I Am Not The Culprit!

Knock Knock… Silence… Knock Knock. I struggled to get off the couch, it was one of those lazy afternoons that you just want to be a ‘couch potato’, changing channels, eating this and that. Life can be sweet sha o… Knock Knock knock… The knock was getting louder this time

Me: shuo, who wants to break my door o, biko?

Man 1: Murmurs… oh someone is home, thank God!

As I hear man voice, na him I come activate catwalk mode… My future husband cannot now come and pass me by.

Me: who is it? I’m coming…

I opened the door and the next thing an entourage of humans are standing there in my (father’s) living room.

Man 1: good afternoon madam, we are from the state *something something*

I didn’t quite hear the rest of what he was saying… My mind had travelled, for a split second; I thought I was Omotola Jalade acting a scene on a movie set or something; I was all prepared to play my role right. Suddenly, my thoughts are interrupted by this man’s croaky voice as he continues…

Man 1: please is this the residence of Mr. Xoxo Lagbaja?

Me: Ha! Yes, this is his residence. He is my cousin; he lives here with us, bla blab blah blab

Man 1: is he home at the moment?

Smelling trouble in the air, na him I change mouth talk truth.

Me: errrm sir, he doesn’t exactly live here. He comes for a few days during the week or sometimes he just spends the weekend, and then goes back to his own apartment…

Woman: So what you are saying is, you will take us to where he lives?

Me: *scratches head*… errrm, actually ma, I don’t know where he lives. I know the area, but I’m not quite sure the exact address. Why don’t you give him a ring? I can give you his number…

This woman means business o, she cuts me again mid-sentence as I’m trying to reach for my phone.

Woman: look, young lady. We are not here to play, we have tried all the numbers your brother or cousin, whatever he is to you…

Me: cousin, ma

Clearly ignoring me, she continues

Woman: We have tried all the numbers he gave us to no avail. Also, this is the address he has on all his documents as his residential address. I’m not sure what pranks you all are up to, I’m afraid you may have to follow us to the station.

Huh? Station ke? This madam may have to repeat herself in English, biko I can’t shout. The next thing I know, my mouth is moving, but I can’t hear myself.

Me: I’m afraid I can’t go with you to the station. What have I done? As you can see (pointing to my ‘call to bar’ picture), I am a lawyer, a law-abiding citizen…

Before I could continue, Man 2 speaks for the very first time with a very ‘konk’ Yoruba accent.

Man 2: aunty, you have a right to remain silent because…

The next thing, I hear shouts of “aunty, aunty… aunty wake up now”. That’s how I jumped up from my bed to find Grace standing by the side of my bed, the next thing I heard her say is “police said I should ask you if you want toast for brekfass”. Police ke? I’m finished, it wasn’t a dream afterall. Surprised I asked again, “police said you should ask if I want toast for breakfast?” She could not hold herself anymore as she laughed, “see aunty o, who call police name here? I say, mummy said I should ask you if you want toast for breakfass”. Relieved, I answered, “oh mummy… Tell her yes. Thanks dear”. Wanting to bask in my folly, she lingered on a little longer to complete her mission to mock me. “Aunty it’s like you are dreaming of police ba? In the village, when police…” If I don’t stop her now, I’d have missed the opportunity of a lifetime. Seeing that I didn’t have the luxury of time or patience for her drama, I replied, “Grace! You know mummy is waiting for you right?” After which I turned back to sleep almost immediately, not giving her the chance to finish.

To be continued… xoxo

Yours truly,

Lawyer, talker, gistaranta!