Still Waters

ELEVEN

Smoke POV

It's hard to say exactly how or when 'smoke' became my alias. The why was obvious though. I've been smoking since I can remember, dragged on my first cigarette when I was about twelve, thirteen maybe. I had stolen one from Uncle Green's stack, hid in the bathroom and tried it out. I didn't particularly like it and I coughed my lungs out. But it made me feel tough – a quality Uncle Green admired, and oh how eager I was to get his approval in those early years. Even if I made sure he never saw me at that tender age, it gave me some vigour to think that I could puff on a cigarrete. None of my friends could do that.

As I grew older, I got addicted to the fiery yet comforting substance. In my senior secondary school days, I'd to skip class with Ajay to smoke in the uncompleted buildings nearby. He smoked just as much as I did. So it didn't make sense for him to christen me smoke. But he did. In retaliation, I named him chimney. Two stupid names for two stupid boys.

That was about 10 years ago. We are men now, not stupid anymore, and strangely both trying to kick the habit. We know the health risks that come with these substances. But old habits die hard and sometimes you get tired of trying.

Ajay passes the blunt to me as we stand by the jetty watching people get on speed boats. We are waiting for a new connect who is coming in from Bonny island. I drag on it and blew out slowly, almost whistling. Ajay had promised his mother he would quit. She was worried he was going to die before she got the chance to carry her grand children. Ajay was an only child and he loved his mother like crazy, he could promise her anything even though it was completely impractical. Being the ever-supportive friend, I decided to support him by fasting along. I reckoned we would not last up to two weeks. I am surprised we made it to one month.

"The warehouse don set abii?" He asks.

"Aye." I reply. "But na small small the merchandise go dey enter. You know say customs dey ginger anyhow".

I pass the cigarette back. There is no judgement between us, no guilt that we are relapsing again. We've been here a thousand times. It is what it is.

In case you haven't figured it out yet, we do not push drugs or trade guns. It's something bigger. Maybe I'd tell you later. But it's too secret for now but I can let you in on our terminologies. 'Warehouse' is code for 'bank account', 'merchandise' is code for 'money', 'customs' is code for 'financial regulators'. Connect the dots yet? I came up with these code words for Uncle Green and the boys. I think it's brilliant. So far, no dogs have come sniffing in our backyard. If our conversations ever leaks out, we'd have them searching all over the creeks for a physical warehouse. I smile at the thought of sending those hypocritical government slaves on a wild goose chase.

"Make una dey push am fast. Make boys no vex enter street. The last drop don reach like two months." Ajay says through puffs of smoke.

Ajay is a hot head, a little impatient. But he never makes a move without my approval. He had mad respect for me and is deeply loyal. I trust him to keep the boys in check. "Relax, Chimney. Na who wan enter street when you dey house?"

He looks at me with an annoyed expression on his face. "No dey call me that chimney. I don tell you before."

I laugh out loud. Now while I don't mind being called smoke, Ajay hates being called chimney. He thought it was a demeaning name and made him lose respect with the boys, He is my right-hand man after-all. So, I reserve the teasing for moments like this when we were without the crew.

"Na you start am nah. You see me dey complain about smoke?

"Guy leave that thing abeg." He waves me off and focused on something in the distance. I followed his gaze to see nothing extraordinary, just speed boats casting trails on the water.