Showing posts with label Governor Fashola. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Governor Fashola. Show all posts

Saturday, November 29, 2014

THAT SATURDAY AFTERNOON

                  
It was one of those hot Lagos Saturday afternoons. I was in a bus; I could feel the sweat trickling down my back. ‘I think this ozone layer thing is turning out to be a worldwide problem’ I grumbled irritated as I dabbed my face with my handkerchief. Beside me was an elderly woman of 50, dressed to the hilt for one of our famous Lagos owambe parties, which happened everywhere on Saturdays. We lagosians love our owambe parties. Her gele (headgear) was so huge I had to turn my head sideways to prevent it from entering my eyes in case the bus fell into a pot hole. I tried hard not to stare at her because her makeup was like that of an Adanma masquerade. I wondered who let her out of the house, old mama youngy.
My ass was beginning to ache. The seat on the bus was made of wood and the journey was long. I was on my way to Satellite Town to see or rather console a friend of mine who just had a bad break up. A guy she had been dating for four years just upped and left her. She had been crying on phone to me all morning so I  decided to pack an overnight bag and get over to her house before she did something stupid because a guy not worthy of her left her, I never liked Rafe. Therefore, there I was in a Mile 2 bus, travelling from one end of Lagos to another. I was busy looking out the window admiring the changes Governor Fashola had done to Lagos. I tried not to listen in on the conversation my fellow passengers were having when I heard it.
“Ah! Oga, wetin dey inside this bag?”
Immediately , I turned, the lady who spoke was in her twenties, very pretty and the man she addressed looked like a knock off version of 50cent with the fake diamond chain (bling bling) hanging round his neck and a baggy jeans. He tried to cover the girl's mouth, pleading with her
"Please, keep quiet” Naturally, my interest and that of every passenger on the bus was piqued. An old man sitting by the young lady asked her “My dear, what is your business with what he’s carrying?” She looked at him defiantly
“Papa, na my business o! A corner of the bag is open and I think, no! I am sure I saw dollars in the bag. What if the police stop this bus or worse the EFCC?” We all looked at him for confirmation. He said, “Please, I beg y’all, don’t turn me in. I’ll tell y’all the truth” “I been living in the states for years. I worked in the toilets, washed dishes, washed dead bodies and did all sorta menial jobs. I sent every penny I made home to my uncle to keep for me, then, I got deported man. So, off I go to me uncle’s to get my money and he starts telling me all sorta stories” he said in his knock off abi fake American accent, if you ask me. “He tells me I sent him no money,” he continued “One day, I wait till he goes off to work; I sneak into his place and find this bag of dollars, my money. Please understand” he finished. Some passengers were saying “ee yah!” “Thank God!” “People can be wicked, Olorun ma je (God forbid)!”  “Na wa o!” The rest led by the young lady screamed “ Driver stop this bus” “ I no wan go prison o” “ bros, even if na u get d moni, u steal am, u b thief” He kept on begging, then he said “ Please, don’t turn me in. I’m willing to share the money with all of you” Trust Nigerians, their eyes chook open “eeeh!” “Bros, u serious?”  “Ok!” “That’s better, for our trouble and silence.” My mind kept thinking and my heart was beating erratically. I wondered the kind of trouble I just landed myself. These people might be 419ers’, ritualists or even the famous one chance people. I kept quiet throughout the whole fiasco.
  We were heading towards the Oshodi expressway when the young lady said “Bros, Ur idea good sha but me, I will not collect stolen money. We have to bless that money” “I will not touch cursed money. I know a big man of God, a Pastor, he stays around Oshodi here.” She continued, “But he’s very expensive”
“Sister, that’s a very good idea,” the old woman beside me said. Warning bells were ringing in my head seriously. “So, young lady, like how much will it cost?”
“It’s very expensive o, like N500,000”
“Ah! That’s very expensive, is he buying a new car”
Everybody in the bus was complaining until the old man said, “I have a solution. Let’s all contribute the little we have, a little drop of water makes a mighty ocean”
“Baba, that’s a very good idea” they agreed.
“Thanks y’all” the 50-cent knock off said.
“Ok! Everybody, How much do you have on you?” They started mentioning how much they had. Then they turned to me
“Sister, how much u get?”
I looked at them and said; “I don’t have any money on me” My mind was spinning. I knew I had to get off the bus. I remembered stories of people who had found themselves in the same situation. Some are raped; some lose all their money, some for rituals, some thrown off the bus. Men! Was I in big trouble. My eyes darted left and right, we were in a traffic jam.
“Driver, please I wan get down” I said. The young lady looked at me surprised,
“ Haba! Sister, u no won make moni? Just bring any amount you have”

 I was panicking
“Driver, I said I want to get down” the driver ignored me. They all tried to convince me on why I should join. Are they stupid? I thought. Do I look like a JJC, in Lagos? I knew they were 419 people. So, I said to them “Wait, u look me finish, waffi babe like me, I resemble Johnny just come for dis Lagos wey we dey so?” They looked at me mouth agape, before they could say Eko! I opened the door on the left and jumped down the bus, thanks to the go-slow. I ran to the other side of the road, without care. Cars were blasting their horns at me. I boarded a commercial bike straight to my friend’s house.  This Lagos is a land of opportunities but as Daddy Showkey sung, “shine your eyes well well” This is Lagos!