THIS IS IMPOSSIBLE!!!

* * *

“Holy Jeez!!!!”, I exclaimed without a first thought.

It couldn’t be him, no way.

I was so sure because fifteen minutes earlier, I had shot him in the face and watched him hit the ground with a big thud facedown before I had dashed off into the filthy maze of streets in the avenue. 

So yes!!! I was so sure he had gone down once and for all, his days of terrorizing my family and taking it upon himself to make sure our minds had no minute of rest was over.

Or so I thought.

Now here he was right in front of me.

Maybe I was seeing an illusion.

I hoped, maybe.

It has been five years since we had moved from our home in Cameroon to look for a better life in the commercial Center of nearby Nigeria, Lagos.

Even though we had not entirely anticipated a land flowing with milk and honey, we had hoped that things would be softer and a little friendlier in Lagos. 

And truly it was going to be that way because myself, both of my parents and two sisters worked days and nights tirelessly doing odd jobs which included farming, cleaning, babysitting and the occasional dishwashing in some mini-restaurants in order to keep life going and save some money to start up our own business when we could.

So at the end of the first year, we were able to salvage some resources to open a small grocery store close to the place where we had rented a beat-down two room apartment. 

Mama was so excited at the prospect of managing and growing our own establishment that on the night we stocked the store, she prepared her favourite delicacy, the “Genger gbaaye” . It had been years since she had made that particular soup.

Everyone was surprised at how quickly we had been able to fit in and start up something.

I remembered my Dad’s favorite story of a man who built his house with nothing but his wit and hope. I was hoping he’d tell the story as he normally did when something big happened in our family.

I guess he forgot, because he didn’t.

So for a while, things were going a little normally, business wasn’t entirely bad although there were some bad days. And added to the fact that I continued scratching around for jobs, we had enough to eat on most days of the year.

Then the story changed overnight.

* * *

One day while I was at the shop with Mom and Dad, my two sisters had go out to get some needs from the open market at Ajegunle, Some rumpled looking men came into the shop looking angry and offended.

“What do you need to buy?” I asked, trying not to show my curiosity as to why they looked angry.

“Na you own this shop?” The discernible leader asked in Nigerian Pidgin.

“Yes, we are the owners, how can we help you”, my Dad who came over from the back shelves asked.

“I am Bishop, we are the sons of the soil, here”, The leader announced in heavily accented English.

“So, we heard that you Cameroonians have opened a shop here and we want you to know that you are to pay your dues to us every month in order to keep your spot here and in order to assure your own safety in this Avenue”.

I was visibly surprised.

I hadn’t heard of something like this before so I moved forward to push them out of the shop but Dad held me back.

His boys attempted coming at me but seeing that Dad had kept me in my tracks, they stood back and locked stares at me.

“You want form strong head ni??, Shey you want pack commot from this place abi?”, The squad leader shouted causing a small crowd to gather outside in no time.

“There is no need for trouble.” Dad said to them calmly.

“Let us discuss in peace”.

“Oga Sir”, he squeaked, gesticulating wildly with his large arms.

“There is no discussion about this issue, we will come back tomorrow and you better get ready to give us what is ours”, he screamed as he and his gang stalked out of the shop.

During this encounter, my two sisters had returned and were watching silently, my mom hadn’t said a word. 

So my dad quickly took care of the remaining customers and since it was evening already, decided to close early.

I was too angry to say a word.

Though our neighbors, the Adelekans had already mentioned to my Mom that the thugs in the Avenue were hard people, I didn’t at all expect them to be as rude, silly and harsh as they were.

That night during dinner, Dad announced to everyone that he had decided to give them what they requested citing that we didn’t have a choice.

So I went to bed angry. 

* * *

For four years, Bishop and his crew went on to extort our family of our hard-earned money, jeopardizing our business in the process. There were times when business became slow and we couldn’t afford to give away a dime but they could not accept clumsiness.

They threatened to loot our stores, maim us or burn down our apartment if we refused to remit their money. Even though things were getting harder by the day, we had no choice just like Dad had first mentioned.

Because of Bishop and his gang, our business which once had the potential for expansion was dying off. Sometimes I had to use funds gotten from other activities to subsidize the store’s stocks.

My sisters who were in school had abundant needs which had to be taken care of. And because I was a little overaged for High school at this point and hadn’t finished while we were still at home in Cameroon, I had given up hopes of ever going back to school coupled with the fact that I had to assist my parents in catering for the family. 

So this very evening, Bishop came around and asked for some money.

“But it was just last week that we gave your boy Tunde some money”, Dad said visibly annoyed.

“Oga, give me my money, I don’t know about Tunde”, he said at the top of his voice.

My Dad then got angry and asked him to leave the grocery store but he wouldn’t bulge.

Then I intervened and insisted that he leave immediately.

It was then that Bishop got angry, grabbing a basket of fruits and throwing them to the floor.

“This shop will not be standing by morning” , he screamed.

“I swear to my ancestors!!!!!”.

He walked out leaving everyone dumbfounded.

I knew he would make good of his threat if he was let to but I wasn’t going to sit around and do nothing while I watched my family loose everything we had worked hard for.

Not anymore.

I remembered the gun I had bought from a guy in Oshodi two years ago after some armed robbers broke into our house and stole some valuables. 

By this time it was already night so I took out my gun from under my bed, putting it into my sweater I whisked off not even saying a word to parents nor sisters.

I was going to end this once and for all.

I already know the Burukutu joint where Bishop and his friends used to hangout. So I stood by a dark corner in one of the interwoven streets and waited patiently for my prey.

I had never imagined killing someone even though I knew that with the life I was born into, I had to do it one time or another. 

I had for years been angry at Bishop that I had imagined this scene and replayed it over and over in my head. I was finally going to end our troubles tonight, and this was how. 

* * *

After I had waited for over thirty minutes, I saw Bishop coming slowly, moving with unsteady steps and very drunk.

I was ready to take my chance.

I made sure to look out and check if anyone else was close by, there was none. I quickly drew out my gun and waited for a few seconds so that he could come within a good range.

I walked out from the dark spot slowly and stood in his way and called out his name calmly, he took his time recognizing me.

“Have you come to your senses and finally accepted to give me what’s mine? “, he asked still trying to stay on his feet.

“Oh I did.” I said now raising the gun and pointing at his face watching his reaction closely. A very visible look of surprise and shock travelled across his face and disappeared quickly.

Oh, I was enjoying this.

“Here is what is yours.” I said, trying to savor the moment.

I hadn’t even realized how much I had come to hate Bishop, I hadn’t anticipated enjoying this moment but here I was taking pleasure out of every second of it.

I knew that I had a few seconds left to finish the job before someone else came around or before people began to notice. So I squeezed the trigger twice and then squeezed twice again, the sound of the shots echoing all through the Avenue.

The shots were fired with precision, I marveled at the kind of strength hate could give.

Anyways, I made sure I watched him fall to the ground and then dashed off into the streets taking sharp turns so that I could get away from the scene as quickly as I could. 

Fifteen minutes of walking and looking behind myself every 40 seconds took me back to my own part of the neighborhood. I had done the job so well that I didn’t even have a bloodstain on my clothes. No one was going to suspect me of killing Bishop, he had a lot of enemies. My parents were not going to believe that I could kill a fellow human so I was out in the clear.

It was now that the impossible happened.

I hadn’t seen the figure standing by a stall in front of me so just as I was about to cross a street, it took a few quick steps and stood right in front of me.

It was Bishop, standing there right in the middle of the street and smiling wickedly at me.