Sometime during the week, I paid a visit to Kirikiri Town
after a very long time. I grew up there as a little boy and it was there I had
the fondest memories of my life. As soon as I got into town, word went round
and friends started calling to find out where I was. I hooked up with my
childhood best friend, Patrick, and we decided to take advantage of the
beautiful weather by going for a walk through the town to recall some of our
funniest memories from childhood.
The first thing we laughed about was how Bright Okpocha, the
comedian known as Basketmouth, took us along to steal his father’s fowl. We
were four very close friends who practically did everything together. I lived
in the prison barracks and I was always telling them mouth-watering stories of
how those of us who lived there regularly made chicken pepper soup and plantain
porridge with fowls in the barracks.
I never knew Basketmouth was licking his lips to my stories
all along until he called us one very beautiful morning to steal his father’s
fowl. We got to his family house the next morning and executed the fowl like
trained assassins. Basketmouth and myself were assigned to cook the jollof rice
while Patrick and Godwin (Basketmouth’s immediate older brother) kept watch in
case their mum got back from the market earlier than anticipated. After
cooking, Basketmouth, thinking because he had the biggest eye balls among us
demanded to be given the best part of the chicken.
We wasted no time in reminding him of his age compared with
everyone else’s. We ate everything and thought that we had rid the house of any
evidence that could have incriminated us. We didn’t realise that Basketmouth
forgot to throw away the feathers of the fowl. Later in the day when we were
gathered at another friend’s place recounting our exploits for the day,
Basketmouth’s little brother walked up from nowhere and said their father was
calling all of us. See gobe! We knew instantly that we had been caught and it
was due to Basketmouth’s negligence. The
first thing the old man said when he saw us was “O Bright, you have eaten my
heart.”
We fought back laughter, fearing a double dose of whatever
punishment we had coming. Oh! We teased Basketmouth and his brother Godwin with
that line afterwards. We escaped without punishment. Thank God for his
beautiful mum who pleaded on our behalf because she loved us all like her own.
Patrick and I strolled further down town to the secondary school we attended
and had a good laugh imitating Daddy Showkey, who was our senior in school and
was always walking around the school premises, wearing bathroom slippers. His
uniform was never tucked in but he was always punishing us for ‘flying’ our
uniforms. The junior students dreaded him like hell. We talked about how the
late Evangelist Sunny Okosuns was said to have been a very playful boy in one
of the public primary schools in the town. On our way to the prison yard, we
passed by the house where Rev. Kris Okotie grew up.
We talked about life in the prison barracks and how being
the son of the chief warder of the maximum security prison gave me the
opportunity to meet very influential Nigerians in the prison yard. I remember
my dad taking me to say hello to General Shehu Yar’Adua one evening after his
lawn tennis game. I watched him play lawn tennis almost every evening in the
yard in his impeccable white shorts and T-shirt. And there were always a
handful of prisoners helping with the stray balls. I witnessed the General yell
at an overzealous prisoner who dashed into the court unnecessarily to retrieve
a loose ball.
I also told my friend how Major Al Mustapha jokingly asked
me what crime I had committed to be in the yard. I quickly informed him that I
was the son of the chief warder. Till date, Major Al Mustapha is regarded as
the best thing to have happened to the inmates of Kirikiri Maximum Security
Prison by the inmates. He uplifted the spirits of the inmates by sponsoring
various activities in the prison yard. He sponsored the prison football team
and helped so many of the inmates gain their freedom. I always saw him seated
by the side of the field cheering the players. Sometimes in the company of
General Bamaiyi and Colonel Gwadabe, who were also inmates at the time.
Other high profile inmates in the yard at that time were
Fred Ajudua and Ade Bendel. Ade Bendel also rocked the prison yard with his
swag. While other inmates wore ordinary prison uniforms, his was made of jeans
and a well tailored shirt to match. They loved him like crazy for his
benevolence. He built a hall for the prisoners and invited Basketmouth to
perform. Basketmouth was scared to go alone and he asked me to accompany him,
which I did.
We talked about life outside the barracks when my dad
retired. How Yakubu Aiyegbeni moved in with a friend living in my compound. We
always ‘yabbed’ him as he walked about the compound with his big ‘yansh.’ Till
date, we are still amazed how he played so brilliantly and effortlessly with
such a body size.
Sunday Oliseh was a member of our senior football team.
Members of the junior team were made to pick balls while the senior team
trained. Coach Fanny Amun came to town at different times to plead with the
father of a member of our senior team to play for him. That happened after a
game the senior team of the town played against the national under 17 team,
coached by Fanny Amun.
We also talked about how Victor Okechukwu Agali, who was
known in Kirikiri Town and Satellite Town as “Okey Banana” made it from hawking
bananas in the streets to playing football for Schalke 04 in Germany.
And how happy we were collecting tips from Samson Siasia to
watch over his car whenever he visited his brother who was doing time in
prison. We talked about how we used to listen to team mates laugh about how
they tortured Osaze Odemwingie while they played football at the Pepsi Academy.
Back then, every player in our team had a crush on Ann Echiejine, the first
goalie for the Falcons. She was a member of the town’s female football team.
She joined us in training regularly and she became better for it. It seemed
training with the male team improved her skills tremendously. We were always
very happy to have body contact with her on the pitch.
I got back home that night, played a compilation CDs of old
Nigerian reggae music and slept with the thought of how Victor Essiet got
married to the late Becky Umanah, a girl from Kirikiri Town and they both
became The Mandators
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