The Security Man Knew Everything He had worked at the gate of Evergreen Estate for longer than anyone could remember. He had watched children grow from infancy. His name was Baba Sani, though most tenants just called him BS with a tone that implied respect. At first glance, he was nothing remarkable average height, slightly hunched from years of standing with a face that seemed to carry the weight of the world without complaint. Baba Sani saw the truths that no one else did. Behind the shiny cars and manicured lawns, he witnessed the truth behind the facade. There were alot of mysteries, their was Mr. Okeke, the businessman whose late-night “meetings” often involved women whose heels clicked loud and chewed gum aggressively. He noticed how Mrs. Okeke would silently pace the estate always putting a smile, a fake smile. He saw the newlywed couple in 12B, whose Instagram feeds screamed happiness and while the arguments behind closed doors were bitter. Their smiles for the cameras were rehearsed meticulously Baba Sani, who had positioned himself outside the kitchen window while pretending to sweep the compound, listened to everything he could, he never needed a modern digital phone, the estate peeps were his personal entertainers.
Then there was Auntie Ngozi in 8C, a widow who spent her days pretending to visit friends and family, but who actually spent hours crying quietly on her balcony, Baba Sani had once paused his patrol just to offer her a nod of acknowledgment, and she’d smiled briefly, as though grateful that someone saw her pain. The security man also knew the petty dramas, the kids who climbed the fences to sneak out for late-night rendezvous, the teenage girl who secretly smoked behind the garden, the neighbour who insisted on blasting gospel music at dawn every morning because it made her feel righteous while she always denied entry of her extended family to the estate. He cataloged it all, storing it in his mind Yet, for all his knowledge, Baba Sani remained invisible. Tenants didn’t see him as a confidant or even a participant they saw him as a fixture. When a domestic worker ran away or a child went missing for a few frantic hours, it was Baba Sani who became suddenly vital. The very tenants who ignored him during the day would now hover near him, asking questions he already had the answers to. At night, he would sit on the edge of the guard post, a flashlight lying idle by his side, watching lights flicker behind the curtains. He judged silently, and sometimes, he felt empathy for the tenants he never spoke to. For all the pretense and all the suffering, it was human life, messy He didn’t need their gratitude. He didn’t need their attention. To Baba Sani, being the unseen eye was enough. After all, the estate ran smoothly because someone saw the things everyone else ignored. And that someone was him.
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