“Pack the bags!” “Oh! My mother’s boombox was the only inheritance she left for me”. “Bantoke! Make sure you pack it”. These were my mother’s words when the flood came again.
It was a sunny evening when suddenly the clouds started forming like it was going to fall. Before I could gather my thoughts the rain started. It was inevitable that our properties were not going to get soaked with water. Properties? It is too big a word for a family that lived in abject poverty. Anyways, that’s how we lived in Ajegunle.
My family was not a big one, just my mum, my two sisters and I. We lived in a small room where we did everything you can imagine. It’s a room in a face-me-i-slap-you. I was a young girl in my late teens who had to drop out of school to support my family and my Sibling’s education. Nah me dem dey call “Bantoke oni koko” Ajegunle’s local champion. I accepted my fate and started my Koko business.
Someone mentioned Baba Bantoke just now. Hmm… Baba Bantoke!! He left us to face the travails of life and didn’t look back.
Koko thrives mostly in the morning and at night, these were my selling hours. I sell to the street (my people in Ajegunle) and they love Bantoke’s Koko. As my normal routine, I set out on a faithful Friday night to sell. The street was bubbling. The area boys with their cigerrates as usual were making football bants. Afar off I can sight the suya joint; “Malawi’s Suya”…e no dey disappoint. The girls on the run cannot be left out_ the runs girls, the highlight on the street. With their skimpy dresses and luring make-up, they are indeed irresistible.
Lost in thought of all the peculiarities of the nightlife in Ajegunle. Suddenly, I heard a gunshot at a close range. “The area boys have started…,” “The area boys from Oshodi are here… ” was the last thing I heard.
Do you think Bantoke will survive the attack on their hood?
Air your views in the comment section below 👇