AILY DIET***** =====MAD AGAIN (Episode 6)====By tackle ya obstacle

****DAILY DIET***** =====MAD AGAIN (Episode 6)===== When it comes to driving, Christy was a specialist. She could even drive a car on the sea, and her driving skills can be traced to nowhere but to her father’s mechanic workshop. At the tender age of 8, Christy already knew how to drive a car. Her father would sit her on the driver’s seat of different cars and encourage her to drive. She was scared at first, and she could barely see beyond the bonnet. But, along the line, her father taught her to anticipate how to maneuver whatever she sees few metres away before getting to it. “Daddy, can’t I put something on the seat to make it higher?” Christy asked, as a child that she was. “No. My dear. You can’t.” He replied, smiling slightly. “ If you do, your legs would not be long enough to step on the pedals.” He added. At the age of 10, Christy could conveniently drive a car around their street, even though she stretched her head to see beyond the bonnet. Few months after Christy became a teenager, life gave her family a bitter pill to swallow. Her father’s business hit a hard rock, and it was just a matter of time before the workshop became void of cars. During a heated argument about money, Christy watched her dad pushed her mum against the wall, and that ended her life. Christy cried her eyes out, and her father could not believe his eyes either. He didn’t intend to kill his wife that mothered their only child and daughter for years. But, for fear of facing the law, he ran away with his only daughter to a neighbouring country, where he changed his identity, his job and even his name. “What do we do now?” You asked Christy, as she drove the car through the thick dark night. She kept quiet, without saying a word. As she stirred the wheel like an expert she has become over the years, her mind reflected over her life since the day her mother died. “What do we do now?” You asked again, out of anxiety. The bag of gold sat calmly on your laps like a child on his father’s laps. “Is my father dead?” Christy asked you with tears taking over her face. The question caught you unprepared, and you didn’t know what to say. “Who is her father?” You asked yourself. It was almost immediately it occurred to you that Powa was Christy’s father. “Don’t get too close to my daughter” Powa warned you the very first day you got to his house. He also made a reference to Christy as his daughter some other time, but you never thought about it that way. It was that very moment it began to make sense to you. You wanted to say something to kill the silence between you both. The silence that was so loud that it could deafen your ears. “I’m sorry” You mumbled. Christy did not act as if she heard you. Instead, she stole a glance at you as she said, “Give me the bag”. You looked at the bag on your laps, as if trying to ask her the exact bag she was referring to. “I said give me the bag” She shouted. It was at that point you realized that she intended consoling herself with the bag of golds. “No” You struggled to say, as you changed the position of the bag from your lap to your right side, away from her reach. You were ready to fight for your freedom, and the bag of golds was your only escape from the street. “Nothing would stand against my Okirika business.”  You assured yourself. In a jiffy, Christy reached for the bag, and got a hold on the handle. “Christy, leave this bag” You advised. But instead, she dragged it to her side, dragging you along. With one hand, she controlled the car, as she battled with you with her other hand. Both of you were determined. The car danced in different directions, and Christy seemed not to care about that. Before your very eyes, the car swayed off the road, into a ditch, and at that very moment, everything came to a halt. Everything. Even the struggle between you and Christy.                                                                                        © 2016. Austus Ofmat Nwanne Is Powa dead? Is Christy dead too? What happens to the bag of golds? How did you journey from the ditch to being mad? Answers to these questions are in the next episodes. The story remains Mad Again. I’ll come your way again with the next episode. 

MAD AGAIN EPISODE 5 BY TACKLE YA OBSTACLE

Idowu*****DAILY DIET***** =====MAD AGAIN (Episode 5)===== It was just like a dream when the day of the "big job" came. Powa spent so much time explaining the plan and strategy of the operation to the entire gang. "We cannot afford to make mistakes". Powa said, during his prep talk with you and the rest of the gang. "If we do this right" He said, pausing for some seconds. "Each of you would get nothing less than 3 million Naira after the operation" He added, with all confidence. Powa allocated duties to each of you, and begged you all again not to make any mistake. "If we do this right tonight, all of us would not live this kind of life again" He promised. On the table, guns, papers and pictures fought for space, as mobile phones competed for space as well. The plan was a simple complex one, and you could not help but pray that everything worked as planned. Your mind reflected over what you could do with your own share of the money. As the newest member of the gang, you knew your own share might not be up to the said 3 million Naira, but you were so sure that no matter the amount given to you, it would be enough to take you off the street. "I will relocate to another town" You thought within yourself. "I will start a small business" You smiled, as the thought crossed your mind. You knew the business you would go into - importing and selling of clothes. It was one business you valued so much when you were on the street. You even envied Chinedu who was your very good friend when you were on the street. He was the one who put you through the act of picking pockets, and his life changed for good when one of his uncles came into the country and decided to help him. His uncle gave him some amount of money to start a business. As you thought about your life, you also thought about Chinedu in the heart of Aba market, trying to convince one customer or the other to buy his first grade clothes. You had thought too far before you remembered that it was close to midnight, and Chinedu would not be selling clothes at the moment. You remembered Chinedu with his dark face and skinny body, giving you your first lesson as a pick-pocket thief. "The best people to pick their purse are market women" Chinedu lectured you about 5 years ago. The memory created a nostalgic smile on your face. "Smallie, I said do you have a question?" Powa asked, bringing you out of your riverie. "No sir" You said, as you shook your head. The operation was in a hotel. Powa's informant had told him about a particular whiteman who would be coming to Nigeria with some golds. The operation was simple - to steal the golds. But, the method was not simple. The hotel was known for its high security level, and for weeks before the whiteman came, Powa and some of the boys had gone to the hotel to survey things. They even lodged in the hotel for two days so as to gain more access into the hotel's security system. The whiteman had booked for the hotel beforehand, that made Powa's informant know the room number reserved for the whiteman, and Powa had booked the two rooms at the left and right side of the room reserved for the whiteman. In no time, they struck, according to their plan. You and Christy, the only lady in the gang were in a get-away car outside the hotel so as to zoom off immediately Powa and others run out of the hotel. 20 minutes passed the time Powa and others were supposed to come out, you could not find them. Not even any traces of them. The only thing that gave signs of their coming were the several gunshots you heard in the hotel. You looked at Christy as if all the answers you needed were in her eyes, eventhough the gunshots were answers themselves. You reached for the gun in your loins in anticipation of the unknown. Christy started the car and she raised the engine severally, as if to prepare for a car race. You both were ready for anything - even the unknown. After sometime, the gunshots increased, and Christy raised the car engine almost ever time a gunshot she fired. At a point, a loud bang was heard, as the gate obeyed Powa's powerful kick. The bang was followed by yet another gunshot, and the next thing you saw was Powa on the ground. You looked back from where you sat in the front seat of the car, and you wished he would get up on his feet and walk majestically to the car. Just as he did in all past operations you went with him. But, Powa didn't get up. Instead, he crawled on the floor. More gunshots were fired inside the hotel, and you looked at Christy as if seeking for permission to go help Powa. She nodded. As you opened the door, cold fear traveled down your spines. But still, you ran. You ran as fast as your legs could carry you. "Take the bag". Powa struggled to say, as you tried to lift him up. You ignored him, and continued to help him up. "Take the bag and go" Powa said again. This time in a more authoritative manner. "Go...go...go" Powa shouted again. You picked up the small leather bag round his shoulder as you raced to the car. In a swift hurry, the car zoomed off. Off to where your life changed beyond your imagination.                                                                           (c) 2016. Austus Ofmat Nwanne  Mad Again. Smallie now has the bag of gold with him. But, very little did he know that life has more in stock for him. A bag of gold and a car racing away. Anything can happen. I'll come your way again with the next episode. 

*** =====MAD AGAIN (Episode 4)=====By tackle ya obstacle

*** =====MAD AGAIN (Episode 4)=====

 Although, you were good at picking pockets, which to you, is not the same as stealing. But, you never knew you were an amateur when it comes to stealing. You didn't even know what Powa was into. The very day you got to his house, he treated and fed you well. There were boys and girls of various ages going and coming into his house. You didn't know exactly what they were into, although, you had a slight idea that they would be into something you would not like because they drink alot and they also smoke weeds as well. It was their noise that woke you up very early the second night, as they were gambling in the early hours of the day. "Guy, I keep ten ooooo" One of them said, as his voice called you out of slumber. "Guy, play na..." A female voice commanded. You struggled to get up from the bed Powa dedicated to you alone, and when you got to the sitting room, you saw 6 legs and 12 hands passing bottles of wine and a pair of dice around. You didn't need to be told that they were gambling. Afterall, you were not also a saint either. As you moved closer to them, "good morning" you mubbled. Only two mouths responded, and from all indications, you knew that the two mouths belonged to those who were winning more in the game. Others did not even turn their heads at all. You picked a spot to quietly sit, and as you sat on the couch, it sank you in, and made a light sound, loud enough for most of the gamblers to look in your direction. "Good morning" you said again, as if trying to apologize. Again, nobody replied you. It was WHOT, and it was a game you knew how to play well enough, but the way they were playing the game was a little different from the way you were familiar with. You took your time to study how they were playing the game. Instead of taking time to play and enjoy the game, they simply shuffled the cards, and pass them round to the players to pick. After picking, each player revealed their cards, and the player that has the card with the least number, wins all the money involved. In a situation where a player picks a card with the star symbol, the number on that card would be calculated raised to power 2, thereby reducing the chances of winning of the player.  The first two weeks of your stay in Powa's house were the best days of your life. You were given virtually everything you needed, and it was as if you were more than a prince that needed to be taken good care of. But, very little did you know that you were only enjoying the previledges that came along with your initiation process. The third week, Powa called you, "The boys would be going out tonight." He announced. "And I want you to go with them" He ordered, with a voice that made it obvious he was not asking for your consent. You suspected all along that Powa was into armed robbery, but you never knew he would bring you in at all. You foolishly interpreted his generosity and hospitality to be an act of charity. That night, you went with the boys. It was a hotel, and a particular man was the target. Powa received the job from one of his informants, and, as it was the usual practice, the informant is always entitled to 25% of whatever is realized from the operation. "Well done my boy" Powa said, patting your back when you returned with the boys from the operation. "I think I'll bring you in on the big job we have next month" Powa added. "It would be the biggest job each of us would ever do." He said. He dropped the cigarette in his hand in the ash tray. "After that big job, I will quit this job" He said with a faint smile on his face. The smile on his face showed no clue about what the "big job" was about. Infact, it didn't even reveal anything to you about how the "big job" would change your life in a way you never expected. In a way you never imagined.                                                                           (c) 2016. Austus Ofmat Nwanne  Indeed, it was a big job. A job big enough to... Do you still want to know how "you" became mad? Then, don't miss the next episode. I'll bring it to your doorstep again as usual.

****DAILY DIET***** =====MAD AGAIN (Episode 3)=====

****DAILY DIET***** =====MAD AGAIN (Episode 3)===== 

Powa was not really a tall man. Infact, it would not be out of point to say he was a little taller than a dwarf, and his height was truncated by his knocked kneels which both went their different ways beneath his waist. Powa craftly rescued you from the lynching hands of the crowd, and the blood dripping down from your forehead did not provide you with enough sight to see his face, but from the voice you heard, you were so sure that your saviour would be above 30 years old. "Are you OK?" He asked you. Even if you wanted to talk, even if you wanted to reply him that you were not fine - that your body hurt as a result of the several kicks and punches. "Yes" You lied, as you nodded to convince him of your answer. The look on his face made it known that he didn't believe you. He didn't even ask you the question with the intention of getting a response in the first place. "Oga, stop us here" Powa said. The tricycle came to a halt, and Powa motioned to you to alight from it. All the while, guilt and unworthiness made you keep your head down, and the only time you raised your head was when the tricycle almost fell, and you had to hold something in order not to fall. Like an Ileya ram, you followed Powa without questions. If at all you had any question, it would be to know where he was taking your to, but because you have to remain grateful to him, you didn't ask that question, and he didn't say anything about it either. Your stomach complained and rumbled because nothing has gone in since the previous night. Infact, it was the need to please your stomach that led you to picking an old man's pocket, eventhough you sensed it was dangerous as the place was not so populated. The sight of a man stretching his left hand to you, brought you back from your reverie. You looked at the left hand, and what it housed – a hundred Naira note. The note was fresh and neat - the very type people call, “untouched”, even though it might have passed through several hands and bras. As you look at both the giver and the gift, you could not help but wonder why people give alms with their left hand. Some would even rub the money on their body, and say a lot of terrible things on the money before stretching it out to their “unfortunate” receiver. The man before you did not say anything on the money, neither did he rub it on his body, atleast, not in your presence. But, you were so sure that such a man cannot be generous enough to give such an amount of money to a madman in a harsh economy if he doesn't intend to derive more from his charity. You grabbed the money with both hands, and abused the giver, instead of showing appreciation. "Were (madman)" You said, with a serious frown on your face. As the man turned to leave, he held his head in appreciation to his Creator, as if you collecting the money was a miracle. It was then it occurred to you what was happening. The man must have performed a very powerful charm on the money he gave to you, and no madman would have collected such money from him because they would have seen beyond the physical that the money was enchanted. But, you did not see anything. You did not know anything. You didn't see beyond the physical. This is because you were not really mad. You only pretended to be mad so as to avoid something from happening. It was the only way you could be safe from "him". (c) 2016. Austus Ofmat Nwanne I must apologize for not bringing more than two episodes to you last week. It was due to situations beyond my control. But not to worry. This week, we shall progress the story greatly. What could have happened that would make you seek refuge in insanity? Can I usher you in, as we start a journey on how "you" got to that situation. I'll bring the next episode to your doorstep yet again. 

MAD AGAIN **COMPLETED STORY

=====MAD AGAIN (EPISODE 2)===== BY TACKLE YA OBSTACLE

=====MAD AGAIN (Episode 2)=====
In the last six months that you became mad,
again, your eyes have seen, your ears have heard,
but your mouth could not talk about them
because you have nobody to talk to, except
yourself. Most of the time you even try to talk to
people, they don't take you seriously because
they believe you are nothing but a madman
whose words and thoughts are different from
theirs. But, in the real sense, you know what you
saw. Right there at the three junctions where you
sleep, your eyes have seen different kinds of
people bring all forms of sacrifices to the
junction. Some came with beans cake and pap
cake mixed with palm oil. They render all sorts of
dialogue before dropping their sacrifices, but then,
you watch with close and rapt attention to see
who it was. Your eyes could not believe you the
very first time you saw a man bring sacrifice to
the three junctions. He was not just a man, he
was the pastor of a church down the road. You
know him so well because you pass his church
every Sunday while going for your begging
adventure. "Awooro (drawer of people)" The
pastor started. "Ero otun (crowd from the right),
Ero osi (crowd from the left), ema dagirigiri wa so
do mi (rush down to my place)" The pastor
added. His sacrifice was 4 slaughtered pigeons
whose heads faced the four cardinal points, while
their legs meet at the same place in the big
calabash. Pastor Kasali, as he was mostly called,
was one of the respected people in Gbaremu
town, and you could not believe he would be
engaged in such a fetish act.
Even as you looked at Pastor Kasali, the
memories of who you were before you became
mad, again rushed to you. You were a street boy
who depended mainly on picking pockets and
running little errands to make ends meet. Your
survival depended on how lucky you were with
the pockets you pick, if you were not caught. If
you were caught, your fate and life lies in the
hands on your captor, and you are always at their
mercy. You have been in the business of stealing
and picking pockets for about 3 years that you
and your parents were sent parking by the
landlord for not paying the much-accumulated
house rent. Like pieces of clothes, your father
distributed you and your siblings to stay with
different friends and families, most of which had
their own crosses to carry too, but, just that their
crosses were not as heavy as that of your father.
The few times you were caught picking pockets,
you were only saved by a little twist of events.
"Bring tire" Someone shouted from the crowd on
one of the occassions you were caught stealing.
The words were accompanied by a heavy punch
on your left jaw, and you felt like the world was
coming to an end. The kick was ushered down by
a fierce kick from someone putting on an Italian
shoe. It was just a matter of time before you felt
something across your neck, resting fully on your
small shoulders. It was a tire, and the next you
heard was, "bring petrol". You could see your life
coming to an end right before your own eyes. You
know that the next thing that would follow petrol
would be matches or lighter, and that would be
the beginning of your end. But, from nowhere, you
heard a strong muscular voice commanding
everybody to halt. At first, the voice was not
obeyed. "I say make una wait" The voice
repeated, very loudly. That voice was your saving
grace, and not only was it your saving grace, it
was the beginning of your journey to how you
became a madman.
(c) 2016. Austus Ofmat Nwanne
When you see a madman, what comes to your
mind? Do you see them as those that should be
extinguished from the society or as those that
should be cared and catered for? Has it ever
occupied to you that they are also someone's
brother, sister, father or even mother. A Yoruba
adage says, "it's interesting to watch a madman
display, but, it's hurting to have one as a child".
Prepare to experience the story that puts "you" in
that mad situation. I'll come your way again with
the next episode. 

====MAD AGAIN (EPISODE 1)===== BY TACKLE YA OBSTACLE

Aside from Jalingo who is the most popular
madwoman in town, you are next to her in terms
of fame and popularity. Infact, you are the direct
opposite of Jalingo who is always known for
chasing little children around and throwing stones
at people. Jalingo would always rain curses and
abuses on anybody that crosses her path, ranging
from pedestrians down to drivers and
motorcyclist. "you are mad". She would say in her
usual Hausa accent. Nobody knew Jalingo's
relatives because she was not from Ibadan. They
gave her that name when rumours had it that she
trekked all the way from Jalingo down to Ibadan.
Nobody knew what made Jalingo to stay so long
in Gbaremu, because most madmen are always
moving from one town to another. But, as for you,
you did not come from any town. Infact, you were
born and breed in Ibadan, eventhough you are not
a native of Gbaremu, in Ibadan. People call you
Tirogo because of how often you beg for almost
everything from anybody that comes your way.
Your outfit is more complicated than that of
Jalingo who most of the time wore nothing.
Different cans and bottles served as part of your
clothing as an old, torn and dirty coat forcefully
covered the cans and bottles, thereby giving your
body different shapes. Your trousers are of
unequal length and size, and they are torn and
dirty like that of a madman that you are. You
smell of serious stench, and your hair is so
unkept and rough. You have a small portfolio you
carry around, and this portfolio has all the
answers to why you became mad, again.
(c) 2016. Austus Ofmat Nwanne
Most of the time, I wonder why mad people eat
contaminated things, but they don't get affected.
They sleep in the cold and are always exposed to
mosquitoes, yet, they are never sick. What could
be responsible for their immunity? Could it be
their state of mind or what?Welcome to the world
of Mad Again. I'll come your way again with the
next episode.