Baba Alajo

Image from: nop.ovh

I remember so many years ago
when I was ten years old.
Every afternoon in the hot sun,
so blazing hot it was like being in a furnace,
I and the other kids in the neighborhood,
put our ears down to listen to that sound.
That ping-pong, ping-pong, ping-pong sound,
signaling his arrival.

His ancient motorcycle is as old as time.
Hanging on the handle bar, a bell, the culprit of the ping-pong sound.
His bulging belly like that of a pregnant woman,
preceding the rest of his body.
His bald head shining like a newly tarred road.
His brown eyes faded with old age,
crinkling with warmth towards us, the children.

Baba Alajo! Baba Alajo!! Baba Alajo!!!
We chant and hail him,
and he obliges us by pressing the bell continuously.
All of us dancing and circling him with abandon.
But scattering at the sound of adults' footsteps,
coming to make daily contributions for safekeeping.

In the evening he's sitting and sipping beer at the open bar down the street.
Spending his hard earned money on various women.
Whisperings here and there of his promiscuity even after marrying three wives,
and of not taking care of his own children.
His wives often coming to shout and embarrass him in public.
My naive self not understanding why he was good towards us yet not caring for his own family.
For to us then, he was an infamous jolly good fellow.

Author's Note: *Baba Alajo* is the Yoruba name for a thrift collector who collects money from people daily, weekly or monthly for saving keeping until an appointed time or when the owner of the money wants to collect the money. It started in the olden days before the modern banking system came into existence in Nigeria and some other West African countries. It is a form of informal banking.

To be a thrift collector, you have to be strictly honest, transparent and trustworthy.