Bold Wine, Lens, and a Thousand Graffiti

ℙℝ𝕆𝕃𝕆𝔾𝕌𝔼

“Kanu! OJ! Let’s go! He is coming, he’s coming. Let’s go!” I hushed as I retreated energetically from my watch-post. I swooped down the seven-feet tall fence I had sat on for the last thirty minutes, observing the compound area of Mr. Donald Sileno, the wealthiest magnate in our street. He wasn’t someone very influential I’d say, but if there was reason for his widespread fame in our relatively remote community, his ego, shadiness, and boastful attitude would certainly be among the elite reasons for his popularity.

We quickly stuffed in our bag; five multi-coloured spray cans, a set of airbrushes, some paint, and a few markers that were left lying on the ground near the wall. And just when I thought we’d leave the scene without a trace, OJ persisted in perfecting his part of the art on the brick fence.

A stubborn type he was, he preferred getting his interests completed, even at the cost of severe punishment. It was a normalcy amongst us. OJ was the one that had always gotten us slowed down and, eventually, caught.

“Bro, make we move oh. You don start to dey waste-waste time again, ahbi?” Kanu swung the bag on his back with agility. A potent footballer – he was the big guy amongst us three.

OJ kept silent, focusing on the wall like everything was calm.

I thought about the many things that could go wrong if we got caught, and tension slowly found its way to my heart’s septum. Somehow, the air felt thicker. Too thick that a scissors would have no problems cutting a piece from it. This wasn’t my first time on an operation. It wasn’t my second either. I had been doing this with my guys for as long as I could remember. All irrelevancies erased, since I started the group, we’d been running successfully for more than a year, giving colour and beauty to the city through our art.

I creased my forehead, trying my possible best to stay calm… lest my anxiety leads to an outburst of irrational actions from myself towards OJ. Nothing more would have pleased me better than a perfect work of art from us. We’ve had a record of excellence in our practice, and OJ was our finishing specialist. He was just too talented.

Today was a different day altogether though. Last week, we had been apprehended by our Community Police during a stealth mission close to the Police Outpost – MOPOL 45. Police detention wasn’t even the bitter frost of our aftermath, but my momma’s countenance. She came to our rescue at night, after getting a call from the Police. She paid for our bail, saw to it that Kalu and OJ were back to their homes safely, and afterwards, we drove home in silence – the ear-deafening silence that she was fond of employing whenever she felt angered or disappointed.

Long story short, somehow that night, I made a commitment to momma after a long session of a ‘hearts and tears’ talk.

"I’m going to quit graffiti, ma. I promise to stop." Yeah, I had said that, and I’ve successfully kept my promise by embarking on yet, another graffiti rampage. If I get caught again, one thing is for sure – I’ll be dead meat.