend for some time.
What was that like?
It was terrible. I’d lost almost everything. I was sad and depressed. I missed classes. In fact, I almost deferred the semester. I had this lingering feeling that this was just the first of the attacks, although there hasn’t been any attack since then. Still, I’m always watching my back, suspecting people who stare at me, checking if my door is bolted more than once to ensure it is. This is not a good way to live, literally hanging on to your life, not sure if someone would come out of the shadows and take it.
At some point, I didn’t even care if they attacked anymore. The worst they would do is kill me, and that didn’t seem like a bad thing. Anything just to stop the pain and humiliation that came with it.
Wow. Did you try to involve the police?
Tried that a few days after it happened. I wouldn’t have, actually. But a friend asked me to go somewhere with him. It turned out to be a police station. They sent someone with us to the lodge to investigate. That was when everything got even more complicated.
My neighbours turned the story around and said they met us naked in the room doing all sorts of things with ourselves. That was an opportunity for the policeman to extort me, and he did. He made all sorts of threats and said I needed to pay him if I wanted him to let it go. I paid him some money that night and promised to bring the balance the following week. I knew I had to leave school for a while. I deleted his number and went to Abuja.
Abuja, not Lagos?
I would have to tell my parents the story if I went to Lagos and they would just worry themselves to death. No, I needed to handle it my way.
What about your friend? Is he okay?
I got in contact with him a few days after the attack. He was seriously injured and he said they collected over 200k from him. We both lost a lot; maybe not our lives, but we barely escaped with that too.
This is a lot. How are you living with all this trauma?
To be honest, I’m not sure how I’m pulling through. A lot has changed in me; the littlest things send me into panic these days. I wake up some days disappointed that I’m still alive. There are good days and there are bad ones. The pain is still there, but it’s getting better.
Have you tried talking to anyone about this?
I have. I got tired because none of it helped. There was even this guy from a Human Rights organisation who I was talking to. But he stopped calling me after some time. I’m pretty much alone.
I’m sorry about everything. What about your grades, how badly has this affected them?
I don’t know. I managed to write my exams in the midst of all the craziness, but I don’t think it went well. The results aren’t out yet, so I don’t know. The wait gets overwhelming sometimes, but I’m doing everything I can to stay calm.
Have you made anything out of the whole experience?
I’m not sure I’m supposed to make anything out of it. This is a shitty way to learn a lesson or two. But really, people are trash. They will leave you to your fate when you have a problem. This is one horrible takeaway I’ve held on to.
Has this shifted the way you think about Nsukka?
I can’t let one experience scar me for life. Nsukka is still dear to me. All I want now, though, is to make it out of school in one piece. At the end of it all, I will be fine.
* Due to the sensitive nature of this story, the subject’s name has been changed to protect his identity.
Can’t get enough Aluta and Chill?Check back every Thursday at noon for a new episode. Find other stories in the series here.
Every week, we ask anonymous people to give us a window into their relationship with the Naira.
In this story, a man will do anything legal for money. Like, anything.
Age: 32.
Industry: Informal
When did the hustle start for you?
2005. Inside Main Market, Onitsha. That time, I used to do Striker work–walking around the market and helping people sell clothes. So if they give us cloth for ₦1k, we’ll sell at ₦1,500, and so on.
I was also born and brought up in Onitsha. My parents are Yoruba, but the way hustle carries everybody, that’s how it carried my parents. My father butchered cows, and mumsy was selling food. That time, I could only speak English and Igbo, no Yoruba or pidgin.
I still did a lot of other work in Main Market, like picking plastics. By 4pm every day, we’d start going around the market, picking plastics till 7pm. Our pay was ₦15 per kilo, and one bag of plastic used to be like 10kg.
This was when I just finished SS3.
My actual plan after secondary school was to be a lawyer. And it really started in my mind then because, whenever people were fighting in school. I was the one that used to resolve it. Also, I really loved Government–especially the parts when they’re talking about our history and past leaders.
See, the main reason I didn’t push on with my education was because there was no money. What ruined me was I couldn’t afford to pay for WAEC. Ordinary ₦18k. I would have written with 2004/2005 set. Those days, I think I almost went mad on top of this matter.
So it was when I missed WAEC that year that I entered hustle.
I sold minerals, pure water. Packed gutter. Packed dustbins. I had hands to pack anything that needed to be packed.
What was the moment from those days that you can’t forget?
December 21st, 2007. I used to live with a friend. By this time, my father had already died, and my mother relocated back to Kwara.
My friend had issues with some guys, and those guys were cultists. Me? I didn’t even need to be a cultist, because everyone respected me.
Sha, we went to the guys’ place, and that’s how shouting started, and then fighting.
Later, in the night, my guy was at the junction. Not too long after I told him I was going inside, some men came in a Hummer that night. People who saw the car said it was about 4 guys. They told him to help them locate a place. “Come and show us the place na.” That kain thing. When he entered the car, they drove off. And he was gone. Just like that.
Ehn?
Ritualists. Sha, three days later, Police came, and the gist was “the last person everybody saw him with was his friend.”
In fact ehn, the policemen walked up to me and were asking, “we’re looking for so-and-so.” They were asking me about me.
“He’s not around..” Omo, as they left, I took off. People said if they catch me, it might be death or 25 years in prison.
So I was hiding from place to place, for two weeks. Whenever I stayed long at one place, the guys there will pursue me saying, “abeg be going before Police will come and pack all of us.”
Then my older brother just called me one day and said, “You can’t be here, let’s go to Lagos.”
And so one early morning, before I could even shower or brush my teeth, I was on my way to Asaba. I had only the sweater I was wearing, ₦20 in my pocket, and my phone–a Nokia 1110.
We took a luxurious bus, standing, to Lagos. ₦600. This was January 2008.
Mad o.
You see Lagos? That’s where the real hustle started. We had some family in Lagos, and so when they asked me what I wanted to do, I told them I’d like to learn tailoring. But my uncle had other plans, and that’s how I ended up selling building materials in Mile 12. While I was selling, I started learning how to dismantle things–air-conditioners, freezers.
I did this until the beginning of 2009.
The thing about working iron is that, I had to work under sun and rain, doing the hard work of dismantling for scrap. So even though I was making ₦1k to ₦3k per day, I’d work one month, and fall sick the next month.
So mumsy told me to leave the work. I became jobless for the next 6 months, even though I was constantly looking for work.
One time, I went to Lagos Island, I saw a sign for a shop that needed a sales boy, selling ceramics and pots. I got the job; ₦15k/month. Sales got bad, and I had to leave. So in the end I stayed there from July till December 2009.
I was unemployed for another 5 months. Then in May 2010, I started rolling with this guy who was a trailer mechanic.
I told him straight, “Guy, I’m sure you don’t like how I always ask you for Garri money. I need a job. If you hear of anything, tell me abeg.”
One week after I told him, he called me around midnight. A driver needed a Motor-boy for his trailer. It was a 40-feet trailer–a CR7 Mack. I took it straight. We were picking containers from Apapa Wharf and delivering around Lagos. He used to pay me ₦5k per trip, and sometimes we did up to 5 trips a month.
What does a Motor-boy do?
I wash the trailer, fix the tyres, check engine oil and water levels. Then I also help check my side, for when a driver can change lanes. I tried to get my Oga to teach me how to drive, but he didn’t teach me.
So one day, I called my friend and said, “oya show me Gear 1.” And I started learning small-small. Not too long after that, they sacked my Oga.
The next Oga I had was paying me ₦200, while we were making ₦6k a day. But we were working with a Biscuit company, so biscuit was free at the factory. So, I was living on biscuit and water.
Then I did some work for a man working in the factory, and when he liked what I did, he gave me a job in the factory.
I started there December 26, 2010. The money they were paying was ₦850 per day, every two weeks. I was at the vehicle loading section, because them see say I get strength. I used to compete with one other guy who was bigger than me, over who will load more trailers. We used to load up to 10 trailers a day.
Work was 6-6, but loaders used to close late, sometimes up to 11pm.
So ₦11,900 every two weeks?
When my first pay came in January, omo, I happy die. I went home and was looking at the money. I was like, what if I spend all this money and I end up not having a job again? So I started trying to save ₦5k every month and eating mostly factory biscuits.
But the problem I had was that, because of how hard my work was, I was always hungry. So all the money I was trying to save went back into food.
One day, our boss wanted us to work overtime again. Just after everyone had showered and was ready to leave. It vexed me, because we don’t get paid for working extra. It looked like he didn’t really care about us.
The next day, one trailer driver asked me if I wanted to be his Motor-boy. At first I didn’t agree, but he told me that he’d treat me well. I accepted.
Now, this was when I entered the real road life. December 2013.
One thing I’ll never forget about him is, everything he ate, I ate. Any food he bought for himself, he bought for me.
After Mile 12 days, this was my highest paying job. My first four days, ₦15k. What we were doing was carrying biscuits from this factory that I just left.
Not too long after, they sacked my boss. So I had to get another job. The Biscuit factory moved from Apapa to Shagamu, Ogun State, and I was lucky to get another Motor-boy job.
But I quit that one later.
Ah, why?
One day, he went to go and drink and carry Ashawo. When he came back, he forgot that he left someone sleeping under the trailer to secure the trailer battery and fuel tank. This man just drove off, and was already on his way to Lagos when he remembered me.
Then I got another boss. Really good man. One time someone from his village asked him to come home, he went and never returned.
I worked with more people, and started to relax more. I used to cry a lot when I worked at the factory but now I wasn’t crying.
I was now getting up to ₦70k per month. But the problem with trailer life is that you eat a lot. So na food I dey use am buy.
2015, I made my first trip to the North. We were carrying biscuits across the North; Kaduna, Maiduguri, Gusau.
Then Zaki Biam–ah, they used to rob too much. Armed robbers with checkpoints and military uniforms.
Maiduguri in early 2015, we used to see dead bodies on the road to Maiduguri sometimes. One time, we were parked along a highway and this small truck just packed, offloaded rice. Inside bush o.
Later, another truck came, and there were men. They were wearing military uniforms, and they covered their faces in those turbans and masks?
Who were they?
Omo, me I no know o. Sha, After then, we went to Gusau, to pack oranges for offloading at Ore Toll Gate. I never went back to Maiduguri again, but I won’t forget that journey because, when we got to Kogi, my Oga parked the trailer, came down, and told me to enter the driver seat.
That was the first time I drove my own trailer in my life, and when I got back to Shagamu, I got my first trailer job.
Mad.
So when I started, they were paying ₦20k per month. But we don’t really care about the money they pay us. It’s the money we make on the road that’s the koko–up to ₦80k. It was this period I started saving. Also, I now had my own Motor-boy. I made sure I treated him well.
Nice. How long did you do that for?
Not long. Kasala burst. I had a small room I rented in Shagamu, and there was someone staying with me. I was in Lagos for a family thing. My room caught fire, burnt my neighbour’s room.
How did it happen? I had gas cylinder. The person staying with me cooked noodles. And when he finished, instead of turning off the gas, you know what he did? He just poured water on it. Like a Kerosene stove. But the gas was still open of course.
A few minutes later, he wanted to smoke, and as he used his lighter; GBAO.
Ah.
When I got back home, the person I was staying with had run away, but the Landlord was waiting with Police. They collected all my savings, ₦350k, and they came back for more. But when they came, I done ja. This was April 2017.
I didn’t get another job again for one year. All I was doing was helping people park and shouting twale for change.
But in July 2018, I finally got my current job, selling grilled catfish.
Between 2005 and now, how you see life?
Wait, make I off my cap.
See, life is hard for a poor man. Even worse for a person without a proper handwork. The worst thing is to not have an education. Life is just really hard. There’s a kind of hunger you have when you have very few options in life. Na that one I get.
I struggle to sleep because of all the times I was working on trailers. But the struggle continues.
Only advice my mumsy gives me is, don’t steal. Don’t do rituals.
Some days, she doesn’t even care whether or not I give her money. All she wants to do is hear my voice.
I believe one day, it will be well. If na by who work pass, I no fit carry second. I work for what I eat. My own is, I just want to make it before my mother dies. Because after God, she’s next.
How much is your salary now, and how do you spend it?
I was collecting ₦20k, but now I’ve started collecting ₦25k. See, my spending is straightforward. I save ₦5k. I send my mum ₦5k. I survived on ₦15k and the tips that people give me when they come to buy fish.
I save, just in case anything happens, I can have backup.
How much money is a good salary right now?
₦70k, and I go dey okay. I’ve collected this salary before, but trailer job is different. In a trailer job, we spend money as it comes. We collect money, work a lot, and spend a lot. Because it’s physical work. But I’ve seen how I managed with ₦20k, so ₦70k will be enough now. Also, I’ve done all the types of hard, physical work. I can do office work. I can read and write.
What’s something you want to buy you can’t afford?
Right now? Clothes. And paint, because the room I’m staying, the paint done peel.
What size do you wear?
Shirt size; Small. Jeans; 29-30. Shoes; 40-41.
What do you think about when you think about the future?
Guy, many things. The first thing I want to do is build a house for my mother, I don’t care if I’m living inside one room. When my father died, my spirit could take it. But if my mother dies without me giving her a better life, ah.
Then I want to build a home for homeless people. Free. This is my biggest dream. Just come and live, then we’ll help you get work, so you can also get work for other people.
I want to wipe tears. I want to help people forget, and think of bright things.
Wait, what of that your friend in Onitsha?
Ah, yes. One time when I was a Motor-boy and we weren’t too far from Onitsha, I told my Oga I wanted to go into Onitsha to visit someone. When I went back to the hood, I heard the good news and bad news.
He came back. What happened was that, when he entered that Hummer, he said he didn’t remember anything that happened. But when he finally escaped from where they were keeping them–he escaped with someone–he found out that they were in Shagamu.
The bad news is that, they say when he came back, he moved out of the area not too long after. Nobody knows where he went.
I’ve never seen him since that December 21st, 2007.
The end.
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