Egoity

By Babs Odugbesan

What if one day you were someone different?
And then it happened again?
And again.

That’s the reality of Lucas Savimbi’s existence, a constantly changing consciousness over which he has no control… Until he begins to glimpse the bigger artifice and understand he’s not in control of his own life—but whose pawn is he?
And which life is indeed his?

Lucas’s peaceful if impoverished existence as a crocodile hunter in an isolate Angolan village comes to an abrupt end when he discovers the remains of a baby in the croc he’s skinning. Suddenly his fate becomes entangled with that of an unscrupulous European businessman maneuvering for economic advantage no matter the cost, a shadowy commando group intent on international mayhem, and the beautiful and innocent daughter of a fabulously wealthy but unprincipled man. But all of them see a different man when they look at Lucas. To discover who he truly is, Lucas must decide where his loyalties lie and how far he’s willing to go to find answers.

A WHITE-KNUCKLE PAGE TURNER… PACKED WITH TWISTS AND SUSPENSE, DELVING DEEP INTO THE MIND
OF A MAN LOST IN AN UNKNOWN WORLD.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Babsod
• Release date: Sep 17, 2020
• ISBN: 9780955795923

Book preview

EGOITY

Babs Odugbesan is an ISP Book Award Winner.

ALSO BY BABS ODUGBESAN

Give Me Yesterday

Lost Sheep with a Poetic Mind

Others Under the Pen name Godwill B. King

Stolen God

Miracles at an Angle

EGOITY

Babs Odugbesan

Copyright © 2020 Babs Odugbesan

The right of Babs Odugbesan to be identified as the Author of

the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright,

Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First published in paperback in 2020 by

VITATECH LTD

www.vitatech.com

A CIP catalogue record for this book

is available from the British Library

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may

be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in

any form or by any means without the prior written permission of

the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or

cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar

condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance

to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN

978-9557959-2-3

Printed and bound in Great Britain by

Vitatech Ltd

First Edition

www.babsod.com/egoity

"Experiences in life, deep thinking, wisdom, mysteries and so on don’t have to be wasted.

They’ll all account for something depending how you want to use them, positively, negatively or not at all."

Chapter One

Danmada, Angola

The monstrous crocodile struggled in the trap-hole Lucas

Savimbi had set. The beast’s powerful tail thrashed with incredible force, sending sand showering onto its scaled back.

Lucas moved towards the trap-hole. He wanted this one alive—it paid more—but the reptile was bigger than he’d anticipated, at least two meters in length. Could he handle the croc on his own? Doubtful.

The beast roared with rage as it clawed the edge of the hole. Then, with one more flick of its powerful tail, it found purchase and began to climb.

Despite their short legs, crocs were fast, even on land. Eyes dilated, Lucas stumbled back and fell hard. He froze and stared at the massive gaping jaws lined with lethal teeth.

The croc’s unblinking yellow eyes pierced Lucas as if to say, When I make it out of here, you’ll never make it out of my mouth. Then the jaws slammed shut and it crawled from the hole, moving rapidly towards him.

Snapping out of his trance, Lucas snatched up the old rifle and panga lying beside him and jumped to his feet. Fear ripped through him as he stashed the blade in his waistband. He raised the rifle and aimed.

The hammer fell with a dull click.

Frantically, he pulled the trigger again—nothing—the gun was jammed. Beads of sweat popped out on his forehead; the croc was closing fast.

Too late to run.

The heaviness of defeat crushed him. Half a meter away, the croc opened its jaws again and foul breath assaulted Lucas. The beast tilted its head to the side. Both front limbs left the ground as it lunged.

Jaws closed over the rifle, jerking it. Pain shot up Lucas’s arm and his fingers burned as the weapon was torn from him.

A thunderous noise pierced the air.

The croc spun and thrashed its tail, knocking Lucas to the ground. Pain shot through his legs, paralyzing him. Blood covered his arms, face and chest. He shuddered and lay still, staring up through a blur of agony as he awaited the deathblow. Trees bowed in a sudden strong breeze, scattering leaves. The wind whipped up dust that stuck to the sweat on his face. Realization slowly dawned.

I’m alive!

Lucas spat sand and tried unsuccessfully to move his legs—they were pinned by a heavy weight. Struggling to an elbow, he looked down his side and jerked back with a scream.

The croc’s wicked teeth were centimeters from his face.

Panting, Lucas tried desperately to escape. Finally his right leg broke free, but he couldn’t move his foot. It’s eaten my foot! I can’t feel it! Drawing gasps of air, he willed himself to calm down and take a closer look at the croc. The rifle protruded from its jaws; only the stock showed. Blood gushed from its scaly body, soaking into the sand. Then he remembered the loud report. The gun—the gun fired!

Laughing with relief, Lucas managed to pull his left leg free. He sat up and rubbed it, hardly believing his narrow escape. He grinned. "Who’s the boss now, croc-kee?" He poked the croc’s nose over the gun barrel.

This was one of the man-eating crocs that lived in the Zambezi River in Angola. It had plagued the inhabitants of Danmada, a nearby village, for years but only recently had the villagers decided to put a price on the croc’s head. Beautiful but isolated, Danmada wasn’t much of a tourist destination. But the few tourists who did venture so far into the forest were valued by the villagers. Unfortunately, two tourists were among the couple of dozen people crocodiles had killed in recent years. The reptiles had become so brazen they even hauled victims from fishing boats.

In the past, crocs had lived peacefully with humans, but overfishing and the depleted wildlife limited their food sources. Humans became their main prey. Only skilled hunters entered this area of the Zambezi and survived.

Grimacing, Lucas staggered to his feet. He tugged his rifle from the croc’s jaws and grabbed its tail, muttering as he pulled. This thing must weigh over a hundred kilos. Legs trembling from the encounter and the effort, he strained forward and slowly dragged the reptile to the edge of the river. His breath escaped in bursts as he wrestled it into his old rusty boat, then arched his back to relieve aching muscles. Lucas knelt to scoop water with his hands. He stared at his reflection. Blood covered his dark face. That was close, he whispered, splashing water on his head and shoulders, staining his worn khaki shirt and shorts to a deeper brown. Unfolding his six foot three frame he rose, returned to collect the rifle, then leaned on the boat, pushing it into the water. The croc filled the vessel, forcing Lucas to clamber over it to a cramped space near the outboard motor. Pulling out the choke, he wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of petrol, and pulled the starter rope. The small engine spluttered to life. Lucas pushed the choke in and sagged onto the narrow seat, exhausted. Gripping the tiller, he steered the boat towards his home, Lualaba, on the outskirts of Danmada. He loved the peace of the magnificent Zambezi flanked by tall trees and dense bush. The river ran through a part of his land like a dark green artery. He shaded his eyes, looking at villagers washing clothes and fetching water.

They stopped and stared at his approaching boat.

Lucas grinned and moved his head up and down, as though in rhythm to a fast hymn.

Eager hands grabbed the bow of the boat and dragged it onto the bank. People gathered to inspect the huge crocodile. Laughter and cheers filled the air. Villagers slapped Lucas on the back. Well done. You trapped a big one this time!

An elder gently touched Lucas’s arm. You’re covered in blood.

He nodded, shrugged then yanked the crocodile’s tail over his left shoulder and pulled the scaly reptile from the boat towards his motorcycle trailer.

A young man laughed. You looked like David dragging Goliath. The youth glanced at his friends. Come on, let’s help him. They lifted the lifeless croc onto the trailer, and Lucas set off for his house.

                                              ***

Night fell as Lucas skinned the croc, working methodically. Completely absorbed in his task, he was at first confused when he saw it in the croc’s throat. As understanding dawned, the knife slid from his bloodied hands and he reeled back. His head ached and he shivered uncontrollably; he fought the urge to retch. Horrified, he staggered to his simple, mud and pole rondavel. Tall trees surrounded the well-kept sandy enclosure, separating it from the land his mother, Vovo, used for farming.

Sighing as the cool interior enveloped him, he sagged to a mat on the floor. His muscles, even his bones, ached as he drifted in and out of sleep. The incident in the forest and what he’d found in the crocodile’s gullet played in his mind. Sweat dripped down his face as fevered images of what could have happened slotted in and out of his thoughts. How is such wickedness possible? A soft voice drew him back to awareness.

"Lucas, what’s wrong? You haven’t finished skinning the croc-kee. That’s not like you. His mother stood over Lucas, who was curled up on the floor in nothing but shorts. She clasped her hands to her chest and frowned. Are you okay?"

He lifted his head slowly and smiled faintly. I’ll finish it later. I don’t feel right. Rolling onto his stomach, he held his head. Argh! Pain pounded his brain. Breathing heavily, he carefully laid his throbbing head onto the padded pillow of layered cloth. I’ll be okay after a sleep. He turned onto his back, flinging an arm over his eyes. The light is killing me.

Vovo’s lip trembled. Ah, my son, what’s happened to you? Maybe it’s something you ate. Do you have a headache or does your whole body ache? She took a lantern from a table near the door and sat, pulling his head onto her lap.

Lucas’s eyes slowly closed again under his mother’s soothing caresses. I’ll be okay, Mama. I just need rest. His voice was slurred and he welcomed the comfort his mother gave. Sleepily, he covered a wound on his neck, hoping she hadn’t noticed.

Vovo pushed his hand away gently. What is this on your neck? It’s deep, with swelling and blisters around it.

Probably an insect bite—nothing serious. He didn’t want her to know what had happened in the forest. She’d worry and put pressure on him again to stop hunting croc-kees.

She shook her head. "No, this looks like an aranha bite."

A spider bite?

Yes, and it could be a black widow. We’d better take care of it fast. She set his head back on the pillow and rose to her knees. I will get an herbal drink for you.

Lucas took her hand. "Mama, wait. Do you want to know why I really stopped skinning the croc-kee?"

Vovo nodded her head, pushing out her lower lip.

He half opened his eyes, then swallowed and closed them again. I … I saw a baby’s leg in its throat. A very, very small baby—not more than three months old.

Vovo’s mouth fell open and she jumped to her feet. "What? In the croc-kee? What about the mother? Was she also eaten by the beast?"

Lucas sat up. I don’t know. But the question is, why was a mother in such a dangerous place with her baby? If it were someone local we would have heard, all the villagers know how cunning those beasts are. So who took the mother and child there? I didn’t see another boat around but it had to have happened recently. What if someone fed them to the crocs to cover up a crime? He slouched against the wall, pulled his legs towards his chest, and wrapped his arms around them. I just can’t get over seeing the baby’s leg.

Vovo trembled. Her wrapper cloth dropped down to her waist, exposing the top of her black petticoat. "Maybe it’s that branco man’s bodyguards at work. She twisted her hands. I tell you, that albino man is dangerous!"

Lucas shrugged, then another tremor ran through his body. I–I hear you, Mama. But please get me that herbal drink. My fever is getting worse.

She tightened the wrapper round her waist and hurried for the door. I’ll get something for the bite as well. I’ll be back soon, she said without turning.

I’ll return to Danmada tomorrow, feverish or not, and find out what’s going on, Lucas swore to an empty room, then sagged, resting his head on the pillow.

                                              ***

Early the next morning Lucas pulled his boat onto the bank and secured it. Frowning, he followed the path, swinging the torchlight back and forth. He knew the forest well, but never went out before sunrise. It was difficult to recognize landmarks in the darkness. His spine tingled, but he composed himself and slung the rifle onto his back. Using a panga, he hacked at tall weeds in his path. The rifle stock slapped against his thigh as he worked.

He stopped to listen. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the sounds of crickets chirping and trees swaying in the wind. Something crawled up his leg and he kicked, shaking it off. Stupid ants! he muttered, then pointed the torch at a tall tacula tree, moving the bright beam to the top. This would do. He unhooked a rope from his shoulder and looped it around the tree and then around his waist. Climbing like a palm-wine tapper, he inched his way to the top then straddled a branch, securing himself to it with the rope. He had a good view of the riverbank and should see any light coming along the path. He scratched his arm and lay back against the thick trunk.

He remembered the first time he’d climbed a tree to wait for his father; he’d been about seven. His father used to go to the other side of the river to hunt for croc-kees. Lucas recalled when he’d heard the bangs of a mukoku drum, accompanied by gongs and flutes piping out a rhythm. People wearing white garments had appeared, seated in a canoe. They sang and rocked from side to side. At first Lucas had been scared, but as they got closer he recognized the fast gospel song and began to sing along. Landing the craft on the bank, they climbed out of the canoe. Their songs slowed as worshipers were baptised in the water.

He remembered thinking, They should try that where the croc-kees live! They’d go into the water accompanied by songs of praise and come out headless, a great breakfast for the reptiles. He chuckled.

Lucas’s mind sailed from the baptism to another time, the day he’d first seen Sukara Pereira on the riverbank.

She was making sand castles with her dad. Lucas hadn’t been able to get close to her because they were guarded by armed men. So he’d made his own sand castle at a distance. She’d smiled at him several times, but all he did was blush.

Air, laden with bush smells, filled his nostrils, jolting him awake. Lucas jerked and bumped his cheekbone against a branch. Ouch! He looked at the river lapping gently onto the sandbank, then scanned the bush. The first rays of light crept into the forest. Lucas didn’t know how long he’d dozed, but after a feverish, sleepless night, exhaustion still clung to his bones. He took a final look around. The songs of waking birds filled the air. He untied himself, descended the tree, then ran to his boat and made his way home. He arrived at the shore and jumped out, mooring the boat. Then he saw Sukara.

Hey, Luc, back so early from hunting? This is new, she said with a wide smile. Her honeyed voice slid over him. Her tiny nose wrinkled up and two dimples carved into her cheeks. Sukara’s well-formed cheekbones perched in a perfectly oval face, and her sparkling, seductive eyes held him captive. Her name was on every man’s tongue in local bars. But Sukara was a spoilt, high-maintenance daddy’s girl—far out of reach for the average villager.

Lucas swallowed as his eyes slid over her plump curves. He longed to touch her skin. It was so smooth that an ant would struggle to get a grip on it. He stared at her. All he could hear were wedding bells. Why do you do this to me? She was the only girl he’d ever wanted, but he lacked the courage to confess his feelings.

Canting her head, she put a fist on her waist and thrust out her hip seductively. What is it, Luc? What’ve I done now?

Ah—I—nothing. He scratched his neck and let out a breath, trying to gain control of his emotions. I had to go back for something I forgot yesterday, but I’m ill, I need to rest.

Aw. She walked towards him and took his hand. You poor thing. Have you seen a doctor?

He laughed slightly. You’re a doctor, so why don’t you treat me?

Aha. She tapped his chin playfully. You don’t miss an opportunity, eh?

He avoided her intense gaze. I really don’t feel well.

Her musical laugh teased his senses. Well in that case, I’ll come to your house after work.

He grinned. That would be great! Realizing he showed too much emotion, he clutched his back and groaned. The pain is intense. I must get home to rest. He glanced at her two massive bodyguards. Could you leave your gorillas behind when you come?

She giggled. I think you have something up your sleeve. She slanted her eyes up at him. Perhaps you want more than my diagnosis, but fine, no bodyguards. She patted his shoulder and walked off.

His eyes followed the sway of her hips as she strutted to a sleek motorboat cruiser. Wishing he had such wealth, he watched until the boat disappeared, then made his way home.

                                              ***

Lucas slept for most of the day, only waking when Sukara called him from outside.

I’ll be right with you! He groggily grabbed a clean shirt from a box beside the fan and went through the back door to the clothesline for his black trousers. The only pair he had. He’d washed them in readiness for her arrival, then he’d shaved and taken a bath before he fell asleep. Fully attired, he stepped out the front door of the hut, putting a hand on his chest. Sukara, sorry, I’ve been asleep all day.

Her eyes bulged. Wow, you look different! You’ve been hiding your good looks under those khaki outfits.

He kept his emotions under control. Don’t flatter me, Doctor. Then he grinned. On second thought, go ahead. You might just end up getting the best kiss of your life as payment.

She smiled crookedly. Yeah, right—you wish, mister!

Yes, I do. He indicated a bench against the rondavel wall. Please sit. She sat and he joined her on the bench as she opened her medical bag. The fresh breeze off the river caressed his skin, cooling his heated emotions.

How are you feeling? Still having pains?

A little. Sleeping helped.

Sorry I’m late, but I had paperwork to finish. I came straight here from the hospital.

Lucas looked down the road to where she’d parked her car. I see you brought your bodyguards after all. He flapped his hand at them. What’s your father so scared of that he has you protected around the clock?

Frowning, she pushed away from him. Hey, don’t say such things. My father worries; I’m all he’s got. He just doesn’t want harm to come to me. She scowled. And another thing, it’s horrible that the villagers call him albino man. That’s rude in the extreme.

Lucas fiddled with a seam on his trousers. "I don’t call him that—I call him branco man." He winced at his own words. Why did I have to say such a stupid thing? I’m messing this up. He glanced at her, half-expecting she would get up and leave.

But she held her ground. What’s the difference between calling him ‘albino’ and ‘white man’? It’s still offensive.

He smiled lopsidedly. C’mon, white is a colour, just like black and brown. Nothing offensive about that. I don’t mind if people call me a black man.

She punched his arm and pouted. But he’s not white, is he?

Laughing, he hunched and rubbed his arm. Okay, sorry. I’ll try to be more sensitive in future.

Sukara looked at him for a while, then laughed. Thanks. So I asked how you’re feeling.

I think all I needed was a long sleep. I feel much better now.

So, my work here is done then?

His heart skipped a beat. What? I said I feel better. That doesn’t mean I’m not in pain. I still have a headache. You need to examine me. Thoroughly. That’s what doctors do. He tugged at a button on his shirt. Maybe you should check my heartbeat.

She put her hand on his. Be serious. You just want me here. There’s actually nothing wrong, is there?

He took her hand gently. If only you knew what your presence does to me.

Don’t you think I’m out of your league?

He shrugged. You have wealth and beauty. You’re a doctor and a charismatic lady, but I’ve also done okay. I have a PhD in agricultural sciences.

Her eyebrows rose. "You do? Seems there’s a lot you haven’t told me. Was this when you lived with your father? I’ve always wondered, how did you end up back here hunting croc-kee?"

I studied at the University of Nigeria. As you know, I joined my father there two years after he emigrated. He’d worked hard and become a successful man with his own business. Just like you, I was spoilt rotten with money and the good things in life. Despite my habit of lavishing money on unnecessary things, I managed to concentrate on my studies and stay away from drugs. She narrowed her eyes in disbelief, so Lucas raised his hand. Okay, I tried marijuana, but didn’t like the hallucinatory effects, so I stopped. Still I had an indulgent lifestyle. I enjoyed myself and thought it would continue forever. As far as I could tell, my father never thought about my mother back here in the village, nor did he plan to return to Angola. Why should he when there were no guarantees the war would end?

Sukara sighed, her hands balled under her chin, elbows resting on her thighs as she stared into space.

A few weeks after I finished my PhD, my father took me aside. Lucas’s voice cracked as memories flashed by. He turned his head away, closed his eyes for a few seconds, then continued. He told me I must return to Angola immediately. I thought it was a joke. I’d left Angola when I was nine, and we both knew I wouldn’t know how to live here anymore. I longed to see my mother again, but that was all. My life—my future—was in Nigeria. He swallowed. Not long after, I was walking home from a party in the early hours of the morning. A car pulled up in front of me and three masked men jumped out. In that moment, I realized the seriousness of what my father had said. Next minute, I was bundled into the car. Then the nightmare began. I went from being a child of privilege to a thing treated with hatred and disgust.

Sukara covered her mouth with one hand and stared at him.

I’m scaring you.

No, please carry on, she whispered.

One abductor sat on either side of me in the back of the moving car. One of them hit me across the jaw with a gun and the other punched me repeatedly in the ribs. I had to fight for air, I could barely breathe. He touched the scars on his jaw. But they didn’t stop there. The punches became so vicious, I thought my head would explode. I’ve never screamed so much in my life.

A motorcycle, spewing exhaust fumes, rode past the hut. The foul gases floated towards them, and they covered their noses. Sukara coughed. That stinks. Then she touched his hand. Please continue.

My captors drove at high speed, and I had no idea where they were taking me. I was struggling just to stay conscious, to breathe; then, thank God, interstate security officers intercepted them. They cut the abductors off with their vehicle before they reached the border of the Benin Republic.

So you were saved? she asked softly.

Lucas shook his head. Even then my abductors didn’t relent. They got into a bloody shoot-out with the police. Finally, the police got the better of them. Killed them all. To this day I can’t explain how I survived the bullets.

Oh, Lucas, it must have been terrifying.

My father … He swallowed. My father met us at the border a couple of hours later with some of my clothes in a backpack, plus two thousand dollars and a ticket to Angola. He promised he would join my mother and me before the week was out. At that point, I was too frightened to ask questions. I was so glad to be going back to Angola, even though I knew I would come home to nothing.

So you arrived in Angola that same day? Sukara watched him intently.

He felt her eyes on him, but didn’t want her to see the emotions erupting in him.

Yes, in less than two hours I was on the plane.

Did your dad come eventually? Did he explain the reason behind the brutal attack? I mean, he owed you that much! She scowled, releasing short breaths.

No, my dad never came. He didn’t make it. He stared at his hands, controlling his pain. My dad’s uncle, who also lived in Nigeria, called me on my mobile two days after I arrived. My—my dad was dead. Lucas stared at the tall trees blindly. He wished he could see his father again. He was a great dad. Why did he have to die? Why would anyone want him—us—dead? The questions were burned into his brain.

Sukara nudged him with her shoulder and said gently, "C’mon. It’s okay. You’re still here and life is full of surprises. Plus