I became a smuggler by default. One day I was a Volunteer in Liberia working for the “Voice of America” and reading the monotonous News as allowed to by Corporate Sponsors, and the next? I was flying in and out major cities all over the world with my money belt or fake heel in my customized boots full of precious metals or stones.

At first I never understood what I was getting into but by the time I realized I was doing more than cheating the Banks, money changers and Cartels out of their exuberant surcharges; I was already in deep and hooked on my “commission”. Further more I really didn’t give a fuck morally anymore. I had come to Africa 5 years earlier, an eager African American with hopes of bonding and reestablishing his roots. Unfortunately unlike with Alex Haley I was never received with open arms. Rather I was kept at bay, surviving marginally on the outskirts of the culture as a light skinned “Akata” wearing some imaginary sign around my neck saying “Please rip me off”. For all I care I could have been in Alabama.

I travelled everywhere. The Sudan, Zaire or Congo, Rwanda, Mauritania, Egypt, Belgium Portugal, Brazil and Chechnya you name them I was there. I worked and played hard and surrounded myself with the trappings and spoils of the rich and successful. Even though I bought a condo in Dubai’s famous Palm Island Complex on Al Murjan Island almost 2 years ago, I rarely stayed there for more than a month at a time, and considered my true home wherever my suitcase was open and my boots were underneath the bed

When the assignment in Nigeria came up, I simply looked at it as another inconsequential roll of the dice and a quick 20K for 2 weeks work. In as much as I hated their constant aggressiveness and over crowded filth one could only admire their refusal to sit idle in their squalor as some other Africans prefer, and do whatever it takes to survive or better their lives. To be quite honest I had always thought that I had Nigerian DNA in me somewhere; so it was with glee that as I started swallowing my Malaria pills and practicing my Pidgin and the pronunciation of my Igbo name of the fake passport.

I also read up a bit on the politics of the area and just like in most regions of the continent locked in war, it all came down to one basic thing – namely the sharing of resources. Within decades of arguably Africa’s most vicious civil war, Sothern Nigeria was again in strife with a crowd of rebels working either together or independently but all seeking a greater piece of the now bloated Crude Oil pie. Today’s client was the Niger Delta People's Volunteer Force who despite the Nigerian Air force’s inability to keep her Alpha and MiG jets in operation and flying, had been successfully hunted and repeatedly mauled by the latter’s Hind helicopters. So they needed a solution and a quick one.

Being Nigerians albeit disenfranchised and albeit disgruntled, they had solved their problem as usual in the slickest of ways. And I mean Rain coat slick and not “yeye” banana peel slick. First of all they had sold stolen fuel right of the Bight of Biafra to the notorious South African Company run by ex mercenaries known as Executive Order. They in turn had flipped the crude to China and repaid the West Africans in Kroger Rands donated to their cause- whatever that was - by the old Botha Government. My job was to get the money to the Rebels representative at the Portuguese Embassy in Abuja who would in turn release 150 stinger missiles sitting in a Titus sardine ware house in Lisbon for the NDPVF. Those Hind Pilots were about to be introduced to fire and brimstone

I arrived in Nigeria in the back of a tinted Mercedes wearing a full veil and a dress as a member one of a certain Ogas harem, and was whisked over the Niger border by guards who had obviously been greased because they treated us like more like leppers than visitors. Days later I was out of costume and inhaling cold air from the Hiltons Air conditioner’s while sipping Johnny Walker Black and waiting for my contact to come calling. It was during this down time that I went looking for some younger female companionship and as with everything else in Africa they had “the good’ “the bad” and “the ugly” in abundance. Since my money ensured that I would only deal with the good it was a win win situation so I banged them all. Tall, short, fat, skinny, ebony black to caramel brown. All !! Front, back, sideways, on top, underneath, solo, in twos or threes, sisters together and once even a Mother and daughter together. Like I said All!

And then I met Ngozi.

Robot  Villager

# 1 ...Read the full article. Posted by Robot| 29.12.2007 10:26