Some years back, I lived with my cousin in the staff quarters of the Aminu Kano University Teaching Hospital in Kano State.
The hospital has two gates — one for entrance only and the other for exit only. Beside the entrance gate, there was this mad man who camped by the fence of the hospital, right between the flowers planted along the fence.
He had a Ghana-Must-Go bag among other things that looked like the usual rubbish mad people gather and carry around. But what stood out was that he never moved his belongings. All his jagbajantis (the rubbish mad people keep as belongings) always stayed in that exact spot, as if the place was his home. He arranged them like a tent, but with a heavy touch of madness. 😂
The man himself looked terribly tattered — his hair was long, brownish, sandy, and matted, as though water hadn’t touched his hair or body for over eight years. Most times, you’d even see part of his private area because his trousers were torn. 🤦🏽♂️
He usually walked within that vicinity, about a 100-metre radius. He never really went far. There’s a major, busy bus stop at a roundabout close to the hospital gate, and he would often come there, peep into parked buses, and beg passengers for money. I never saw him anywhere else aside from that bus stop, the express, and the spot beside the gate where he slept. From wherever you saw him, he could always see his “house.”
He didn’t talk — I never heard his voice. He begged by gesticulating, pointing to his mouth to indicate he needed money for food. I’ve been inside the bus at that same bus stop a few times, and he would just stand by the window pointing to his mouth. But I never saw anyone give him money. He never insisted or begged for long. He just stood for a bit, looked, and walked away casually.
In the evenings, he was always seated either beside his belongings or across the road on the culvert that divided the expressway. We usually drove past him without paying much attention, but I always checked through the window to see if he was there. It had become a habit.
The spot he chose as his home was always dark because it was a bit far from the well-lit gate. The flowers and trees around also made it difficult to see him sometimes. So, on some days, when we drove past and I didn’t see him, I’d look across the road and find him sitting or standing on the road divider, always staring in the direction of his makeshift house.
Then one Tuesday evening, on our way back from church — Tuesday Bible Study — as we approached the gate, I looked out as usual, but something felt off. First, he wasn’t at his “palace.” I looked across the road — he wasn’t there either. I leaned forward to check his spot properly to see if his belongings were still there. At this point, I was wondering, “Has he relocated?” or “Did the hospital management finally chase him away?” I noticed his belongings looked scattered, but I didn’t think too much of it. I assumed it was normal for a mad man. Before my thoughts settled, we had already driven past the gate. When we got home, I went straight to the kitchen to warm some food.
The next day, when my cousin returned from work, he broke shocking news to me and his wife. My cousin worked in the same hospital — that’s why we lived in the staff quarters.
He told us that earlier that day, his colleagues mentioned something they had seen on the news the previous night — we didn’t have a TV because my cousin was a Deeper Life pastor. They said police had raided the very spot where the mad man used to sleep and found two guns, cash worth about 6 million naira (if my memory serves me right — this was around 2004), and other exhibits. 🫨
The news reported that he was a notorious robber the police had been searching for over the years. According to them, his base was in Lagos, but he operated in Kano, Lagos, and the East. He used Kano as his hideout and coordinated his boys from there. 🫢
1/2 🧵
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