That evening, when Baba Lati saw Francais Aigbe’s dark blue 2013 Honda CR-ZB parked by the shoulder of the expressway with its bonnet held up, he had no reason to stop the car he was driving and help out; it was especially not wise as this was a lonely stretch of the expressway where unsavory elements roamed freely. But he noticed a dejection about the apparently well-to-do man, a certain helplessness that was accentuated by his sweat-soaked pink cotton shirt.
So he stopped.
Francais was wary, some men who had offered to help him, some minutes ago, had robbed him of his wallet, money, phones, computers and tabs.
But they quickly warmed up to each other, and after a peek under the bonnet, Baba Lati, who had done some apprenticeship as a Mechanic in his younger years, knew the problem with the car could not be fixed there; they needed professional help.
Luckily, Baba Lati had a lengthy piece of rope in his car and offered to tow the car into the next town, where he lived and was headed to.
They got to work and in no time, they had both cars hitched together and then began the not-quite-long drive into the town.
XX
Francais Aigbe had no money to pay the mechanic and the few banks in the town were already closed; but he needed the car repaired immediately, he was on a customary year-end tour around the regional depots of his company, to access sales practices, the state of infrastructure and motivate the staff. Most of those depots were in provincial towns without airports so he couldn’t fly and his driver had suddenly taken ill on the eve of the trip; he could have postponed the trip, but then he wanted it done before Christmas came and the holiday spirit hampered objective observation. That was why he was driving himself and going through all of this unplanned stress alone.
As he listened to the mechanic detail the faults and expense, he was mentally kicking himself for not delaying the trip till his driver was well. So he did not immediately hear the mechanic make a summation of how much money he needed to get the work started.
“Mr. Francais?” Baba Lati said, tapping him.
“Huh.”
“Are you Okay?”
“Not really, I was wondering where I would get the money to pay him.”
Baba Lati smiled.
“Don’t worry, Seye is my friend, I’ll give him the money so that he can start work on it, and he will do it well, as you are someone I brought to him myself.”
“Are you saying you are going to pay for the repairs of my car?”
“Ehn, shebi you said you were robbed and you don’t have any money with you, abi? And it’s like you are in a hurry, so I will pay for it. Seye will not charge us too much.”
The surprise was clear on his face.
“Baba Lati, how can I ever say thanks. This is so kind and nice of you. I can take it as a loan, and pay you back…”
“Loan ke? Ogbeni, don’t worry yourself. This is nothing, you are a man in need and I can help so that is what I am doing, abi? Is that not why we are on earth together? To help one another ni.”
“God bless you bountifully, Baba Lati.”
“It is nothing.” Baba Lati said, as he began to count the cash for the mechanic, Seye’s use.
“Thank you so much.” Aigbe enthused.
As soon as he paid Seye and reminded him to do a quick, good job, Baba Lati started moving away. But he noticed Francais was loitering behind, not following him.
“Mr. Francais, let’s go, now.”
Francais aigbe turned to Baba Lati, not sure where he was meant to go to
“Baba, where?”
“Ah-Ah, my house now. Or where do you think you are going to stay overnight?”
“My God…” Aigbe whispered, lost for words “You just paid for my car repairs and you still want me to impose further on your generosity?”
“Which one is impose now, oya jor, let’s go. I am the one inviting you, I have space, so let’s go quickly. Dinner will just be getting off the fire, maybe we can still meet it hot.”
For a split second, Francais wondered if there was an ulterior motive to all of these kindnesses; such things from altruistic hearts was so rare in this world. But he shoved his reservations away and obediently followed Baba Lati.
XX
The boy waited behind the door for one of the attendants to bring him his late breakfast; he crouched and flexed his muscles in anticipation. He knew his chances of escape were slim but he would go down fighting.
His wait was long but he was patient: when the door eventually swang open, he was ready.
He let it open a while and with all the force in his body, drove the door back to hit and pin the attendant to the post.
The food in the attendants hands clattered to the floor, the water meant for the boy to drink spilled all about, and created a slippery surface on the marble floor. As the boy stepped into it, he slipped forwards to the door, making his move faster than he’d anticipated. The attendants body, which was still trying to adjust to the attack, acted as a buffer taking all the impact of the boy’s fast slip. His head went into the attendants mouth, breaking a couple of teeth, and injuring the boy’s head too.
But the boy did not notice the bleeding on his head, instinct took over as he let go of a savage kick at the attendant’s groin. The man crumpled over, and the boy leapt over him. He started running down the hall and through any exit doors or stairs he happened on. The doors led him through the kitchen, and in a moment of inspired insight, he grabbed a knife, stuck it in his trouser-waist and raced on.
No one confronted him as he ran through the house, but that didn’t register for him, he just kept running. He did not know that on the other side of the compound he was in, a ritual was taking place; some unfortunate person was being killed in a money-making rite.
He finally came out of the house and ran for the gate; a gateman saw him coming and came out of his gatehouse to head him off. He kept running at the gateman, and at the last minute, when it seemed collision was unavoidable, he pulled out the knife. Before the gateman could react and get out of the looming boy’s figure, the knife struck home, at his left chest.
The boy paused horrified by the sickening squish of the knife entering the man’s body , but he recovered quickly, pulled the knife out as the man hit out at the boy with his right arm, making to grab him.
By the whiskers, he got the knife out, saw the blood fount burst after it and had some splash on him. He took the knife, sidestepped the fatally wounded gateman and ran for the gate.
He was out of the compound onto a dirt road that started somewhere far in front and ended in front of the gate. All about the house was a dense thicket, the seclusion was forbidding.
But he did not wait. He ran for the bush and began his journey forwards and out through the trees and shrubs.
XX
Francais Aigbe loved staying at the Tropical-View Hotel when ever he was in this town; there was something relaxing about the quiet and the view of a mini virgin forest it provided from the room windows and penthouse sun-roof.
That was why leaving it always felt like losing something precious and important; maybe that is how babies feel when leaving there mother’s womb, hence the hollering.
Things could be worse, but the great kindness Baba Lati had showed him two days ago had renewed his faith in humanity, the car was good now, but it was a crying shame things ended the way they did when he left. He had been praying that God would restore Baba Lati’s loss back, sort of like a Christmas gift. That was all he could do now, pray, so he would finish the tour on time and get back to his family in Lagos for Christmas and new year festivities.
He started his car and began to back out of the opened gates; as he was almost out, he felt his car hit something behind. He wasn’t sure it did, but he came down to see it; the gateman at the gate followed him, curious as to why he stopped the car midway into being out.
There, on the floor, lying in an almost unconscious state, was the bruised, dirty figure of a boy who couldn’t have been more than 15 years old.
The trip had taken another unexpected turn; things, really, had gotten worse.
XX
Francais was almost dozing off when he thought he saw a flickering of the boy’s eyes; he leaned forward to be sure.
The boy’s eyes opened, unfocused eyes, he looked dazed.
“Hello.” Francais greeted. “How are you feeling?”
The boy hitched up towards the voice, waves of fear and confusion, coming from him.
“Relax, don’t worry, you are in a hospital.” Francais assured.
The boy looked around, saw the drip fixed into his arms, and visibly relaxed.
“Good. So what’s your name?”
The boy told him, his voice very quiet, Aigbe strained to hear it. The name sounded familiar, he wasn’t sure.
“Where are you from, because it seems they don’t know you in this town.”
The boy told him. He finally understood why the boy’s name sounded familiar. He smiled.
“Tell me, what happened to you.”
The boy began to narrate how he was kidnapped while on an errand for his mother and the events of his escape.
He told his story in the whimpering, simple tone of a scared teen and began to sob as he remembered what he’d been through.
Midway into the story, a nurse came in and insisted the boy be allowed to rest.
The police had been informed and came in the evening to visit and take statements.
Francais stayed with the boy overnight as the hospital treated his wounds, the exhaustion, dehydration and mild starvation he’d gone through.
Francais paid the bills too, he had learned kindness from a stranger, and now he too would show kindness.
XX
Dusk was spreading its tent as Baba Lati sat in front of his house, frustrated and overcomed with sorrow.
Three days ago when he had come home with that man whose car got spoilt, he had been told what happened.
He had left the man at home and rushed to the police station to report, but since the police had nothing to go on except the parents report, they had referred him to the state capital. He’d gone there every of the last two days, had gotten his report taken but there had been no progress on the case. Infact, the police officer in charge of the investigation had started to avoid his incessant calls.
He was heartbroken; how could he end the year on such a tragic note?
As he thought so, a blue car drove drown the road at a fair pace, raising a small wave of dust; it was when the car had almost reached the front of his compound that Baba Lati recognized it as that stranger – Aigbe’s car.
He sat straighter, mildly surprised. The man had not been as concerned as he ought to be about what happened to his family, that trip of his had been foremost on his mind and once his car was ok, he’d left. Baba Lati had felt slightly stung by that, but just waved it off mentally.
Maybe he was here to make-up for that, and although he did not need sympathy right now, having him show he cared would not be so bad.
The car parked at the gateless entrance of the compound, and a policeman stepped down from the front passenger seat and looked around, appraising his environment with something of a restless curiousity. The left back door opened but no one came down; Francais Aigbe got out from his driver’s seat and moved quickly to the open back door to help someone seated there down.
Baba Lati rose up promptly from his chair when he saw who the someone was.
The someone was Lateef, Baba Lati’s only son and the cause of the gloom that filled the house.
He had gone missing three days ago after he was sent on an errand. Now, here he was getting out of Aigbe’s car limping, a bandage around his right leg, with a policeman in tow.
Baba Lati wanted to rush out to embrace his lost-but-found son but he had to be dignified and he had to understand how this happened.
As he walked towards his visitors, someone from the house must have seen Lateef as there was a joyous shout behind him and the whole, previously quiet house erupted into shouts and running feet.
Baba Lati tried to wave his family back, but they ignored him, ran past him to welcome their brother home.
He walked up to the poker-faced cop and a beaming Francais to converse with them.
“Welcome Officer, Mr. Francais, Good morning, this is wonderful. How did it happen?” He said, pointing towards his clustered family.
“Oh, God’s providence.” Aigbe offered, before beginining a narration of the kidnap, to the boy stumbling to his car, the hospitalization and the police involvement;the policeman corroborated when necessary.
When the explanation finished, Baba Lati politely shook the hands of the police officer, then hugged Aigbe tightly, some tears escaping his eyes.
“Officer, thank you for coming, will you like to stay or you are leaving this evening.”
“I will be leaving, Baba.”
“In that case we’ll drive you to the bus-stop, but take this, as an expression of my appreciation – for your transport fare.” Baba Lati said, as he reached into his pockets and counted out some wads of note which was about 10 times the transport fare from the town to the cop’s base.
“As for you, Francais, drive your car inside and park properly. Our christmas is starting early and you will stay till tomorrow.”
“But I have a…”
“Ehn yes, your trip. I am postponing it for one day. I hope you can handle your alchohol because, we are going to drink looong into the night.”
Francais Aigbe started laughing, “Well, I guess I can stay one night…”
“Guess? It is certain, Oya go and park properly. When we come back I will welcome my son properly.” Baba lati said, dragging Aigbe towards his car.
“Mama Lati,” he called, behind, to his wife who had lifted the embarrased Lateef into the cradle of her arms “Send one of the girls to my shop, one of my apprentice boys should come and help you kill an Ogufe goat; prepare it before we come o!”
When he had dragged Francais some ways to his Honda car, he tried to thank him.
“Francais, Thank you very much. God will bless you in ways you cannot imagine.”
“Ah, I should thank you. You taught me what kindness to strangers is and that was why I helped the boy, not knowing he was even your son.”
“As i told you before, Is that not why we are on earth together? To help one another ?”
“Yes, that is why. Merry Christmas in advance” Francais said, shaking with laughter.
“And to you too, Oya, quick, park your car. Let’s make the Christmas merry.”
(Dedicated to those celebrating Christmas: share love and kindness)
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