
A compelling, well-wrought story with a multiplicity of critical, relevant themes.
Through a whirlpool vantage, we observe national duty, lust and disloyalty, and its implications on our protagonist in...
CORPER-SHON
By Okoh Edozie Nelson
Guest Writer Session with Okoh Edozie Nelson
BMG Vol.9
I woke up feeling a little hazy. Everywhere was dark except for the sun that was trying to gain passage through a small window opening. As I made to get up from where I lay on the cold floor, I felt a sharp pain in my side. It wasn’t so much of the pain I felt but the sharpness of it. It was cold and sharp and made me feel I was in a trance. I didn’t usually wake up feeling this way unless I had had too many a drink, and even when I did, the feeling didn’t carry on to the following morning. Where was I? I mustered all the strength there was to stand. My attempt saw me hit the ground. I collapsed, sprawled out on the carpeted ground. What had happened? As I prodded my mind for answers my eyes began to dim and when they finally closed the events of what happened came in full.
I had just been posted to Kaduna for my youth service. It was a school in the state’s capital. The school, so I thought, was kind enough to give me a lodge and a monthly stipend of five thousand naira, asides my federal government allowance. The lodge was located in a one-storey building owned by a man in his late fifties. The building housed himself and his small family; as well as a couple of one or two neighbours.
The way the house was built especially in a place like the north was a thing of attraction but didn’t quite catch my fancy as much as this woman did. She was a woman in her mid twenties, dark in complexion and had a pointed nose with eyes as though they were washed in milk except for the black peas that coloured it. Her anatomical contours were a sight to behold. Although slender, she carried a tantalising figure that could awaken the life in a man. The only problem was that she couldn’t speak proper English. Her English joggled between Hausa and Pidgin.
On my first arrival to the compound, I met her washing few steps from where I was standing at the gate looking perplexed. She saw me and inquired if I was a corper even though I was fully kitted. When I gave a reply in the affirmative she okayed it and asked that I come with her. I didn’t bother to ask where we going. Her amiable mien assured me I was in safe hands. She led the way as I trailed behind her observing the duty of what she wielded behind. I had a big travelling bag and a small ‘Ghana-must-go’: the former in my right hand and the latter on my head. She turned and saw I was struggling to balance the bag on my head; something I feigned to avoid being caught and offered to help. As I handed one of the bags to her, I noticed her black beauty was nothing compared to that of Joy, my fair-skinned girlfriend in Lagos. But the fact that she was black and "graced" was a thing for me. I resolved to make her one of my girlfriends. She would make my stay here a lovely one, I thought to myself.
I had only just thought of this when a man came out approaching us as though he were coming to contest the weight of what I carried in my mind. He was fat and potbellied. His skin looked burnt, and each time he smiled his teeth were the only tinge of light to his mien. He quickly extended his hand.
"Corper-shon," he called. I smiled. I was sure he sensed I was looking displaced in spite of the smile and patted me on my shoulder assuring me that I would like it here. He spoke two or so sentences. As a graduate of English, I couldn’t but notice how neat his English was except for the Hausa accent that was always trying to give him away as a local man. He signalled to the young lady to leave us alone. In no time, I was with him in what later came to be my room. The one room apartment was in the same space as his own flat. The proximity was such that we shared one door passage asides the main gate. He introduced himself as Alhaji Daura and the Proprietor and owner of the school that was my primary place of assignment. Alhaji Daura then went on to talk about his passion for education in the northern part of Nigeria, how he was on a journey to save education in the north. Much of the time was however spent on reeducating me on the essence of the national youth service scheme. I hated the sermon, but just had to let him talk, nodding my head at intervals to show I was with him. He talked for hours and in the end asked me to come to him anytime I needed anything. I okayed his remark with a wry smile and soon he was out of sight.
The room was in order. It had a bed already at the far end of the room, buckets and some other useful things. They belonged to a previous corper. He and I were the first set of corpers to be posted to the school owned by Alhaji Daura. He, the previous corper, belonged to an earlier stream and according to what I was told had barely spent a month when he got a scholarship to study abroad. It therefore did not come as a surprise to me that he would leave most of his things behind.
I lay supine on the bed. The image of the young lady returned to me. I wanted to see her again for the second time that day but it was getting dark, and before I knew it I was long gone in sleep. When I woke up the next day it was with an awareness of my new environment. Everywhere was unassumingly cool. The air had the smell of one of those Hausa perfumes that lasted till eternity. The sky was faint red like one who had “apollo.” I couldn’t help but notice how the sun came out really early in this part of the country. If the world wasn’t rotated by time, one was likely to confuse day for noon.
I helped myself to the only well in the compound from where everyone got water. I had already fetched a bucket to be used in the "white house" and was fetching another for bathing when I saw her approaching my direction with a bucket. My heart skipped many beats.
"Good morning," she greeted. I replied and thanked her for yesterday. She smiled.
"You have such a beautiful smile," I said boldly.
"Ehn." I wasn’t sure if her response was because she didn’t hear or something indicating disapproval.
"You have a beautiful smile," I repeated, this time less boldly.
I took a last draw from the well and was just pouring the content when I heard the cry of a baby. It was Alhaji. He had a baby in his right hand. He came to where we were and greeted.
"Corper, how are you?"
"Very well, sir."
"You must be in school at least by 7:45am, corper. It is the official resumption time," he said.
"OK, sir," I replied.
He then passed the baby to the girl and said a few things in Hausa to her before he dashed out of the compound. She was probably his daughter. He came back calling out "corper" repeatedly from where he was outside. I thought he forgot something. I went to him.
"Tell Aminatu that she should bring my food to the school towards evening. I won’t be coming to the house during break," he ordered me.
"Who is Aminatu? Your daughter?"
"Kai, corper, I am sorry. I thought I did the introduction when you arrived. The young woman and the baby are my property, inshallah."
I was shocked but was careful not to let it show.
When I retired to my room later that day I couldn’t help but think through the fact that the girl I intended girlfriending was my boss’s wife. That girl is way too young for him, I thought. I remembered how I used to hear stories of how girls in the north were married off at tender ages but didn’t have cause to grapple with that reality until now. Was Amimatu forced? I would drag the issue back and forth until I exhausted all the points in it.
As time went by, I got on quite well with Alhaji despite the animosity I nursed against him regarding his marital choice. He treated me as a son as he often referred to me among the staff in the school. He requested my opinions on virtually everything and would often come to my room to discuss sports, politics and random talks. We argued a lot on these talks especially on the question of Nigerian unity. I started respecting Alhaji more for the trust he reposed in me than anything else. I managed also to suppress the amorous feelings I had for his wife. At least I thought I did, until he requested I helped on her spoken English through series of tutorials claiming that he had a bit of interest in politics and wouldn’t want for his wife to be an impeding factor. I knew the tutorials were going to end in disaster but treated it as a personal test of faith.
When I started, I tried my best possible to keep it professional, but Aminatu was just too much of an angel. I couldn’t help myself when with her. I would often get lost just staring at her. She sensed that I liked her, and given my many relationships with girls I could tell she liked me as well. To be sure she felt the same way I kissed her one eventful day. It was brief. She didn’t draw back, neither was she reciprocative. I felt embarrassed that I had to apologise, resolving never to repeat the same thing again. But my guess that she liked me as well was confirmed after then. Our meeting soon became a passionate affair. We however didn’t have any carnal knowledge of each other until one day.
It was a Friday. Alhaji had told me when we were in school that he received an urgent call and was going to Kano to see his sick father. He added that he would stay a week or so. It happened that when he travelled, I saw this as an opportunity to lay Aminatu but struggled not to do it. I wanted to leave my lodge that night to go upstairs and meet her but I knew it was going to be more than just a meeting. I was struggling with the thought of not giving in to my lustful desire when I heard a knock on my door. No one had such an innocent voice than my Aminatu. Her shrill voice called out.
"Korfa Henry, it is me, ko." I walked briskly to the door, my heart pounding. I opened and once I came in full view of her I kissed her passionately. She had a wrapper on. I reached for the knot and untied it. Behold her glorious body! Even though it was dark I could see her stark nakedness. I completely went berserk. We kissed our way into my bed. The only thing that could be heard afterwards was the sound of our passionate sport. She moaned like a child.
We were still engaged when a sound came from the door. It was a knock. My heart raced. Who was it? The knock came again almost immediately as a reply. Aminatu looked at me. I looked at her. I was sure we were contemplating the same thing. Alhaji! But he said he was traveling. He couldn’t have been back the same day. I reached for my underwear, put it on and counted my steps to the door. I stood by the doorside with hands on the knob and asked who it was. A voice came that sounded like Alhaji’s.
"Na me," it called out. When I opened the door I saw two men. By their garb, I could tell they were Moslems. I was scared but slightly relieved it wasn’t Alhaji afterall.
"What do you want?" I asked them.
"We are Alhaji’s relations. We are looking for him," one of the men said with an Hausa accent.
I was going to explain that Alhaji had travelled to see his sick father when a sound slap landed straight on my face. One of the men had hit me. I wanted to retaliate when the other brought out a dagger.
"Behave yourself or I go cut your intestine," the other threatened. They trailed behind me.
"Lead the way inside," one said. I showed hesitation but was motivated to obey by the sight of the dagger that could surely cut my intestines. By the time they reached my bed area they saw Aminatu completely nude where she was crouching at a corner.
"Allahamudillahi!" they yelled. They bundled us to the center of the room without wasting time. While one placed a call through, the other kept watch at us with the dagger. The room was quiet. The only sound was the phone conversation. It was in Hausa. I heard practically nothing. Everyone maintained their position. After some minutes the door opened forcefully and I saw a host of other men dressed in the Moslem regalia kick Alhaji into my room like a thief. I was in between shock and surprise. What did Alhaji do, and who were these men? Alhaji was blindfolded and gagged. What followed was a statement made by someone who looked like the ringleader. He was fully bearded and stout. He had a Quran tucked under his left armpit and a gun that looked like an AK47 in his right hand. He addressed Alhaji in Hausa before his few utterances in English gave a clue to what he had been saying all the while.
"You went against the principles of Islam to set up a white man school, ko. You know too well by Allah that it is haram to do so, but you did. I kept on calling and sending people to talk to you into joining us to see that we bring to pass the promise of Islam in this country but you have decided to work with the bloody federal government in rubbishing Islam and disrespecting Allah!" he exclaimed disgustingly, eliciting the same reaction from the other gang members.
"You and these bloody infidels will pay, walayi."
"Take the folds off his eyes and mouth," the man ordered one of the other men. "It is Judgment Day. The ungrateful human has overstayed his welcome on earth. Saanu, get your axe ready!"
As they removed the veil and gag from Alhaji, power was coincidentally restored and the lights came on. I could see the faces of everyone clearly now. The men looked like insurgents. Few of them had guns. My eyes immediately caught sight of Alhaji. He squinted and rubbed his eyes. I felt sorry for him. He looked around like he were lost. When his eyes came to where Aminatu and I were bundled, he screamed. It was the gangleader that shut him up. He wouldn’t be shut up.
"The naked woman is my wife. It is wrong to expose a woman’s body like this!"
A brouhaha among the gang members followed. Alhaji didn’t know what was up. Everyone seemed to know. The gang leader called on one of the men to make things clearer. It was Saanu he called. I was shocked because Saanu was one of our neighbours. He wasn’t the gateman but partially kept guard of the gate to the compound. I remembered he had caught me few times making out with Aminatu but I didn’t bother with him because he appeared stupid. He didn’t even talk. So he was a member. Not just any member but their hatchet man. He uttered few things in Hausa to Alhaji. I knew he was exposing me. When he finished, Alhaji looked at me with hate. He came to where I was and kicked the air out of me, punctuating each blow with his laboured breathing. It was the gangleader that stopped him.
"There’s no point bothering with the infidel," he stated after a sigh. "They are full of vile. What could be worse than this? You have the option of choosing now. Islam or nothing." He gave Alhaji the gun and asked him to shoot me as a sign that he had accepted to join him to do Allah’s will. Alhaji collected the gun and wasted no time. I heard a gunshot sound and pain shot through me.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Okoh Edozie Nelson is a fresh graduate of English studies. He’s into the art of writing ranging from creative literature to constructive criticism. He’s also a multitasking individual as he has the title of song writer, artiste and music producer to his portfolio. When he’s not writing, he is in the studio making music under the name of A_kky.
He can be reached via Instagram on a_kyyofficial.

