Chief Gbeyon just came home from a long meeting. He had hardly reached the bedroom door when he heard a violent bang on the front door. He scowled and checked his wristwatch. It was 9:30 pm. That’s odd, he thought. He racked his brain but there was no recollection of any scheduled appointment. This would have seemed normal during the political campaign season or when he was the councillor of his ward. It definitely couldn’t be any of his children because he could hear them having fun at the backyard. “Who’s that?” he asked indignantly from across the sitting room, but there was no response. He moved quickly to the intercom and called the security post, but there was no response. He became agitated. Ahann! What’s happening? , he questioned. His face twisted in fear, but this wasn’t the time for fear. He called out again. “Who’s that? Ta ni yen?”. No response. This time, the pounding came again, louder and more insistently. This alerted the wife who came out of the bedroom trembling. “Honey, what’s happening? Who’s that? She asked. Gbeyon moved quickly to the surveillance desk and turned on the surveillance TV. On the screen, he saw four unsavoury looking men with guns and machetes. “EjeJesu! ” the wife exclaimed. Gbeyon had heard stories of men of the underworld, but nothing had prepared him for the unsavoury encounter soon to take place.
At this point, the dogs in the backyard started barking. Gbeyon called the nearest police station, but the line was switched off. He called a police friend. He was out of town but promised to send the rapid squad. How rapid would they respond? Gbeyon thought. The pounding on the door became intense, but the door did not budge. The fellow pushed harder, it did not open. Sadly, the unsuspecting children in the backyard were engrossed in their fun time and banters. “Yes, the dogs,” Gbeyon thought. It occurred to him the dogs could save the day. He had four ferocious pit bulls his brother in the US gave him as birthday gifts with an instruction: do not release them unless necessary. Gbeyon staggered towards the backyard window and shouted in Ogu language so the robbers would not suspect. “Mi tluavun (release the dogs). Ovi e le, mi tluavun (children, release the dogs).” Unfortunately, his children did not understand him. It sounded strangely amusing, and they all laughed hard. Sena, the second eldest, tried to make sense of what their father said. “What’s Tata saying? Me too, have fun?! Me too have fun?!. They all laughed fit to burst. A gassy fury and frustration filled Gbeyon. At this point, he felt the full weight of his error. He and his wife had ensured that the children were trained in standard English. No vernacular, was the motto. They even got them a home instructor to train them in diction so they could speak English like the native speakers. All this was against the advice of Gbeyon’s mother, who would always say “męton yin męton”: yours is yours. Aways value what is authentic to you while you appreciate others’. Teach them your language the same way you teach them foreign language. Meanwhile, the gentlemen at the door didn’t back down.
The fellow manning the door suddenly threw his full weight against the door, and it sprung open. He hurtled onto the sofa in the sitting room and steadied himself. This alerted the children. When they rushed in from the backyard to see what was happening, they saw three armed men with burning eyes and menacing looks like a trapped hyena. “O Jessssss” shouted the last born who immediately wet his short. “Everybody lie down flat !” hollered the leader of the gang. They pointed their guns at the family lying facedown. “Oga, we mean no harm if you cooperate. Just take us to your room and give to Ceasar what belongs to Ceasar” said the gang leader. Gbeyon felt a knot of fear. His knees buckled as he led the gang leader to his room while others bullied his wife and children. After long, the gang leader led Gbeyon out with a briefcase and a jewellery box belonging to the wife. “O ya, for your night prayers,” the gang leader ordered “you say, ‘Our Father’ twenty times.” As soon as the family started the forced prayer, the men turned off the lights in the sitting room and exited the vicinity with speed. After about twenty minutes of silence, they stopped the prayer and turned on the lights. Gbeyon sat back in the sofa looking pale with red eyes, unsure whether to cry or curse.
His wife sat beside him, whimpering, sniffing and blowing her nose into the fringe of her wrapper. Gbeyon reached out a hand and touched her shoulder to soothe her. The children remained seated on the floor looking bemused like one who saw a ghost. “Wow, this is the most terrifying experience!” said Sehubo, the eldest child. Gbeyon regarded him coldly and looked away. The atmosphere was still tensed somewhat. They were still trying to make sense of what just happened. “Oh gosh!,” muttered Sena, “we could have released the dogs.” Gbeyon gave her a look that could wither an Iroko tree. “I hear you.” replied Gbeyon. “Oh Tata, was that what you were telling us when you came to the window?”asked Sena. Gbeyon stood up in suppressed anger and walked towards his room. “I don’t blame you. I blame myself for treating my language with contempt. And now I realize the gravity of not teaching you our language” he muttered. “Tata, we are sorry” said the children in unison. “It’s all right. Sehubo, you take the picture of the damage and write a statement about what happened. Give them to police when they come. If they don’t come, take them to the DPO’s office tomorrow morning “ he instructed as he was about to enter his bedroom.