Clash of the Fose Brethren..

Clash Of the Fose Brethren.png
Every Sunday morning, without fail I go to Adum. Rain or shine I do. It is not to worship or for any religious function. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a Christian. I observe the sabbath and all, but on Sunday mornings; I observe a whole different kind of sabbath. I go to buy fose [secondhand clothing]. 

No, I can’t go on any other day. Sundays are when they break bulk. They cut open all the many many bales of discarded white man goodies. Whatever you want, they’ve got it. One thing though, I am not the only one who knows this.

 Once upon a time, I thought I was. I found out the hard way. Thinking I was the only one, I got complacent and started going a bit late. I started missing out on the good stuff. A quick questioning of the sellers revealed other guys had been coming too, earlier than me it seems. I started going even earlier. They started coming earlier still. I started sleeping there.. [Just kidding]. I bribed the sellers to call me when they set off for work. They had done same. So we started meeting, and that’s where it gets interesting.

I might not have mentioned it earlier, but I’m a business man. The clothes I buy are for sale, not for me. I do wear a couple, but usually I sell them. It turns out these guys were also into the same kind of business. They were undercutting me everywhere. With my customers, my suppliers even my middlemen chale. I will go see my clients and they will tell me they’ve bought shirts already. It wasn’t just that, they seemed to know my every move.
Gradually, I had stopped being the go to guy on campus. My rep was at stake. A confrontation was needed. To do that I had to prepare. I tried all avenues open to me, but nothing seemed to work.

 Meeting my rivals at the supply point was my only solution. I meet them and beat them to all the choicest goodies. Show my supremacy. That was the only option open to me now. It seemed they had the same idea. Word had gone round that I was looking for them. In trying to find them, I had made myself quite an inconvenience. Giving out free goods, badmouthing them, hell! I even told a couple of guys where to get the goods themselves. Let’s just say, they wanted to end it as much as I did. So meet we did.

They had come prepared. Checking them all out, I realized only one was really a threat. He was dressed for the occasion.

 *Any veteran university boy who goes to the fose line knows the outfit to wear;

1. A baseball cap with the brim folded to hide your features. Passers-by who know you shouldn’t be able to recognize you. No one should know the source of the goods [this code I had already broken, war is war]. Keep them guessing.

2. A tank top so you can try on whatever you wear without having to take off what you are wearing. The suppliers should never know you are selling [they will increase the prices]. Trying it on throws them off and helps you know how good the product is.

3. A pair of shorts. That is what all the sellers wear. You fit in better and give the impression that you are one of them. They lower prices then. Optionally, you can wear sweat pants. It is also accepted.

4. A pair of black bathroom slippers [chalewote]. This is to prevent anyone in your hostel who sees you leaving thinking you are going to town [hide your sources remember]. Wear anything nice and a kokonsa girl out to pray will see you and tell others. This starts a chain of questioning. We don’t want that.

5. Finally, a backpack. You need something in which to put the goods. Also it gives the illusion of you not going far. Backpacks are commonplace on campus.*

This guy who was a threat, he had nailed the fose seeking gear down pat. Except for one thing, he carried a duffel bag instead of a back pack. That annoyed me even more. A duffel bag meant he knew he was going to get a lot of stuff, that was proof of his efficiency. It also meant, he didn’t care about the secrecy of the business. Anyone seen carrying a duffel bag at dawn arouses suspicion. All he cared about was getting as many goodies as he could.

 I didn’t let my annoyance show though. I knew they were checking me out too and knew to be wary. To prepare for this encounter, I had on my  dopest fose seeking gear.

My tank top was cut with a really deep V. Sweatpants were a size too small and didn’t get to my ankles even. Had on a bucket hat, casting a nice ambient shadow on my face, making me look like a ninja turtle. Backpack was a vivid red and new [really huge too]. To round off the look, my chalewote’s were real old. It felt like I was walking with my bare feet. And oh, I had on really thick socks. Black ones.

 I knew I was making an impression on them. To impress them even more, I started hailing the various suppliers by name. Letting them [the wannabe usurpers] know I go way back with them [the suppliers]. It worked. They started moving out of my way, all but the duffel bag fellow. He stood his ground. I intentionally bumped into him. The intention was to bowl him over, didn’t work. But I had made my point, nothing will stand in my way today.

With the strutting around done, we all took our positions around the sellers. The atmosphere was tense. This is what we had all been waiting for. All the others could sense the tension between duffel bag and I. They had all managed to convene on one side, leaving duffel bag and I on the other side.

This is where it gets tricky. Most novices make the mistake of trying to spot a good buy and going for it. The trick is to gather them in handfuls and check them out when the scuffling dies down. Also, you don’t dive in as soon as they spread them out. You wait for the others to rush in and toss it up. You are better able to gauge where the good stuff are.

So while the novices charged in as soon as the sellers spread them out. Duffel bag, me and a couple of other veterans just scoped it out. Then duffel bag vanished. Man, he was a sight to behold. He was everywhere at once. I couldn’t keep track of him. His movements were economical, none were wasted. Each move was part of an intricate dance with the fose. He had his bag wide open, slung over his shoulder. Picking up the fose in handfuls, he threw them without looking into his duffel bag. He never missed, each throw was a three pointer. Jordan would have been jealous. Never seen anyone show such skill.

For a couple of seconds I stared and admired, until one of the novices bumped into me, shocking me out of my reverie. Shocked into action, I had time to spare for no one. I got to picking. A little while later, the pickings were done, and everyone was soon sorting out their bunch. Duffel bag had the largest bunch. I came in second, not a close second mind you. Yeah, he was that good. He had some of the choicest stuff too. He was all smiles as he approached the sellers. He haggled real well too. With still more smiles he reached for his wallet. Suddenly the smiles vanished. He just kept patting himself. Rummaging through the bag, casting glances around. It seemed he had lost his wallet. The look on his face was priceless. It was a cross between fear and confusion. the whole tough guy facade was gone. You could tell he couldn’t understand what was happening.

The sellers, suspecting foul play on his end had started issuing threats. Poor duffel bag. He had actually teared up. No one made a move to help him.

 So with a beaming face, I stepped up to the sellers and offered to buy his bunch. They being all about the money, sold it to me without a second thought. Like I knew they would.

A QUICK RECAP
You do remember when I said I bumped into him earlier. The time we were all strutting around. Well, I picked his wallet then. Why leave the results to chance? I knew I wouldn’t be suspected too. Every true veteran knows to hide their wallet when they come buying. During the scuffle, pickpockets jump in and use that opportunity to work. He would just assume he had fallen victim to them. Besides it was his own fault. He was cocky enough to put his wallet in his breast pocket. Hiding it would have cost him nothing.

Having paid for the stuff and being done packing. I walked up to him and with a smile handed over his wallet, saying to him; “Next week wati”.
With a dumbfounded look, he watched me walk away.

Before you judge me remember: “All is fair in love and warfare”, and business is warfare. MUHAHAHAHAHA.

Author: OsugyaniAbrantie

Designer

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