Part 1: Introducing Choucho

A bucket was kicked viciously away from the line that had formed by the side of the water tap.

Instant outrage ensued.

Voices were raised, and a few bodies were shoved in anger.

This scenario played out almost every morning, and the residents of Koso Street were used to it. In the huge melee, Irone got down to work briskly. He pushed away all the buckets and basins that were lined up beside the public tap and assumed authority, ably supported by his goons, Gbenga and Sesan, who had mounted sentry like the jobless miscreants they were.

Curses and abuses flew every which way, dished out by irate residents who had queued to fetch water and were angered by the sudden illegal “public tap government” that Irone had formed. Gbenga and Sesan growled menacingly, a warning to anyone who complained or tried to defy Irone’s tap regime.

“All the fine gehs, make una come range una bucket for this side!” Irone announced importantly, “and boys, make una go range una buckets and baffs for that side.”

“Say who die?” Korku, a boy of about 18, asked angrily.

“Say your papa die… and if you nor follow instructions, we go mend you for here now-now,” Gbenga growled his reply, flexing his muscles through his dirty, Lycra jersey that had seen better days.

“Mendici nii…” Korku replied cheekily and was shoved away viciously by Sesan, who was determined to show everyone that defiance would be met with violence.

A mad scramble ensued between Sesan and Korku. Gbenga and Irone had to intervene by yanking Korku away from Sesan after dishing him a few slaps as a reward for his insolence.

“Even Alhaja wey build this tap for us no do reach like dis!” Nkoli, the 13-year-old daughter of Oga Chemist, lamented.

“Na ogun go kee you dia! If people dey complain, you and your full family nor suppose even talk because una nor qualify as resident.

“Bro Irone, make we fetch water na? I done dey here dey wait since morning. Mai-pa go tink say I dey play ball,” an irritable 16-year-old Nafiu complained, and this led to more grumblings and complaints from others.

Despite the confusion and noise, a few pliant girls had submitted to Irone’s regime without complaint and quickly lined their buckets and basins just like he’d instructed. They needed water, and they were willing to obey him just to fill their buckets and leave the public tap.

One such girl was Chekwube, popularly known as Choucho.

Chekwube was one of the hottest baddies on Koso Street. Her beauty was not measured by her face, stature, brains, height, skin color, or other such aesthetic criteria. No, Chekwube’s beauty was strictly measured by the activity of her v@gina.

Her father had been stripped of his manliness and head-of-house title when he lost his job as a Hotel Manager in a No-Star, barely-above-ashawo joint, hotel. The energy to seek another job vanished along with his job loss, so he did what every lazy man in the hood did; turned ‘born again’ and stuck at it till he became someone relevant enough to get their Pastor’s trust and inadvertently, a Church salary.

Mama Choucho sold Ugu at the junction market. It was rumored that half the time, she sold more of herself than ugu because she frolicked with a few of the Ekene Dili Chukwu bus drivers and motor boys at the First Gate transportation park, but no one had any concrete proof.

Chekwube’s two older sisters had struggled to finish secondary school.

The oldest, Udochika, realized early enough that schooling wasn’t for her. One day, out of sheer boredom, she decided to entertain herself by listening to the prophecy of a wandering woli who had told her that “God said that her destiny was in Europe.” The next day, Udochika decided to start chasing her European dream by selling her body to raise funds. After being duped twice by spurious travel agents introduced to her by Harold, the accursed son of their landlord, she settled for Ghana. The family only ever heard from her during Christmas.

Ogochukwu, the second-born and second daughter, was the prettiest. At a young age, she easily got the attention of boys and men in the hood. After her secondary school, it was only right that she latch on to a wealthy guy, whose main business was unknown but drove several big and expensive cars and traveled abroad often. When he was courting Ogo, he was very nice and financially generous to their family. He impregnated Ogo and asked her to move in with him, promising to ‘close road’ after Ogo had delivered the baby. The party he proposed was supposed to be a two-in-one affair: marriage and naming ceremony. Ogo was now heavily pregnant with her second child, and there was still no ‘closing road’ in sight. She only ever showed up at their house to cry to their mother that her husband beats her and blames her for the downturn of his business.

The third-born, Ifeanyi, was focused. He was intelligent, painfully shy, and was greatly embarrassed by his family. He finished secondary school and almost immediately got a job at the Biscuit factory at Iyana Itire. His plans for his life were simple… Save enough money, attend Unilag, and stay as far away as possible from his family. His emotional disconnect was so deep-seated that his father was surprised he still bore their last name.

Then there is Chekwube. She’d discovered the joys of s£x at the tender age of thirteen and quickly realized that it was something that could yield her the attention she lacked at home. Everyone was too busy being Godly, selling Ugu, plotting travel moves, getting pregnant, or hating the family to realize that the baby of the house was skipping school to meet with men in motels. By the time they knew, it was already too late. No one in the house dared question, hit, or reprimand Chekwube. Once, Ifeanyi had slapped her because he’d heard from a reliable source that she was spotted at a hotel in Alakija. Ifeanyi had ended up spending the night in Agboju police station, thanks to one of Choucho’s many unrelated ‘uncles.’ Such was the power of her v@gina. Despite her freedom, she was still the quiet, respectful last-born of the family. She rarely raised her voice at anyone and often carried out her chores without complaints.

She, it was, who had forked out money for them to upgrade from a room and parlor to a two-bedroom flat.

She, it was, who had bought the family a 2.8kVA Firman generator and had rewarded her mother’s unwavering support with a small deep freezer. Her mother deserved it because the older woman stood by her last child, through several abortions and prayer house visits.

Her mother was her rock.

Her father was inconsequential.

Irone, always wanting to do Chekwube a favor so he could get one in return, quickly grabbed her buckets from the line and began to fill them up at the tap even when it was not yet her turn.

“Choucho… Dis wan wey I dey do for you na favor o” he told her jeeringly.

“Thank you,” came Chekwube’s dry response.

“Nor be ‘tank you’ matter o…” Irone pressed on, nonplussed.

“Ok, no vess… How much?” Chekwube was getting irritated.

Her response gnawed at Irone’s fragile ego, and he had to let her know that he wasn't joking around.

“Which kain rough play be dis nah? I be like mairuwa for your eye? How much you feel say you fit gimme for water wey I hep you fetch?” He barked loudly. A few people around chuckled mockingly, and Irone felt publicly humiliated by Chekwube’s ingratitude.

“Hian!!! Wetin you want nah? I say thank you, you say no. I say how much, you dey rake. Make I draw my blood for you because you hep me fetch water?” Chekwube was now fully irritated by Irone’s behavior.

“You know wetin I want. No dey form virgin for here…” Irone told her with a sly smile.

Chekwube smiled back at him, a wide grin that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She waited for him to fill her buckets, then she reached for them. Irone anticipated her move and stopped her by holding her hands.

“Choucho, we never conclude nah… You wan carry water go when you never talk better,’ Gbenga and Sesan chuckled at Irone’s creepy insistence.

Chekwube’s eyes flashed fire instantly. She shoved Irone away roughly, picked up her buckets, and emptied the contents into the nearest buckets around her. The owners of the buckets yelped a happy “Thank You Choucho” as Chekwube carried her now-empty buckets and turned to leave.

The pockets of chaos that had been happening around them stopped abruptly as Irone spluttered angrily.

“See am, ashawo!!! Una full family na ashawo. From your mama o to all your sisters… Ashawo”

Gbenga gasped and pulled Irone to a corner. “Irone, e be like say you wan sleep for cell. Shey you know say Agboju D.P.O na one of her blessers?”

“She nor fit do anything! I go f*ck am up before D.P.O go show. Nor be today. Eediot.” Irone ranted out loud, ashamed that Choucho had openly rebuffed his not-so-smooth advances.

Chekwube didn’t turn back or reply to him. This was not the first time she and her family were going to get cussed out in the open. It probably wouldn’t be the last. She was used to it. It didn’t hurt her. While they abused and called her all sorts of names, she was quietly perfecting her plans. At the tender age of 20, Chekwube had huge dreams and was quietly ticking off her bucket list one at a time.

She had managed to move her parents into a 2-bedroom flat. Check!

She had a plot of land at Isashi that only her brother, Ifeanyi, knew about. Check!

She planned to enroll in a diploma course at Unilag in September. Pending!

She had plans to buy a small car for herself. Pending!

She was also planning to travel to South Africa in 2months. Pending!

Soon, the same people who called her names would worship the ground she walked on. But first, she had to strategize on how to tick off more things on her list. 

To help her achieve her plans, the fates threw in Cosmos.