19/09/2025
A Minute’s Silence by Oga Victor
“Oga police, dis one pain you o.”
The smallish man eyed the retired officer as he spoke. His shabby clothes betrayed the weight of his words. “But you and your men na dey cause wahala pass for this country.”
The officer stood up, unbothered.
“Officer, no go na,” the man called after him, voice rising. “You dey talk about those nurses, but you forget say plenty people dey die for cell.”
Silence dropped like a curtain. One man’s cup fell empty on the floor. Another sipped from his sachet of Action Bitters. The nurse chewed peppered kpomo loudly, then cleaned her teeth with a toothpick.
It felt like an unseen hand had called for a minute’s silence for every death the “solution providers” had left behind.
“Only two sentences and everywhere quiet,” the man muttered as he dropped into a seat between the nurse and me. “Like say na Spanish I dey speak.”
He waved for another shot of small-leaf mixed with ginger. “Make una no look me, abeg,” he said, anger flickering in his eyes.
He drank, wiped his mouth, and glanced at the officer. “No mind me ooo. None of us be saint here o.”
