Chapter 1: NEW TENANT

‎It was early Tuesday morning. Baba Olomi; the landlord of No. 14 Idozi Street stepped onto his veranda in his oversized agbada, hands on hips, and cleared his throat like a town crier announcing war.

‎"RENT DAY OO!!"

The compound froze. Frying oil stopped popping. A radio went quiet mid-commentary.

Mama Ngozi; a plantain seller whose business have not been going well due to the rainy season, came out of her room first with wrapper tied on her waist whilst sweat dripped from her face.

"Baba, abeg no vex. Business no too good this week. Ever since this rain start, business no dey move like before" she said shakily with hands clasped together 🙏🏻

‎"Rain?" Baba Olomi clapped his hands.

‎ "Mama Ngozi, that rain wey you dey talk, na him i go use take feed my family?

‎"Why I  never tell NEPA one day say 'oga, sorry o, na rainy season, come collect your money after the rain'... "Why you come dey spit that nonsense excuse from your mouth ehh, Mama Ngozi?"

‎"See" he said angrily while shaking his fingers at her face, " you better fetch me my rent money now if not, you no go like wetin I go do oo".

‎

‎Behind him, Sunday the houseboy bit his lip to stop laughing. Baba Olomi, without even turning, landed a slap on the back of his head.

‎"You no get work, abi?

‎Sunday winced in pain.

‎"Comot for here before I descend on you, nonsense"

‎Sunday quickly ran out do his chores regretting why he pokenosed into their conversation.

‎Mama Ngozi tried again, softer. "Baba, abeg  just three days. I go balance everything completely".

No forget the money for the two buckets of water wey you dey owe me oo, I know say you no go remember that one 😏"

‎"Ahh, Baba but na small water I fetch na."

‎"Small water?" He raised a finger. "If e no small for me to pump, e no small for you to pay. Bucket dey wear, rope dey cut.

‎ Somebody must maintain am and that person na me."

‎Tailor Bassey, mending a shirt nearby, muttered, "This man never tire. This early morning, he don dey ask for rent, thank God say I don pay my own complete".

‎His wife replied without looking up, "Na so he dey do, I just dey wait for the day person go show am pepper, rubbish".

‎

‎Baba Olomi folded his arms, studying Mama Ngozi like a market woman checking mango for rot. Then his face softened, just a fraction.

‎"Friday," he said.

‎Relief washed over Mama Ngozi's face.

‎"But if Friday reach and I no see kobo, I go padlock your door with my own hand, and feed your soup to Bingo." He nodded at the fat dog under the guava tree, who lifted his head as if he understood exactly what was promised him.

‎"Yes sir. Thank you, sir."

‎"Abeg swallow your thank you and pay me my money."

‎

‎

‎That evening, as the sun painted the rooftops burnt orange, a young educated man  arrived at the gate;  sweat-soaked shirt, one battered suitcase and eyes that had seen more struggle than his age should allow.

‎"Good evening, sir. Please I am looking for a place to stay. Someone told me along the way that there's vacancy here".

‎Baba Olomi looked him up and down, slowly, like an inspector checking goods at the port.

‎"Wetin be your name?"

‎"Chidi, sir."

‎"Chidi. Make I tell you something before you enter my compound. When rent day reach and I no see my  money, I no go listen to your big big grammar oo, you go simply pack your load from my house.

‎ You understand?"

‎"I understand, sir."

‎"Good." He gestured toward the low stone wall behind the house, where a bucket and rope sat coiled like a sleeping snake. "That well na my second business. If you  wan fetch water, you go pay. Even rain wey fall from heaven, the moment e touch my ground, na my water. No free water for this compound."

‎"Sir, you mean I would also pay for water in the same house I pay rent?" Chidi asked, surprised.

‎"You agree abi you no agree" Baba Olomi said, nonchalantly.

‎

‎Chidi wanted to leave but he realized he had no where else to go to. He had been searching for an abode for months but all to no avail. When he finally heard of a Vacancy in Baba Olomi's house, it felt like a miracle.

‎"I agree, sir " he replied, with an unsatisfactory look.

‎From behind a curtain, Mama Ngozi watched, shaking her head, murmuring words every soul in that compound already knew by heart.

‎"Ah. Another one don enter lion den, God help him 🙏🏻.

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