Episode 3

The day of Exams had finally come to an end, and I was convinced that I had done well on it. With that sensation of success, I dashed back to Uncle Shola's house, ready to gather my belongings and return home before I starve to death.

 As I approached his house, I expected the typical routine but, much to my amazement, the usual story took an unexpected turn. Instead of relegating me to the budget menu, Uncle Shola said, "Ade, come and enjoy! Your lunch has been specially made for you." His pleasant smile suggested something out of the usual.

I approached the table, skeptical but curious. My mouth sprang open at the sight—a sumptuous pile of food greeted me. I dived right into the meal, gobbling everything before Uncle Shola could rethink. "It seems like it's been a while since you've had such a feast," he said, widening my smile and nodding in agreement.

It amused me that Uncle Shola took feelings of fulfillment in serving me a meal that we used to have every Sunday at home—rice and stew with chicken, a traditional yet cherished dish.

After I completed my meal and was about to go, I noticed Uncle Shola and his wife crowded by the window, staring out as if they were watching something attentively. I announced to them that I was leaving.

 "You can't leave just yet, Ade. Change your clothing and return inside. "We haven't even shown you around Lagos," Uncle Shola stated, astounded by his abrupt change of heart. Maybe he's not as tight as I expected.

They were watching on a wealthy single neighbor who was known for hosting expensive parties every weekend. Since uncle Shola wasn't an extravagant person, It was evident that Uncle Shola and his wife were envious of him, they thought he was involving in something illegal that's why he doesn't value money, I overheard Uncle Shola promise to follow him wherever he goes to see what he does, I concluded that uncle Shola was about to embark on a surveillance trip. 

Uncle Shola drove off determinedly to track down his neighbor, and in what seemed like the blink of an eye, he returned beaming like a lottery winner. "We've got him!" he laughed, his joy apparent. His wife embraced him as if he had just received his doctorate. "Honey, where's the evidence?" she eagerly queried.

Uncle Shola proudly pulled out his ancient 2GB RAM Itel phone and began playing a video he had secretly taken during his spying operation. I didn't view the video, but their expressions told the story—whatever Uncle Shola caught was obviously highly incriminating.

"Ade, come on, let's explore Lagos city!" Uncle Shola exclaimed in the evening. I hurriedly put on my nicest outfit and dashed outdoors, excited by the idea. My delight was interrupted when I noticed Uncle Shola carrying a car battery as he returned from a neighbor's house. Oh, please don't let it be what I'm thinking—did Uncle Shola just borrowed a car battery?

To my surprise, he had done just that. It was another of his unexpected actions. After jump-starting their car, Uncle Shola returned the battery to its rightful owner, just when I thought I'd seen everything. I didn't even know a car could still run without a battery. "Uncle, how long have you been doing this?" I inquired, my dismay obvious.

"Ade, get in the car. "You have no idea how much a car battery can cost," Uncle Shola responded, totally unconcerned by my objections.

Uncle Shola pointed out several interesting sights as we went through Lagos. The metropolis was alive and thriving, a veritable mega-city. I assumed he was taking me to a restaurant or some unusual location. But, much to my surprise, our destination turned out to be a police station.

"Uncle, why are we here?" I inquired, perplexed by our abrupt halt.

"Ade, I need to report this to the police." "Just wait in the car for me," Uncle Shola said, running away without even turning off the car. He appeared to be filming a video to show to the authorities. Why would my father's younger brother behave in this manner? How could someone else's way of life be affecting him? There were a lot of questions in my mind.

I ignored his request to wait and followed him inside. A strange scene ensued as Uncle Shola entered—the police officers greeted him with shouts and familiarity.

Was Uncle Shola giving the cops informations? It didn't appear to be his first visit to the station.

"Welcome, Mr. Shola," a police officer said as we walked inside the station. Uncle Shola boldly remarked, "Officer, I have a complaint to make, and I have evidence." He quickly handed his phone, displaying a video to the interested police officers. They took the evidence from him, and we left the station right away.

Curiosity piqued my interest, but I couldn't bring myself to question Uncle Shola's conduct. After all, arguing can mean missing out on dinner.

Uncle Shola returned home with smiles, as if he had accomplished something wonderful. Their demeanor, on the other hand, made me feel anxious and depressed. Their actions did not sit well with me.

The screaming sound of a police siren disrupted the nighttime tranquility within less than half an hour of our return. The cops were at the neighbor's house, so it was obvious. They arrested the individual and took him to the police station to be questioned.

After an hour, a knock interrupted the evening's peace. As I rushed to the door, I noticed a police officer standing outside. 

"I need to speak with Mr. Shola," said the officer. I dashed back inside and informed my uncle, "Uncle Shola, there's a policeman outside asking for you."Uncle Shola sprang up and walked to the door, shocked. "Good evening, sir." "What appears to be the issue?" he queried respectfully."Yes, please accompany me to the station for questioning," said the cop.

"Officer, I'd like to remain anonymous." Why are you exposing me to the person about whom I complained?" Uncle Shola responded, apparently surprised."Don't worry, everything will be sorted out," the cops promised, trying to calm the atmosphere.

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