Ogunkunle finished his beans and corn pottage at the mama-put quickly, taking extra care not to allow oil stain his well-starched one good shirt. He strode past his fellow free readers association comrades, calling out greetings.
He heard the first shot as he made to climb an Okada he had hailed. The anger in him grew as each bullet registered its discharge in his ear.
“Not today!” came a scream from him, as the Okada man and other bystanders fled. The gatemen of the adjacent banks were locking the gates as fast as they could even as their attached policemen with drawn AK47s cowered behind anything that could shield them.
He saw two SUVs pull into the street and saw people run towards the end of the street. The anger he felt made him turn towards the on-rushing vehicles. He then blacked out.
They said he had stepped into the middle of the street and raised his hand at the vehicles bearing down on him and the cars stopped mid-speed. They said the armed robbers got down, angry at this interference and rained bullets from their guns on him. They said he raised his right hand ✋ at the bullets which all froze mid-air, as dogs of all breeds started gathering behind him. They said of the panicked manner the robbers fled on foot and how he used his left hand ✋ to command the army of dogs to chase after them.
He read what happened with a sigh at Ikota where he fled to from Ikorodu, after coming to consciousness in his bedroom some minutes after the incident. The third since he met the old man 👴 who told him Ogun, god of Iron has chosen him…