I didn’t have a book or magazine to keep me busy so after eating and taking care of my personal hygiene, I lay spread eagled on the bed and remained so till I was lured into sleep.

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I was awakened by a shrill sound; something that sounded like a siren, but unlike one, wasn’t punctuated by brief pauses. It was just a continuous wailing sound that lasted less than a minute.

It coincided with electricity restoration and I couldn’t have been gladder. I screamed UP NEPA in my head and ran to turn on the TV, at least now I had something to do while I waited for my aunt and her maid returned from the market.

Hahahaha. How wrong I was.

It seemed the warring neighbours had simply gone on a break to rest and regroup. Or maybe the lack of electricity had kept them in such low spirits that they’d agreed to postpone the battle till power supply was restored.

Before the cable could even finish booting, before I was able to browse through stations and decide on which to watch, the shouting downstairs had resumed.

By now, I was not afraid to go and watch; at least the soldiers had left. What I didn’t have was an excuse to be outside the apartment, outside our floor and downstairs at the scene of action.

I didn’t want to appear as the new girl in the compound who was rudely gawking as adults fought. And knowing Yoruba people, I could be reported to my aunt when she got back. My aunt had warned me not to go downstairs, hence my dilemma.

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I decided to risk it. I’d go halfway downstairs, hide somewhere behind the door on the ground floor and peep through the holds in the bricks; holes that were originally meant for ventilation.

So, I crept down the stairs like a fugitive, seeing that most flats were locked from outside, indicating that the occupants were away, having gone about their daily businesses as usual.

From my vantage point and the limited view I was offered as I watched, I was able to piece the full gist together.

What happened was that Shewa, the fair skinned angel who had suffered a resounding slap from Daddy Japhet had either hired or ordered the soldiers to come and retaliate.

Her cheek had swollen with welts and the imprint of all his five fingers and she was having none of it. So she reported to her ‘godfather’. And he sent the soldiers over to teach Daddy Japhet a lesson.

I immediately liked the lady. Her vindictiveness gave me joy, because it was quite obvious that the couple against her was an unfair fight. So she became even more unfair than them.  50/50, no cheating.

But those soldiers were brutes. They had literally peeled the skin off Daddy Japhet’s back with koboko. While inflicting the ‘punishment’ on him, they had ordered him not to make a sound and when he squealed, they simply gagged him and proceeded to deal with him.

They had left with the parting shot that his wife’s punishment would be taking care of his wounds, as well as the aggression that he was sure to transfer to her.

Well, this was one thing that didn’t surprise me. Soldiers were known for their brutality where I come from too. They were no more than mercenaries that we feared and avoided.

I was lost in thought when I heard a voice directly outside my peeping spot say softly, “I see you have been enjoying yourself”

I almost died from embarrassment.