Who Is Your Friend?

You know only those you love. You cannot be certain about those who love you.
In 1983, I traveled out of Nigeria to hold a solo exhibition in London.
At the Murtala Mohammed Airport in Lagos, as I was checking in my luggage, I saw an old classmate from Olivet, the secondary school that I attended.
He had changed a bit, but I recognized him immediately.
“Moyo,” he screamed, hurrying towards me.
“Sola!” I yelled back. “Na your eye be dis?”
We hugged. We had not seen each other since 1973 when we parted after finishing secondary school.
“Eeyan mi,” he said, “I’m going to need your help. I have extra luggage and they want to charge me a huge fee which I don’t have on me. Could you please assist me with this luggage? It won’t cost you a penny. Just check it in as your second luggage.”
I thought about it for a second.
“No,” I said, declining. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t carry other people’s luggage on international flights,” I spoke as if I was a veteran of international travel.
“You don’t trust me?” he asked, beginning to look angry.
“It’s nothing personal,” I responded. “It’s just my policy.”
He stormed off, clearly angry.
I completed my checking-in routines and promptly forgot about the encounter.

Hours later we arrived in London. I noticed Sola was one of the first to get out of the plane.
When it eventually became my turn to present my papers to the British immigrations in London, I saw my old friend in handcuffs.
He was under arrest for trafficking narcotics.
I thanked “the head of my mother” for the close shave.
Your best friend could be your enemy, as Bob Marley warned us in a song.