Kola and I had a chance to meet during my NYSC year in Lagos.
The first day I saw him was at the corper lodge. He entered with a large smiling face and a small Ghana-Must-Go bag. He shouted loudly, “My people! My people! How una dey?” His voice was so much like it was in the room.
He was a big dark person, with a gap tooth that expanded his smile. I believed he made a nice guy, a man that could make everyone laugh.
And in the evening later, when we were in the outside, drinking water and waiting the woman who had the beans and the bread, he was next me.
He said, “Guy, what’s your name?”
I replied, “Chinedu.”
He gently slapped my back. “Ah, Chinedu! From now on you are my brother.”
He talked as though we were friends immediately, such as pushing a button.
In the course of weeks Kola grew the noisiest in our lodge. He made jokes during morning exercises. He would bring buckets of other people to the tap. He never screamed, nor was he beloved by anyone.
However, I began to observe minor details.
One afternoon when I was ironing my khaki I happened to see him in the room of Musa. Musa had left his bag open. Kola had been near, and made his hand creep in. When he saw me he smiled. “Ah, bros! I am helping Musa get his things packed up."
I wanted to believe him. I thought maybe it was true.
On another occasion Funke reported that she lost her little power bank. When she screamed, "Who carried my power bank," Kola was present. He got on his feet and cursed, "Funke, God forbid! I will not interfere with the property of a woman. Check well.”
Everyone nodded. Nobody suspected him. He was too kind, too playful.
One night power cut came on as usual and majority of the people went out to get fresh air. Kola sat beside me again.
He suddenly questioned, “Chinedu, can you trust me?"
I was surprised. “Why not?” I said, but my voice was slow.
He laughed and shook his head. “Good. I like you, my brother. You have a good spirit.”
I was supposed to have been happy with what he said but that was not the case as he made me feel uncomfortable.
Weeks went by and details itself continued to go away. A wrist watch there, a pair of sneakers here. People blamed outsiders. There were those who suggested that maybe young men were sneaking in. No one was looking at Kola.
One morning I woke up and could not find my wallet. I knew I had slipped it under my pillow. I looked all around: I shook my mattress, looked in the bathroom. Nothing.
I was sitting outside worrying when Kola protruded out. “Guy, you look worried. What’s happening?”
“My wallet is missing,” I said.
His face turned serious. He put his hand on my shoulder. “Ah! This one no good. Perhaps, we should be more secure in door locking. Don’t worry, it will turn up.”
He was saying it tenderly, like a brother. I wanted to believe him.
However, later in the day when we were preparing to have the CDS meeting, I had a glimpse. Kola was stooping to shoelace. His bag was slightly open. I caught a glimpse of my wallet corner inside.
My chest tightened. I did not speak. I merely stared at him, and he stared at me. A second we looked at each other. His smile reappeared slow, cautious.
"No, no, Chinedu," I said to him, "you are my friend. Don’t forget that.”
I said nothing.
Since then, I have entirely changed my opinion of him. I did not sit near him anymore. I placed my items in a coded box. I saw him continue with his joking, greeting, assisting others. Everyone still loved him.
At other times, when we passed, he would still smile at me with that gap-tooth smile as though to reassure me that he was harmless.
But I knew better. And he knew I knew.
The secret burdened between us like Lagos heat.
And that was how the life in the lodge was going, with laughing, lost things, and Kola the friendliest of the lot in the room.
