Juwon was left at the mercy of the scorching sun, feeling like the unfortunate victim of nature. His uncle's old bike chose the very wrong spot on the route to register its protest. No commuters in their right senses will halt at such a lonely bend to help a stern looking guy, and to worsen matters, the piercing wail of approaching siren tickled Juwon's ears, plunging his heart deep into his usual nightmares.
Every nook of Ojara was still heaving a sigh of relief from the long aborted reign of terror in the hands of a band of ambitious friends demonized by the craze for power, fueled by an overdose of false hope. Time and time again, Juwon had kept pondering on this story but had never come close to fathom how they became the nemesis of their own people over cheap bags of lies sold to them by an undeserving individual under the cloak of politics. How they settled for that choice remained a mystery to him. It was indeed the kind of choice that slays one's conscience and buries the heart. Juwon vividly recalled the destruction that trailed their steps: the scores of unspeakable agony, and the losses that were served, all a testimony of the unending torment that they birthed while seeking to award a fraudster the people's mandate.
Once the election was sealed and the mandate delivered, they were all cast out by the one who once watered their gong. The promises of compensation, rewards and opportunities dissolved into outright denial, and their little band of thugs collapsed under the rebranded arm of the law. Juwon was one of the lucky to escape, many of his gang members weren't so fortunate. The unlucky ones were quizzed by the law while others whose lot fell into the hands of angry citizens became tales of jungle justices.
It's been an uneasy life ever since Juwon ran back to his mother's village and decided to turn a new leaf, one he sincerely thinks that he really deserves