THE COMPROMISE (By Abiola OlaOluwa)

SHUN THE DARK

The light of the world

Claimed you to be by Him

I mean He that chose you

But the brightness of the light

Is becoming deem

The light is no longer spreading

Distraction is embracing

Your neck like Necklace

Now where is the claim about you?

The light of the world

The city on the hill

That cannot be hidden

They have restricted your spread

Then you are far from the truth you know?

Oh! Candle, you are no longer serving your purpose on earth

Destruction is awaiting you

Shun the dark and light the Candle.

Abiola  Olaoluwa

(c)2011

PROLOGUE

The darkness of the night was illuminating, as if the Power Holding Company of Nigeria went on strike. The noise from the generators was definitely a breach of peace. The sound of crickets that ought to give ambience to the silent night had been overshadowed by the cacophony. The time was around 12 midnight. Many activities of the day had been put to calm. Perhaps, some indoor games between couples might be in progress.

One way or the other, four guys had found their way into the compound of Inspector Ogene. The bungalow had the colour of military fatigue on the major outlook accompanied with the eaves painted white. The porch was beautifully tiled and the cream colour casement windows were cool to behold at night. The balcony was well decorated.

The security man attempted to shout but became speechless at the sight of a gun pointed at him. They led him to the doorpost of his boss. 

“Oga!Oga!” he called, shivering.

“Waziri, what is it again? Look! I don’t have your time.” The Inspector said tiredly.

“Oooga… you… get… visitor,” He stuttered.

“Visitor?At this late hour?”

He stood up surprised and paced to the door with the TV remote in his hand. Before he could see the guard, he was made to reverse under the influence of a gun. Tino pointed his own gun at the security man as he instructed him to lie face down on the ground.

“Bros I beg, no shoot o, I go cooperate,” the man pleaded as he went down as instructed.

“What have I done, please spare my life,” the Inspector pleaded.

“Now you can beg. So you also can plead for help?”

Jawgo laughed coldly.

“You propelled me into this; you believe you’re all in all. You’ve even forgotten that there is God.”

He paused a while to fight back the welling tears in his eyes. He didn’t want Tino, who led the team, to see his eyes that were already clouded with tears.

“I pleaded with you, I wept before you like a baby, yet you celebrated your rank as a Police Inspector and boasted in the foolishness of what you called intelligence,” Jawgo said furiously.

“But I don’t understand all these things you are saying. Please who are you what have I done to you”?

“Will you shut up your big mouth Inspector Ogene! You have done your worst by making me become a demon among the saints. It all happened in your cell. I have now actually transformed to what you accused me of.”

Tears rolled down his cheeks, but he theatrically laughed it away. His colleagues were not satisfied with his long tale about what happened to him in prison.

“Jawgo! Stop these stories and do what you have to do!” Tino said in annoyance.

He believed anything could happen at any moment. Jawgo reasoned along with his reaction, and then he said in annoyance to the Inspector:

“Now, you will be the first person to be dealt with without any form of mercy!”

Immediately,  he slowly pulled the trigger of the pistol. Though shivering, he pretended to be brave. He noticed his hand was shaking, he was not sure if he could kill a butterfly let alone a human being…

CHAPTER 1

‘A winner doesn’t quit and a quitter never wins’ is the guiding principle of one who is optimistic. Don’t ask me about how I came to Lagos from the village, or how I struggled through my primary and secondary schools. Ask me about my post-secondary school. If you care to know, open the pages one after the other.

I had been looking for university admission for over five years but making good grades in WAEC and JAMB had been a major hurdle. I was very brilliant and believed in myself, though I had never emerge overall best student, but I’m always rated among the best. As a young Christian, I was the Youth Coordinator in my church; I attended almost all the activities in the church. I functioned in the drama unit, church choir, prayer group and the evangelism unit, but I had yet to gain admission.

A friend had once advised me to get involved in examination malpractices but I never consented to that. One way or the other many of my friends secured admission into different universities, but I kept saying time would tell. I was so desperate to gain admission into the University of Ibadan and that was my greatest mistake, in that, I ignored other higher institutions all to my detriment.

My time for higher education came and I secured admission into Tai Solarin College of Education where I had vowed not to go. My case was just like that of Jonah in the Bible. I decided to study Political Science in Education. I rushed down to my pastor’s house to inform him about my admission; he prayed for me and advised me to face my studies and to hold fast the profession of my faith without wavering. The following day was the youth fellowship, I addressed the youth as usual and I shared with them the testimony regarding my admission before I finally left for school.

Before I got my apartment, I squatted with a secondary school friend Fred Nduka. He had gained admission a year ahead of me but not for the same programme. He was admitted into the affiliate degree programme of the University of Ibadan in the school while mine was NCE. He was an activist and had links almost everywhere in the school and the locality. He held a post in the Student Union Government. After spending three months in his apartment, I got mine around the same vicinity.

While still in my first year, I was seen by some of my colleagues as a brilliant student that made me the toast of my department. The Muslim and Christian sisters and brothers called me ‘Pastor’ and they didn’t bother to know my real name. I became famously known by that nickname but I always felt uncomfortable whenever I hear it. The name limited my ability to socialize. I would walk up to a beautiful girl on campus and she would feel disappointed whenever I try to woo her. I remembered a lady who gave me a slap in the face, quoting her exact words. 

“I don’t believe a pastor like you can be doing this,” she said scornfully.

“But I don’t think it’s a crime for a pastor to woo a lady of his choice and besides my name is Femi.” I retorted.

One Monday morning, around 7a.m.after my morning devotion, I stood at the front of my hostel with some of my hostel mates. We were all freshmen.  Meanwhile, the previous students who occupied the hostel called the hostel “ALUTA CHAMBER II” and they were all notorious cultists. Oftentimes they brought chaos to the vicinity, sometimes shooting sporadically, causing children to run helter-skelter, while parents would scream for help. At the end of the crisis, curfew would prevail, making the whole environment peaceful as if “Oro” festival was in progress.

“Enough is enough, we can no longer tolerate these students again, we have to do something, if not they will extinct our community,” Oloritun, the community leader, had declared, according to stories we later heard.

The community elders then made every possible effort to ensure the students in Aluta Chamber II were sent away from the house and they were successful in their plans. The community people rejoiced for having peace again.

The new students never caused any trouble. As ‘Jambites,’ none of us had any knowledge of the notorious history of the house. Nevertheless, we all liked the name of the hostel probably because of its popularity.

We were outside chatting and catching fun when a guy came to ask for a student by the name Sunday. The only student by that name in our hostel was Opeyemi’s cousin both from Imodi village in Ijebu Ogun state. Opeyemi was my course mate and he shares the same room with Sunday who always travels to Imodi every weekend.

Opeyemi attended to him and the man re-emphasized the name in order to be sure that Sunday was living there. Opeyemi told him that he would be coming back any moment from that time because he was supposed to have a lecture by eight and it was just fifteen minutes before eight.

The man left and we continued in our merrymaking, but a few minutes later, there was a dramatic twist. A police officer appeared suddenly from nowhere and, pointing a gun, shouted in a thick voice.

 “You are under arrest!”

This echoed like the roaring of a lion. Is this a joke or what, I thought

 “Excuse me officer, under arrest for what offence?”I questioned bravely.

The officer was greatly annoyed.

“You must be very crazy! When you get to the station you will know your offence.”

He brought out a handcuff, but I didn’t agree with the idea of being handcuffed without knowing my offence. I dragged the issue with the officer telling him that we were going nowhere until he reveals what our arrest was based upon. I proved to him that I knew my rights as a political science student, but on hearing this, the officer became furious and shot into the air. This time my heart did somersault. I was dragged together with others who had already been handcuffed. I had no choice than to voluntarily stretch forth my two hands for arrest, because of my obstinacy, the officer promised to deal with me personally.

The 504 police van finally came to a halt in a place that looked like a barrack. They pushed us out of the van with handcuff around our wrists. As I alighted, I caught a glimpse of a signpost that read “Welcome to Igbeba Police Station Ijebu Ode Ogun State.”

The buildings were so ugly with cloths and rags of different colours hung round the already decayed balconies. I wondered the kind of people living there. The paint on the walls was not only fading but had no traces of beauty again. The buildings stood line by line beside one another their heads kissing the sky. The pipes on the wall that carries wastewater and feces had burst at almost every junction. The feces gushed out and added more stain to the already decayed wall. No wonder the side of the wall where the pipes rested looked very greenish with some weeds growing around it.

They led us into the station and asked for my name, which I gave them immediately out of fear. The police constable wrote my name on a black board behind them and added “The cult leader.”I was nonplussed at such but instead I started sobbing like a lost child when it dawned on me the reason for our arrest. They put the others in the cell and handed me over to Inspector Ogene who made them torture me to confess against my will that I was a cultist. I was only tortured in vain and this time, I wept in agony. The officer instructed his boys to lock me up in the cell together with my colleagues.

They had already arrested some cult guys which made the operation easier for the policemen. They located the residence of the rest of the cultists and got them arrested. This was achieved through one of the cult guys that had been arrested before us. When I got into the cell, there was an ominous silence from my colleagues and me. The cell had a putrid odour, so I covered my nose as the police officer pushed me into the dark room.

There were four sections in the room. The first one was where the real cult guys dominated; the second and third sections were where ordinary culprits chose for themselves. The fourth room was where two large buckets were placed for urine and feces. Not long after, one of the cult guys began threatening us.

 “What level are you guys?”

His voice sounded heavily like thunder and panic got into us. One of us quickly responded

“We are all in 100level” his voice trembling.

 “Oh! So, you’re still Jambitos. No wonder you dey shake like leaf wey dey on top water,” he laughed obnoxiously.

A cool voice interrupted the laughter. “What were you arrested for?”

The guy sounded responsible so I answered him with confidence.

“We were accused of being cultists after they got us arrested.”

“Well, it’s one of those things. Feel free we are one here. The cell is meant for human beings and not animals. My name is Dan,” he offered me his hand.

“I’m Femi Solomon. My friends call me Femark.”

He gave me a complimentary glance. I liked him too. I can sense that he was friendly from the way he spoke.

About an hour later, Sunday was urged to appear at the police station, to prove his innocence. Having appeared before the police officer, he was brought to the cell gate for recognition, but the cultist that was supposed to know him attested that he was not the Sunday they were looking for. He also made the officers to understand that we were all freshmen.  Sunday was taken away and some minutes later, a police constable came and asked for the students arrested at the Aluta Chambers II. We all rushed to the gate of the cell and the officer opened the gate for us. My friends went out first and as I was, about to make my exit from the cell the police officer pushed me back and said

 “Oga talk say you dey speak English well well and you sabi law pass Gani Fawehinmi. See! Your mouth don implicate you.”

He locked the gate and left. I was short of words. My breath was not normal again. Before my arrest, I had been hearing of cultism but I had never believed it truly exists. Now, the guys were discussing cult issues right in my presence in the cell. I watched them as they smoked their cigarettes with passion. I never liked cigarette smoke right from time but reverse was the case here; I preferred the smoke of the cigarette to the bad odor of urine and feces that was coming out from the two large buckets at the corner of the cell. When I remembered I was in the cell without a cause, I wept painfully and promised to revenge what the police officers did to me.

 Dan consoled me each time I wept. We got talking and he told me he was not in the same school with the rest of us. He came all the way from Lagos State University to visit his friends but was unfortunately arrested. I thought Dan was innocent like me but he later confessed to me that his friends, who were also detained, were all cultists. I didn’t panic when I heard this; instead a lot of questions rushed through my mind. I then queried him softly.

“But how come you are not part of them?”

He laughed for the first time. He had assumed an unsure stance towards my question, his head cocked to the side as he was about dodging the question, but I wouldn’t let go, so, I asked him the question yet again.

“You’ve not answered my question. How come you are not a cultist?”

“Well,” I felt his heart lurch as he decided to open up to me. “I was initiated in my hundred level in Lagos State University into Strong Aces Confraternity.”

I was extremely amazed. My lips pursed.

“And you had to be arrested here in Ogun State?” I said, more as a question than a statement.

“I was just unfortunate. I came to pay my friend Tino a visit as I said and had to sleep over at his hostel. The police caught us early this morning.”

Meanwhile, Tino and the other guys were in another corner of the cell, smoking and mapping out strategies on how to get out from the cell. Dan was busy explaining the nitty-gritty of cultism to me. 

“But Dan what pleasure do you guys derive in killing yourselves on campus and what benefit will you expect to get in the long run?”

“I need to educate you a bit on what the secret cult is all about. The cult is like a marriage where groups of individuals come together with the aim of protecting the interest of their members. It is also a tool to fight against maladministration in the school system. You see, most respected people in our society today were once cultists and they are still bona fide members till tomorrow.

“The confraternities grant their members the power to defend themselves and loved ones, improve their reputation and social standing, and facilitate contact with influential people.”

He further made me to understand that nobody can harass them anyhow on campus and they have free access into any lecturer’s office for negotiation. Having explained all these facts, he convinced me that I had to revenge what the police officer did to me. Though I knew, my decision to join the secret cult was wrong, I didn’t care. I made my desire known to him immediately.

“Have you really thought about it?” He asked.

I knew I had not really thought about it. “Yes, I have.” I lied.

However, he knew I was only angry with the police inspector and I was ready for revenge. He, however, left me in my corner to think about my decision. I squatted against the wall to think it over.

*****************************************************************

That same night of October 2003, I went back to Dan.

“O’ boy, you sure say you don think am well? Because there is no going back o”

I nodded. He introduced me to Oscar, Tino and three other guys in the cell. They decided to conduct an initiation for me right there in the cell. Oscar was the one that opened the initiation ground. I later discovered that he was more of a robber than a cult member. He robs and kills, but people around him mistaken him for a student which he wasn’t. He only mingled with students to conceal his real identity. The mere sight of him you’ll surely know which side of the world he belongs. I was trembling and I developed fever immediately. As I knelt before the cult guys, I remembered I had promised not to have anything to do with cultism Ha! I’ve failed myself.

 “Look, don’t get into what you cannot handle,” he paused, creating an air of suspense. “This place is known to be a place of no-going-back and if you want to try it, be ready to face the consequences.”

They welcomed me with severe slaps and my eyes dished out rainbows and stars. I thought I had offended them with the way I gazed at them. It was just like a dream. I felt dizzy but I struggled to gain my balance after a while. One husky voice questioned me harshly but I was not sure if ever I had the right answer for him. All I could say about my blind decision to join the cult was just to revenge. Another guy punched me on my stomach and I dropped to the floor in pains. I faintly heard him when he was accusing me of not responding to the question one of them asked me. A voice told them to assist me to my knees as I was still in pains. I couldn’t see these guys clearly as the room was much darker at that moment and the little illumination that was available came from the very high roof. Having helped me to my knees, they postponed the initiation till midnight when they could be certain that the police men on duty might have slept.

I went back to my corner where I wept for my greatest mistake. I was imagining the kind of torture I would go through again. I prayed to God that I didn’t want to do it again and I recited a silent prayer from Psalm 23 against those I believed to be my enemies in the cell. It was as if the midnight should not come, but how could I possibly say such prayer, which was somehow rhetorical since nightfall, is a constant law of nature. Well, it was just eight-thirty in the night and I believed something could still happen within the hours that remained. I kept on praying but this time, my faith failed me completely and against my wish, the clock struck 12 a.m., the very hour of my hell...

They were constrained because their instruments for initiation were not with them but they made use of their hands.

After a lot of beating, one of them who sounded like their boss gave me an orientation on the reason why they tortured me that way. He further explained that I was passing through the process of initiation in order for me to be brave, strong-minded and determined. I was finally welcomed but not without a blood stain on my eyes. Why would joining the cult have to cost me my life? Dan must explain that to me, I concluded.

They shook my hand one after the other as they promised to take me through the normal initiation process when we get out of the cell, but I was not too sure if I wanted to continue with them after the execution of the police inspector. Oscar told Tino to tell my story to Don in the shrine.

******************************************************************

“Dan, why was I tortured mercilessly?” ” I asked, nervously.

 “Don’t be offended,” He said compassionately. “It’s for your own good. In fact, it is a way to kill your conscience so you can function effectively,” He concluded.

It immediately dawned on me why cult guys always act devilishly without considerations. It’s all about drilling and nothing more.

The next day, my close friend, Fidelis, who had been informed about my arrest, went directly to notify my father before he made his way to my school. On getting to school, Fidelis observed that the Student Affairs office was not ready to help. They didn’t believe the fact that freshmen had also been wrongfully arrested so the Dean ignored him. He made all effort to convince them but all was to no avail.  He arrived at the police station around eight at night. When he got there, a lanky police officer led him to the cell where I was locked up. As soon as he saw me, he became curious but could not say a word. He looked worried but remained speechless. Meanwhile I was hopeful he would ensure my bail was granted.

“O boy, I no no wetin I do this police o, as we chatted away…”

“Oga, your epistle is not necessary for now,” Fidelis interrupted my intending essay.

I was mad at him but still hoped to have his assistance. I wanted to ask him if the news of my arrest had reached my parents, particularly my father, but before I could say anything, Fidelis had already gone with the police officer on duty. I returned to my corner and sat down crying. One of the cult guys was very annoyed and slapped me. He told Oscar that I was not well drilled, otherwise I wouldn’t be crying like a baby and Oscar agreed.

Dan later told me that the proper initiation into the Strong Aces confraternity would take place in the shrine somewhere in the school but he did not specify the place. He said the kind of beating I experienced in the cell was just an intro to what I would experience at the shrine. I lamented silently right inside me. I thought about the beatings have just been through and now I was to face another one that would be more severe than the first. In other to be on the safe side, at least, so I thought. I opened up to my friend Dan.

 “Dan, please I’m begging you. I don’t think I am interested again. Please, count me out. You know I decided to join out of my own volition, so now, willingly; I want to be out of this stuff. Inform your people,” I said, frankly affirming my position.

Dan was furious and unable to control his anger. He looked very dreadful and horrific, not the gentle person I’d earlier conversed with. I thought I was seeing another person but before I could calm him, I received a resounding punch on my face.

“Don’t try to make any funny decision, if not you will not find it easy,” he declared.

I couldn’t believe Dan could be so furious at me. I wondered and weighed the gravity of what I said that called for such an act from Dan.

The following morning, Fidelis came to see me in the cell and when I appeared, he couldn’t recognize me again. My eyes were already swollen, I could hardly see him.

“What happened to you?” He questioned.

 I knew I instigated this myself so I didn’t think there was any need for positive response. I gave an unfriendly smile and said nothing happened to me. I tried to be brave and prepared for the worst. I was not anxious about my release any longer. I will endure it to the end. All the same, my actions did not bother Fidelis; instead, he pressed further to ensure that I was out of the mess. On the other hand, Oscar was pressing hard for their release too. His Friends had contacted a renowned politician who was one of their sponsors in the society. Funny enough, their release was done under a Telephone conversation. The Police Inspector was not pleased with such instruction from Oga at the top but he had no choice but to let go the Rat from the trap. Oscar and his colleagues were release without paying bail, while my case was still on.

Morning matured to noon. Early that afternoon, one of my friends in the Student Union, Fred Nduka, had contacted some members of {JDPC}(Justice Development and Peace Commission) for my bail. During the course of their negotiation with the police inspector, my father arrived all the way from Lagos. The gentleman was in his late fifties, robust and corporate in appearance with a black mustache. He went directly to the police post where he was led to the office of the Inspector. The Student Union President had pleaded with the Inspector on my behalf, but the Inspector still held onto the allegation that I was a cultist, but after a while, he sent for me.

However, I was not anticipating any luck because the fire had engulfed the tree knot. I followed the police officer, before leaving, the initiators told me not to forget all rules. They shook my hands and embraced me.

One of the guys whispered into my ear, “Don’t ever consider renouncing.”

Well, it was no longer news but I was still scared. When I appeared before the Police Inspector, he looked at me scornfully and asked me to write a statement.

What was there to write? It was too late to write any epistle. I gave the whole story in concision and submitted it. While the police inspector was going through my statement, a police corporal came in with the gentleman who happened to be Mr. Solomon, my father. This time I was shivering and speechless when I saw him. The man introduced himself to the Inspector briefly.

“I am Mr. Solomon, Femi’s father” he said bravely.

“You are welcome sir. Your boy is a cultist and we got them arrested,” the Inspector said fallaciously.

“Never! I didn’t train him that way. Besides, he should be evangelizing on campus and not involving in cultism.  I trust my boy,” he replied, establishing his words.

‘That is a story of every good parent, but when the children turned otherwise what can the righteous parents do? Nothing sir. We have cases of pastor’s children and renowned church evangelists that their children turned to be a thorn on their flesh. It is not because they have not given them the right teaching but it is because they want to live their lives’

‘Inspector sir, I know my boy and I know what is capable of’

 The inspector was of the opinion that Mr. Solomon should not trust any child but the man stood by his words. I knew right there that I had already made a wrong choice by being initiated in the cell in the name of revenge. I had disappointed myself and my father who trusted in me.  Anyway, it was not my fault. My father was right about my personality, but not any more in the face of just two nights ago.

I was eventually bailed and I appreciated the value of freedom.   Five nights were like five years in jail. As we left, I looked at my dad expecting the most painful words and scolding from him.

When our eyes met, he said with understanding, “Never mind. That is your first lesson in life. In fact, nothing special has happened.”

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