"Making money in this business is as easy as taking candy off a toddler," Musa laughed and rubbed his lean belle. It was a wonder how he kept such a physique after gulping down the enormous plate of Suya and washing everything down with three bottles of soda which miraculously disappeared into the bottomless hole otherwise known as Musa's stomach in three gulps. He belched shamelessly and slowly picked up the toothpick and sighed with a relish.
Evans watched him suspiciously, he opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a man selling music in a mobile store which was an object that looked like a wheelbarrow. On close examination, Evans discovered that it truly was wheelbarrow which a gifted welder had redesigned to contain two loudspeakers, which was the source of the eardrum-bursting music, a rack on which he hung the various albums (which were obviously pirated of the real thing). At the back of the wheelbarrow was an extension on which he precariously balanced a portable electric generator; the power source to his musical equipment, which left a trail of smoke in its wake.
He waited for the bootlegger to pass before he could continue the conversation with the agent. He surveyed the scene, and it was beautiful chaos, the marketplace was an apt definition of organised chaos, the hawkers and road hoarders; people that do not have enough to rent a shop but instead crowded the walkway with their wares displayed on the road. Each seller kept an eagle eye over their wares; their eyes were just as sharp as their tongue. Woe betides anyone that mistakenly stepped on the displayed goods. The burst of expletives and curses that would follow such a blunder would have made Miss Rose, Evan's kindergarten teacher, turn crimson with embarrassment and indignation.
"So which one would you want to try first?" Musa's question jolted Evans back to reality. Evans, who three months ago could not dream of venturing into a business of his own, now in a market discussing ways of doing business with an agent who was introduced to him by Abdul, the security in his former place of employment. A lot can happen in three months. Within three months he had gone from a respected bank employee to an unemployed man wandering the streets and wondering where the money for the next year's rent would come from after his bank's forceful acquisition by a rival bank due to liquidity issues.
He had tried unsuccessfully to get a job in other banks. Times were tough, and the unemployment percentage was on a steady northward move. While working, there was always this constant reminder to have a Plan B, but being a procrastinator he never really got to have one until three months ago when he tried to log into the banking portal and found out he did not have the authorised access. A frantic hour of trying every means which proved abortive until he checked his email and saw the dreaded termination mail. The termination benefit went into paying off the car loan he took six months before. He was near bankrupt on his sack day.
That day, he was trying his hand in the meat business, and the man in front of him was the link between him and the industry producers; the goat, ram, cow etc. nomadic farmers.
He was thinking of buying one cow; if it was genuinely profitable as they said, he might have to clear his account and buy more in the future.
"Oga, I know where you would get a cheap cow at the moment, the nomadic herders are finding it difficult to get good grazing ground, and most of them are selling off their cows before they die of hunger," Musa said as if he read his mind.
"Ok, Musa. I want to buy one cow now and see how it goes from there."
"One cow?" He asked, surprise written all over his lean face. Evans nodded.
"Oga, one cow would not be profitable."
"What do you mean by that, didn't you just say that you know a place where the herders are willing to.."
Musa cuts in here, "Yes, I said so, and that is the truth. However, due to the distance and cost of transportation will make buying only one not profitable. You can only break even when you buy at least ten cows."
"Ten cows?" Evans realised he had just shouted and immediately lowered his voice.
"What is the cost of the cows there and how much is transportation per head?"
"If you negotiate very well you can get a cow for 50,000 naira."
"Did you just say 50,000 can buy a full-grown cow?" interjected Evans.
"You may even get it cheaper, but the area is remote, and the cost of transporting back here is 25,000 naira per head."
Evans quickly made a mental calculation. A cow sells for between 100k to 310k where they were. He could already see the profit flowing in. However, he managed to subdue his excitement and continued the conversation with the agent.
"What's in it for you?" he looked directed at Musa.
"Me? Nothing much. I'm not a greedy man. Anything you give me is ok with me." He quipped. However, Evans knew that "nothing goes for nothing" in business. A business person should be assertive and name his or her price or else you may end up paying more than you're willing to pay.
"Please, I will like to know the commission for the sale." He asked directly.
"Ok, since you insist, the commission is usually ten per cent of the total cost, but I will charge you 5000."
"For the entire transaction?" Evans wanted to know.
Musa laughed, "No, per head."
"You just now made it appear as if you are giving me a special discount or something. Is 5,000 no longer ten per cent of 50,000?" The apparent irritation showed in Evans' voice.
"Is that so? Now that you put it this way, I will make it 4,000 per head just for you. Happy now?" Musa's smile even got wider as he eyed the man sitting opposite him.
"Ok, deal. When do we go and how is the payment made?" Evans asked.
"We? You give me the money plus my commission, and I deliver your cows to you. The cow rearers are not literate, so they do not have a bank account. Neither do they deal with people they do not know. They know me."
Evans was surprised at the unexpected turn of events. Abdul did not give him this information.
He excused himself from his about-to-be business partner and walked outside of the market joint where they were. Once out of Musa's earshot he put a call to Abdul, "Musa is requesting that I give him money for the cows and I was.."
"Have no fear, my Oga. Give him the money. Musa is an honourable man and has built his reputation as a man that delivers. He won't fail now." The call disconnected. He tried to call back, and the number was unavailable. That did not look good.
He walked back inside the joint and met the relaxed Musa leaning casually against his chair while picking his sparkling white teeth which was a big contrast to his charcoal dark skin.
"Well? When do we start?" He casually asked.
Against his better judgement, he said, "Now, let's start now. I want to withdraw the money now. Follow me."
Evans withdrew 640,000 and handed it to Musa. Musa did not recount the money when he accepted it from Evans. Evans asked him to, and he replied, "You trust me with your money, the least I could do is trust that the money you just handed over is the correct amount." He laughed at his own logic. Evans, with heart hammering, attempted a weak smile. Moments later, Musa walked away, and Evans wondered if he just made the greatest mistake or the wisest business move. Nevertheless, in the next moment, it did not matter.
He was woken from his dream by the incessant horn of his boss' car. Evans was working as a gateman after eight months of no job. Since then he always dreamed of handing over large sums of money to strangers.
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