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The Series Of My Life - Season 1 - Episode 60
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Source: olaxali
One afternoon, we were outside selling our stuff as usual. The Police showed up.
They came from Potsdam, the capital city of Brandenburg. We saw their car, though not an official police car but we knew that weed smokers usually doesn't drive such flashy cars.


Everybody evaporated to upstairs as usual except Johnson and me. We had came down stairs with a Soccer ball. Our goods were buried on the ground as usual and covered with dry leaves.
As soon as they alighted from their vehicle and came to us, Johnson and I continued tossing our ball as if we had not seen them.
*Another Jay Jay Okocha had surfaced in Brandenburg. Only a matter of time before Bayern Munich come calling*


One of them, the female cop came to us and asked if we knew the people who sold drugs there. We denied ever having the Knowledge of drugs in the first place.
*How could we know, we were just two innocent Africans, who had suffered hunger and war*


They went into the nearby bush and searched for our drugs but couldn't find anything. We both joined them to search for drugs. We concentrated our search directly opposite the Area we buried our weeds.
*Johnson and i, the good people of the HEIM were interested in helping the police find the drugs, Ironical. Dont be fooled*
When they were going back to their car, I stopped one of them and asked for his phone number. I told him that I would call him first if I ever see or hear anybody talking about drugs. He cast a go-to-hell eyes on me and left without saying anything.
Johnson and I continued selling our goods while others remained upstairs. They had seen when the cops questioned us. But we were saved by the soccer ball. Africans will survive.




Somehow, we had a feeling that the cops would come again sooner or later. We became more careful on our routine deals.
I on my side had started diverting most of my customers to different venues. I started a zigzag kind of business. I would sell at point A, then direct the next caller to point B. Point C hosts me and the next caller. Then I would try point B again. It was fun but more dangerous than selling at our original spot. The danger in it was that sometimes, I had to sell it close to the local residence areas, one or two elderly people who loved peeping from their windows must have been seeing me.
*It landed me in police net one day but we will get to that in due time*
Sometimes, new faces would come to buy weeds from us. We hardly sell to them unless you were ready to take the risk.


We identified the Police by the universal style of shaving their beards everyday and calm way of approach. A drug addict hardly used gentle and calm approach to anything. We couldn't generalize though but we were right most of the times. Drug business was and still is a game of risk and luck.

By February 2003, Efuah was seven months pregnant. The pictures she sent to me showed her stomach. The doctors had told her she was going to deliver a baby girl. We talked all the time on the phone. She was ready and looking forward to delivery.

Agnes' stomach had bulged out. She came to HEIM for her february allowances. I invited her in her room and asked how she was doing. She told me that John had not found work and that she was still staying with her aunt in Berlin. John the Bighead lived also in Berlin but was squatting with a friend, so she couldn't move in with him. Her situation was pathetic or maybe she made it look so, ofcourse I knew the only thing I could offer her was financial protection.
I asked her what I could do to help. She said she only needed some money. According to her, the 200 euro the Germans were paying us wasn't enough to maintain her and the pregnancy. John Bighead in the other hand wasn't helping out. He had no money and no job and wouldn't join drug business.
I took her to the city center and bought her two nice cloths. I also bought her electric hand hair drier and a new phone. Then I see her off to the train station. I bought her ticket back to Berlin and gave her another 200 euro. She cried.
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