EYE WITNESS ACCOUNT 2

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…chronicles of a typical Naija relationship

The noise was so serious that it can’t just be ignored. Before I could jump out of my car, the manager and those that were with him at the gas station had gotten to the back of their building. If we’re there, you would know instantly where the noise was coming from or else you are a deaf man. You wouldn’t have suspected that a bar was located at the back of the gas station.

You won’t believe what had transpired. I mean you won’t believe what caused the noise. The young girl I earlier sized up, the girl that went into the corner, behind the gas station, just some few minutes ago, the girl that I was making an attempt to follow so as to confirm her whereabouts, she was the one who cried out. She was beaten up.

She was taking pictures of some love birds and it wasn’t going down well with the guy. But, why would she be snapping them? Was there anything spectacular about them? Or were they in a particular position that called for snapshots? I don’t get. Why would someone beat such a young girl like this up? She isn’t even his sister.

The manager and his people didn’t even look bothered. Immediately they saw a crying girl and the love birds standing together around the girl, they just left. I guess it was not new to them for people to be molested in that place. It’s a bar. Of course, what does one expect from a bar? If not some loud noise from either the bar speakers or the partying people. It’s either the music is good and they are shouting or screaming in appreciation or they are expressing what the alcohol has put in their systems. There must be a noise either way.

I got closer and I realized they were the only ones at the corner. At least the only ones in view. The bar was under lock. Most bars don’t open that early. Do they? Well, beer gobblers will have accurate answers.. It was already around 11am. What were these people doing in a deserted place like early in the morning?

“Young man, what’s the matter?” I approached the guy like a gentle man that I have always been.

He had gone back under the shed of the bar with her girl. He was trying to pull the girl toward himself attempting to make the girl sit on his lap.

There were about four wooden tables outside there and about 3 broken white plastic chairs. Looking around and still maintaining my gaze on the dramatists were some difficult tasks for me to do together at a time- who knows if some other guys were also lurking around in the inner part of the bar. I was feeling somehow irritated. I think i didn’t like the look of that vicinity that much. Or was I scared? I don’t even know.

“I beat her! She was an idiot. I cautioned her against taking our pictures but she wouldn’t listen. She wanted to put our faces on the pages of Facebook with some ridiculous captions.” he retorted.

He looked very rude. His supposed girlfriend didn’t even utter a word and I didn’t need to bother her. What would she say? Would she have said her boyfriend was wrong?

I looked back and the girl that was crying had already left! What! I took off too. I headed to my car. She was already on the other side of the road waving down passing bikes with an empty 5 litre keg in her hand. She was actually swinging the keg to flag down motor bike.

I waited a bit and peeped through my side mirror to see what she was up to exactly. A bike came close and she climbed it and the bike zoomed off. It was time to move. I left the place in some sort of sorry mood.

Young guys and girls now meeting up at hide outs. It was so shocking. These were the thoughts that occupied my head as I drove home. That means they could have be smoked as well. Maybe those kids absconded from home or something. Their parents would be somewhere thinking they had kids in school. So sad. I argued within me, there couldn’t have been so much difference between the girl that was beaten up and the guy’s girlfriend, age wise.

I didn’t even know when I got to the turning to my street. I wasn’t sure I noticed anybody or anything on the road till I got to my street. It was serious.

Welcome to my street! The kids were up and kicking. I was greeted by stray football. I trust these kids, you don’t need to be told it’s holiday. Just some two days holiday declared by the Federal Government for eid-el fitri festive they have turned the road to a football pitch. No time!

I had to frown my face and refused to respond to them as they were greeting and waving at me; they would want to ride home with me in their already dirty and sweat-wetted cloths. They Knew I would want them to follow me home so they could help me open the gate to my house. You would agree with me that getting down and rush to open the gate by oneself sometimes look more of hardwork than driving. Oh, am sorry, I thought I was talking to my fellow jalopy cars owners, Lols.

My neighbours don’t allow their children to come down stairs to play on days like this; they would be indoor reading.

Phew! I’m finally home. As I got down to open my gate, I saw the rude guy’s girlfriend getting down from a bike. Wonder shall never end. What’s happening here? In my hood or what? I tried to open my big eyes more wider.

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To be continued…

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6 Comments

  1. This story X-rays the type of activities that are tagged with certain locations. However, regardless of whoever is involved in whatever, such an individual has a right to his privacy and should hitherto be respected. Although, driving home my point may be prematur, in as much as the story is inconclusive. But, I dare say that my appetite is whet already as to know what becomes of the affected girl. Good one bro.

    1. Hello! I know this is kinda off topic however , I’d figured I’d ask. Would you be interested in exchanging links or maybe guest writing a blog post or vi-vreecsa? My site covers a lot of the same subjects as yours and I think we could greatly benefit from each other. If you are interested feel free to send me an email. I look forward to hearing from you! Excellent blog by the way!

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