Free Season of Crimson Blossoms by Abubakar Adam Ibrahim Page B

him. She had refused his advances first because he had remained jobless five years after graduating from the university. Then, when out of desperation he had applied to the police and had been taken on as an Assistant Superintendent, she was reluctant to marry a policeman. Baleri was getting desperate. And now he had to put up with this weed dealer, who was trying to make his first post uncomfortable. He watched the thug pull out a chair and sit down opposite him. Baleri’s frown deepened.
    â€˜You, you want trouble, eh?’
    â€˜No trouble, officer. You wanted to see me?’
    â€˜Yes, yes. You are making trouble for me and I don’t like it.’
    â€˜Me? Making trouble? How?’
    Baleri thumped the table between them, attracting one of the officers sitting outside on the bench. ‘Problem, sir?’
    The ASP shook his head and waved the constable away.
    â€˜See, my DPO has been calling me, saying his boss has been calling him about this nonsense San Siro business. You want to make trouble for me, eh?’
    â€˜You understand, OC, I don’t know where you came from, but before you, there have been OCs here and we never had problems, you understand. But you, you just came, raided my place, confiscated my goods, harassed my boys, took my money, locked me out—’
    â€˜Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, I know.’ Baleri tapped a biro on the table, pounding out the rhythm of his frustration. He looked up at the calendar on the wall for some time – three weeks into hisnew post and he had to negotiate with an insufferable weed dealer over the right to do his job. He turned again to Reza. ‘Ok, from now on, no more trouble. You do your business but don’t disturb the neighbourhood, don’t disturb my men and don’t disturb me. Every Friday evening, four o’clock on the dot, bring the small something for protection and you and your boys can go smoke yourself to hell. No fighting, no shouting.’
    Reza shook his head and Baleri gaped.
    â€˜You understand, OC? You took my money and my goods. I know your men sold my stuff to those boys at the junction. You took my things and sold them and you ask me to pay for protection. The others never took my stuff, that’s why I paid them. But not you, you understand? Not you.’
    Baleri leaned forward, astonished by Reza’s audacity. ‘You want to spend the night in the cell? I will shoot you now and nothing will happen.’ But the impotence of his own words rang louder than his voice.
    â€˜What sort of night has the bat not seen?’ Reza delivered his words flippantly. ‘You want me to pay for protection? Bring back my money and my goods, you understand. We can’t be doing something while you are doing something too. It won’t work that way.’
    Baleri snapped the pen in his hand. ‘Ok, don’t pay up and see!’
    Reza shrugged. ‘OC, we’ve been in this business for long. Long before you even joined the police, you understand. We know people and you know it. What I say is only fair but if you think you can harass me, fine. Allah ya taimake ka .’ He pushed back the chair and was rewarded with the irritating screech of wood on concrete. He rose and looked down at the fuming officer before walking out, thankful to escape the nauseating smell he always associated with police stations. He paid no heed to the five uniformed men sitting outside, even when they made furtive gestures to draw his attention.

7
    Evil enters like a splinter and spreads like an oak tree
    When Hajiya Binta peeked through her window to see who had disturbed her gate, she saw the Short Ones letting themselves in and laughing as if they were walking into their own house. Kareema and Abida swayed their hips, just as Fa’iza was now in the habit of doing. Binta, peering through the curtains, wondered why the girls felt the compulsion to torment themselves in such a fashion, even when there were no