When My Friend Shouted “Thief!” at the Wrong Person

  

Let me take you back to a Saturday afternoon that started like any normal day but ended with us nearly joining the neighborhood watch list — and not in a good way 😩.

It all started with my friend, Kwame. Now, let me tell you something about Kwame: he talks before he thinks. In fact, if thinking was a bus, Kwame would always miss it. This guy once shouted “surprise!” at a funeral because he thought it was a birthday party. Yeah. That bad.

On this day, we had gone to Makola Market. If you’ve ever been there, you know it’s not just a market — it’s a whole adventure. People shouting, sellers dragging you like you're a bag of rice, and the smell of everything from fried fish to second-hand shoes all mixed together like one confused perfume. 😅

We were there because Kwame said he needed new shoes. “Bro, I want something fresh for the club tonight,” he said, as if the bouncers would check his shoes before letting him in. I followed him, not because I cared about shoes, but because I had nothing better to do. Plus, I heard Makola sells the best meat pies. 🥟

We walked around, bargained like pros, and argued with a woman who said her sneakers were “original” but had "Adibas" written on the side. Kwame finally picked a pair of second-hand Nikes that looked suspiciously like they had been to war.

Anyway, after the shoes, we decided to buy some fried yam and gizzard from Auntie Akosua’s joint. That’s when the drama started.

As we were standing there, eating and minding our own business, a man brushed past Kwame. This man was tall, wearing dark shades, and holding a black plastic bag. He didn’t say sorry. He didn’t look back. Just walked off like he owned the place.

Kwame turned to me, eyes wide. “Charlie! That guy just took my phone!”

I paused. “Are you sure?”

“My pocket feels lighter than my future!” he screamed.

And before I could say another word, Kwame turned and shouted, “THIEF! THIEEEEEF!! STOP HIM! HE TOOK MY PHONE!!” 😱

Now, remember what I said earlier? Makola Market is a jungle. The moment you shout "thief," the crowd turns into Avengers. People came running. Traders dropped their tomatoes. A meat seller jumped over her table with a cleaver in her hand. Someone even threw a pineapple.

The man in shades looked back, confused, and before he could ask “me?”, the crowd tackled him like it was a rugby match. He hit the ground with a loud “OOF!” His shades flew off. His bag tore open.

And guess what spilled out?

Toilet paper. Tissue rolls. About five packs of it. White, clean, and soft like clouds. 😐

Everyone paused.

The man looked up, his shirt now brown from the ground, and said, “I’m a pharmacy supplier. I just came to deliver tissue to the chemist down the road.”

Silence.

Kwame stepped forward, searching his pockets.

“Wait oh… wait… wait… I think I found my phone.”

📱 It was in his back pocket the whole time. The same pocket he said was empty.

The man just stared at Kwame like he was deciding between pressing charges or using the tissue to wipe away his tears.

Auntie Akosua, still holding her frying spoon, said, “So you mean to tell me I jumped over my yam stand because of YOUR MISTAKE?”

The crowd began to murmur. Then came the insults.

“Kwame the careless!”

“Next time, shout ‘help me think’ instead of ‘thief’!”

“Are you mad or are you practicing for madness?”

One woman even suggested they tie him to a pole with the toilet rolls as punishment. 😭

The man Kwame accused? He stood up, fixed his shirt, dusted himself off, picked his now-flat toilet rolls, and said, “Next time, check before you shout.”

Kwame couldn’t say a word. He just stood there, blinking like a goat in a thunderstorm. 😶

We left quickly before someone brought out pepper spray or worse — their church elder. We walked in silence for a while until Kwame said, “At least now I know the crowd can help.”

I looked at him. “Help do what? Bury your common sense?”

We laughed. Not because it was funny — but because if we didn’t laugh, I’d cry from secondhand embarrassment.

Later that night, we sat at home, and I told the story to our other friends. Kwame tried to defend himself, saying the guy “looked like a thief.” I reminded him that “looking like a thief” is not a good enough reason to call on the entire Makola army. 😂

So now, whenever we go anywhere together, we have a rule: if Kwame wants to shout anything, he must first say it to me quietly and I’ll approve or deny it like a minister of common sense.

And that, my friend, is how my friend shouted “thief!” at the wrong person and almost got us banned from Makola Market for life.

THE END. 😄