Buoda Kasali

-Daniel Faith

Buoda Kasali is always ready for a fight. He never cowers, and does not back down from a challenge. He has this sinister cut across his cheeks that seems to have lasted over a decade on his face. I always wonder how whatever had created that cut missed his bulbous nose. He’s however an attractive man, he has a rugged handsomeness that has gotten several ladies on their back, or probably with their asses upturned and their fingers touching their toes, like I’ve witnessed on several occasions. He also has this easy smile, a smile that makes you comfortable with him, even with his intimidating face and physique.

Buoda Kasali is not your typical agbero, he’s most definitely not like any of those boys from the “garage” (the car park down the road) that stink as if they’ve been sworn into a cult of never to bathe infidels. Buoda Kasali smells wonderful, he has a significant number of perfume oils always at hand, and he can bathe five times a day if he has the chance. He’s the one agbero I know that rocks a perfectly ironed white shirt and immaculate blue jeans. His buttons are never done, and his white singlet underneath is always untainted. His knuckles are full of heavy rings, the rings which in Urban legends are considered fetish. They said the dark titanium on his index is “aluwo”, and the silver one on his middle finger is “touch and follow”. He has a Cuban necklace around his neck, and his white Nike Air force 1s are always spectacular, not a dirt in sight. Legends have it that he almost beat a fellow agbero to death for marching on his sneakers. And another tale was of him rearranging the face of a LASTMA officer for grabbing his white shirt and causing a stain on it.

Buoda Kasali likes me a lot, and he calls me “my smart friend” or “School boy”. He tells me to read my novels to him, and he buys me new novels he sees in traffic, that he considers interesting because of the illustrations. Buoda Kasali can actually read on his own, and his spoken English and diction are quite spectacular for someone who dropped out of secondary school in JSS 3. He, however, is a very slow reader, hence, his request for me to read him the novels. Occasionally, it’s old magazines that he kept from his days of dating this University student. I still wonder to this day if they actually felt like there was any prospects to the relationship. I’d once overheard the lady telling her friend on phone how Buoda Kasali will do for now, since he handles her bills, and he’s “well hung”. Didn’t understand that statement, though, but what’s my own. The relationship was obviously mutually beneficial to both parties in ways I thought I’d never understand.

It was a beautiful Tuesday morning. Buoda Kasali was in an unusually good mood, he's actually always in a good mood, but that morning, it was obviously different. He was grinning from ear to ear, even the Aboki that sells pepper beside Buoda Kasali's one-bedroom apartment noticed it. I heard him shouting, “Kasali! You win lotto? No porget me por your win o”. On another day, Buoda Kasali would've retorted with a swear like “Aboki, o ti ya wèrè abi?” or something akin to that, but today, he laughed out loud, then said “ori ẹ wa ni bẹ eyan ìyí”. Mummy Kola couldn't believe her ears too, she lives in the apartment across from Buoda Kasali's. She's the resident gossip, she's the one that informed my mummy that I've been associating with Buoda Kasali the agbero. She was busy speculating that he's probably teaching me how to smoke “igbo” already. But mummy has been seeing the books that Buoda Kasali has been giving me, and she told me she trusts me not to be involved in anything unsavoury.

Our house is opposite Buoda Kasali and Mummy Kola's barrack looking apartment building (in the words of my cousin that stays at Ikeja cantonment, whenever he comes to visit during holidays). Mummy Kola has been sniffing around, trying to figure out the reason behind Buoda Kasali's happiness this morning. She came to talk to my mummy like an hour ago, telling her she thinks Buoda Kasali “don finally fall in love” because according to her, “na only love dey tame hard man, wey he go dey smile upandan like mumu”. And my mum gave her the automated reply she keeps handy only for Mummy Kola, “ehnehn, is that so? You don't mean it”. And Mummy Kola will always respond with “I mean am o” even on days when she's lying through her teeth. My mum has always been wary of her, but grew a lot more wary the day I told her I'd heard Mummy Kola telling Nkechi (the lady who no one knows exactly what she does, or better still, no one wanted to admit what they know) that my mummy “blows too much grammar for person wey dey sell ordinary tailoring materials”. That was when my mummy stopped really gisting with her, she just gives her one word replies or that automated one.

But today, Mummy Kola's speculations were absolutely right, or at least very close. Because hours later, just before noon, Buoda Kasali came back, he was driven by one of his many buses (like I said, Buoda Kasali is not your typical agbero) the one being manned by Ebuka, his favourite driver, he takes good care of himself too. Several times, they're considered more as friends than as a boss and his employee. Buoda Kasali dropped from the bus, and with him was this very fine aunty, she has the kind of skin my romance novels will describe as having an otherworldly lustre. These are the moments that makes me wish to become an adult so fast, so I can have my own African Queen with a beautiful dark skin. My crush in school doesn't have this kind of spotless face and skin, maybe one day she will, but acne wouldn't let her face be. This particular lady is a living embodiment of the magazine models, she struts like a queen, too. She might as well have stepped out of one of Buoda Kasali's adult magazines, the ones my mummy must not know that I've been reading.

Ebuka drops, and he lifted a traveling bag out of the bus, which he took into the house. Buoda Kasali and the lady walked behind him holding hands. The lady was saying some things to him, and he was blushing and smiling like a school boy, such a ridiculously beautiful sight. The street himself is in love. The craziest thing about all of these is that Buoda Kasali is considered a Casanova. He has a reputation for not dealing with the same woman for more than a month at most. The person who once broke that record is 'Mọtayo, ọmọ ìyá ẹlẹwà, they were involved for almost 3 months. She was the one I first witnessed in all her naked glory, touching her toes and screaming on top of her voice. Buoda Kasali was right behind her, thrusting hard with frenzy in all his royal sweatiness. I had barged into Buoda Kasali's parlour like I usually do. I thought he was finally “treating Ruka's fuck up” like he said he would because she doesn't mind her business. 'Mọtayo screamed at me to get out, but Buoda Kasali was just laughing, he never for once, stopped thrusting as I slowly backed out of the room. And yes, I started barging in more after that day. Buoda Kasali said 'Mọtayo was just a convenient lay, since she stays just a few houses away. He left her because, according to him, she keeps attempting to tie him down with pregnancy.

But the Buoda Kasali of today is most definitely a new creature. Another man down on the love highway, in the wonderful words of Adekunle Gold (one of the few worldly musicians my mummy allows us to listen to. If only she knows that he has entered the world fully, too). Later, around 3pm, Buoda Kasali called out for me from his balcony. I'd been waiting to be summoned since they arrived before noon. Couldn't wait to get into the presence of this angel. I was putting on my favourite white shirt, I wonder why I was trying so hard to impress Buoda Kasali's girlfriend. My mummy will beat the living daylights out of me for putting on church clothes on a Tuesday, but it'll be well worth it. I raced there, knocked on the door, something I actually never do. I was asked to come in by Buoda Kasali, and he was asking me when I became a gentleman. If he noticed that I was putting on my Sunday best, he didn't mention it. He introduced me to the lady, “I want you to meet my girlfriend, Edith. Edith, this is Ire, my little man, a very smart and intelligent boy. I call him School boy.”
“Oh, this is the Ire? He's such a fine boy, I think I'll leave you for him. Nice to meet you fine boy” she said to me. I was blushing a lot already “Nice to meet you too” I stuttered. Buoda Kasali was clearly enjoying the exchange, he was laughing at my sudden shyness.

Buoda Kasali told me to read a novel he said describes Edith, Rogue by Danielle Steel. I think it describes their situation much more than it describes Edith. I read to them for about an hour, with little interjections here and there. This aunty sure likes to touch and be touched a lot. They wouldn't keep their hands off each other. I was trying hard to concentrate on the book I was reading to them, but Edith's soft moan every other minute wasn't helping. They finally ran after each other into Buoda Kasali's bedroom. Then minutes later, I started hearing the same noise 'Mọtayọ makes. I tried taking a peek at them, but the kind of door Buoda Kasali has is airtight. I had to make do with the noise. After like 15 mins, the noise stopped, only for it to resume like 8 mins later. These pauses and continuations happened for a long while. After over an hour, they came out of the bedroom. Buoda Kasali in his briefs only, smoking his igbo, Edith in a sheer see through nightgown. I had been lulled to a short nap by the rhythm of their noise. Buoda Kasali wasn't surprised that I was still there. Edith, on the other hand, had to ask, “fine boy, you're still here?” a rhetorical question. “Hope we didn't disturb you with our noise?” This wasn't rhetorical, clearly. She was smiling mischievously. I couldn't come up with an answer, my cheeks were burning with embarrassment. “Shey this one? E no bother am, he likes to watch sef” Buoda Kasali to the rescue. Only, it wasn't a rescue because that further drowned my voice.
“Is that so?” Edith queried. “Such a naughty, fine boy, I like him. Do you have a girlfriend?”
This attack and tease about my naughtiness continued until there was this loud knock on Buoda Kasali's door. “Open this door now, or it'll be kicked down!!!” Now, before this moment, we'd heard sirens outside, and Buoda Kasali had dismissed it as the police coming to grab one of those agbero boys that causes trouble in the area. Or probably it's the governor's entourage taking a shortcut because of traffic. But, none of that is the case, this particular siren is because of Buoda Kasali. The loud knock and the statement he heard jolted Buoda Kasali upright, he was in his “attack is the best form of defense stance” like he usually calls it.

“Who's that bastard? Do you know whose door you're threatening to knock down?” Buoda Kasali retorted. I was scared to death now, but I know Buoda Kasali is capable of protecting us, I believe in him more than my own father. My father is a pacifist, never gets into a fight. He says everything can be sorted with dialogue. Buoda Kasali launched towards the door as stealthily as a cat, ready for anything. That's when he heard Mummy Kola's loud voice shouting “Kasali, máa ṣe nkan kan o, soja ni óò, na soldier be this o, and them plenty.” Edith's eyes widened in horror. I thought it was for fear of Buoda Kasali's safety at first until she screamed out “mo dáràn! It's my father. I'm dead!” Buoda Kasali heard this, and what was happening dawned on him. This causes him to relax, and I saw a look of fear flash across his eyes for a moment, just before the door was kicked out of its hinges and four soldiers trooped in. He gave the first one to come in a heavy punch, and swept him off his feet, he was about to pounce on the second one, when he was hit on the head with the end of semi-automatic rifle. He slumped to the floor, the soldier Buoda Kasali had bested stood up immediately, cocked his rifle, and shot Buoda Kasali in the back where he was lying down.

That was the last thing I heard, I saw more soldiers trooping in, and I kept wondering why this many soldiers came just for one man and his lady? Apparently, Edith is the daughter of an Army General, she is in love with Buoda Kasali, and had left school to come and see Buoda Kasali before heading home. Her father had placed her under close surveillance without her knowledge. And when she had packed her things the night before, immediately after her exams, her father had been informed. She'd told her father she won't be coming home until the week after because she needed to handle some things. So, he knew she wasn't coming home, so when that morning, Ebuka had gone to pick her from school, two of her father's men had driven behind them to the garage where Ebuka picked Kasali up. They followed them home, then called the General, who came with a whole battalion, just to make a statement. If the plan all along was to kill Kasali, no one will ever know. It's not like the army of this country draws a line on who to kill and who not to kill when it comes to making statements.

Currently, there's a riot outside our house. The boys from the garage are engaging the soldiers in an endless debacle. Guns are being fired, and tear gases are being thrown. The agbero boys said no soldier is leaving the area until the general is dealt with, and he takes responsibility for taking the life of one of their own. The agbero boys from the other garages have trooped into the area to join in solidarity. These boys are rivals on a normal day, but today, they stand in unity. Mummy Kola is in our house, as well as some other people from Buoda Kasali's apartment building. Mummy Kola was the one that dragged me home with her son Kola just before everything got out of hand. We just saw the lifeless body of two known notorious agbero boys being carted away in wheelbarrows. Lambebe and Ẹkun are close friends you'll never see apart, it seems they decided to never die separately too. We also heard from Aparo, the agbero that's all talk and no action, telling us how they've taken down 15 soldiers and wounded most of the others. We all know it's an exaggeration, but we also know that there's always an iota of truth in his lies. He kept saying how he's been fighting for “2 haaars” and he needed to rest.

My daddy has called my uncle at the Ikeja cantonment to please find a way to get us out of this war zone. My daddy said the army will retaliate, and that they'll take no prisoners when they come, so it's better we leave the area while we still can. It was 11:30pm when a military vehicle finally came to get my family and me. Iya Kola and her son came with us, her husband is nowhere to be found. Seems like his usual unfortunate absence from the house for several days is good this time around. Nkechi followed us too, and Aparo joined us, even though the soldiers felt it would be better not to allow him, but my daddy vouched for him. I wonder why he did, the man stinks so bad. We saw the destruction on the street as we were living. Even my dad's car wasn't spared. His windshield was gone, and there's a large dent on the left side of that was facing the road. I wonder if the car will even make it through the night. He couldn't park it inside the compound because the front of our gate had been decorated with broken bottles when he rushed back from work that evening.

I was still in shock, and couldn't believe that the fearless, ever gallant Buoda Kasali is gone just like that. Snuffed out like a stub of igbo crushed against the ashtray, by a single bullet. I thought they said he has ayẹta? It must have failed him, or maybe he was shot in his “Achilles' Heel” or back, as the case may be. Such a simple death for a man who has survived several fights and came out victorious, a single bullet?! It wasn't like he stole or killed someone, he was just a man who was in love. Urban legends don't die this easy. He must be camouflaging. And how can the death of a single man cause this much chaos? If I should die today as an act of injustice, will anyone fight for me? Well, Buoda Kasali would, but he's gone now.