Yemi Show: Audacious Fulani ran away with my 45 cows
By Taju Tijani
“Stupid man. Stubborn man. God don catch you. Ori mi lo mu e. How can somebody be so daft and stubborn you will not listen to your wife. Kilode, iwo nikan ni, haha,” Remi “Mashow” Sobowale groaned loudly. She got up from the soft cream leather settee. She kissed her teeth in disgust, kicked the giant Gorilla toy on her path and went to the kitchen. She switched up the kettle for a cup of her favourite Moringa tea. I watched the whole emotional drama with cold indifference. A wife berating her husband is a serious business.
I have known Yemi “Bashow” Sobowale for over three decades. Handsome, honest, hardworking, intelligent, driven by empire mentality, creator, responsible father, selective, Bible lover, easily irritated, morality superman, clever with money and shrewd in business. He has limited education but makes up for that deficiency with a gifting in native wisdom.
He is extremely careful of the type of friends he associates with. He hates slothful and lazy people. He studies the Bible in the morning and takes notes. He is a committed worshipper with the Norwood Cherubim and Seraphim Christian denomination. He is a church elder. And every Sunday after church, Bashow wheezes across the South East of London mentoring young ones and acting as a counsellor to warring couples.
Today is different. Mashow is angry. Angry with anything in her path. She took out her phone and started pressing angrily. She scanned the photographs of her husband’s lost investment in Nigeria. “Keniyan so gbogbo aduru eleyi nu…O my God,” Mashow intoned. She cast a glance at me for support. I remained speechless…unmoved by her theatrics. Mashow is bent on causing real agro for Bashow. She held her head in her hand and gave Bashow a dirty look. She pursed her lips and grit her teeth.
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Mashow is a woman of valour. Dutiful, loyal, trusting, virtuous wife, amiable, pretty, fair skinned, highly motivated, business oriented, confident, a thorough South Londoner, home maker, protective, social animal, a proud Cherubimite, frugal and combative. The marriage to Bashow has lasted forty years. She is the doting matriarch of her family and looks decidedly young for her sixtyish age. The relationship started way back at Ibadan and meandered across the ocean to London. They are both blessed with four beautiful and responsible children – Dami, Seun, Lewa and Titi. They have all left home.
My friendship with Bashow started in the late 80s. We were both green eyed, ambitious and eager to find answers to life troubling questions. I live in North London. He lives in South London. South Londoners are more rugged, bluffier, fearless and daring than North Londoners of that era. We both drove the length and breadth of London as mini cab drivers. We spent cold and lonely nights in each other’s car idling for our turn to pick passengers. On Friday nights, we fanned out to the West End, especially Leicester Square, Trafalgar Square, The Strand, Oxford Street, Piccadilly Square, Marble Arch to the farthest limits of the square mile.
Five years after receiving our badge of honours as cabbies, we melted away from the road runner scene and embraced other things. Bashow opened a daily need store in Camberwell overlooking Peckham. I joined the 9-5 rat race and work in a government office. The bond was so strong we maintained contact. We visited each other many times. The North-South divide will not divide us. I saw Dami, Seun, Lewa and Titi grow into adults. Bashow also saw my kids grow into men and women. The direction of Bashow’s restless entrepreneurial life soon changed.
Bashow stood on his thin legs for eight years as a shop keeper. He opened early and closed late. His genial and friendly nature brought him customers. He made money and paid off his mortgage with easy abandon. Life as a store keeper began to take its toll on him. Sometimes, Mashow and Bashow took it in turns to relieve each other from the demanding nature of shop keeping in the heart of South East London. It was a twenty-four seven drudgery. Bashow, then looked downward to Nigeria to pour money on investment.
Baba Sonda was a rugged Fulani herder. He came to Oyo from Niger Republic over forty years ago. He settled, married to a Nigerian woman and bore children. He was trusted as an easy-going fanatical cattle herder who was devoted to his nomadic occupation. He was simple, austere, accessible, prayerful and dedicated to his cows. Bashow came on a vacation to Nigeria and was driven to Oyo. He was impressed with Baba Sonda’s persuasion. The talk about cattle investment thrilled him. He was enthralled with the profit margin and cheap overhead. Bashow returned to London and began to pour money on the cattle business.
Two years after, Bashow’s cow breeding business grew. He cared for Baba Sonda’s many children and gave them gifts from his to and fro London trips. He refurbished Baba Sonda’s shack dwelling and showed gratitude. Sometimes, Bashow will travel to Oyo and spent time in the cattle ranch drinking palm wine and swapping jokes with the locals. Baba Sonda solidly remained loyal and trust worthy. Mashow remained a doubter. She did not trust Fulani. She would not trust a nomadic Fulani with such huge investment. Bashow was adamant and trusting. Then something happened……out of the blues!!!
Baba Sonda sent pictures of over 45 cows belonging to Bashow. The price of each cow was blazed across the pictures sent. The smallest was priced at N300,000. And the big cows were priced at N500,000 each. Estimate of all the cows came to N22,000,000. Bashow forwarded the pictures to Mashow. They both rejoiced over a perfect investment. Mashow was a quester. She wondered why Baba Sonda sent such an unprompted inventory to her husband. She could not find answers to her self-inquisition. She was worried but kept her worry to herself. She knew Bashow was easily trusting.
“Uncle Teejay, e soro latekan, se ko si,” Mashow questioned me. I was speechless unable to know what to say. “I kept telling Yemi not to invest in Nigeria. Not to invest in a business he knew nothing about. He would not listen. Se kotan nsiyin. Look at this now. All these cows. All these investment in smoke. Abi iru wahala wo niyi bayi,” Mashow said, pointing to the pictures of the cows in her phone. Bashow was looking at me. I could see the unvoiced tragedy in his looks. He was now reduced to a jelly fish. I could imagine him picturing the fleeing Baba Sonda with his cows across the borders into either Chad or Niger.
Another diaspora investor has bitten the dust. Baba Sonda made a run with Bashow’s investment, leaving behind wives and children. The Nigerian Police has had no lead regarding the theft. They have combed the entire wilderness stretch of Oke Ogun and Oyo bushes without any sighting of the fugitive herder called Baba Sonda. “When are you going back to Nigeria?” I queried Bashow. “Nigeria ke…I need money,” Bashow answered. He looked forlorn. He looked sad. He looked pained. His eyeballs were misty.
“Friend, Nigeria has happened to me…for someone I trusted so much to run away with all my investment?” I went across his living room and held him close. “Teejay, eniyan ma ni ika o”. Of course, man is wicked.
I agreed with him as I eased out of his house into the fresh air of Norwood High Street. “Call me when you get home, thanks for your warm support.” I nodded. I adjusted my cap, dived into the bus going toward Elephant and Castle and sank into a dark mood.
