Article

Toni Kan: How sh_t happened in busy banking hall (30 Days of Lagos)

by Toni Kan

banking-hall

“Acid! Acid!” Abel heard someone scream as the girl cried out but it was not acid. It was something worse, something more shameful, something more atavistic, a throwback to an ancient shaming ritual;….

“You know me, right?”

A thick set woman in jeans and tee shirt was standing in front of the pretty Customer Care Officer and there was an electric air of menace around her. She had asked a question that necessarily did not require an answer.

The girl was sitting down but you could see that there was fear in her eyes and it was obvious that she wanted to be anywhere but there.

“How may I help you, ma?” She asked again and the woman slapped her.

It was a hard hitting slap that knocked her off her seat.

“You have helped me enough. ashewo. You have helped me enough by f__king my husband, you prostitute.”

The woman was screaming now and towering over the girl who was whimpering and cowering..

“Security. Call security,” someone yelled just as Abel sprang to his feet and walked towards her.

“Madam,’ he said reaching out to touch the woman who whirled round and gave him a withering look.

“Oga, mind your business,” she said and reached for the bag she had dropped on the table.

Abel stepped back, thinking that it was all done because from the corner of his eyes he could see two security men approaching.

What happened next would stay imprinted on his mind for ever.

The woman picked up the bag, pulled out a yellow plastic container that had contained Custard powder once, then she unscrewed the cap and threw the contents at the young woman who was still struggling to get up from the floor.

“Acid! Acid!” Abel heard someone scream as the girl cried out but it was not acid. It was something worse, something more shameful, something more atavistic, a throwback to an ancient shaming ritual; she had bathed the young woman with sh_t.

The banking hall was a mad house. The stink was suffocating and the security men couldn’t approach as she brandished the container like a weapon.

It was a sight to behold. The guards shouting at her to drop it, the young girl screaming as she tore off her clothes, the woman cursing and raging with righteous indignation, her tirade punctuated with screams of ashewo as if the epithet was the sad refrain to a very angry song.

Finally, a mobile police officer entered with a gun and threatened to shoot. That was when she let the container drop and broke down in tears.

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