In the quiet estate of Palm View Close, Abu the gate man was the true commander-in-chief of compound security. He wasn’t just a gate man — he was the CCTVs, the fingerprint scanner, and the gossip hub all rolled into one.
One fateful Saturday morning, Abu was lounging in his plastic chair, sipping his sugarless Lipton tea, and scanning the street like a hawk when a black Toyota Prado drove up to the gate.
Tooom! Tooom! — the horn blared.
Abu jumped up. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He strutted to the gate with his trusted weapon — a half-rusty torchlight that didn’t work in the daytime — and peeked through the tiny hole in the gate.
“Who be that? Wetin you dey find?”
A voice from the car replied, “Open the gate. I’m here to see Chief Okonkwo.”
Abu frowned. “You no go greet person first? Abi na you be EFCC?”
The man chuckled, stepped out, and adjusted his agbada. He wore designer glasses and gold chains that flashed like NEPA light.
“I said I’m here to see Chief Okonkwo,” the man repeated.
Abu looked him up and down like a suspicious customs officer. “Okay, Oga, wetin be your name?”
“Tell him it’s Honourable Alhaji Musa Dangari.”
Abu didn’t move. He scratched his head, pretending to think deeply.
“Ah! Musa Dangari… That name no ring bell. Na you bring jollof rice last Christmas?”
“No, I’m a politician. We met at his daughter’s wedding.”
Abu hissed. “Oga, everybody attend that wedding. Even me sef chop three takeaways. That one no mean say you get appointment today.”
The visitor grew impatient. “Are you mad? Do you know who I am?”
Abu smiled. “I no know. And I no dey do guess work. Abi you wan use your agbada confuse me? Bros, wait make I confirm.”
Abu casually strolled inside and spent 25 minutes looking for Chief. The whole time, he was actually watching Zee World in the boys' quarters.
When he finally returned, the visitor was fuming.
“Chief say him dey sleep,” Abu announced.
“What?! You didn’t tell him it’s Honourable Musa Dangari!?”
Abu nodded. “I tell am. He say, ‘Ah, that one wey dey owe me N100k since 2019?’ He say make you come back when you ready to pay am.”
The Honourable staggered backward like someone who just saw his village masquerade in Lagos. He adjusted his agbada with shame and drove off in silence.
Abu took one look at the car leaving and muttered:
“Big man wey dey owe, na small boy be that.”
He went back to his post, poured more tea, and muttered again, “Na me be the real Chief of this compound.”
---
Moral of the story? Never owe Chief when Abu the gate man is on duty — he go disgrace you with confidence.
Prince
4 hrs agoAbu the Gate Man and the "Big Man" Visitor
In the quiet estate of Palm View Close, Abu the gate man was the true commander-in-chief of compound security. He wasn’t just a gate man — he was the CCTVs, the fingerprint scanner, and the gossip hub all rolled into one.
One fateful Saturday morning, Abu was lounging in his plastic chair, sipping his sugarless Lipton tea, and scanning the street like a hawk when a black Toyota Prado drove up to the gate.
Tooom! Tooom! — the horn blared.
Abu jumped up. He wasn’t expecting anyone. He strutted to the gate with his trusted weapon — a half-rusty torchlight that didn’t work in the daytime — and peeked through the tiny hole in the gate.
“Who be that? Wetin you dey find?”
A voice from the car replied, “Open the gate. I’m here to see Chief Okonkwo.”
Abu frowned. “You no go greet person first? Abi na you be EFCC?”
The man chuckled, stepped out, and adjusted his agbada. He wore designer glasses and gold chains that flashed like NEPA light.
“I said I’m here to see Chief Okonkwo,” the man repeated.
Abu looked him up and down like a suspicious customs officer. “Okay, Oga, wetin be your name?”
“Tell him it’s Honourable Alhaji Musa Dangari.”
Abu didn’t move. He scratched his head, pretending to think deeply.
“Ah! Musa Dangari… That name no ring bell. Na you bring jollof rice last Christmas?”
“No, I’m a politician. We met at his daughter’s wedding.”
Abu hissed. “Oga, everybody attend that wedding. Even me sef chop three takeaways. That one no mean say you get appointment today.”
The visitor grew impatient. “Are you mad? Do you know who I am?”
Abu smiled. “I no know. And I no dey do guess work. Abi you wan use your agbada confuse me? Bros, wait make I confirm.”
Abu casually strolled inside and spent 25 minutes looking for Chief. The whole time, he was actually watching Zee World in the boys' quarters.
When he finally returned, the visitor was fuming.
“Chief say him dey sleep,” Abu announced.
“What?! You didn’t tell him it’s Honourable Musa Dangari!?”
Abu nodded. “I tell am. He say, ‘Ah, that one wey dey owe me N100k since 2019?’ He say make you come back when you ready to pay am.”
The Honourable staggered backward like someone who just saw his village masquerade in Lagos. He adjusted his agbada with shame and drove off in silence.
Abu took one look at the car leaving and muttered:
“Big man wey dey owe, na small boy be that.”
He went back to his post, poured more tea, and muttered again, “Na me be the real Chief of this compound.”
---
Moral of the story? Never owe Chief when Abu the gate man is on duty — he go disgrace you with confidence.
😂😂😂