Somehow, they were always around to see her step in or out of her red sport car. The Sub Rosa life she lives, aroused their interest in her arrivals and departures in that gated community of theirs. Sometimes, they would say hello when she looked their way but often they just stare. One of they rumored she was a model, but another disagreed for although she has the body structure and the height, her glasses and pull back ponytail makes her look more like a sexy teacher. ‘No’ the unassigned leader said authoritatively ‘the laptop she carries and the high heel she wears suggests she works in an office’. They all agreed that she is pretty and dresses very well.
They really did think she was a pretty girl until that warm Monday night. At 1:32am they saw a figure approaching in a familiar stride. They weren’t sure who it was until she said ‘can you please keep your voices down. I know summer is here and you have no school but some of us have to work tomorrow’ though her request was stated calmly with a slight accent that alluded she is bilingual, her voice was somewhat stern. Their action in response to her demand came in the form of a shrill cry – piercing and keening to her senses; she took a couple of steps back, afraid something was terribly wrong. It was not until one of them fell on his back with his hand on his stomach did she realize they were laughing at her.
‘What happened to you?’ He asked. ‘I mean, we always thought you are a babe but dag what happened?’
What they saw, they termed “African booty scratcher”
Her hair was not packed in the usual pony tail but concealed in a tight black satin turban. Her face was bare except for the granny glasses that sat on the edged of her nose. They were huge and round, definitely not the cute squared frame she wore during the day. The faded white shirt clung to her body happily proclaiming the 60th birthday of an old woman. A rather long colorful Ankara covered the lower half of her body, to finish off the look; she wore two different color rubber slippers.
“What a transformation” another said
She in turn saw three young loafers always sitting under the big Juniper like tree below her bedroom window. Sometimes, she throws a smile their way acknowledging their greeting but often she prays for her brother when she sees the three, hoping he is not constituting a nuisance in somebody else’s life just like these loafers does in hers.
In an unmistakably Nigerian accent she yelled “what did you just called me? African booty scratcher? In your life you will not utter such again. You fool. If you don’t leave this place in ten minutes, I will show you what I am made of? Awon ode gbogbo – alianironu omode. “
“You cannot do anything. We will leave when we are good and ready to do so”
“Wait and see. I am only giving you ten minutes. You will definitely regret it if you give me a reason to come out here again”
They continued to laugh
She was definitely pissed off, although her threat was an empty one; she felt a strong need to do something incase they decide to test her already worn thin patience. She paced up her down her bedroom, thinking about what she could do to get those boys away from the tree.
Twenty minutes passed and she still heard them laughing outside her window. One of them mimicked her accent and mannerism for their amusement.
She went into the kitchen and came back with her ammunition. Her first missile cascaded from her window down on their heads. As she finished pouring the big bucket of semi hot water, she remembered the heat wave prediction for that night. She returned to her kitchen and this time she came out with a big bucket of cold water, a broom and omorogun. She stepped out of her house to their curses; many f’s and b’s flew out their mouth. Without retort, she threw the cold water at them, brought out the broom and proceeded to hit them one by one on their leg...
They all ran in disbelieve
With her left arm akimbo and the right holding the omorogun, she yelled “to ba bi yin da, come back here. Awon amu ni dese buruku”
They left and she went back into her house
Though, it was quiet she could not sleep. She never thought such actions could come from her.
She loved the rush; relish the verdict but not proud of the means it was derived
Maybe is she not gentle after all
Maybe Allied was never gentle to begin with
Maybe it is the other side of me…
 Idiots! Children that cannot think
 A stick used to make Eba or Amala
 If you are born complete, come back here. Evil people that leads one to sin