Man With The Heart Of Stone
CHIEF Shangolabi Onileara was wicked in the true sense of the word. He was a very rich landlord and owed a threestorey building in the heart of Ikeja, Lagos, with lots of tenants. He ruled the whole house like a warlord or a demigod. He had an unforgiving spirit and was very strict to a fault and would never allow his tenants to touch the iron railings in his house. He would smear the railings with grease and palm oil, so that all his tenants wouldn’t have the freedom of touching and resting on it. He wouldn’t give them water and electric power easily.
There was a big and tall mango tree in his compound and he also smeared palm oil and grease on the trunk and entire body of the tree to discourage his tenants and anybody from touching and sitting under it for relaxation.
Shangolabi had absolute control of the electricity supply to all his tenants and switched it on or off at will. He could wake up one morning and switch off the power supply of any tenant he disliked, even if the person didn’t owe any bill. Such was the extent of his evil and dictatorial power over his tenants and they feared him completely like the fear of the merciless devil.
He was a short, dark- skinned and baldheaded man with a round belly. He always stammered when in the heat of an argument, with eyes twitching and dilating like that of a ferocious lion about to pounce on a prey. He was in his early 70s and was a rice merchant in his heyday. He loved the social life scene to a fault and would drive home late in the night, smelling and reeking of alcohol. Then he would utter nasty, saucy, insulting and nonsensical words to any tenant who came his way.
His only wife had left him with her four children many years back when she couldn’t endure his virulent, wayward and cantankerous behaviour. He had many friends in the high social circle who were of his ilk and kind. They always had a bond since they were of same character and would gather in his living room, singing old folk songs, drinking heavily and carousing with women of easy virtue. There was a particular Saturday afternoon when he suddenly saw one his tenant’s children having a birthday party under the mango tree in his compound. He was visibly outraged and angry, stormed to the ground floor instantly, brandishing a horsetail whip and with glaring annoyance, chased the young kids out of his compound. The young lads cried as Shangolabi descended on them in fury.
“Who gave you the freedom to organise a birthday party in my house, you useless, good- for- nothing tenants? What nonsense and brazen effrontery!” he roared, thumping his chest in contempt and disgust. The parents whose son was having a birthday party were helpless and sad, but there was nothing they could do.
“Ara lo maa san pa yin ni kankan!” he uttered in visible anger, meaning, “may thunder and lightning strike you dead one after the other!”
That was exactly how Shangolabi’s tenants on Moboluwaduro Street in Ikeja suffered in painful silence through the years. It was like living in hell or an infernal prison; nothing short of living inside a volcanic lava or liquid fire. They all looked heavenward for freedom from oppression, fear and slavery.
To be concluded next week Saturday
with OLULANA KAYODE O8023183727
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