back into her bed till about 8 o‟clock when she would join the rest of us

in front of Talabi‟s shop.

Mr Zubi is always the first one out. He has recently taken up yoga, and

takes immense satisfaction in remaining unshaken in his lotus position

even when cars and motocycles splash mud over him in front of Talabi‟s

shop where he spreads a mat for his new hobby. “It is the discipline

and serenity of soul yoga gives to you” he will say when quizzed about

all the distractions, some of which were pure mischief. He of course

does not utter a word while he practices. Everything requiring his

attention waits until he is done. His wife has promised to one day come

and pour hot water on his head while he sat in that “hausa position” any

day he stepped out without leaving money on the table for their

Saturday eggs. “He will soon get tired of it” She will say to everyone.

“If he reads on the internet tomorrow that the Chinese have started

eating naked on top of trees for enlightenment, he will get up from

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there and go and start that one.”

It is Suleiman, our newspaper vendor‟s horn that brings the yoga

practice or whatever the fad of the moment is to an end. Mr Zubi will

straighten up, place his hands together at his heart, bow his head and

utter „Namaste‟. Then he will turn and look at one of his sons who will

inevitably be waiting with a message from his wife and bellow “what do

you want? Ewu Gambia!” Then he will grab a chair he had kept and

collect the bunch of papers Suleiman would hand to him. One by one we

will all gather around and explore the issues of the moment.

“The senate has summoned Fashola to come and explain his comments

that „the lawmakers displayed stark and worrisome gaps in knowledge

about the budget.” Mr Zubi said when he looked up from the first

paper.

“What kind of Senate is this ehn? You don‟t wear uniform, they summon

you. You say something they don‟t like, they summon you. If you fart at

Eagle square sef, they will summon you.” Akunna said