Prison Chronicles: Three Kings
There were two kings in the cell. I always heard that some tough guy controlled the activities on the cell, but in this cell, there were two ogas. Like having two agberos collecting the same money from a conductor.
The policemen had shouted at me all through, punctuating their curses with slaps and kicks.
“Bastard! Na inside cell you go die! Your papa go join you for here for him burial. Na here u go born your first pikin. Na here you….”
This sergeant went on and on. He was the one I had broken his head. They stripped me of my clothes, leaving just my boxers. All my money don go. Dem come talk say make I write statement. The silly part na say na dem dey tell me wetin I go write.
“Oya, write say you collect my gun, you wan shoot me, but I overpower you, you come break my partner’s head.”
