Koboko

Chapter Three : The Yoruba Man

Solomon Grumpy called at 5 a.m to inform me about a clue to the next Intel that could bring us closer to unravelling the Koboko identity.

It was an information too good to discard, indeed.

According to him, there was an assassin on the loose. The news stated that he broke out of prison with two other top criminals.

The police could not find them as they had suddenly morphed into the population without a trace.

I didn't understand the term morphed as it was perhaps another term the lazy security people called hiding.

Solomon's suggestion was that if we could find anyone of the escapees, we could see Koboko in action and maybe get a first hand view about him.

Not only did Solomon suggest that we look for the escapees, he had also included the current location of one of the escapees.

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The rains started like trouble gently rising to its peak.

Despite this challenge, Nigraville wasn't totally dull. Some people dared to engage the rain in a trip or two. They'd find a place to take cover when the clouds shots retaliating darts until she was satisfied for a moment. She's resume the same strokes until she got tired.

Unfortunately, Solomon Grumpy and I happened to take cover in Enoise Gas Station. We were heading towards the next Gossip, I suppose.

It is important to know that there were really fancy and convenient transportation means in Nigraville, and one of them aside the Cab services, were the Mator Cycles, Tricycles Transport, Town Shuttles and well, your legs.

On this rainy day, I hurriedly set out for Solomon's house. We had a thing or two to talk about.

From his house we boarded a Mator cycle after endlessly calling the cab services. The tricycles were all busy and since the rains were not presenting any signs of stopping soon, we had to take the chance with the Mator cycle. Afterall, we shuttled between districts in Nigraville when we were younger either with the Mator cycle service or our legs. Invariably, there was no shame in setting out old-school.

The gossip was stupendously inviting and we really had to get there regardless the condition of things.

We were not alone at the gas station. Other riders and passengers came in to join us and darn, it was a beautiful rendition of stories.

A serious political conversation ensued between a yoruba man and the rider that he boarded.

"See, my brother, don't delve chronically into such flagrantly sensitive matters without a condom view of the situation evoked!" The yoruba man exclaimed. "The condition in Nigraville is solidly smooth as far as I am verbosely concerned."

Oh my God! This guy was nailing seeds of words into my infant vocabulary. Lol.

"Smooth, how? When there is epileptic  power supply and inflation in prices of regular commodities? How can you day things are smooth?" The bike rider inquired.

"See, my brother...." ok. At this auspicious time, I started making comments and they were not funny comments. I just had to react in my mind, so I don't get involved. They continued their conversation as Solomon and I watched and listened carefully.

"Chief! Nigraville is bad. The common people cannot afford to live comfortably. The system is not working" the rider interjected. Wow! Nigraville had a system? I never knew about that until now.

"How can you apply audacity into hypothesizing that the system is not working or functional?" The Yoruba man countered his question. "If it doesn't work for Mr. A doesn't laboratorily mean that the system is not working".