WHAT HAPPENED AT PU25B: EP 1
Story by
Tobi Abraham
Naomi Mbakwe
Written by
Tobi Abraham
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
© Tobi Abraham 2022.
The unforgiving rays of the sun beat down on the large acreage called Lebi High School, forbidding almost any shadow from being cast. The land extends for miles on end, with greenery and vast trees strewn all over the landscape while a few blocks of classrooms huddle by themselves on a small gated portion of the land. While the long strike action by teachers have emboldened shrubs to encroach into the once clear area where the classroom blocks are situated, a rather auspicious patch remains on the posterior of the semi-standard-sized football pitch; perhaps where many a team have spent time—and trodding feet—humiliating the opposition. It is on this bald patch that several voters gather, discussing, alert, awaiting their turn on the long queue.
Most of the classrooms are locked. In fact, all ought to be locked except one, but since three have curiosity lost their doors, two of the classrooms have been secured by strong parties. For instance, the boys from party YYY are bantering and winnowing weed in classroom 5. A hairy man barrel-chested man walks in brusquely and they quieten. Classroom 4 on the other hand hosts parties BFN and TVU, a simple line of desks serving as a partition. Because these are the only parties strong enough to secure their own bases, the others huddle around the block in seemingly inconsequential groups.
On the exterior wall of classroom 2, a large printout states, ‘Polling Unit 25B. Voting in Progress.’ The long queue stands just outside this room. Amidst the prejudiced chitchat of looting, candidacy, and polity, tempers are flying and there is a random grumble as to why the exercise is taking so long. Someone swears that although it’s only midday, he has received report of many a polling unit that have successfully completed the voting exercise. An argument begins. More tempers fly.
The voting room enjoys the cooling properties of the clay blocks, and the windows on either side of the room do just enough to let light in, but seem rather to strangle the wind. Of the two doorless entrances, one serves as entry/exit point for the voter, the other is partly blocked and is intended as an emergency exit.
The makeshift polling booth stands in the corner facing the entrance while the election officials sit grimly in the centre of the room. JJ’s petite frame is hunched over a printed volume filled with photos and biodata. A voter emerges from the voting booth and exits the room. JJ looks out through the window and sighs.
‘Azizat, how far?’
Azizat scoffs. ‘I swear, this thing just dey stress me since.’
‘Let me see.’
Aziza hands JJ the card reader and tuts. ‘I wonder what else could possibly go wrong today.’
‘That thing no work, I don tell you.’ Policarp says, ‘Mek una manage the one wey dey work.’ His long sinewy hands strewn with dozens of veins rocks a wooden chair back and forth.
‘The work is slow.’
‘Slow? Who no fit wait, mek im dey go house.’
There is commotion outside about who to go in next. Policarp heads for the door and bellows.
JJ trifles with the card reader and Aziza throws her head back in frustration. They don’t hear the hairy barrel-chested man push aside the makeshift blockade at the emergency entrance and stalk in. He sets his gaze on an unused ballot booklet lying in front of JJ on the table. He addresses JJ dryly.
‘P.O. gimme that ballot booklet and one card reader.’
Startled, JJ looks up from the broken card reader. She squints to read off the man’s tag hanging off his chest.
‘These are official materials sir. Besides, a card reader is useless if you don’t—’
The man reaches into his pocket and produces a pouch full of voters’ cards. JJ purses her lips.
‘I’m afraid I can’t help you sir.’
Viper scoffs and whips out a wad of currency from another pocket. JJ grits her jaws.
‘You need to leave now sir. Right away!’
The man glares malevolently, then stalks out, muttering under his breath. Policarp turns in time to see the blockade being kicked aside. JJ and Aziza exchange grim looks.
*
The night before, several young people lay on sleeping mats in the dimly lit Central hall of Uyode secondary school, a couple of miles from Polling Unit 25B. The atmosphere sizzles silently with tension, and each person can barely wait for day to break. JJ sits in the far corner of the hall, bunched up on her sleeping mat, phone pressed to her ear and a scowl on her face.
‘… isn’t the time to play superhero. The election terrain is far more dangerous now. These politicians are willing to cut—’
JJ rolls her eyes. ‘Mama, this isn’t my first outing. I know how these things are. Besides, you know why I’m doing this. At least, encourage me some.’
‘Encourage you? Isn’t that’s what your father did? Where is he now? Eh? …God!’—crack—‘what did I ever do to deserve’—sniff—‘stubborn children.’
JJ grits her jaw. ‘Mama, he was a law enforcement officer. I’m only presiding over an election for crissakes!’
Mama sneezes. ‘Not even for your child’s sake or your sick mother. Whatever, just go with your—what is it called, in case of any of episodes. God be with you, that’s all I will say.’ Mama’s voice fades into inaudible mumbles.
JJ sighs. ‘I’ll be fine mama, promise. Let me talk to my baby.’
A toddler’s vigorous chatter comes into focus. Tears form in JJ’s eyes.
*
On the dimly lit corridor of the hall, Policarp rounds off a call and heads back to the hall. He responds to his greeters with a curt nod. Aziza runs into him at the doorway.
‘You sef no fit sleep abi?’ Aziza chuckles.
Policarp smirks. ‘I say mek I collet small breez for awside.’
‘Guy, my body just dey do me one kain. I no fit wait mek this thing finish abeg.’
JJ emerges from the hall with an empty bucket and heads for the opposite doorway. She starts and glances behind her, then shakes her head on sighting Policarp and Aziza. She heads towards them.
‘You guys good? Looks like you can’t wait to get started.’ JJ says, a twinkle in her eyes.
Aziza scoffs. ‘You mean get it over with?’
They chuckle. Aziza joins in nervously.
‘It’s not rocket science na.’ JJ says, ‘Just breeze in, do what we do and breeze out. Like the LGA elections, eh?’
‘Omo, no be the same o.’ Policarp replies.
‘In other words, shit’s gotten real.’ Aziza says. ‘They even say this YYY party has some dreadful presence here. Truth to god, I don’t feel great about this.’ She flinches abruptly and jumps out of the path of a scurrying cockroach. Policarp kicks the cockroach into the night.
‘Last last, e nor get who nor dey fear. Even person wey wan carry ballot box dey fear. But we too, we gats do the right thing. Normal normal. Stay clean, stay out of trouble. Mek everybody go im papa house.’ He looks to JJ for approval.
‘Word,’ JJ replies, swinging her bucket this way and that. ‘Evil will always bow to the good if we do the right thing.’
‘You and this your grammar ehn.’ Policarp shakes his head.
‘Still doesn’t address the issue I raised though. YYY.’ Aziza says, still squirmish from the cockroach encounter.
Policarp tuts. ‘Guy I say nothing dey happen. If na cutlass levels, I full grand. That year wey I be PO for Bantu, if you see as dem rush me, dem reach twenty.’ Policarp jabs into the air animatedly. ‘Only me o, I tackle their papa.’
JJ chuckles. ‘Don’t mind him. Honestly, we all feel concerned about the whole thing, Aziza. But I spoke to one of the coordinators and she said at least a dozen policemen will be present. Our safety is assured. We just need to protect the votes, that’s all. I can count on you eh? Policarp? Aziza?’
Policarp’s phone rings. He bumps fists with JJ before stepping away to attend his phone.
‘Aziza?’
Aziza exhales.
