Episode 3
I followed potoki, and it didn’t take long before we arrived a portable cool mansion, that was behive with activities, i met boys moving about the place, engaging in one activities or the others, while some where playing drafts, others were playing cards, and roulette, and on each table, nothing less than 10 boys gathered around, the atmosphere there was terrible, stench smell of Strong Gin (alcohol) and Igbo (weed) filled the air, it was so strong, that it made me nearly throw up but i had to comport myself, the boys looked very deadly some had dreadlocks on their heads, others with tattoes, that contains pictures of axes, guns, cutlass, and any kind of weapon you could think of. They seem very much, not to be interested in my presence, they only hailed potoki, and continued what they were doing, my heart was racing fast, so i followed his lead, he knocked on a door in one of the numerous rooms, available at the down level of the house, and waited a little before the door opened.
I could tell our presence interrupted something, because i saw bunches of half claded girls, leave the room through the back door as we came in. Hmm the building structure was really amazing. those girls were actually attending to someone before we came in, and from my observation, he should be the ‘D’baba’ that potoki had mentioned earlier, he sat gracefully, on a massive chair, relaxing his back on the chair, and his both hands rested on the arms of the chair, one of the hands held up a cuban stick cigar that was emanating smokes like a thousand car tyres being burnt, which made the atmosphere inside the room, not any different from the other rooms we passed before getting to his. The only difference in the rooms was that there was a soft music that was playing on the background of the room, it was Stiches – Shawn Mendes
I thought that have been hurt before
But no one’s ever left me quite they saw
Your words cut deeper than a knife
Now i need someone to bring
Me back to life….
He gesture for us to sit, even when the lumination in the room was very poor due to the closed windows, i could still depict something out of his face, it wasn’t a good one, it was as scary as watching a horror movie, scars of all nature was available on the face, he didn’t say anything, he only let silent linger on, as he kept on puffing his stick, and this increased my uneasiness, i looked at potoki, but he seem not to be interested in the unbecoming silence, i was tensed, the only my timid brain could write at that time, was Fear.
Did this guy actually call me here to come watch him puff cigar, and perceive the smell? I was about to speak up, after much battle in my mind, on whether to speak or not because i was dead scared, when he finally spoke up.
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