Ebora battles Artikú over a special purpose vehicle

Like Tom and Jerry, Ebora chases Artikú down the road, clutching a machete and a horn in each hand, a few cowries and amulets falling from his hunter’s regalia. Three young men ran after Ebora in pursuit. “Haba! Baba, Baba, please forgive and forget, please! This is Satan at work oh! Baba, please,’ begged the chasing platoon. But Ebora was too fast for them, just as Artikú was too fast for him.

(flashback)

With a lipless mouth on a rectangular head without eyebrows, eyelashes and distinct ears, only a cartoonist or a caricaturist can be proud of the creature called Artikú.

Artikú’s solid frame shows that its maker was generous in form but stingy with detail, blessing him with a flat face, high cheekbones, and two pearl-sized nostril tunnels facing a chiseled, strong jaw. Artikú is terrifyingly handsome.

Artikú was educated on the crime street, not in the classroom, making him insanely capable of anything in the dark arts of theft, and the auto industry rose to praise for his wizardry about 20 years ago when he manufactured and co- patented with his former boss, Jenera Ebora, Special Purpose Vehicles riding on the wheels of fraud.

In eight inglorious years, the Ebora-Artikú Special Purpose Vehicles cruised the superhighway of corruption built by the Peoples Democratic Potty (PDP), transferring billions to private accounts.

Ebora is the human opposite that lives on Olumo Rock. His life is the tug and shriek of tug-of-war between good and evil, the latter triumphing in his milkless heart.

By day, Ebora dances in the sun of statesmanship. At night he goes stark naked, unlocks his fangs, horns and claws, fills his agbada with looted shekels of gold, betrays family, friends and conscience; omo òru là sè’kà.

More than twenty years ago, an elite conspiracy brought Ebora and Artikú together in a garage called Ass-or-Rock after (M)oney-(K)udi-(O)wo, the popular booster of the people’s hope and mandate , died in conspiratorial suspicion. Fortunately, karma came and the romance between Ebora and Artikú barely lasted four years before things fell apart.

Today, the foot of the corpse that Ebora and Artikú buried many years ago sticks out. Artikú’s former apprentice, brandishing the flaming sword of Michael the Archangel, has vowed not to bear the surname Archmugu anymore, blowing the lid on the dirty secrets.

(The emergence)

Excitement was in the air as Ebora and Artikú took charge of the Special Purpose Vehicle at the Ass-or-Rock garage. Thugs from the National Union of Transport Workers came out in droves, brandishing weapons, drinking alcohol and smoking. The thugs greeted Ebora and Artikú as ‘Your Excellency’.

Religious leaders, traditional rulers, workers, students, etc. were fully represented at the ceremony. After all said and done, Ebora, the driver, and Artikú, the conductor, got into the shiny SPV. They both admired the vehicle the way small children would admire new toys.

Ebora: Dis SPV na oyooyo! You dis boy, you bi lier! Where did you get this SPV idea?

Article: (Smiles) It’s okay, sir. SPV is the new abracadabra that can make money disappear. It can transfer any amount. Do you remember the trunks, sir?

Ebora: Oh, those suitcases! Have they disappeared in SPVs?

Article: (Chuckling) It was during General Muhammodu’s regime that the suitcases disappeared. I was at the border that day. The suitcases I saw with my two korokoro eyes just disappeared. I was shocked.

Ebora: You don’t mean it!?

Article: I mean it, sir. That’s why I modified this vehicle and named it SPV. It’s different from the physical vehicles that carried those suitcases. It’s better than the BBVs – Bourdillon Bullion Vans. The SPV transports invisible money of any value.

Ebora: Oh, I understand.

Article: Sir, I suggest we get more SPVs for the many màgò-mágó we’re about to embark on.

Ebora: (Moves the vehicle.) That’s good. Artikú, you are criminally creative! O you call passenger, let’s perform a trip kia-kia.

Article: Ok no, oga mi. Lagos! Lagos straight! Lagoon right!

Eborah: Artiku, Artiku, Artiku! How many times have I called you? Open your ears very well and listen to wise advice. This SPV, um, we have to be very careful o. We’re going to make money, but we have to be discreet. Do you know the bed bug? Do you know how it works? Ehn-ehn, that’s how I want us to work – suck and hide. No, show yourself o. The people who give us this vehicle are watching us, and I am a man of integrity. After each trip, I take 75 percent of the proceeds, you take 22, and we give the co-op people who get the vehicle 3 percent. Is that good?

artiku: Yes, love; it’s OK. Thank you sir.

Ebora: That’s why I chose you as my assistant. I know you’re not greedy.

Article: I don’t, sir.

Eborah: Oh yes, call passenger, good boy.

Article: Lagoon straight ahead! Lagos straight! Lagos!

(Later, Ebora wriggles the fully loaded vehicle out of the garage, singing “Buga” by Kizz Daniel as the passengers talk.)

Passenger 1: Dis country don pafuka, walahi!

Passenger 2: After for this country where they start painting money with watercolor, come I’m scarce. After only suffering certainly only for this land.

Passenger 3: No, after suffering and death…

(The vehicle reaches Lagos safely.)

Ebora: Oh yes, pull out the passenger fares we share.

(Artikú pulls out all the rates he’s collected, and Ebora uses his formula of 75-22-3 percentage split.)

Ebora: Help me keep my own share, I will collect it later. You know I am a man of integrity; no one should see that much money from me. After two trips I retire to my village.

Article: OK sir. After your second trip, I’d like to follow up with you, sir.

Ebora: That’s no problem.

article: Lest I forget, sir. We need to supply electricity to the garage and the surrounding area. We also have to sell old buildings belonging to our transport association.

Ebora: I leave everything to you. I will approve funds for the electricity supply and also approve the sale of the properties. But, Artikú! articles! articles! How many times have I called you?

Article: Three times, sir.

Ebora: If you don’t die, my money won’t die o.

Article: Lailai, oga mi.

Eborah: Oh yes, call passenger, let me make my second trip. Call Port Harcourt-Abuja passengers.

Article: Yessoo, oga mi. Port Harcourt-Abuja straight forward! Poracourt-Abuja! Poracourt-Abuja straight ahead!

The vehicle reached Abuja safely via Port Harcourt, but Ebora did not get up from the driver’s seat and made plans for a third trip. He was about to ask Artikú to take the money with him when Artikú suddenly burst into tears.

Ebora: What’s going on, Artiku. Did someone die?

article: No, sir, is it the money, sir?

Ebora: What money!?

Artikú: It’s all the money, sir – the passenger fares, money for electricity supply and money for property sales, sir; everything is gone, stolen, sir!

Ebora rises in exasperation, takes off his agbada and reveals a regalia of cowries and gourds. He takes a machete and a horn from under his seat and chases after Artikú who shouted: ‘wayyo Allah!’, ‘I don die o!’…

Facebook: @tundeodesola

Twitter: @tunde_odesola