The Payday

The day had finally come. Madam Grace had made the

mistake of trying to be smart with me and she had to pay for

it. Based on the plans, I was not supposed to follow Jose and

his friends to the venue. They were Portuguese citizens and

if things went bad, they could easily get out of it. However, I

wanted to witness the exchange whether it was dangerous or

not. I took a taxi and stopped 300 meters down the street. I

walked slowly up to a few meters from the roundabout at the

beginning of Avenida. It was the busiest avenue in Lisbon

with trees planted in the middle of the roads. The entire area

was spared during the great earthquake that turned Lisbon

into a Valley city. I went into the Louis Vuitton shop near

the roundabout and stood close to the window where I could

see everything that was going to happen outside. I had a

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153

feeling that the shop owners at Louis Vuitton would ask me

to leave if I stood in one place for a long time, so I brought

out two hundred euros and held it in my hand for everyone

to see, and then I walked around the windows inspecting

some over-priced T-shirts. A few minutes later Efe and Abu

came out of a taxi and entered the Calvin Klein shop across

the road opposite where I was. I had seen them once during

the botched Elephant Blanco meeting but they didn’t see

me, therefore I assumed they couldn’t identify me.

I quickly removed my phone from the pocket and

called Jose. “I am at the Avenida. I just saw Madam Grace’s

two thugs. They went into the Calvin Klein shop near

the roundabout. You need to call Madam and change the

venue,” I informed him.

He thanked me and hung up. Five minutes later, two

black police cars stopped in front of the Calvin Klein shop

and four heavily built officers entered the shop. They came

out five minutes later with Efe and Abu in cuffs. They

pushed both of them inside the backseat of one of their

vehicles and drove away.

I called Jose again but he didn’t pick the call. I left the

Louis Vuiton shop and walked ten meters down to a public

pub. I ordered a cup of Sagres beer as soon as I sat down.

The beer was brought together with the receipt. I paid for

the beer and waited for Jose’s call while drinking.

When my phone rang in my pocket, I grabbed it as if

it was hot. I looked on the screen and saw Jenny. I picked

the call.

“How are you Jennifer?” I asked.

“I am fine. I just want to make sure nothing had

happened to you. I told you not to go. I can’t imagine….”

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“Jenny” I cut in, “I am fine, okay? I will be back before

one hour. Prepare something for me to eat,” I said and cut

the call before she could say anything else.

Ten minutes later, a message came into my phone. I

checked it and saw that the number wasn’t stored in my

phonebook. It was Jose’s number. I opened the text message

and it read, “Business good meet bar 30 minuto”

I slowly put the phone back into my pocket and looked

around carefully. Nobody was interested in me. I left my

beer glass half full and scrambled out of the pub. I looked

left and right to make sure nobody was following me, then

crossed the road and stopped a cab which drove me to our

rendezvous point; the bar, where I had met Jose in the

Montijo district.

Jose wasn’t there when I came. I waited for him with

a half glass of Johnny Walker. He showed up alone twenty

minutes later and located me at the extreme end of the bar

where I sat alone. He walked up and sat down opposite me.

I did a great job at hiding my anxiety. The end of the

bar where we were seated was poorly lighted. It was getting

dark outside too. Jose brought out a bundle of Euros carefully

strapped with a rubber band. It was a mixture of two hundred,

hundred and fifty euro bills. He said he had not counted

them. I told him to count them and after about two minutes,

he announced that we had made five thousand euros.

I asked him how much he promised his two friends, and

he said it was five hundred each. He took the one thousand

for his friends and another thousand for himself and gave

me three thousand.

I handed him another five hundred and told him that

the job has not yet finished. Madam Grace would pay again

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155

for sending the thugs to the Avenida where the original

exchange was supposed to take place.

Jose, after learning from me that Efe and Abu, the two

thugs had been sent to the exchange point, had called the

police and informed them. He told me that he suspected

that they could have come with weapons, so he called the

police emergency number and told them where they entered

just as I had described. The police had searched them and

found out that they had no weapons but they had no resident

documents as well. They were arrested, Jose had found out

from the manager of the Calvin Klein shop.

Now that Madam Grace’s thugs were out of the way, it

was time to ask for more money or smash her syndicate. I

flipped open my phone and called her.

She picked the call after the first beep. “Where is

Jennifer, I have settled your agent, send Jennifer back now!”

she yelled from the other end of the line.

“Listen Madam Osasere, I think you should be more

concerned about your thugs” I said calmly.

She kept silent at her end.

“They are in the police station and they are going

back to wherever they came from,” I informed her without

expecting a response. “Next time when I call you, do as I

say or you will be the next person in the police net” I said

and hung up.

Jose laughed and sipped his whisky. He was apparently

enjoying the game. I called Jennifer and told her to come

to the bar if she was bored. She said she was watching a

Nigerian movie. I told her that I would come back in an

hour and hung up. Jose and I drank more whisky and about

forty minutes later, we left the bar and dispersed.

156

CHAPTER SEVEN

Porto

A day after we received money from Madam Grace,

it was Christmas. Everywhere had been decorated with

Christmas lights, every window glowed with yellow lights.

The city of Lisbon was a beauty to look upon.

I thought hard about where to go. I was not going to

venture into the main Lisbon Districts. It was dangerous

since Madam Grace could have had more hit men on her

payroll. I thought about Colombo, the best developed area

in Lisbon. News had it that the place was developed by the

money Portugal received by agreeing to join the Euro Zone.

I later figured out that Madam Grace had a 50-50 chance of

seeing me there, so I cancelled out that area.

Porto, yes Porto. Why not? I would have loved to sneak

into Seville, Spain since it was very close to Portugal border

but I wanted to go with Jenny. It was always easier to find

your way out of immigration jam if you were alone, so I

decided against it. Instead, I opted for Porto.

At about 12 pm, I told Jenny to prepare and pack a

small bag. I told her to pack just two jean trousers and

two pullovers for me. I had watched the local weather up

there in Northern Portugal and it was hovering around

five and six degrees Celsius. I told Jenny how cold it was

up there and asked her to get a good jacket for herself too.

Afterwards, took a taxi down to the Gare de Oriente train

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157

station and headed up North to Porto, the Second largest

city in Portugal after Lisbon.

We stopped at the Sao Bento Central Station in Porto

and walked to the taxi stand. It was a massive medieval

structure built in the centre of Porto. It was also very cold,

just as I suspected. We asked the cab driver to take us to a

hotel near the city centre. He stopped in front of Novotel;

a five star hotel which I believed would gulp all our money

in two nights.

I instructed the driver to look for a cheaper hotel, and

he took us to a street at the back of Estadio do Dragao, the

FC Porto Stadium where we located the kind of hotel we

were looking for. I paid the driver off and we went inside.

The price list of their rooms hung above the reception

desk. I scanned it quickly and found a room with a big sized

bed for two people. The price was forty euros per night. We

paid for one week and took our key and bags to the second

floor where the room was located. In the room, we unpacked

and changed into casual clothing. We were far away from

danger and it was time to talk about the future. I had been

running and hiding with Jennifer to the extent that I had

forgotten how she came to live with me. The escape to Porto

had jolted me back to the realities on ground and it was time

to find a lasting solution.

“Jennifer, we have been together for long now and we

don’t even know where we are going to end or how we are

going to end up.” I calmly began. “I am beginning to fall in

love with you and get used to you but it is very dangerous

since I don’t have traveling documents yet.” I continued.

“I want us to decide our next move before we leave Porto.”

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She didn’t say a word when I fell silent. She just lay there

on the bed and small drops of tears came out of her eyes. I

had expected that.

“I am going to start naming options and I want you to

choose the best one for you” I said.

I listed the options out.

“I can find a way to send you to Germany, I know people

there. If you agree to go there, I will tell you how to take

asylum. You will be taken care of by the German authorities

and if you are lucky, they can admit you to school.

Number two, I can send you to any other country here

in Europe where you know people; Spain, Italy or France.

Or three, I can give you the money you asked for and

you can get a TC and go back to Nigeria,” I concluded and

stopped.

“I want to live with you” she managed to say.

What! Had this girl been thinking this way all along?

The phone vibrating on the table jolted me. I picked it

up and it was my elder brother from Nigeria. He said ‘Happy

Christmas’ and told me that my parents were expecting a

phone call from me.

Then it hit me that I had not even thought about Africa

since the Jennifer affair started.

How could it have been that way? Was I under a spell or

what?

I wondered if the Olokun deity had confused me or

maybe Jennifer herself had charmed me. I flashed back to

how it all started. My original plan was to hook up a sex

worker each time I wanted and pay her off after sleeping

with her. How Jennifer managed to trick me into living

together with me still baffled me. I remembered Francis once

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159

told me to use my whole free time to pray for the success of

my papers but since I was not the prayer type, I didn’t give

it much thought. At that moment, I wished I had taken his

advice.

Then, I did what I usually do when presented with a

difficult situation; take a decision and stand by it, whatever

comes out of it, take it. There and then I decided to play

along with Jennifer. Somehow, I would lay a hand on travel

documents and vanish out of Portugal without a trace.

I called my father and spoke with him. After the

Christmas wishes; he gave the phone to my mother. We

spoke for long; she feared I was in trouble since I had stopped

sending money every week like I did back in Germany. I told

her that everything was alright and that I was busy looking

for papers to come to Nigeria. I called my younger brother

and promised to send him money to him and my sisters for

the Christmas holidays.

Next, I called and spoke to Efuah. I had changed my

phone number as soon as the Jennifer affair started and I

forgot to send the new one to her. She had been trying to

reach me without success. I apologized and hung up.

After terminating the call, I called Agnes in Germany.

She had been missing me and had wished me happy

Christmas. She asked if everything was alright with me

over there in Portugal. After the pleasantries, I asked after

Victor and hung up.

I tried Matthew’s number but his number didn’t

connect; I guessed he was still in prison.

Kenneth, my cousin’s number in Berlin was the one I

tried next. He was still living in the apartment I left for him.

He had left asylum camp and was posted to a place where

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no drug business was going on. Johnson had been helping

him out with rent pending when I would return. The credit

in my phone finished and I dropped my phone on the bed

and slept. Thereafter, I fell into a deep sleep and forgot the

world entirely. It was a perfect escape from danger, from

Madam Grace, from Jennifer, from Lisbon and from my

own shadows.

I had wished to sleep for days but the list of my travails

awaited me when I woke up some hours later. My whole

troubles were still there, including Jennifer.

*************

The City of Porto was one of the five cities that attained

the status of a major city in the Iberian Peninsula in the

early eighteenth century. The other four cities were Madrid,

Barcelona, Valencia and Lisbon. Porto was the city where

Henry the Navigator was born and raised.

After I woke up from my stress-induced sleep, I told

Jennifer that we were going down to the city to feed our

eyes; something I loved doing whenever I visited a new place.

We walked downstairs and out to the street. The mighty

Estadio do Dragao stood in front of us and dwarfed every

other structure in the area. We trekked through Almeda

Das Antas road behind the Estadio and saw a tram station.

When we got there, we waited for minutes before a tram

came.

We got into the tram without having any idea of where

we were going. The tram was over hundred years old. Its

history was somehow written in figures near the front seat

where the driver sat. Its horn was a bell, its seats, metal. We

purchased a ticket from the driver and sat near the front.

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161

When we got to a large green garden, everybody got down

including us.

There was a large Cafe across the road. Boldly written

in front of it was “CAFE VELASQUEZ” We got in and

sat among numerous Portuguese drinking coffee and tea.

We ordered for two cups of cappuccino. We took the cups

outside and sipped it through a straw as we walked down

the street like Romeo and Juliet. Down the street, we found

Restaurant Vitoria which we entered and sat down. Some

white Europeans looked at us as if we came in to beg for

food. I ignored them as usual. A waiter brought menu

list and dropped it on our table. I opened the menu and

searched from top to bottom without understanding the

names of the foods. I just closed it and demanded for rice

and chicken legs. The waiter looked at Jennifer who nodded

in agreement to what I had demanded. Before leaving to get

our orders, I ordered for a bottle of Port wine because I had

seen it in a table of one of the white men who looked at us

when we entered. Port wine was a local product of Porto. It

contained about 12% volume of alcohol. I preferred spirits

with 42% and above but since I was with Jenny, I didn’t

want to get too high.

We finished our foods an hour later and ventured

into the Garden of St Francisco across the road. It was

a magnificent garden with hundreds of tourists taking

pictures. It was a pity that we had no camera with us. It was

Christmas; shops were closed except bars and restaurants.

We just walked around the park and when we got tired of

it, we took a taxi down to River Douro.

River Douro was the largest river in Porto. It flowed in

from northern Spanish region crossing Valladolid all the

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way into the Atlantic and crossed Portugal through Porto.

I had purchased a €1 city map along the road. Not that I

needed it but “when you go to Rome, you must behave like

the Romans” There were tourists from all over Europe eating

and drinking along the river, so we joined them.

At around 8 pm, it was getting dark and cold. We hired

a taxi and drove back to our hotel behind the Estadio Do

Dragao. We got to our room and took our bath together.

We had somehow become unofficial husband and wife.

Sometimes I wished the conditions we found ourselves were

better. Jenny was a lovely, sweet girl. She knew nothing

about the harsh conditions of Europe. I doubted she even

suffered in Africa before heading to Europe. She could not

even locate Germany, Italy or the nearby Spain in a map. She

also could not name a single city in Europe except London;

she could not differentiate between summer and winter.

She could not even buy a train ticket from the automart

machines on her own. By the time I found out she knew

nothing about life in Europe, she was already living with

me. Sending her away because of such things would make

me feel bad for the rest of my life. I felt obliged to teach

her all the basic things she should know about Europe but

there was only one problem; I was in Portugal for papers. I

could have even managed to teach her if we had not fallen

into Madam Grace’s troubles. I wasn’t a religious person

but somehow I felt that nature brought her into my life

for a reason. All I needed to do was to find out what the

reason was. A part of me had already decided to send her

to Germany, teach her a story to tell during her asylum and

forget about her. But she was a teenager and somehow our

life had gotten entangled with each other. I had discovered

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163

that each time I brought up the issue of sending her away,

she would cry and even refused to eat. Since we were on a

forced holiday in Porto, we needed to make the best of it as

much as possible. My nerves had started to relax a little bit.

I had stopped being jumpy and on alert. I doubted Madam

Grace would find us up there in Porto. Nobody knew where

I was, even Jose. He had called me while we were on the

train to Porto but I told him I was going to Algarve in

the Southern Portugal. I pointed him south while heading

north.

We slept after chatting for a bit. She wanted sex. I wanted

sleep. She had noticed that she was stressing me and that she

was a burden to me. She depended on me for everything and

the last thing she wanted to do was to upset me. That would

have been disastrous for her; or so she thought. During our

sleep that night, I had a dream.

**********

The Dream

In my dream, a woman was chasing me with a knife.

It was in Nigeria. I had just returned from Market and sat

down to eat when a woman busted through my gates with

a knife. I jumped up on top of the roof, she did the same.

I spread my hands and flew, she followed me. We flew for

several minutes and each time I looked back, I saw her

closing the gap between us. I landed on top of a church

building, she landed there too. Damn! Even the Church

building won’t save me.

I flew out of the church building and landed in a tree,

she landed in the same tree below me. She was still clutching

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the knife. Then it came to me. The only thing I needed was

to fight back. I remembered that I had a knife at home too,

I flew out towards my home and she followed. I got home

and grabbed my own knife. She landed in the middle of the

compound. I came out with my own knife and confronted

her. She started going backwards. I pursued her out of the

compound and she ran away. I picked up a stone and threw

at her; it hit her on the head. She cried out and the sound

woke me up.

I looked beside me and saw Jennifer peacefully sleeping.

I lay awake on my back and tried to figure out the meaning

of the dream.

Who was she?

They said dreams could mean an opposite of what

happened.

Was it Madam Grace? Was it the Olokun herself?

One thing I was pretty sure of was that Madam Grace

indulged in petty voodoo. I personally believed so much in

physicality. During the night before I slept, I had thought

about Olokun and the Madam Grace’s threats. I had thought

that since she had paid some money without seeing Jennifer,

she was left with the only option of taking my name to

Olokun. I somehow believed that even if I had sent Jennifer

back to her after the payment, she would still do something

about it.

I lay awake from around 4 am until 6 am when Jennifer

woke up. I was tempted to tell her what happened in the

dream but that would have created a lot of panic in her. I

waited for a good opportunity to tell her.

If that was all Olokun and Madam Grace could do,

then I had discovered the solution; fight back. I had fought

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165

her back physically and defeated her. I had fought whoever

it was in the dream and succeeded in chasing her away in

the dream.

One more attempt Madam Grace, Just one more move

from you; dream or physical and I will bring the war down to

your doorstep.

I dialled room service for coffee and tea and they brought

it ten minutes later. We drank in silence. I had brought a

bottle of Johnny Walker with me from outside the day before.

I opened it and filled my glass to half. Jennifer stared at me as

if to say ‘why drinking this morning’? But she was gradually

becoming afraid of me too. I pitied the poor girl. In as much

as I blamed her for some of my troubles, my entrance into her

life had brought her troubles too. Destiny had played a large

trick on us and it was left for us to fix it. Unfortunately, the

larger percentage of the fixing lay with me.

After two gulps of whisky, I called Madam Grace.

“Hello” a voice said on the other side of the call. It was

Madam Grace. She was still half asleep. It was the morning

of December 26. Two days after she had lost €5000 to

blackmail.

“Madam Grace, I told you not to make any more move.

You sent a witch to me in my dream last night. I defeated

your witch but you will pay for it” I said and cut off the call.

Jennifer looked at me, confusion written all over her face.

She asked what had happened. I told her about the dream,

leaving out the part where I ran to the church for help. I was

not ready for any ‘accept Christ or perish’ topic.

My phone rang a few minutes later and it was Madam

Grace. She said she had no idea what I was talking about.

She said she had kept her own end of the bargain and that

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I was just being wicked by not sending Jennifer back to her.

I told her to wait for a call before midday.

Suddenly I was in the mood for sex. It must have been

the Johnny Walker. I turned to Jenny and smiled. She smiled

back. That was the first smile on her face for a long time.

The whole running from Madam had deprived the

young lady of happiness. I pitied her. Maybe sex will bring

her back to normalcy, just maybe.

I kissed her on the lips. She didn’t respond. It was an

unexpected kiss. I pretended not to be interested anymore

and as I was about to shift away from her, she grabbed me

and pulled me down on the bed. She was hungry for it. The

way she nearly tore my cloths out of my body confirmed it.

Before I could say jack, my entire clothing system had been

stripped down to the stockings. She kissed my dick and

started sucking. The effect of the early morning scotch kept

my brain active. She sucked me while my stretched right

hand squeezed her breasts. I had forgotten how the sweet

girl felt and tasted since I began to run. When my dick had

gotten stiff enough for action, I searched for my wallet.

Damn! No condom.

I was torn between flesh to flesh and running outside

for a condom. I believed that running outside would change

everything because there was the possibilities of not being in

the mood anymore by the time I returned. I considered what

could happen to me if I did it without condom; contacting

disease, getting her pregnant and so on. The issue of getting

her pregnant was quickly discarded since I could pull my

dick out and pouring on the bed. The issue of disease

lingered for a few seconds. Then it hit me. Madam Grace

was after me both physically and spiritually. If the disease I

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167

could contact didn’t kill me, Madam Grace was going to kill

me. Either way, I would be dead before I got to 120 years.

“Do it, attaboy!” that naughty part of me shouted.

The whole thought lasted for a few seconds as I turned

around and saw Jenny lying naked facing me with a

welcoming smile. I raised her right leg high and slowly

dipped my dick into her already wet womanhood. It was a

sweet sensation as I thumped in and out in a manner that

made her beg for more. Her tight womanhood held every

part of my manhood and made me come quicker than usual.

She clutched my waist as soon as she found out that I was

about to release. I couldn’t pull out.

Damn! I had released inside her.

She cleaned up and we did it the second time. After

the sex, I told her that I was feeling a little cold inside my

body. I went downstairs to a pharmacy along the street. It

was open. I told the Brazilian lady that I needed some pills

that could stop a lady from getting pregnant. She told me

that I needed a prescription from a doctor. She was alone in

the shop; I smiled and slipped a €50 bill in her hand. She

smiled and went inside. A minute later, she came out with

a pack of twenty tablets. She said the lady needed only one

each time she had unprotected sex.

I asked for the price and she told me. I gave her a ten

euro bill and left. She didn’t ask for the remaining one euro.

Back in the hotel room, I gave the pack to Jennifer. I had

removed one tablet from the card and threw it away. I told

her that I had taken mine. It was for cold prevention. The

pneumonia killer. She took a tablet and kept the remainder

in her purse. Thanks to language barrier, the name of the

pills and its functions were written in Portuguese.

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**************

On December 27, business returned to Porto. I took

Jennifer to the Banco Espirito Santo along the Rua Augusto.

I sent €500 to Nigeria; €400 to my younger brother and

€100 to Jennifer’s mother in Benin City. Jennifer was

surprised at what I did. It was the first money she had sent

to Africa. I called my younger brother and told him how

to distribute the money. Jennifer called her mother and

told her that the money was sent by her boyfriend. The

woman thanked me and pleaded with me to take care of

her daughter. Madam Grace had called them in Nigeria and

announced that Jennifer ran away with one Igbo man. The

mother had asked me what happened. I told her that I didn’t

run away with her daughter. I made her understand that her

daughter didn’t like what she was doing and had decided to

look for something else. I hung the phone before she could

ask me more complex questions.

When we finished with the African issue, we went to

the bus station across Rua Augusto and boarded a bus to

the Musica center.

There was a cinema hall near the mighty Musica house.

We went in to watch a film. Twenty minutes into the movie,

my phone rang. It was Francis from Lisbon. He wanted to

know where I was. I told him I was in Faro, a Southern

coastal city in Portugal. I asked him if there was a letter for

me, he said no.

After the film, I called Jose and told him that it was time

for our next move. He was so happy. He had made €1500

from the other deal and was ready for the next one. As soon

as we got back to our hotel room, I called Madam Grace.

She didn’t pick the first call. I sent her a text message that I

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169

was going to the police. She called me back a few minutes

later and said she wasn’t with the phone when I called earlier.

“Have you heard about Abu and Efe” I asked. She kept

quiet.

A strange kind of calm had taken over me. I had lost all

conscience and I was ready for whatever Madam Grace was

prepared to dish out.

“Why did you call Jennifer’s mother to report that she

ran away with me” I asked again. She responded this time.

“Didn’t she run away with you?” she fired.

“I see” I said. “I want us to end this whole thing once

and for all. My friend had gotten hold of the recorded

message. He said you must buy the message together with

the phone” I said and kept quiet.

She didn’t say anything and she didn’t hang up either. I

expected her to hang up but she didn’t.

“My friend will call you anytime. Make sure you settle

with him” I said.

“What about Jennifer” she asked.

“She is no longer your property. As a business woman,

you must expect to lose sometimes” I said and cut the line.

I called Jose and told him that I had travelled from

Algarve to Porto. I told him to come up to Porto. He was

excited. He said he would come the following day. There was

nothing else to do for the rest of the day, so we walked down

to a betting house near our hotel. Some English Premier

League games were about to begin. I placed some single bets

on the teams I believed would win.

Manchester United to win Portsmouth.

Liverpool to win Middleborough

Arsenal to win Fulham

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Tottenham Hottspurs to win Aston Villa.

When the whole games that I betted on finished, I won

three and lost one. I made €120 profit, divided it into two

and gave Jennifer €60. She had been worrying me while

we waited for the matches to finish. As soon as she got the

€60, she was all smiles. At about 8 pm, we went back to our

hotel room. We had bought cards outside. We played and

drank scotch with ice until late in the night. One round of

sex closed the day for us. We took our bath and slept. The

next day was going to be exciting.

*************

The Next Day

Jose called me before 9 am and informed me that he was

on the way. I told him to call me when he got to the Sao

Bento train station. I didn’t want to tell him the name of

my hotel on the phone. There was a possibility that Madam

and her squad tapped into my phone so I didn’t want to take

chances. Jose arrived in Porto a few minutes after 11 am.

I was in the station before he arrived. I had found a spot

where I could watch everybody going in or coming out of

the station. I wanted to know if he came with someone else

or if he was followed from Lisbon without his knowledge.

In the dangerous game of blackmail, one can never trust

anyone totally.

I saw Jose come out of the station alone. He called and

asked how he could locate me. I told him to enter a taxi to

cafe Velasquez. I jumped into another cab and followed him.

He stopped at the cafe and called me again. I told him to

enter the bus to Avenida Das Antas. I watched him enter the

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bus and then I asked my taxi driver to follow him. My taxi

driver was suspicious of my moves. I guessed he thought I

was a drug dealer. It wasn’t his business since the price meter

in the taxi was running up.

Jose stopped at the Antas Bus station and called me

again. I told him to look behind him. He did.

I asked him to come towards the cream coloured taxi

standing 120 meters away. He approached us and entered

the back of the taxi. We drove to the building next to my

hotel and stopped. We entered a bar and bought two bottles

of Sagres beer. We finished our beers, walked back to the

hotel and rented room 211 for Jose in the same second floor.

It was directly opposite mine. We got to the new room and

sat down. It was time to discuss business.

“Jose, I want us to get more money from the woman”

I said.

His face lightened up instantly.

“Last time, you told me that you wanted a vacation in

Sao Paolo, Brazil. If this last deal happens, you will have

enough money to go to Brazil.” I carefully watched his face

as I said these words.

“Are you in or not?” I asked

“No problem boss, let’s do it,” he eagerly said.

“Jose, you understand that this could go wrong this

time. You remember what happened last time with the two

thugs. Another surprise may surface again, so you need to

pay maximum attention to the plans,” I said and brought

out a small map of Porto and a piece of paper where I had

written down some names.

“This deal will happen here in Porto,” I went further.

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“This is Boavista Avenue. It is a large square that has

four major exits and two minor exit routes. We will get

the woman to the square and watch her for several minutes

before making any kind of contact,” I said as I showed him

the places on the small map I had purchased some days ago.

I told him that we would need one other person to make

us three. I laid down the entire plan to him as he watched

in awe.

We were to lure Madam Grace out of Lisbon where she

knew the areas very well and bring her to Porto.

At about 12:30 pm, we got down and took a taxi to

the Sao Bento train station. During my first visit to the

station, I had noticed several lockers where people keep their

belongings before venturing into the city.

We got to the Bento station and hired a locker, put the

Motorola Razor phone which I had used to record Madam

Grace’s conversation inside the locker and locked it. It was

a phone I bought €100 a week before leaving Germany. We

went back to the hotel. Jose called one of his friends who

acted as a police officer during the first ransom collection.

He told his friend to follow the next available train to Porto.

His name was Nuno.

Nuno arrived in Porto a few minutes past 6 pm in the

evening. Jose went to welcome him at the Sao Bento station.

When they returned to the hotel, we sat down around the

table in Jose’s room and reviewed our plans. The price this

time was going to be €20,000.

After perfecting our plans, I called Jennifer and we went

into the city and had some fun.

At exactly 11pm, Jose called Madam Grace. He told her

that he had purchased the recorded message from me and

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173

that it was for sale to the highest bidder between her and

the Portuguese authorities. He told Madam Grace that she

had only one day to come up with €20,000 or forget about

the record.

Madam Grace didn’t say anything. She just kept quiet

and listened. The phone was on loudspeaker. After the call,

we drank a bottle of Johnny Walker.

I took Jennifer to our room and retired for the night.

The next morning was a Saturday. Four of us went down

to the hotel restaurant for our breakfast. A lot of people were

there as well. When Jose’s phone rang, he went outside to

take the call. He returned a few minutes later and nodded

towards me. I followed him upstairs to his room. Madam

Grace had called. She wanted the recorded message for

€10,000. There was no mention of Jennifer; she just wanted

the recorded message with the phone. Jose asked me what

I wanted to do about it, I asked him to call her back and

demand for €15,000. I told him not to agree on anything

less.

After much pleadings and counter pleadings, Madam

Grace agreed to pay €13,000 for the recorded message. She

begged us to leave her alone after that. She asked where the

exchange would take place. When we told her that it was

in Porto, she was speechless. She agreed to come to Porto

with the money on the 30th of December. In the afternoon,

we hired a taxi and went to the Boavista Avenue where the

exchange would take place. It was a large round avenue with

six roads linking it from all sides of Porto. There were tens

of shops ranging from bars, pubs to phone shops, boutiques

and more. We located an Irish pub at the north end that

overlooked the entire avenue and entered. They specialized

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in selling Guinness stout; a black beer that lacked every kind

of sweetness. We took a litre of the Guinness stout each and

sat in a quiet corner.

From the pub, we could see five of the six roads that

entered the avenue. I pointed to the road leading to the

Douro River and told Nuno that he was going to be at that

spot with a hired car. Nuno said he had no driver’s license,

so I re-assigned Jose to the spot. Nuno would be at the pub

where we were at that moment and monitor every suspicious

movement. I would go to the station to know when Madam

Grace arrived and to find out if she came with another

entourage. Jennifer would stay back at the hotel. We finished

our bitter Guinness stout and entered a nearby phone shop.

I bought three cheapest phones in the shop with three new

sim cards. I gave one each to Jose and Nuno. We bought

airtime and went back to our hotel.

From then on, every new contact between us and

Madam Grace would be through the new phones. I and

Jennifer retired into our room.

“Jenny” I instructed, “pay attention carefully. Tomorrow

is going to be a dangerous day for us. Your madam will come

here.”

She looked sharply at me.

“I don’t mean here in this hotel, I mean here in Porto.

We want her to pay more money for what she has been doing

to Nigerian girls. When we get the money, we will find a

way to leave Portugal.” I said.

When I finished, she had nothing to say. She just stared

at me. I was sure she admired my courage but she didn’t

know how to approach the topic. She had suspended her life

to me. The responsibilities of her feeding, accommodation,

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175

clothing, fun and general well-being had been given to me

unconditionally. She was just helpless. It was a good lesson

to me too. When we finished our discussion, we slept. The

next day was an hour away.

*************

December 30th

I woke up earlier than usual. I opened the door and

stepped out into the corridor. A tap on the opposite room

woke Jose and Nuno up. Nuno opened the door and let me

in. Jose got out of bed as soon as he saw me.

“Bom dia” he said.

I nodded, picked up the pack of Marlboro on the table

and lighted one.

“Gentlemen, the day is here. This money we are about

to receive is small but we will still be in serious trouble if the

operation fails. We have covered our own end of the plans

but still we don’t know what surprises awaits us out there”

I announced.

They listened with utmost concentration.

“To make sure we don’t fall into any surprises, there

would be no alcoholic drink for three of us until the deal is

done. Do not do anything that will attract attention to you.

Do not disobey any government laws including crossing the

road without the green traffic light. Do not smoke outside

until we are done.

Any questions?”

Nuno went first. “Where is our meeting point after the

operation?” he asked.

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“There is an abandoned ship at the foot of the Douro

Bridge. It has been converted to a bar. I will be waiting

there” I said.

“What if she didn’t bring the money with her” Jose

asked.

“We have the keys to the safe locker at the station. No

money and no key. As long as she doesn’t give you money,

she has no evidence to implicate you” I said.

“When we get the money, how do we give her the keys”?

Jose asked again.

I hadn’t thought about that, so I scratched my head.

“I will give you the keys. When you get the money, don’t

bother to count it. Just give her the keys, tell her the locker

number and run for your life”. I finished and dropped the

butt of the Marlboro into the ashtray on the table and went

back to my room.

Jennifer had woken up and was already fiddling with

her phone to dial my number and find out where I had

gone. She greeted, “Good morning” as I moved into the

bathroom. I locked the bathroom door and climbed on top

of the toilet seat. I raised my hand up and found the money

I had hidden behind the water pipe. It was rumpled but still

complete. I pulled out €3000 and put the rest back behind

the pipe. I put the €3000 inside my pocket and removed

all my clothes for my morning bath. Ten minutes later, I

returned to the room and sat down beside Jenny.

“Jennifer, we will be going out any moment today to

meet your Madam. She may come with police or thugs, it

means that there could be trouble” I said.

She looked at me and started crying.

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177

“There is no need to cry, you will not get into trouble.

Here is €1500. If I don’t get back in the night, hide your

phone number and call me. If I don’t answer or if another

person answers the call, cut the line and wait until morning.

If after mid-day tomorrow and I am not back here, call this

number” I said as I handed a written number to her

“He is my friend in Valencia, Spain. He will come here

to pick you up. Our hotel deposit will end tomorrow. Pay

them for another three days until my friend comes here. If

my friend doesn’t come, take your bag and go to the train

station. Buy a ticket to Coimbra. From Coimbra, buy a

ticket to Madrid, the border in that area is porous. If the

police stop you, tell them that you are from Cameroun and

that you want asylum. I have called my friend in Madrid

and told him about you. Here is his number. From Porto to

Madrid is about 600km. The ticket will not cost more than

€200 in total.”

While speaking, I handed another phone number

written on a piece of paper to her. I finished and held her

hand. “I know you are scared but the other option is to go

back to Lisbon” I said gently.

When I finished with her, I went back to Jose and Nuno.

“Call Madam now” I said as I entered the room.

“She called two minutes ago, she said she is on her way,”

Jose said.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, are you running this

operation now”? I asked.

“Sorry Boss” he said apologetically.

He liked calling me boss and I didn’t care, I was running

and sponsoring the operations anyway.

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I looked at the clock on the screen of my phone and it

was 8:15am. Since the trains to Porto from Lisbon’s largest

station, at the Oriente leaves five minutes past every hour,

I figured she must have left with either 7:05 or 8:05 trains.

Porto is approximately 3 hours from Lisbon. It was safe to

assume that she would be in Sao Bento Station by 10 am or

11 am. We reviewed our plans for the last time and got ready

to move. I went back to my room and met Jenny crying. She

stood up and hugged me as soon as I entered.

“Please don’t leave me here” she begged.

I told her that everything was going to be alright. I made

her understand why I had to give her the plan B options.

When she calmed down, I kissed her for a long minute,

turned around and left the room without looking back.

Jose and Nuno were already downstairs. We got outside

and entered one of the waiting taxis in front of the hotel. It

took us to Avis, where Jose rented a small French car called

Renault Megane. We took the car to Boavista Avenue and

packed behind a fiat car. I gave then €500 and the key to

the safe, and then I told them to disappear if anything

suspicious occurred. I left them both and returned to a

Cyber Cafe opposite the major entrance into the Sao Bento

train station. The time was seventeen minutes to 10 am. I

bought a cup of coffee and a thirty-minute internet voucher,

and then waited for Madam Grace.

**********

Laws of Power

The new emails in my inbox were from Efuah, Agnes

and an unknown name. I opened Efuah’s mail. It was two

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179

pictures of Princess, my daughter. She had grown bigger and

looked like her mother. A short message that accompanied

it said that they were ok. Her husband had called and said

that her travel documents would be ready by the middle

of January. I wished her good luck and opened the second

mail. It was from Agnes. She wanted to know how I was

doing with the resident permit processing. She said she was

also interested if I could help. Victor was fine. I closed it

and opened the third mail. It was from a lady who claimed

to be from Sierra Leone. According to her, she was in a

refugee camp in Dakar, Senegal and wanted me to help her

retrieve three million dollars her late father had lodged in

a foreign account for her. She asked for my phone number

and resident address and so on. I suspected this was a scam

mail, so I replied her and gave her Madam Grace’s phone

number. Madam Grace would be of a better help since she

knew how to smuggle girls.

After the last mail, I looked up and saw people coming

out of the station. A train had arrived but I was not sure

where it had come from. Since Sao Bento station was the

largest and the most central station in Porto, trains from all

over Spain and Portugal stopped there. I looked at my watch;

it was 10: 01am. I signed out of my email and concentrated

on the train station.

There! The unmistakably fat Madam Grace was

fumbling in her handbag. I watched her bring out her phone

and dialled a number. She spoke for a minute or so and put

the phone back in her bag. I watched her cross the road to

where I was and entered a taxi. I figured out that it was Jose

that Madam Grace had called.

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Why haven’t Jose called me and report that the woman had

arrived. Something was wrong.

I jumped outside and called a cab. I told the driver to

follow the road south of the station where I had seen Madam

Grace and her taxi gone to. Fortunately for us, we caught

up with her in a traffic light. My taxi driver was a Pakistani

man. I told him that I wanted to know where Madam

Grace’s taxi was going. He nodded and followed her. We

followed them to Massarelos roundabout but instead of

going right to the Boavista Avenue, they diverted left down

to the Douro River. At that stage, I knew that something

had gone wrong. Jose and Nuno were no longer working

according to plan.

I wondered if they had been discovered where they were

waiting for Madam Grace and had decided to change the

point of exchange. But why not tell me. I was running the

operations. I was the group leader. I had recruited two of

them. I was going to find out what was happening.

They got to the Douro River and climbed the Arrabida

bridge. I followed them. They crossed the bridge and headed

to the Vila Nova de Gaia, a suburb of Porto down in the

South. They were heading to an area I had not visited,

I needed to act fast. I called Madam Grace with my old

number. She picked the phone after the first ring.

“Solomon, I don’t know where your friends are taking

me to. I have the money here and they have been telling me

to come here and there” she yelled.

“I am the person who told them to do that to you. I

want you to stop at the traffic in front of you” I said.

She did. She got out of the taxi and stood in front of a

coffee shop. I stopped behind them and asked her to settle

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181

her taxi driver. I told her to enter my own taxi and we

drove away. We turned and headed back across the Arrabida

Bridge. I asked her to switch off her phone.

I called Jose and asked for updates. He said that he

would call me back and cut his line off.

“Where is the money?” I asked?

“Where is the record?” she fired back.

I told her that it was locked up somewhere close and

that she will get it as soon as I get the money. She hesitated

for a few seconds before throwing a small black bag at me.

I opened it and saw rolls of euro currencies inside. I zipped

it slowly and asked the taxi driver to head to the Sao Bento

Station. We got to the station and I asked her to wait with

the driver while I get the recorded message. She said nothing.

Just like me, she was scared too. Her offence was too bad.

She needed to destroy that recorded message and she knew

that any wrong move would change everything.

I went down to the Angolan safe keeper who assigned

us the safe where I had hidden the phone. I told him that

I lost the key and asked him to open it for me. Luckily, he

recognized me; I had given him a twenty euro tip when we

brought the phone. He said that I needed to fill in some

paper works before he could open the safe for me. I did.

After the paperwork which included my names, my address,

my phone number, he opened the safe box for me and I took

the phone.

The price meter of my taxi had stopped at €138 when

we got back to the station. I sneaked to the taxi window and

threw €150 to the driver and threw the phone to Madam

Grace. Then I walked hurriedly down the station again and

disappeared through another exit. As soon as I came out of

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the station, I called Jennifer. I told her to get ready in ten

minutes; we were checking out. I hung the phone before

she asked why. I called Jose and told him to come to the

abandoned ship; our rendezvous point. I told him that I had

followed Madam Grace across the bridge and had collected

the money. I figured that by the time they get to the ship and

back to our hotel, I must have been halfway to another city.

183

CHAPTER EIGHT

Welcome to Braga

Less than ten minutes after I left Sao Bento station, I got

to my hotel. Jennifer was packing slowly when I got to the

room. I told her to hurry up. There was no time. I went into

the bathroom and picked the money I had hidden behind

the water pipe. I helped Jennifer pack faster. We scrambled

out of the room and as we got down to the ground floor, my

phone rang. It was Jose.

“We are at the bar in the abandoned ship,” he said.

“Wait for me, I am on way” I said calmly.

The taxi driver who brought me to the hotel from the

station was waiting for me. I had given him extra €10 and

asked him to wait. We loaded our two bags inside the boot

of the Mercedes Benz cab, got inside as fast as we could and

drove out of the hotel. I didn’t want to go to the Sao Bento

train station. Madam Grace could still be there waiting

for her return train. Coimbra was in the south of Porto,

Madam Grace may have also for some reasons decided to use

a stopover train which meant that she could change trains

in Coimbra since the city was between Porto and Lisbon.

The safest option was to head north. The nearest City in the

North was Braga.

“Take us to Braga” I said to the taxi driver. The taxi

driver looked at me as if I was a retarded person.

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“Braga is forty minutes from here, it will cost you a lot

of money,” he said. I told him to take us to Braga or I would

find another cab. He shook his head and headed North to

Braga through highway A3.

Braga was the fourth largest city in Portugal after Lisbon,

Porto and Amadora. It was situated in the north-west part of

Portugal. I had studied its map a few days before our final

operation in Porto. The reason was to know which way to

go when it was time to leave Porto. I had ruled out Lisbon

due to Madam Grace and her thugs. I had also ruled out

Amadora because it was pretty close to Lisbon. Coimbra, the

next big city was a transit point to Madrid and many parts of

Central Spain; it would be very easy for someone who knew

me to spot me there. Braga was the answer.

We got to Braga in the middle of the afternoon on

December 30. The weather was a little bit colder than Porto.

I had switched my phone and Jennifer’s off as soon as we

left Porto. I was sure Jose must have been calling but since

he wanted to play smart, I made him understand that we

Africans were never what they took us to be. The price

meter on the taxi that brought us was hovering above €200.

Our taxi man was concerned about the price. He believed

that the two young African couple would not be able to

pay him. I asked him to locate a cheap hotel for us. He

murmured something inaudible and engaged his gear. I

opened my wallet and handed €300 to him. The smile on

his face returned.

After a few questions, we found the Liberdade Guest

house, located in the Avenida da Liberdade; an avenue with

mostly white occupants. We knocked on the metal door

and a young man of about twenty-eight opened the door.

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185

He didn’t say ‘hi’ or ‘welcome’ or anything. He just gazed

curiously at two black faces.

“We need a place to rent,” I told him.

He motioned at us to come inside. I asked Jennifer to

stay with the taxi man while I check the place out. I followed

the man to the reception hall. He brought out their room

lists and their prizes. A quick scan down the list gave me

what I wanted, a cheap apartment with private bathroom,

kitchen and veranda. I pointed to the one I wanted. He

took me upstairs to inspect it. It was a nice neat room with

enough space. There was a long sofa, a reading table and

chair, a television set, a reading lamp, a large bed that could

contain three people, a wardrobe and some hangers in it. I

peeped in the kitchen and found a gas cooker and a fridge.

The bathroom was neat and spacious too.

We returned back to the reception and checked the

price. The apartment was €30/day, €180/week, €600/month.

I asked him to prepare a one week receipt for us. I went

outside and got our bags from the boot. The taxi driver

called me and gave me €25. He said that was my balance. I

gave him the money back and told him to go. He gave me

his number and asked me to call for his service when next

I visit Porto. Then he drove away. We carried our two small

bags inside and paid €180 at the reception. We took our keys

and went upstairs. I opened the room and we entered inside

the warm room, away from Lisbon, away from Porto, away

from Madam Grace, away from Jose and away from danger.

As soon as we settled in our new apartment, I opened

the black bag containing Madam Grace’s ransom money. I

spread the contents on the floor and asked Jennifer to count

them while I took my bath. When I returned, she said it was

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thirteen thousand euros. The money was complete. Our

own share would have been about eight thousand euros, but

since Jose and Nuno his friend had wanted all of the money,

why wouldn’t I want all of it as well.

I told Jennifer to go take her bath. As soon as she went

into the bathroom, I opened my two phones and removed

the sim cards. I opened her phone and removed the sim

card too. When she came out of the bathroom, she saw the

phones scattered all over the table. She looked at them and

decided not to ask questions about it. She knew I must have

had a good reason for scattering the phones. She applied her

makeup and wore her clothes, and then we went downstairs

and into the historical city of Braga, Portugal.

We walked hand in hand like lovers and strolled down

towards the southeast part of the avenue. We came out at

the Joao XXI Avenue. We turned right and walked to the

busy Immaculate Conception Avenue, went into a phone

shop and bought two Nokia Phones. Then we bought three

sim cards. We found a Chinese restaurant and entered. The

incidents of the day made me forget that human beings

survived on foods and water. We ordered fried rice mixed

with chicken flesh and fresh crayfish. After the meal, we

called a cab and went into the city centre.

I was wondering what to do for my little Jenny to make

her feel loved and relaxed. The girl had been through a lot,

running with me like a fugitive from one city to another.

I wondered if she enjoyed the unexpected adventure. I

wondered if she would agree to do the same things if the

time was rewound. I wondered how she would feel when our

paths would follow different routes someday. I just hoped

she would be prepared because as for me, the Ozoigbondu 1

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187

of Berlin, circumstances had trained me like a soldier and

my mind had been fortified to survive every condition.

We stopped at a busy area and got down. There was a

boutique around the corner where the taxi stopped us. We

entered the boutique and I asked Jenny to start picking

cloths and shoes to the tune of €800. It was time to change

her wardrobe, irrespective of our predicaments; we still had

the right to live normal lives. She hugged me in public for

the first time and started shopping. I left her at the shop and

crossed the road to buy two small pots, a bag of rice, tomato

pastes, chicken, a knife, a video machine with cable, body

creams, and a few more small items. When she finished, I

walked back across the road and asked her to pay for the

items from the €1500 I gave her in Porto for emergency.

I told her to hold the remaining €700 but she insisted on

giving it to me to keep.

We called a cab and loaded our purchases, and then we

drove back to our apartment. When we got back, Jenny went

into the kitchen while I worked on the new mobile phones.

I put a new sim card in one of the new phones and put it on

the electric socket to charge. I also put one of the old sim

cards into an old phone and started writing down the phone

numbers in it. Less than two minutes after switching the old

phone on, it rang. It was Francis. He asked why my number

had not been connecting and when I would return. He also

confirmed that there was no letter for me. I was still talking

with Francis when a beep came to the phone. I checked to

find out who it was.

Damn! Jose was on the line. I ignored him and continued

with Francis.

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News down in Lisbon was that I had eloped with one of

Madam Grace’s favourite girls. Some said they had spotted

me with Jennifer in Madrid, some said Valencia; others said

we were still in Lisbon. According to Francis, a search party

had been organized in Malaga, Napoli, Lisbon and Paris.

Madam Grace had promised money to anybody who could

bring back Jennifer. He said Madam had been boasting in

Lisbon about how she would skin me alive anytime I set my

foot on Lisbon soil again. Rumours also had it that some

guy had emerged out of nowhere and claimed that he knew

me back in Nigeria. He said that I was a criminal that ran

away from Aba, Abia State Nigeria when the Bakassi boys

were killing thieves.

I thanked Francis and promised to send him €300 to

pay for my room in Lisbon and keep the rest. The month

was ending the next day. I finished copying the phone

numbers that I needed and switched the old phone off again.

Jenny brought out rice and stew later and we ate together

like husband and wife. It was a delicious homemade stew.

Somehow, my love for her had increased.

*************

The Confession

On the night of December 30, the children of Braga

started throwing knockouts. I sat on the reading table

while Jennifer sat on the reading chair. We played cards

and watched the sky as different kinds of knockouts with

different sounds and light designs decorated the night

temporarily and faded away. Jennifer wanted us to go outside

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189

and get our own bangs but I was tired. We played our cards

until midnight, and then we slept.

The following morning, I went downstairs alone and

asked the receptionist where we could go and look around

in the city. He suggested Bom Jesus do monte Cathedral. I

went back upstairs and asked Jennifer to get prepared. We

were going out. She took her bath and applied some colour

on her face and some red greasy lead on her lips, and then

we stepped out and hired a cab to the Cathedral.

Bom Jesus Do Monte Cathedral was one of the largest

in Braga. It was built in 1722. It was located at the top of a

small mountain. The staircase to the top of the mountain

contained six hundred steps in a zigzag style. Each end

of the zigzag hosted a fountain chapel used as a stop for

the Catholic’s station of the cross. There were water trains

that transported people to the top of the mountain but we

decided to walk the entire steps up to the top where the

Church was built. It was a good exercise. I ignored the fact

that it was a church and held Jennifer’s hand as we climbed

the steps. It took us nearly thirty minutes to get to the top

since we paused occasionally to inspect some wonderful

structures built hundreds of years ago.

When we got to the top, there were several tourists

taking pictures and praying. A confession session was going

on. The new-year was some hours away and believers wanted

to enter it with righteousness. I asked Jennifer if she was

baptized and confirmed and brainwashed like me in the

Catholic doctrine, and she answered she wasn’t Catholic. I

asked her to keep looking around while I stood in line for

my own confession. I warned her not to venture too far away

from the hall.

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190

I was born a Catholic. My parents were Catholics who

were members of the choir in the St Mary’s Catholic Church

in my hometown. I got baptized in 1981 when I was a

year old. I received the Holy Communion in August 1987

and got confirmed in September 1989. I was a dedicated

Catholic who attended Church every Sunday until I moved

to Special Science Senior Secondary School where I lived in

the school like every other student. It was at the boarding

school that I stopped going to church. It was then that I

stopped receiving Holy Communion and stopped attending

confessions. I saw no need to go to the church and confess

your sins, ask God to forgive your sins with a promise never

to do it again, then start doing the same things all over again

from the moment you left the church. It looked absurd to

me then and I stopped. But right there at the Bom Jesus do

Monte, I felt the need to confess my sins. I felt the need to

ask God for forgiveness. I had done a lot of things regarded

as sins. I had dealt in drugs, blackmailed, was intimate, and

looked at beautiful women with lust; the list was endless.

The problems was that I didn’t know where and how to

start. I wasn’t even sure the Rev. Father at the confessional

understood English but that one didn’t bother me much.

Twenty minutes later, it was my turn to confess. I

entered the Confessional and before I knelt down, the Rev.

Father asked, “English, French or Portuguese”?

“English” I answered.

“What have you done my son” he said.

“Father” I began, “I have done a lot of sins, I have

stopped attending church for long, I have fornicated, I have

lied many times, I have stolen things that were not mine,

I have sold drugs, I have taken alcohol, I have, I have, I

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191

have…” I stopped. I wanted to add that I ran away with

Madam Grace’s young girl but that would require some kind

of explanation to the priest, so I just kept quiet. There was

nothing else I could remember.

“Is that all you want to tell God to forgive” he asked

calmly.

“Father, I am sure there are other sins I can’t remember

now” I said.

“Do you know how to pray the Rosary” he asked?

“Yes” I lied. I knew it but I was sure I had forgotten how

to say the mysteries and other rosary related Prayers.

“Say the rosary three times, say our Lord’s Prayer three

times and when it is 12 pm today, say the Angelus” he said.

“Go in peace and sin no more” he said as he made the sign

of the cross.

I got up slowly and left the confessional.

I returned back to the church auditorium and found

Jennifer walking around. I walked up to her and told her

that we were leaving. We went outside and saw an area

where catholic materials were being sold. I bought a rosary

Chaplet, a Station of the Cross Doctrine and a small bottle

of olive oil. We went to the back of the hall and bought

double €2 tickets. We entered the water train and rode down

to the base of the mountain. A bus was already waiting.

We boarded, purchased bus tickets and drove back to the

Avenida de Libertade where our apartment was located.

When we got to our room, I announced to Jennifer that

I wanted to pray. She was surprised; all those while we had

been together, she had never seen or heard me say any prayer.

I told her to either stay quiet on the bed or take some money

and go out to the city. She endorsed the second option and

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left the room. I knelt down and closed my eyes. “In the

name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy spirit” I

said as I made the sign of the cross on my face.

***********

The Catholic Church

As soon as I finished the Lord’s Prayer and Hail Mary,

there was nothing else I could remember. I opened the

doctrine book I had purchased at the Bom Jesus do Monte

and read from it. It felt so good to be able to pray again. The

events of the past few years had taken me away from God.

In the past few years, especially as soon as I left Nigeria, I

started doubting the existence of God. It escalated as soon

as I saw the quality of lives the people lived over there in

Germany. All those things we learnt about heaven back in

Africa was staring right there in front of me; humans playing

with animals, baskets full of fruits, green and very clean

environments, perfect social and transport system, happy

people and so on.

The worst of it all was that the Germans hardly go to

church. The first time I went to a Church in Eisenhuttenstadt

Germany, I found only the very old Germans in the church.

None of them was less than eighty years. I guessed the

Church was a kind of sanctuary for them, not a place to

waste youthful lives. The only young people at the church

there were just me and one other Ugandan lady who had

gone there with me. How could that be, unless Germany

was the heaven we were told existed? I felt no more reason

to go to church. It had remained that way ever since until

that very moment I saw myself at the Bom Jesus Cathedral.

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193

“Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee,

Blessed art though amongst women and blessed is the fruit

of thy womb Jesus” I prayed. I got absorbed into the prayers

and lost myself into it. After the first decade of ten ‘Hail

Mary’, I said a little more prayers and it was Hail Mary, all

over again.

While I prayed, I wondered why the Catholics had to

adopt that style of prayer. Why would we say over hundred

Hail Mary’s in just one round of Rosary? It was boring to

me but we were also told to have faith. ‘Blessed are those

who believe without seeing’. ‘Faith: a supernatural gift of

God which enables us to believe without doubt, what God has

revealed’. – Christian Doctrine.

Faith – another one of those ropes that tied us around the

necks, legs, minds and never allowed us to think freely. – Me.

How could you believe what you don’t know? What you

have never heard or seen just because a Pastor or Priest said

so. How can you even identify a truthful priest? Someone

divided the Red Sea with just a stroke of a stick, believe it

with faith or go to hell. The other guy spent three or four

days in the belly of the fish, believe it or go to hell. There

was the other guy who walked on water, believe it or go to

hell. There was no way around it except if you accept that

one that walked on water. You can forget about the other

ones, it’s safe. Just accept that one that walked on water and

you are saved. Yes, saved from sins, such as Johnny Walker,

drugs, adultery, fornication, lies, etc, but above all, saved

from sex. Sex, the sweetest thing on earth was also banned.

Don’t go there or you will go to hell. Oh! I remember there

was a condition attached to sex. You must marry before

you try it. Yes apart from that, you were bound for hell;

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somewhere where it was all fire and no water, no food but

you will survive anyway and keep burning forever. You will

not be allowed to die, that same God who loved you so

much will not allow you to die in hell. He will make sure

that you remained alive in hell so that you will burn forever.

Somehow, all those things happened in a book. A Holy

Book that was packaged thousands of years ago.

There was another version packaged for the Muslims

too. In their own version, many virgins were waiting for

them in their own Heaven if they kill the infidels on Earth.

Ah! I was an infidel; my head in exchange for virgins.

One group invaded us from Arabian Deserts while the

other ones invaded us from Europe; nowhere to run to. Our

own African Gods were stolen and burnt; some of them were

cooling off at the Louvre Museum in the middle of Paris.

We had found another God who wasn’t interested in

chickens and yams and money. Just give those things to the

priests and pastors and prophets, they knew how to give

it to God. If you give it to God by yourself, He will not

accept it. Somehow those magical things that happened

in those two books can no longer happen in our time. The

human beings had decided to indulge in sins and turned

their backs against God. God had decided to abandon us

but he loves us, yes he loves you. He loved Jennifer yet

allowed her to be transported to Portugal to sleep with men

for money. Maybe it was because she was born in sin. He

also loved Madam Grace who committed that sin. He loves

giving us second chances to repent. Ah! He rescued Jennifer

through me, another sinner who had sold drugs to people in

Germany. Or maybe drugs were not sins. Those doubts that

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195

had stopped me from attending church had crept in again

while I was praying in my room in Braga.

My mind had been divided between doubts and beliefs

and faith and miracles and sins and so on. I couldn’t

concentrate anymore. Why couldn’t my mind stay in one

place? Was I a devil or was I a special person? I stopped the

prayers midway and called Jennifer.

“Where are you” I said as soon as she picked the call.

“I am at the reception downstairs, I don’t know where

to go” she said.

“Wait for me, I will be there in a minute” I said.

We left our apartment building and walked down to the

Immaculate Conception Avenue.

There was a liquor store managed by a middle aged

Moroccan man. He was a Muslim, another confused and

brainwashed African like me. His religion was against

alcohol. What was he doing selling it to people?

Thou shall not judge, Another rope on our minds.

I bought a bottle of Hennessy VSOP and called a taxi. I

asked the driver if there was any close beach around Braga,

and he said there was one at Viana Do Castelo and Apulia

but was about 30km away from Braga.

“Which one is the closest” I said.

“Apulia” he answered.

“Take us to Apulia”

************

Love in Apulia

Apulia: A small town of about 4000 people was located

beside the Atlantic Ocean in the northwest region of

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Portugal. The cab from Braga dropped us near the bus

station. There was no railway line. I paid the cab fares and

collected her phone number. I told the lady driver to expect

my call in three or four hours so that she would come to

take us back to Braga city.

Jenny and I walked across the only major road in the

town and headed down to the ocean. We got near the ocean

and perched on a rock. The deep blue water stretched into

infinity. Jenny was scared. The waves from the ocean hit the

rocks occasionally and sometimes it looked like it would

jump up and sweep us away into the ocean. I opened the

bottle of Hennessy I had bought from the Moroccan man

and gulped down a large quantity directly from the bottle.

I handed it to Jennifer who sipped a little and decided that

it wasn’t worth drinking.

Right there, on top of a large rock facing the mighty

Atlantic Ocean, in the small town of Apulia, I had fallen

in love with Jennifer. She had fallen in love with me too.

It was written all over her face. She had surrendered herself

to me long ago. She had left all hopes and held on to me as

if I were her hero. I had finally succumbed to nature after

resisting the temptation for weeks. She was the closest thing

to me for long. I had learnt to trust her as time went by. I

remembered when I had decided to chase her out of my

life. I had left €1200 on top of my bed inside my room in

Lisbon. I had intentionally left the money there and went

downstairs. I had told her that I was going to Colombo to

buy something. Colombo was a thirty-minute ride from

my house. I had walked down the street and entered a bar

very close to my house. I had purchased a glass of Johnny

walker and sat at a place where I could see every movement

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197

in and out of my house. I was hoping that she would take the

money and vanish. I was half way through my drink when

my phone rang; it was Jennifer. Great! I had caught her. She

must have run away with the money and called to tell me.

“Baby, you forgot your money on the bed” she said.

Damn!

“What money?” I asked in disappointment.

“There is some money on the bed, check your pocket,

you must have thought that you put it there,” she had said.

“Oh my God, keep it for me” I shouted.

Being a very sceptical person, I had thought that she

didn’t run away because she had nowhere to run to or

because Madam Grace was looking for her then. I planned

my second trap. When we had just arrived in Montijo area

of Lisbon where Jose had helped me find a self- contain

apartment in the students’ hostel. I had told Jennifer that

I was going to send her to Germany. I had made the calls

in her presence and arranged for a look-alike document to

help buy flight tickets to Berlin. After the calls, she had said

that she couldn’t go alone to Germany. She insisted that she

couldn’t leave me and go anywhere. I also lied to her that I

had a wife in Africa. She didn’t care or she didn’t believe me.

I had tried some other minor tricks to scare her away but she

had defied all of them and chose to live with me.

All those moments flashed past my mind at a very

fast pace. I had nothing to say rather than to kiss her and

that was exactly what I did. However, there was only one

problem. I had just gulped down a large chunk of alcoholic.

Why didn’t I feel this love all these while when I had not

taken any spirits? Why after Hennessy; that French poison?

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Making judgments under the influence of alcohol

has always had large negative after- effects. Whatever the

reason was, I was feeling in love at that top of the rock in

Apulia, every other thing should hold on. The last time

I felt that way was back in Africa with a Ghanaian girl.

If anything had happened to me in Braga, Porto or even

Lisbon, Jennifer would have been the only person to know

first. The responsibility of telling others what happened

to me would have fallen on her shoulders. Knowing what

Africa was, some people from my place and some friends

would have even accused her of killing me. Africa, My dark

beautiful continent; When are we going to grow up?

I turned around and looked her in the eyes and slowly

said, “I love you”.

She looked at me and kept her gaze on my eyes.

“I know the circumstances that brought us together

weren’t ideal for the ordinary human being but I believe you

are an angel. God sent you to guide and be with me in this

time of troubles,” I said.

Before I could finish what I was saying, she started

crying. She placed her head on my shoulder and cried for

minutes. I didn’t bother asking her to stop for I knew it

was tears of joy. Yes, I was sure. I knew it was tears of joy.

When she was done weeping, I took her phone and put two

phone numbers in it. I showed them to her and told her that

one belonged to Johnson, a friend of mine in Germany. I

asked her to call him and ask of me if my number stopped

connecting anytime in the future. The second number

belonged to my elder brother in Onitsha. I told her the same

thing I said about Johnson. We spent an hour or thereabout

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199

on the rock and walked to the sandy shores of the mighty

Atlantic Ocean.

The Sandy beach of Apulia stretched out in front of

us. There were numerous tourists from all over Europe

especially Germany. Each group we passed along the shores

spoke a different language. The children were throwing balls

and playing every other sport in the book. The weather in

Scandinavia, Eastern Europe, Germany and down to France

had dropped to two or three degrees Celsius. Since it was a

holiday, many of their citizens had decided to spend it where

the weather was better. Some went to North Africa; Egypt,

Morocco and Tunisia. Some went to Portugal, Spain and

Southern Italy. Those with enough money travelled as far

as South America, South Africa and some Asian countries.

Jenny was the happiest among the people in the beach. She

had just been told that she was loved by a man with whom

she had been running with all over Portugal. She had been

told that she was an angel on the eve of New Year; it was a

perfect timing. She held my hand and swung it like little

children playing in the sand. I held a bottle of Hennessy

with my other hand.

We walked up to a wooden cabin, a young couple or

perhaps lovers were being intimate on the bare floor. We

stole glances and headed to the nearby wooden cabin. A

teenage boy was sitting in front of the next wooden cabin.

“Hey Mister, do you want my cabin?” the teenage boy

asked

“How much is an hour?” I asked him.

“Just ten euros,” he said.

I gave him a twenty euro note and he disappeared faster

than a rat that had seen a cat. We went inside and sat on

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200

the polished wooden floor. Jennifer pushed me back on the

floor and showered me with kisses. It was the first time she

had confidently made a move by herself. She had started to

relax with me and it was good for two of us.

I pitied this young girl, she had been living on the edge

since she quit her sex work down in Lisbon. It wasn’t easy for

her but on my own side, I knew how disastrous it could be

if I based my judgement about her situation on sentiments.

When I was younger, I had sworn that I would never date

or marry a prostitute. But everything had changed at the

beach. I then learnt that one should never say what he can

or cannot do until a related situation presented itself.

“Life is one big road with lots of signs, when you are riding

through those lots of signs, don’t complicate your mind”. That

was one of my best Bob Marley quotes.

She had removed my pullover and singlet and was

kissing me all over the lips, neck and belly. My hands were

aimlessly moving around her body. The sexual urge had

risen with the help of the alcohol in my system. We tore

through our clothes and fucked right there on the floor of

the cabin with the door open. Why should we care if the

whites didn’t?

An hour later, we walked out of the beach and found

two cabs waiting for passengers. We hired one and drove

back to Braga. The time on my phone was 8:29pm. Different

kinds of sounds from knockouts could be heard outside.

People were eagerly waiting for the New Year, as if it wasn’t

going to start the same 12 am like other days. We took our

bath and changed into another set of clothes, and then we

went downstairs and walked down the avenue into the city

centre.

There and Back on Time

201

My phone rang as we entered an Italian restaurant. It

was Francis from Lisbon.

“I told you not to call unless it was emergency,” I said.

“This is an emergency!” he said excitedly. “I met a guy

who works with the Immigration. He said he can get you a

resident permit but it will cost money” he said and stopped.

I asked Jenny to sit down, while I went outside. I asked

him how the man was going to do it. He said the man stole

the permit cards from the office, and then adds names, dates

of birth and other required information. The man would

first of all require the personal data of the intended recipient

to enter them into the Immigration database, then he would

steal the permit cards and add the names somewhere else

after he left office.

I was feeling excited and suspicious at the same time but

it was worth checking out. I was already thinking about how

to abandon Portugal and the permit I applied for. My life

was in danger and that alone superseded every other thing. I

asked the price and he said it was four thousand euros. I told

him that we would talk about it again on January 2nd since

the following day was the New Year holiday. I returned to

the restaurant and ordered spaghetti with some sauce. I had

forgotten how it tasted. We ate happily like lovers, putting

foods in each other’s mouth occasionally.

After the meal, we walked to a large water fountain and

sat on the concrete pavement around it. My mind drifted

back to the call I received from Francis. Jenny never asked

me who had called me or who I had called but she did

as soon as we sat down on the pavement. She must have

noticed that my concentration on her had reduced after the

call from Francis or maybe she believed that as a lover, she

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202

had the right to question me. I told her who had called and

what he said.

She advised me to be careful since such process usually

turns out to be fake documents. I already knew what she said

was the truth. Some fake documents had been circulating

but some genuine documents were also obtained through

the back door. All one needed to do after obtaining any

document was to register it somewhere and start working

with it. The place you worked with the documents will give

you some papers to open a bank account. The whole thing

kicks off from there but it would also mean that you stay

back in Portugal for long: something I figured was very

dangerous for me since Madam Grace had numerous hit

men on her payroll.

We watched the fountain for close to an hour and went

home. The New Year was fast approaching. Majority of the

white people were outside with their families, enjoying the

atmosphere and eating nice meals together. Majority of my

people back in Africa were in the church by then. A call to

my mother confirmed it. They wanted to enter the New

Year in the church. Perhaps the coming Messiah was dealing

with dates. That was how serious religion was in that part

of the world.

At about 11 pm, we went back to our apartment and

waited for 2006.

**********

Year 2006

January 1, 2006: The New Year was welcomed with

loud bangs from every corner of the planet Earth. I held

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Jenny tightly from the back as we stood on the window

looking out into the beautiful lighted skies of Braga,

Portugal. Without looking at the clock, one could easily

tell when it was 12 am. The bangs had increased from once

a minute to two hundred times per second. We had decided

to stay indoors and watch the show rather than go out. I had

wondered what was the essence and importance of the New

Year bangs and had not come up with any tangible reason.

I had told Jenny that we were not going to shoot knockouts

and she had agreed. Although she had a stake in me as a

lover but she also knew that the stake was allocated to her

some hours ago; it was a very young stake that could break

easily. She avoided arguing with my decisions. I didn’t like

it but I believed that allowing her the freedom to argue out

every topic would corrupt her.

Sometimes we have to assume the control of affairs on our

own especially when we know better than the people among us.

Despite being the man of the house, I was also six years

older than Jennifer. I had been to Europe long before her.

Even from my observations, I was far more intelligent and

brilliant. But still, her opinion was required while making

certain decisions, especially the ones that concerned her

directly.

As the bangs faded away with time, we discussed our

plans. When the day broke, she suggested staying inside. I

joked about going back to the Cathedral to get married. She

laughed hard and long. We finally agreed to go to the city

centre and walk around until we got tired. Then maybe, a

new plan would come up. We stole kisses occasionally and

I wished the conditions were better. It would have been the

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perfect New Year but when I recalled the dangers ahead, my

joy was cut short.

When we got tired of looking outside, we went to the

bed and kissed each other to sleep.

About 8 am, the woman of the house had decided

that we cook at home rather than eating outside. I didn’t

argue it. It was her right and I knew my boundaries as well.

Despite being the Boss, it would be bad to deny her genuine

wishes. We walked down to the Immaculate Conception

Avenue and bought a chicken, green unripe plantain and

ingredients. As usual, I bought a bottle of JaggerMeister

sweet brandy from the Moroccan shop, not too hot at 28%

alcohol volume. Most of the shops were closed as we walked

back to our apartment.

Somehow, I had a feeling that our Braga tour was

coming to an end. I still didn’t know how to make my

move back to Lisbon, if I decided to go for the backdoor

permit. It would have been very easy for me but Jenny was

there and I can’t just leave her alone in Braga. The chances

of being spotted in Lisbon were greater with Jenny coming

along, though people knew her more than me in that area.

I could easily sneak in and out of Lisbon without her but I

was never going to leave her behind in Braga.

With these thoughts at the back of my head, I played a

silly children’s game called ‘Snake’ with my phone while she

cooked in the kitchen. She would occasionally come to steal

a kiss and laughing, make her way back into the kitchen.

She was the perfect wife, the type I dreamt of when I was

younger but the problem of being a fugitive was there.

When she finished cooking, we ate. It was delicious as

usual. I didn’t know if it was Jenny’s making or because

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205

chickens generally tasted good. I mentally gave her the credit

anyway. Love can move mountains and love was blind, they

said. There was nothing else to do, so we lay around and

played cards until it was mid-afternoon.

I opened my bags and brought out my whole money. A

certain €13000 was still intact. Jenny still had €750 with

her, there was another €3400 left from my own money. We

still had over €17000 with us and that was enough money

in every currency in the world.

We went downstairs and hired a cab. We asked the

driver to take us to the river we crossed on our way to

Apulia. When we got there and bought a ferry ticket.

We joined numerous tourists and entered a ferry boat. It

took us around the city slowly. There was a man at the

front who explained to us the names of every important

place we passed. He explained the histories and other vital

information about the places. It was fun and a time killer;

exactly what I wanted.

Breakable bottles were not allowed in the boat, so we

were served beer with plastic cups. We later returned to

the spot where we started, joined a tourist bus and drove

around the city centre where the river did not cover. We

passed Estadio Municipal do Braga, the home of SC Braga

football club. I usually noticed every stadium because I

loved football and I am a Manchester United and Hertha

BSC Berlin fan. We visited the national Pene Park where

the water falls many meters from the rock, the Praca de

Republica where the giant water fountain was located, and

the Garden of Santa bar where we alighted and had a few

drinks. Thereafter, we went home and packed our bags. We

were traveling south the next day. I had decided to take a

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shot at the permit Francis had told me about. Portugal was

getting dangerous.

A proverb in Igbo land goes thus: “It is only a tree that

hears it is going to be killed and still stands where it is.”

207

CHAPTER NINE

Going back South

There was only one major railway line from Braga down

to Porto, Coimbra, Lisbon, Setubal and down to Faro.

Portugal is a vertical country. The distance from West to

East was approximately 65km while North to South was

562km. On the morning of January 2, we packed our two

small bags and played in our room. I had decided to enter

into Lisbon area in the night. It would be safer. Braga to

Lisbon was about 322km. I figured out that a direct train

running at the average speed of 80km/hour will take about

4 hours to get to Lisbon. I added about twenty-five minutes

it would waste at the various stations along the way and got

four hours twenty-five minutes. I wanted to get to Lisbon

when everyone would be heading to bed. I also wanted to

get to Lisbon when I would still be able to get a hotel room.

I trusted Francis but not enough to go back to my old room

in Lisbon. The ideal time to leave Braga was 6 pm.

I told Jennifer that we were leaving by 6 pm; she didn’t

know why and she didn’t ask why. She had learnt to trust

my decisions and it had been near perfect so far. She wanted

to bring our DVD player along, even cooking pots but I

told her to just pick the things she cannot do without. We

played until it was 5:40pm, and then we boarded a taxi and

drove to Braga central train station. I called Francis inside

the train and told him that I may or may not come to Lisbon

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anytime soon. He was disappointed because he was hoping

for his own share of the permit deal. He was acting as an

agent/scout for the Portuguese Immigration criminal. He

was surely going to be paid and being a Nigerian, he would

also demand for settlement from me after the deal. I would

do the same in his shoes and I believe you would do the

same too.

We got to Lisbon at exactly 10:30pm. The city was still

busy but not as busy as during the day time. We took a taxi

down to Setubal, a sub city 20km south of Lisbon. where

we found a cheap hotel and moved in.

Back in Braga, I had rented and paid for our apartment

for one week and spent less than that. When I went back for

refund, they pointed out where non-refundable clause was

written in my receipt in Portuguese. I decided to pay one

day at a time in Setubal. I didn’t want to waste more money.

We settled down and slept. My baby was tired after the

bumpy journey from north. In the morning, I called Francis

and told him that I was sending a friend to Lisbon to meet

with him. I told him the friend would come and check out

a sample of the permit. I asked him to get a photocopy of

it if he could not get the real one. He agreed to meet with

my friend in Colombo business district by 12 pm. I found

an Angolan Taxi driver and hired him for €50 an hour. I

figured everything would be done in an hour anyway. He

took me to the Colombo around 12 pm and we had to wait

30 minutes for Francis. Africans are very bad at keeping time.

I called and told him where to meet my friend. I was at

the back of the taxi when he came. The driver asked him to

get inside and we drove away. About two kilometres out of

Colombo, I raised my head from the back seat and touched

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209

Francis on the shoulder; he nearly jumped out of the car.

The driver laughed hard.

When we arrived at the bar, I settled the cab driver and

he disappeared. Inside, I requested for two shots of brandy

with ice while Francis settled for Sagres beer. He brought

out the original copy of the permit. He had gotten the copy

from the immigration guy. It was a plain one, nothing was

written on it, just the original Portuguese immigration seal.

I checked it and it was the original, the problem was getting

my data into the immigration database.

This immigration criminal we were going to deal with

had only his word for us. There was no way we were going

to be sure that he entered the data info. I was torn between

agreeing or disagreeing but the urgent need to leave Portugal

was stronger than ever. Finally I agreed to meet with the

immigration man.

The deal was two thousand upfront and the balance

when he finished adding my data on the permit card. When

we finished drinking,. Francis asked for my room rent for

the month of January, I told him that I wasn’t paying a

dime for the place again. I asked him to go ahead to possess

everything in the room I also told him to wait for my call

in the evening. I gave him €150 for his transport and his

troubles. I took his phone, opened the back and removed

the battery and the sim card. I smiled as I handed the

dismembered phone back to him and disappeared from

the bar.

I got back to our hotel in Setubal and asked Jennifer

where her international passport was. She said Madam

Grace took and seized it the very day she came to Lisbon.

She said she did the same thing to all the other girls she had

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brought from Africa. I guessed it was in a bid to make sure

that they didn’t run away.

Really? To make sure they didn’t run away? Therefore it

meant she was also afraid of losing them through running

out on her. That also meant she didn’t even depend on

the said voodoo alone. If she had trusted her Olokun, she

wouldn’t have feared losing them through running out.

Yes! The voodoo issue was settled in my mind. The

powerless Olokun in a Benin Forest down there in Nigeria

could not even be trusted. May be it was just to scare the

girls.

‘Fear’, that wonderful weapon that works like charm on

human minds.

I was hugely disappointed. The plan was to get one

permit for Jennifer too and leave Portugal together. But as I

stared absent minded on the floor, I saw that plan slipping

away from me. How was I supposed to tell her that I was

leaving Portugal without her? She had run to me for help.

She had given her soul and body to me. She had given her

love to me. She would never forgive me if I left her behind;

never. For many minutes, I didn’t know what to do. I was

grossly confused. But there must be a way out. There has

always been a solution to every given problem. There has

always been a way where there is a will.

Yes!! There were two other options for her. One was to

request for a passport from Nigeria like I did but I recalled

mine took more than two weeks before it arrived; two weeks

that I didn’t have in Lisbon based on how things had turned

out. The second option was to take her to Madrid and get

her a passport for €800 plus about another €700 it would

cost both of us to go to Madrid and return. It would also

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mean that I will pay another €4000 for her permit. A permit

I wasn’t sure of its authenticity yet… No, that would deplete

my cash down from €17000 to €7000. It would also mean

that she won’t take asylum again, which was what I wanted

her to do.

Above all, it would mean that no government would

be paying Jennifer anything, she would depend on me like

most of the Nigerian wives depended on their husbands. I

would not have cared if it was back in Nigeria but in Europe,

everything was sold in euro which was difficult to come by

except through crime. I wasn’t going to indulge in crime

forever.

The useless Nigerian Embassy in Portugal had no

passport machine. The embassy at the Restelo district of

Lisbon had nothing except the old ambassador who loved

Okro soup, and a register where they wrote the names of

Nigerians living in Lisbon at a fee ranging from €100 to

€200; depending on one’s bargaining power. I thought hard

and decided not to make the permit for Jennifer. I would

find a way to take her out of Portugal and arrange asylum

for her.

I wasn’t ready to travel 630km across two countries

without legal documents because of love. Trust me, love was

such a wonderful thing but Jack saving Rose in the Titanic

movie wasn’t an immigration issue, it was a life and death

issue. I doubt Leonardo Di Caprio would do the same for

Kate Winslet in real life if they found each other running

from Madam Grace in Lisbon.

I called Francis in the evening and told him to come

along with the Criminal Immigration Officer to the bar

where we had met earlier. I hung around the area an hour

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before their arrival. When they called, I hired a taxi and

picked them up at the entrance of the bar, and we drove

down to Avenida Libertade area and discussed.

The conditions were acceptable to both of us. I gave him

a photocopy of my International Passport and a Passport

photograph. The immigration man said the permit would

be ready in two days. I gave him €2000 and left them there.

In Lisbon, I was running from Madam Grace, her

thugs and every Nigerian who had heard about me and

Jennifer. Above all, I was running from Jose and Nuno,

two Portuguese citizens who would not think twice before

shooting me.

When I returned to my hotel in Setubal, I called Francis

and asked him to arrange for a look-alike permit for Jennifer.

He said he knew who to get it from but said it would cost

me €1000. That was something that usually cost €500. I

guessed he figured I was going to slip away from Portugal

and wanted to grab as much money from me as he could;

I agreed to pay him the money. I recalled that I was still

going to buy tickets for myself and Jennifer. That practically

meant that I was still going to venture into Lisbon in day’s

time. It was risky and since my last days in Lisbon were

approaching, I didn’t want to take any chances so I came

up with a plan. I had to make sure that Madam Grace and

Jose were not in Lisbon the day I would go looking for flight

tickets. It was going to be a gamble but I would give it a try.

I needed to get the permit and the look-alike first. Patiently,

I waited and plotted my next move.

The travails of life in Europe had turned me into a

thinking machine.

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