THREE: THE STREET PIMPS

'O boy! Nah where you think say you dey go.' The leader of the three leered at Akin eyeing him up and down. They are apparently searching for a building to burgle. Now Akin knows why the road has little activity the dwellers there had all gone to their various workplaces and their kids, if there are any, are at school. Jefferson's is cramped with lots of low-standard and overstaffed schools.

'And hin clothes still make brain oh. He fit sell well, well for dem secon' hand clothes Market.' The leader of the trio said again in typical pidgin –the official language in the slums of Surulere, hardly will you find anyone on the streets speaking Standard English– eyeing his clothes with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Akin shivered visibly, the pimps are going to strip him and sell his clothes off. He looked down at himself, he was wearing brown khaki shorts with a thin Prada belt and a black Hermes top with an upturned collar that was already fading, to go with black Supreme flops. These are the things he was wearing when he fled from home, and he has been taking good care of them since he has no spare. The brown khaki has already started collecting dirt and dust though the stain is not yet visible.

'Hope to say una get pant for body sha.' The short one sneered, edging closer to him as the other two burst out laughing

'He no fit get problem to dey wakka around naked nah.' Their leader said again laughing

Akin's brain was working at double speed the street pimps are brutal and merciless, after making fun of him they will strip him naked and even take the dirty '50 cents' boxer he is wearing, they will only care about how much it can fetch them and nothing can stop them except...

'Guys guys make una look oh, you no fit do me dah kain thing.' Akin said employing the thickest voice he could muster.

'Wetin dey worry dis tiny rat, una think say we been dey follow una play so? shuu? abeg start to dey comot those clothes jejely before we comot am for you.' The other man who has been silent since said with an underlying tone of menace in his thick baritone voice. While infact, he wished Akin wouldn't comply to take off the clothes gently as he had ordered so he could spank the little brat out of the clothes. His hands are really itching for some action.

'Ehn! If una wan enter yawa for skull dem hand make una come come touch me naa.' Akin said trying to appear brave parting his legs to gain a better footing and crossing his arms over his chest looking defiant. While he's really shaking inside with fear.

'Wetin you talk so?' Their leader said already looking sober stooping down to his height and looking into his eyes trying to catch a glimmer or hint of fear and deceit in the boy's eyes but all he saw is defiance which made his heart flutter and he shivered ever so slightly.

'Say wetin.' Akin shrugged keeping up his show of defiance when he saw the look on the thug's face. 'Nah wetin you hear, abi you blind? una no see the place wey I dey go so? you don see any street rat wey dey wakka about for here before?’

The brute who had threatened to spank him out of his clothes faltered. 'Shoo, you say you be Skull's boy?.' He knew they were finished if this was true besides the boy had to be right, none of the street rats had ever come to these parts and the kids living in this area had all gone to school and some to where they were learning a trade or the other.

'No ooh! I be hin boss.' Akin replied with a note of sarcasm for effect, seeing the thugs were already cowered. 'Abegii, comot for road for me jaare.' He moved out of their midst with bravado as they parted away. Heart in mouth he swaggered down the road trying not to appear too anxious to leave. He looked back against his better judgment and saw they were already retreating into the alley. As they disappeared from sight, he doubled down the road till he came out to a square.

Right ahead of him loomed a lone eight-story tower in the shape of a semi-circle surrounded by six-story apartment buildings on all sides. Hip-hop music was blaring loudly from the speakers positioned on the balcony of the third and fourth floors of the lone building. To his right and left are roads identical to the one he just existed. Resting against a building to catch his breath he realized he was on the highway more apartment buildings are across the road separated from the tower by a curving road, and the tower and its neighboring buildings are at the centre of the road. The highway runs roundabout the buildings. Cars and buses sped up and down the roads as he contemplated going back or crossing the road to the tower ahead of him. There seemed to be celebration within those walls as the aroma of spicy Jollof rice and barbeque wafted over to him teasing his nostrils.

His stomach grumbled and he made his decision he was going across to the tower and maybe he might get lucky and get a bowl of that food it's been long since he ate rice or any reasonable food at that. Ever since he left home, he has been feeding on leftover fish heads from the market and bread that he buys from a trader. And when he made more money eats from a local food seller downtown.

He perceived another odour mixing with the delicious aroma assaulting his senses, this new aroma was coming from his right, it was the foul odour of Indian hemp. He looked up and spotted five huge mean, mean-looking men puffing smoke and staring at him menacingly from the window of the first floor of a building right across from him.

One of them jumped out of the window landing firmly on his two legs he was a macho of a man wearing only short jeans, his left arm was covered in tattoos, and on his broad chest was the tattoo of a crown and cross daggers. He flicked at the ash end of his hemp and threw down the cigar, crushing it beneath his brown timberland boots and slowly made his way over to him.

Heart caught in his mouth, Akin struggled to steady his heartbeat. The street falcons. He is not getting out of this one for sure.