His jeep was parked outside the gate. He instructed his driver to wait
beside it. Chief Koko angrily and briskly walked into a compound of a
two storey building that served as residency for over forty people.
His eyes first fell on a handful number of boys playing a deflated
black football with circular white stripes. He grinded his teeth and
furiously bit his lower lip. This children, he said to himself, had
practically turned his compound into a football pitch. He would deal
with them!. Unrespectful tenants!.
Naturally, at the sight of him, there was always this unprecedented
silence that enveloped the compound. Who dare shout when the landlord
was much around. His presence was cryptically venerated by all - more
obviously and more often than not by his debtors. To his tenants, he
was a demigod.
But now, things fell apart. No one seemed to regard his presence. The
children playing didn't regard him. Not even a greeting!. Upstairs
arguments rose quickly and fell just as quickly. The atmosphere was
peppered by a deafening sound of Igbo high life music blasting from
the second floor. He knew the architect of this nuisance; Okechukwu!
Omo Igbo!. That Alaba boy! And he hasn't paid his four months lent!.
He took few steps backward and observed the edifice before him. He
pulled off his goggle. This was his house? No he wasn't sure. But
right there, it was boldly written, in blue, "Chief Koko's Villa". He
hasn't recovered from the shock when a crashing sound came from his
left. He turned. The ball had broken a Louvre. The children dashed
away and Chief Koko went after them. As he tried to sprint, his
voluminous agbada got entangled with his right shoe. It was not funny.
Chief Koko of all people, the deputy Chairman of Ibuku Landlord
Association was on the floor. He energetically made unproductive
effort to get up quickly. He was quite there, on the floor for a few
minutes until some women came over and helped him up. He didn't thank
them.
Soon, his tenants assembled. They all had a knowing amusing look on
their faces. They stood shoulder to shoulder and gazed excitedly at
their landlord. Then came, "Landlord sorry oo!". It was Okechukwu.
Chief Koko distinctively recognized his voice; the strong Igbo accent
that roomed large in his English sentence.
"Landlord sorry", the group chorused.
He didn't look at their faces. Without wasting much time, he spoke
with no ease.
"I am not here to joke. All of you owing, go inside and pack your
things at once. Leave my house. Whether you are owing one month, two
months, five months or whatnot. Just pack. I don't run a charity. Is
it a curse to be a landlord?."
No one spoke.
He continued, "And before you do that. That window must be replaced".
He pointed at the broken Louvre. "It was those little pests you call
children that broke it. I am not joking, you must repair it. You all
are not grateful. Unrewarding. Leave just leave....."
Someone cut him short."With all due respect Mr Koko, I won't accept
that insult. Whose child is a pest?. They broke your Louvre? Where is
the empirical evidence?". This came from Mr Obj. A spontaneous
applause rose.
Chief Koko didn't believe it. This people still had the audacity to
insult him. This was the most unrewarding thing for a tenant to say.
He would not accept this, with all due respect.
Mr Obj continued, "You claimed that some are owing five ,
two....months lent, Where is the empirical evidence? As far as we are
concerned, who have all paid our lents! Period!." He was applauded
once more, accompanied by chants of "Obj! Obj!! Obj!!".
Chief Koko, kept mum, stares at their faces and goes out. He knows how
best to deal with them. He won't tell anyone.
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