I Owed the Street Queen My Life / Chapter 3: Dead Man Bala
I Owed the Street Queen My Life

I Owed the Street Queen My Life

Author: Jessica Beck


Chapter 3: Dead Man Bala

I ask Uncle Auwalu if e possible to recover wallet wey dem thief for motor park danfo.

The way Uncle Auwalu look me, e be like say I talk say I wan go heaven come back.

"Na your own loss?" Uncle Auwalu shock.

He drop hand, cigarette nearly fall from mouth. Him eye open, na rare thing.

"No be my own, na my friend own." I just form. "You sabi this area, any way dey?"

I dey try talk like say I be street. For my mind, I dey pray make e no ask more question.

Uncle Auwalu reason am. "I fit ask, but make I talk true—e get risk."

He low voice, scratch him head. That kain risk wey fit cost person leg or hand.

Two days later, Uncle Auwalu tell me say he hear say na one local guy, 'Dead Man Bala', dey run things for that motor park line. Any pickpocket for park or bus, na him dey collect first, then share cut.

E talk am with fear. For that axis, once Dead Man Bala hand touch your thing, na only God fit help.

I ask Uncle Auwalu if he fit carry me go see Dead Man Bala.

My leg dey shake as I ask am. Na risk I no dey sure I fit handle, but that pendant matter dey hook my chest.

Uncle Auwalu say, "You wan die? Those boys no dey joke, dem fit do anything."

E glare me. For e mind, e dey count how many people don jam wahala with Dead Man Bala.

I say, "We no dey find trouble, just wan ask. If e work, good. If e no work, we forget. The money for wallet na their own, na pendant I need."

I dey try sound bold. For my mind, na pure cruise. But I no wan fall hand.

Uncle Auwalu vex. "Guy, I never do with those kind people before—I no know how."

His face red. That kain vex wey fear dey mix inside.

I beg am, "Uncle Auwalu, you sabi people for here. If you no help, who go help? I go owe you one."

For Naija, na so you dey collect favour, run package with promise of bigger thing.

Uncle Auwalu finish one stick before he talk, "Okay, I go ask, carry you go. But for there, na me you go dey listen to, no talk anyhow. If e work, fine. If e no work, we waka. You hear?"

I gree. Na so e be. Street get code. My head just dey nod, like lizard wey fall from fence.

For one rough, old face-me-I-face-you, Uncle Auwalu carry me go see Dead Man Bala. The guy just dey sit for torn cushion, cigarette for mouth, dey play cards with four people, others dey watch Big Brother Naija. As we enter, Dead Man Bala slap one guy, "Oloshi. You no sabi who be boss after all these rounds?"

Room thick with ogogoro smell, men dey watch Big Brother Naija for small TV. The air heavy, full of men wey look like dem never sleep for one week. Generator dey hum for background, TV dey shout. The whole scene dey get that thick, Lagos ghetto feel.

Uncle Auwalu rush drop cigarette, greet, "Oga Bala."

E bend small, no too low—just that coded respect wey street men dey use.

Dead Man Bala collect the cigarette, keep am for ear, look up, his eyes sharp like blade.

E dey size us like weyrey. His tattoo for hand dey shine for that dim light, make e look like spirit.

I now understand why dem dey call am Dead Man Bala. E face lean, yellow like old palm oil. But for him left arm, tattoo of one fierce masquerade wey dey hold staff, e just dey shine.

Even the air for there dey heavy. E be like shrine for coded people.

"Na you Musa talk about... Uncle Auwalu?" Dead Man Bala ask, show him teeth.

E voice na one kain, slow but deep. Like person wey fit run you package, come still collect your change.

"No, no, just call me Uncle Auwalu." Uncle Auwalu smile like mumu.

I dey bite lip, dey hide laugh. E fit pee for trouser if e no take time.

"Heh, Uncle Auwalu." Dead Man Bala hiss. "So, wetin you want?"

E cross leg, throw card, dey tap table like kingpin.

Uncle Auwalu explain, then beg small, "Oga Bala, about that wallet..."

He dey wipe sweat. For e voice, fear dey bite am.

Dead Man Bala tap cigarette ash, hiss again. "Uncle Auwalu, you no sabi rules for here, so I no go vex. But make I tell you, to return wetin we don collect, na big taboo. Wetin we chop, we no dey vomit."

For coded world, na rule. Once e land for their hand, na story.

Uncle Auwalu rush talk, "Oga Bala, no be so. Na just ask we dey ask. If e work, good. If e no work, we forget..."

He dey stammer, dey look ground. For room, everywhere quiet.

"Forget wetin? You no hear wetin I talk?" Dead Man Bala eye don red.

Dem dey stare us down. Na that kain moment wey you dey pray make your village people no dey watch.

"Abeg, Oga Bala, we dey go now." Uncle Auwalu try drag me go. I no move, I just look Dead Man Bala straight. "Oga Bala, you fit keep the wallet, na pendant I want. That one no get value for you."

E shock everybody. My mouth dey dry, but I no show am. For my mind, I dey beg God make this risk no go bad.

"Ehen?" Dead Man Bala look me, eye dey squeeze.

E dey try read my face, check if I dey lie.

"Abeg, make we dey go." Uncle Auwalu dey drag my sleeve, I shake am off, still dey look Dead Man Bala. "Oga Bala, abeg, fit give me that pendant?"

The whole room freeze. That one na real ghetto tension. If you drop pin, e go loud. Dem dey look me like say I be mumu.

Dead Man Bala laugh, "You get mind. I go give you one chance. Shorty, bring blade."

His laugh na one kain—like madman wey just win bet. Shorty sharp stand up, blade glint for hand.

One short guy for corner stand up, bring blade. Dead Man Bala say, "Cut one of your finger by yourself—anyone you like. Cut am, I go give you the pendant."

He throw blade for table. Everybody dey look. My heart beat enter my mouth.

I look Uncle Auwalu, him face don white. I reason, then talk, "Abeg, forget, I no want again."

I try no make my voice shake, but sweat dey my nose.

"You say you no want? You feel say you fit waka like that?" Dead Man Bala just kick card table, stand up, point me, shout, "Cut him finger for me!"

Him voice scatter room. Boys jump up, grip me. I dey try struggle, but na waste.

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