February by Nick Nwaogu - HTML preview

The chair behind the desk is empty. Behind the counter are two junior Officers NEATLY dressed in complete black Police uniform. A CORPORAL with two red ‘V’s attached to his sleeves, and a SERGEANT with three. The Corporal’s name-tag reads: “KUNLE ADEYEMO”, while that of the Sergeant reads: “TEGA OGBEGBO”.

TEGA, physically unimpressive, rugged, not handsome, not ugly —-just plain. Rebellious, rude, and out-spoken, in his mid-30s.

KUNLE, gentle-faced, late-20s.

Far behind the Officers is a ratty detention cell, with HALF-NAKED men standing barefoot, oozing foul odor, FUTILELY squeezing their faces through the narrow spaces between the vertical rusty bars that jails them.

PRISONER #1 (to the Officers)

Chair, how long I go dey here?

TEGA

(without turning to the Prisoner)

Until person come bail you out. Meanwhile I no wan hear fem for there.

(to Kunle) Where Femi dey?

Kunle is scribbling on an A4 paper, lifting words from another document. He is LEFT-HANDED.

KUNLE (still scribbling)

I don’t know.

Indistinct conversations between the prisoners are being heard.

TEGA (hisses; re: Femi)

Oga give others better partner. My own na waka waka.

(to Kunle)

Abeg, you get credit for phone make I use am call Femo?

KUNLE (curtly)

I don’t.

TEGA

You no go ever get, in Jesus’ Name. (bows his head quickly)

Amen!