Koboko

Prologue

Every justice story has a unique posh to it, and this was way out of line.
Godwin Obaseki had just turned 59 and it was clear to him that the generation he would soon hand over to were extremely carefree and perceptively wayward. He had to do something about it else, there'll be a sudden outbreak of moral catastrophe.
He felt indiscipline in its minute and strangely large way should be the dread of the day. Back in the days, as a Naval recruit/shipman, he could still bring to his consciousness the entire encyclopedia of discipline melted down on him and his colleagues.
He mostly valued the days it became his turn to lash the newer recruits with the cache of discipline as the new Captain. He could go on and on swelling in his thoughts from how he worked his way up the ranks.
He rummaged around his mind thinking of how to get people and things in line as he intended to straighten the lives of the "immorals" (as he had referred to them) .
I was particularly riddled with unquestionable thoughts as he made me compulsorily sit and listen to his rants. And oh dear! I had to listen to him talk. Every time I dared to lose focus, he had a beautiful whip close by that he'd use to set my focus aright.
Despite been focused, I've had in total, so far, 9 strokes, each more painful and reassuring than the last. He'd say upon each whip "You're lucky I'm out of service, weak and feeble".
I was rather unfortunate when these thoughts crossed my mind the very first time the whip saluted my back "Damn! For God's sake I'm twenty years old. You're worse than those in service..." That alone was utterly a distraction on its own and I was greatly rewarded with another stroke. But grace was certainly against me when I shouted "Jesus!" and a third stroke complemented my energetic shout and just like it happened in the Bible with Jesus, power left me as the whip landed safely on my back once more.
Grace eventually came back to my rescue as that third stroke made me say the words I was never taught, "Yes sir! Noted sir!". Those words calmed the ceremonies of whipping that had commenced and he continued on and on in his explicit narrative. Those same words were the pacifiers each time a stroke landed afterwards.
Suddenly, I heard the honking of a familiar vehicle, and the sound clearer as it got closer. It was my parents. They had come to pick me up from Admiral Obaseki's house. Other parents had come to pick their children several hours ago. I wondered what had taken them so long.
This was a unintentional mistake. I had lost focused again, just at the last minute. I was clearly thinking of how free I would be, never retuning to his house ever again, so much to really discuss in my mind. There it came. A resounding stroke from the whip came lashing out like lightening resting carelessly on a tree so much that it split my mind in two. One mind in pains and probably tumbling and wailing within, and the other mocking, dancing and was like 'I told you not to get distracted and you didn't listen'. It was epic.
My minds were totally divided. But when I came to, my legs were strangely exhausted, in fact, I was totally exhausted. I couldn't cry no more, couldn't mutter much only desperate gasps for air.
I was finally home, with my parents. Then with the freedom at last to wonder and ponder, I started. How did I get home?
I began an academic review of the events that took place after the last stroke. I remember my father walked in and had a little chat with the Admiral. I remember the Admiral mention something about me been well behaved. I remember been led to the car. I remember some questions been asked by my parents. I remember responding 'Fine' to all their questions. Indeed I was exhausted. However, there was something missing.
I could remember that the sitting room was neatly arranged by all of us, the Admiral made sure of that before our parents started filing in and stealing us away. I remember that was before the inaugural lecture that produced the first stroke.
But before I left, I remember the place was all in a mess. The chairs were turned upside down, everything was just in fact out of place.

The pieces: neatly arranged sitting room became messy just after the last stroke. My legs were strangely exhausted. Who would be so insane to run around the whole place leaving everything he touched more out of place than the other before?

Then putting all the pieces together I could only suspect one thing which was still unclear and mysterious.

Two days after, the Admiral travelled to only God knows where. We all were happy,  excited. What alarmed us was the fact that our parents were the most excited of us all. They celebrated like never before. We were curious to inquire and they all said, "The Admiral had asked us leave our kids with him for proper home bringing services, most of us disagreed. But suddenly, we agreed. That's all."

When the celebration of his departure time the unknown had dies down, we all agreed to have a blessed night rest.

The following morning, a beautiful Saturday morning, my father tuned in to the local news channel. After a few popular news of insurgency, price inflation of the commonly enjoyable food stuff, and so on, we were amazed at the next news as it streamed out of the newscaster's mouth. "Four robbers caught stealing and mercilessly dealt with by a new vigilante called 'Koboko'. Locals say a superman like no other just showed up in Nigraville..." It was unanimously interesting but at the same time disturbing as the criminals had marks on their bodies only acquired from whips. Like who beats up criminals with whips? Lame, right? That's like the weirdest technique or powers ever.

My father prayed it was not the Admiral
and so did I. However, I began an undercover investigation to find out who Nigraville's vigilante was, who exactly Koboko was.

My name is Navar Curtis. I'm 20 years old. I'm an undergraduate student of the University of Axebose Malli, a small town in Nigraville.

Koboko is brought to you by Mangafrique comics in collaboration with Shante League comics, Copyright ©2013.