One Day

Joseph tapped his feet in a rhythm as he stood in the queue, ready to cast his vote.

The queue was long, and even though he had tried to get to the polling unit early, he was at the tail end of the line. Joseph didn’t mind, though. It meant that people took the elections seriously and were ready to vote out the ruling political party.

Joseph’s mood soured, and his lips turned down at the thought of the ruling party.

“I’m behind you, boy,” someone said, tapping Joseph’s shoulders. Joseph turned to see a slightly stooping old man. “I want to rest my legs a bit.”

Joseph nodded, and the man slowly walked off.

Joseph turned back to the front of the queue. By his observation, it’ll take a long while before it gets to his turn. He didn’t fault the old man for going to sit for a bit.

The ruling party had taken way more than they had given Joseph. They had given him hope but yanked it away, leaving him in despair and debt.

Joseph didn’t like thinking about it, but it was one of the main things that hardened his resolve to vote them out. Joseph worked in construction. He made a steady income through it, had a healthy crop of clients, and was doing well for himself.

He was over the moon when he was contacted that his proposal had been approved and that he had won a government contract to reconstruct and modernize the offices of a particular local government building. He met with the government official who had given him the contract and was assured that he would be paid handsomely for his job. A deposit was made, and he started working.

That was the beginning of his woes. The deposit soon ran out, and whenever he tried to reach the government official to ask for his balance, they told him to continue working and that all outstanding amounts would be paid in due course. The government’s focus was on something else, and they hadn’t disbursed funds yet. Joseph believed them and took loans to fund the project, believing that when they saw that he was hardworking, they’d quickly facilitate his payment. He would be able to pay back his loans.

Joseph soon realized his mistake when the loans ran out, and he hadn’t heard anything from the people who had given him the contract. According to his insider source, the funds had been disbursed but diverted by the government official into unknown accounts.

Joseph stopped working on the project and camped at the government secretariat. After about two weeks of resuming there every morning, the secretary, rather pityingly, informed him that the official had travelled out of the country and wouldn’t be back for at least three months.

Joseph was devastated. He had mountains of loans to pay back, his staff were starting to grumble because he hadn’t paid their wages in months, and his personal account had been bled while his client had decided to leave the country without paying him.

He would have taken them to court, but he knew he couldn’t afford a lawyer yet. Any funds he gets now would be diverted to paying his staff and offsetting his loans.

Joseph threw himself into his job, taking odd and long-distance jobs so that he would be able to pay back all his debts. He just became debt-free last month, and the feeling that came over him as he paid the last of it was exhilarating, to say the least.

Joseph snapped out of his reverie to see that he was almost at the front of the queue. He would soon cast his vote. He was determined to cast it against the ruling party. They had taken the goodwill of many Nigerians for granted. They fulfilled none of the campaign promises they made before coming into power and dumped many Nigerians into penury.

Joseph was ready to take a stand against them with other Nigerians.

He got to the front of the line. The presiding officer, a young girl decked out in her NYSC uniform, handed him his ballot papers. She smiled at him, letting Joseph know she had been looking at him for a while.

“Hi,” Joseph said with a smile of his own, making the girl blush. Joseph was amused, he never ceased to be when girls tripped at the sight of him.

“Hi,” the corps member said. “Sorry, are you Nigerian?” She asked.

“Yes, I am,” Joseph said. He got asked this question a lot. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

“Or are you a half-caste? You don’t look Nigerian at all,” she said.

“I’m fully Nigerian,” Joseph said, laughing. The corps member laughed as well.

The woman beside the corps member cleared her throat, motioning to Joseph to keep it moving. People were waiting on the line.

Joseph went through the motions quickly. He stamped his thumb against the party’s emblem to which his preferred candidate belonged, folded the paper, and deposited it in the ballot box.

Since there were no longer many in the queue, Joseph decided to join those staying behind to oversee the counting of the votes. He found a shaded area with a clear view of the ballot and stood. The sun was out in full force, and though he had used sunscreen and wore a face cap to reduce the effect of the sunrays on his light skin, Joseph could feel sweat running down the back of his shirt.

Soon, everyone had cast their votes. Some people went back home, and others, mostly youths like Joseph, decided to wait to oversee the vote counting. Joseph had been on social media since, and from the results he was seeing posted online from other polling units, he knew his preferred candidate was winning. He looked forward to counting his polling unit’s own.

When the electoral officials had finished sorting out the ballots, they began to count them in full view of the electorates. Joseph saw the corps member standing beside her supervisor and handing her the papers.

As the counting went on, Joseph’s excitement grew. The ruling party’s votes had been counted, and they had scored a low number of votes in his polling unit. His preferred candidate, whose votes were still being counted, had a higher number of votes.

At the end of the counting, the crowd cheered. They had done their part in kicking out the ruling party. 

The presiding officer turned to input the number of votes counted when, all of a sudden, a vehicle pulled into the polling unit. It was a truck with opened back. Armed men jumped out of the car, and the next thing Joseph and others heard were gunshots.

It was pandemonium after.

The electoral officers ran, and from the slightly hidden spot where Joseph stood in shock, he saw two of the men, who he now knew were hoodlums, dash for the ballot boxes and other materials the officers had left behind. They ran back to their vehicle and screeched away, leaving some mates behind to unleash terror on the poor electorates. They brandished different weapons- cutlasses, spiked sticks, knives, and broken or unbroken bottles.

It took a while for Joseph to realize he was trembling where he stood. He couldn’t move because he was in shock. Joseph could only watch as the once peaceful compound became chaotic. He gasped in terror as one of the hoodlums brought his knife down across the face of a defenceless woman who was cowering on the ground.

He jolted when he realized he recognized the face of the relatively young hoodlum.

That was Kamo, the boy he paid stipends to on the weekends to wash his car. Joseph watched as Kamo moved unfeelingly from one victim to the next, his face twisted in rage and his eyes unfocused as if high on drugs.

Whenever Kamo washed Joseph’s car, Joseph always engaged him in conversations and gathered that Kamo was 16 years old and a secondary school dropout. His father had died, and he needed to assist his mother to provide for his siblings. Joseph never knew Kamo to be involved in anything illegal. Kamo even confided to Joseph that he dreamed of becoming a doctor. Joseph shook his head as he saw Kamo’s hopes and dreams slide down the drain.

Joseph suddenly felt a hand drag him out of the corner he stood in, and someone screamed, “Run!” in his ears. He moved on instincts and sprinted out of his hiding spot. Less than a second later, Joseph felt and heard a bottle come crashing down with accuracy at the spot he had previously stood. Shards of the broken bottle bit at his heels. Joseph raised his hands over his head and ducked his head to protect it from other sharp projectiles as they flew around the small compound.

He turned to tell the person who had saved him ‘thanks’ but saw no one beside him. He made a beeline for the gates, trying not to look at the fallen, groaning bodies he passed as he sprinted.

He was out of the compound and was running with other voters. He was running in the middle of the crowd and wasn’t focused on his surroundings. He just wanted to be as far from that compound as possible.

The crowd began thinning out, and Joseph regained focus. Soon, he was the only one running. He stopped with a jolt and realized he was in an unfamiliar street. He had recently relocated to the area and hadn’t had time to explore yet. Realization dawned on him as he swivelled in the middle of the empty street. He was well and truly lost.

Joseph reached for his phone in his pocket but came up short. A memory played in Joseph’s mind of how his phone had slipped from his hand at the first sound of gunshots. He had promptly forgotten it in the pandemonium. He couldn’t call anyone and consult Google Maps to manoeuvre his way out of the unknown street.

As Joseph stood, he heard noise and crashing bottles from the street he had left. Panic gripped him as he searched frantically for a place to hide. At that moment, he spied movement from the corner of his eyes.

A lady was peeping out of a black gate, probably to watch the cause of the commotion. Adrenaline spiked in Joseph’s veins, and he ran towards the black gate. The lady saw him too late. A look of alarm crossed her face as she tried to shut the gate against Joseph. Being stronger than she is, Joseph overpowered her and forced himself into the compound. The gate banged shut behind him.

“Help! Help! Thief!” The lady screamed at the top of her voice. Joseph was stunned for a bit before springing into action and clamping his hand over the woman’s mouth.

“No, don’t shout. They’ll hear you. I’m not a thief. Please.” Joseph tried to beg the woman. She struggled against him and continued squealing.

Two men ran out of the building behind her with ferocious looks on their faces. One carried a huge stick, and the other held a garden rake. Joseph left the woman and backed up towards the gate, his hands raised in surrender.

“Thief! Thief!” the man carrying the rake yelled as he ran towards Joseph.

“I’m not a thief! I’m not a thief!” Joseph yelled, waving his hands. “I’m coming from the polling unit! Some hoodlums came and started chasing everyone,” he said.

The two men stopped but didn’t lower their weapons. The woman also stopped screaming.

“So? What if they came to chase you? Don’t you have better things to do?” the man carrying the stick said, his eyes not leaving Joseph.

“I do, but I am a Nigerian, and it is my civic duty to vote. Are you happy with the way the country is?” Joseph said calmly.

“Oh, so you’re one of them.” The stick-man said.

“One of who?” Joseph was confused.

“Omo Ibo.” The stick man hissed. “You’ll leave your state and come to another man’s state to determine who governs them. They should have broken your head at the polling unit for not knowing your place.”

“We can still help them,” the rake-man said, raising his weapon. “If you don’t leave this compound, I’ll break your head and throw your remains into the canal. Maybe they’ll find it in Anambra.” He took a step forward.

Joseph waved his hand, “No, I’m not Igbo,” he said. He could feel the situation escalating. He didn’t know how they had gotten here.

“Your dead body will prove to us when we kill you. Now leave, or you won’t leave with your body.” 

With renewed vigour, the men charged at Joseph. In a split second, Joseph turned, pulled open the gates and escaped the compound.

Joseph was back on the streets, but he wasn’t alone this time. The thugs he left behind were at the edge of the street, looking for strays they could mete out the last of their rage. Though there was a distance between them and where Joseph stood, he recognized the boy at the lead.

Joseph and Kamo locked eyes over the distance, and Joseph knew the moment Kamo recognized him. The recognition soon gave way to unbridled anger.

“There!” Kamo yelled. “That’s one of them!”

Joseph didn’t give himself time to think as he started running down the street, frantically looking for where to hide. He could hear the thugs behind as they gave chase.

Hope gave way to terror in Joseph’s heart as he realized there was no hiding space on the street. It was a broad and open street. The boys would find him anywhere he tried to hide.

Joseph ran into another street off that one but was surprised to find it a dead end. Panic gripped him harder. He swivelled, trying to find somewhere to hide before the boys reached that street. He did not want to be found cornered, but there was nowhere to hide. The street was filled with gated compounds, which he could only enter with permission.

It dawned on Joseph that he might be living out the last few moments of his life. Joseph felt despair like never before. He was about to give up hope when he saw one of the gates open. A man stuck his head out, looked left and right and motioned for Joseph to enter.

Joseph didn’t wait to be told twice. He ran towards the gate, almost crashing into the man. The sound of the gate being secured firmly behind him was one of the most beautiful sounds he had ever heard.

“Are you okay? Did you get hurt?” the man asked.

Joseph shook his head. He was bent over, his hands clutching his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “No.” Joseph wheezed out. “Thank you.”

“Come, sit down.” The man led Joseph towards a bench, and Joseph gratefully sat down.

“Thank you,” Joseph said, taking deep breaths. It occurred to him that he had been on his feet since joining the voting queue, which seemed ages ago. He checked his wristwatch; it had only been thirty minutes since he and other voters had jubilated the results at their polling unit.

At that moment, they heard thundering sounds of various footsteps as they ran past the gate. Joseph and the man kept quiet for fear of alerting the thugs to their presence.

“Another one! Another one!” someone yelled, and the shout and footsteps of the thugs followed the voice off the street.

The quiet after that was comforting. Joseph and the man remained silent for a while in case one of the thugs was left lurking on the street. When they were sure the street was empty, they turned to look at each other.

Joseph had a clearer look at his saviour. He was a tall man with a protruding belly. He wore a long jalamia and a small white cap on his head. The man smiled, and Joseph saw what looked like golden teeth wink at him. The man was an Alhaji.

“Seems like they’re gone,” Alhaji said, breaking the silence.

“Thank you for saving me, Sir. I was chased from the polling unit. I would have been lynched if I had been left to their mercy.”

“It’s no problem. I can’t see someone in trouble and leave them to face the trouble. I heard about the trouble at the polling unit. I felt like someone might need my help,” Alhaji said. “Water. Let me get you water.” Alhaji turned on his heels and entered his house, leaving Joseph on the bench in front of the building.

Joseph recounted the events of the last thirty minutes in his mind. He had escaped certain death twice.

Alhaji came back with a cold bottle of water. Joseph murmured his thanks as it was handed to him. He unscrewed the cap and gulped down its contents. When the bottle was empty, Joseph let out a relieved sigh. The adrenaline that had been coursing through him was starting to crash.

“I don’t know why our politicians do this,” Alhaji said. He was sitting beside Joseph. “All these ballot box snatching and violence is unnecessary if you just do what the citizens want. It was the citizens who voted for you there. They would judge and vote you back if you did okay to them.”

“They know they didn’t do okay. They know the citizens won’t vote them back. That is why they resorted to this.” Joseph said, waving his hands.

“Various others and I voted for the ruling party because we key into their vision, and we hope the country can be better under their watch,” Alhaji said. Joseph turned to look sharply at him. Alhaji caught the look and laughed. “I know you didn’t vote for my party, and I don’t need to ask who you voted for. It is your right as a citizen of Nigeria to vote for your preferred candidate. Your preferred candidate might not be mine; that does not have to change anything.”

Joseph nodded, “You are right. As a business owner, I can’t stop doing business with certain persons because they voted for someone I did not support.”

“Exactly.” Alhaji nodded. “You’re a business owner? What do you do?” Alhaji asked.

“I’m into construction.”

“That is great. Can I have your contact details? My company might require your expertise one of these days.”

Joseph fished out his wallet from his back pocket. Somehow, he hadn’t managed to lose it during the chase. He opened it and removed a business card, which he handed to Alhaji.

“Please don’t call this line anytime soon,” Joseph said, pointing at his personal phone number. “I lost my phone at the polling unit, and I doubt I’ll find it there if I return. It’ll take a while before I can retrieve the SIM card. You can call the other number; it’s my corporate line, and my secretary will pick it up.”

“Hmm, okay,” Alhaji said, observing the business card. “Joseph Adebayo. So, you are Yoruba. I thought you were Igbo or non-Nigerian.” Alhaji said, chuckling. Joseph also laughed, finding the sound a bit cathartic.

“My father is Yoruba, from Osun state, and my mum is from Delta state,” Joseph said, suddenly thinking about how heartbroken his parents would have been if he had turned out dead at the hands of those hoodlums or those other families. He was their only child.

“You are mixed. That is great. I’ve always loved the idea of mixed families. We need more families like yours. Maybe Nigeria would finally become peaceful.” Alhaji said, a wistful sigh escaping his lips.

“My looks almost got me killed in the first place I ran to. They claimed I was Igbo and therefore deserved the violence being meted out.” Joseph said, shaking his head.

“Some people are so stuck in their ways, they won’t know change even if it hits them smack in the face.” Alhaji shook his head. “I am human first, then Nigerian. Then, I am Yoruba. Humans shouldn’t wish evil on others, regardless of tribe or ethnicity.”

“I am glad we still have people like you in this part of the country,” Joseph said.

“I am Alhaji Fowope of SeaGrift Ventures. I am a businessman and an importer. I assure you that you will get a call from me or my representative soon. We are working on building a new office building. It is within your expertise, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir, it is. Thank you very much.” Joseph said. It was an opportunity he never expected would come for him on that day, certainly not in that manner. But he was going to accept it. He had just paid off his incurred debts and needed many jobs to boost his finances.

They sat silently for a while when they noticed low murmurs of noise coming from the street. They both looked up in alarm, Joseph’s heart beating wildly in his chest. Alhaji stood up and tiptoed towards the gate. He slowly opened it and stuck his head out. Joseph watched in silence, ready to bolt at any moment.

“Mr. Williams!” Alhaji called to someone Joseph couldn’t see but heard faintly. “Are you okay?” Alhaji must have gotten a reply because he moved on. “Mama Bode! Is it safe now?” Alhaji waited to hear the answer before calling, “Thank you!”

Alhaji came back into the compound and shut the gate, a smile on his face.

“The streets are safe now. My neighbour confirmed that security operatives came and chased away those hoodlums. They shot and killed one of them.” Alhaji said.

Joseph stood up. “A life wasted, just like that.” He spat on the ground. “Sir, do you know the way to Thomas Street? I’m sure I’m lost.”

“Oh, it’s three streets away. When you leave this street, just keep to your left and ask people to direct you. It is not far.”

“Thank you,” Joseph said, walking towards the gate. “Thank you so much for your help. I would inform my secretary to expect your call.”

Alhaji nodded and opened the gate for Joseph. “I’m sorry I didn’t invite you in. My wives are inside, and their faces are currently uncovered. I hope you understand.”

“I do. You have done more than enough. Thank you.” Joseph said.

He took a tentative step outside the gate, ready to turn back in if there was any call for alarm. Joseph was calmed by the sight of people milling around, carefree on the street.

He looked at Alhaji one last time, then stepped out of the compound into the street. He followed Alhaji’s directions back to his street, keeping to the left and asking people for directions as he went. As he crossed each street, he saw more people, everyone quiet and skittish as if in anticipation of more violence.

As he reached the end of the third street, buildings started to look familiar. He knew he was almost home. He encountered a solemn crowd of people surrounding what looked like a lifeless body. Joseph recalled Alhaji had mentioned the police shooting down one of the thugs.

Unable to help his curiosity, Joseph edged closer to the crowd. He peeped over the shoulders of the spectators and was shocked by what he saw.

16 years old Kamo lay on the ground at an awkward angle. His unseeing eyes glared at the world. He had bled out from a gunshot wound on his chest. Joseph closed his eyes, trying to reconcile the image of the boy who actively pursued him to that of the one who lay on the floor, never to see or be seen again.

Joseph turned his back; Kamo was way past help now. He left the crowd of onlookers behind, eager to get to his own space. He heard a woman wailing. He had no doubt it was Kamo’s mother. He would give her his condolences when he felt civil enough to do so.

Joseph shook his head and went on to his home. He knew the results of the widespread rigging would be waiting for him to be delivered through his television. Joseph wasn’t looking forward to it.

We will get it right, Joseph thought, the sound of Kamo’s mother wailing to a crowd of unfeeling spectators framing his thoughts. One day, we will get it right.