Dumebi.Okonji

I live in a third world country far away in Africa, where our pride and hope is a thick black oily substance that seeps from the deepest parts of our rich soil, which has been more of a curse than a blessing, a place once known as the “Giant of Africa”. A land where the sun shines more on the farmer’s back than the politicians’ faces. I’m a young Nigerian woman who lives in the economic capital; Lagos state. When you hear “Lagos”, what comes to mind? A home for hustling, bustling, partying, stress and even anxiety… But to me Lagos is a piece of who I am, it’s my home. Have you really known stress and societal pressure till you have been in Lagos? I seriously doubt it. Schooling far away in a suburb in South-western Nigeria opened my mind to how peaceful life out of Lagos can be. The fresh air void of exhaust from varying locomotives constantly competing to be heard. The fact that you could set out for a 9am meeting by 8:45am and still meet up. Oh! the life of peace, ease and relaxation it brings. Regardless of how beautiful living outside Lagos was for me, it just never felt like home, I never felt complete. It became too complacent, monotonous and uninspiring. I moved back to Lagos shortly after my service year and that was when my full experience with the commercial yellow buses, popularly know as “Danfo” began. *** Waking up to my sister’s alarm by 5:00am everyday was a huge struggle. My daily routine didn’t include a morning devotion or the usual quiet time with God. It unfortunately commenced with a spree of curses and swearing, blaming the clock for moving so fast and interrupting my sleep. After much frustration, I would then drag myself to the bathroom, take a shower, yank my clothes off the hanger, slap on some make up so as not to terrify other well meaning Lagosians who are just going about their normal duties trying to make a living with my scary looking face. The road leading out of my street isn’t tarred, when it rains it becomes a major challenge. In order to prevent your shoes from getting badly soiled, you would have to wear a spare pair of shoes or slippers which has to be made from rubber of course. When you finally get to your destination, you find somewhere comfortable and change into your “actual” shoes. Although that’s the case in most parts of Lagos, it didn’t still feel normal, especially on a rainy day. Then the most intriguing, hilarious and dare I say so myself disappointing part of my journey begins. You may be wondering; “What’s so disappointing about taking a commercial commute to work?” The conductor is usually a half naked man on really hot days, who is mostly shirtless, or on a much cooler day one who got dressed in a hurry (oh! now that’s a self sub). His loud voice keeps resonating with that of his colleagues “Ketu! Ojota! Maryland!” When I show interest in his rendition, he gives me the ‘eye’; the silent transaction that confirms that both of us are on the same page. He gestures to the driver to stop and I tell him where I am going, we talk about the price and when I agree, I shout “O n wole o!” Hop in and let the journey begin… On this fateful morning, I was one of the first few passengers in the bus, I was completely engrossed in my phone, scrolling through twitter, reading through tweets and smiling to myself. There was a scandal brewing on twitter and it happened to be going on amongst my followers whose accounts were private. I felt like a kid in the candy store with a platinum credit card, giggling and smiling through the catastrophe as the scandal brewed. I started hearing someone murmuring faintly behind me, I looked round and the bus was filled up. The noise was coming from a really huge man who was telling the lady seated next to him to shift, his face looked so terrifying and he looked some fumes were about to be released from his ears, the conductor gave him a chilling stare and turned away. Finally everyone settled in and we embarked on our journey. The conductor began to request for the bus fare in that husky, harsh tone that sounded like it was a key determining factor in the “conductor’s oral interview” if one even existed. We all passed our bus fare to the front, luckily for me I had the exact denomination of naira notes, the nursing mother beside me requested I hand them to her as she gave the conductor a higher denomination. “Mi o ni change o! Mo sha so fun yi keto wole, GTB lo ma ba wa se le ni, Gbogbo yin 1000 le mu dani abi” {I don’t have your balance o! I told you before you entered, its Guaranty Trust Bank that will change this money for us o, all of you are holding one thousand naira notes right?}; screamed the conductor. Everyone ignored him, he gave people their balance and started shouting “Oku enikan!” There was silence, the nursing mother beside me turned back and tapped the giant man, he turned and shouted “wetin happen?”… “Oga, na you remain”, by this time all eyes were on “Mr Big guy”. “Kamoru! shey o fe so pe o dayan mo ni?”, Mr Big guy screamed. At this point the driver had parked the bus by the road side. “Ki lo kanmi pele iya e? Ogbeni sanwo jare”; said the conductor. I checked the time on my phone, it was about fifteen minutes before 9, I was to resume at the office by 9am sharp. I looked out the window and realized I wasn’t even at a trek able distance to my office. Passengers had began to murmur… Mr Big guy got down and held the conductor by his shirt, he was considerably bigger and bulkier than the conductor, in fact Mr Big guy was standing at six foot five inches and weighing so much. He reminded me so much of incredible hulk, I quickly snapped out of my thoughts. A fight had broken out and everyone except me was trying to settle the fight. Apparently, from the little back story I could decipher, Mr Big guy was a tout who was a regular at our boarding bus stop. The conductor Kamoru had refused to pay his daily dues to Mr Big guy which led to him following them around. They had dared him to follow them and now they were demanding that he paid his bus fare since he wants to be a passenger. Kamoru’s face received a minimum of seven punches and his nose was profusely bleeding, before Mr Big guy could reach our driver, he had taken off. Everyone stood at a distance begging Mr Big guy as he had taken all the conductor’s money, leaving him writhing in pain on the floor. At this stage I was the only person left in the bus, even the nursing mother had alighted. She beckoned to me to alight, but I shook my head in refusal, I couldn’t risk mistakenly getting punched. Mr Big guy had started walking to the bus now, with every stride he took, my heart started to beat faster. I began to visibly shake, my phone fell with a loud thump. Did he know I was streaming the fight live on my Instagram page? All I wanted was something intriguing to keep my follower’s engaged. The dwindling number of the followers of my gossip blog lately was beginning to bother me and this was a perfect opportunity for me to generate traffic which I desperately needed. I quickly picked up my phone and closed the app, “Where are you headed?” Mr Big guy bellowed. “I…I… I’m going to Ikeja sir”, I stuttered with a voice I could not recognize. He hopped in, started the engine and drove off, to the amazement and disbelief of other passengers. Suddenly I started to feel really cold, even though the weather was unbelievably hot. My phone kept vibrating as notifications from my life stream kept coming in, “Pick your phone call, I’m sorry if I terrified you”, said Mr Big guy. I started to wonder if the apocalypse had taken place and Mr Big guy had been replaced with this incredibly articulate young man. “Don… Don’t worry sir, its not important I will check later sir”, I murmured. “My name is Wale, don’t call me sir. What’s yours?” "My name is Nkem", I had suddenly found my voice. We were approaching my office and I said to him " I would like to get off at Alausa, thank you". I almost bit my lips after saying that, had I suddenly gone mad? This was the same "incredible hulk", that almost killed the conductor less than five minutes ago. Thankfully, I got to the front of my office in one piece. Wale spared me an expressionless glance. I checked my phone for the time and it was about fifteen minutes past nine. How do I explain this crazy story to my boss? Luckily for me, my boss was in an important meeting, so I carefully sneaked into my cubicle. I caught Titi my office best friend give me the "I see you" eye as I winked in response. During lunch, Titi began to bombard me with questions about my Instagram live feed. I had gained not less than 500 new followers in just six hours, I was so excited; other gossip blogs had featured it and credited me as the source, so the traffic was just so crazy, my phone kept hanging non stop because of the notifications. Still, I had never been happier. "You don't say!!!", exclaimed Titi as I told her what happened when Wale a.k.a Mr Big guy approached me. "My dear it's God that saved me oh! I thought he caught me recording o". We did a little catching up and laughed before we went back to work. I got off work at 5:30pm and unfortunately, Titi didn't come with her car as she was expecting her fiancé, so I had to walk down the street to hail a cab or even a tricycle while silently praying that no more drama occurs on my way home. I had had enough for a whole month, my mother had just called few minutes before to find out if I was okay, apparently my aunt sent the video to our family whatsapp group. You can imagine what ensued after that video was shared. After such a long, adventurous yet scary day, I just really need to get tucked into bed and put to sleep. Finally, a cab was approaching and as I was about to raise my hands hail it, I felt someone pull my hand bag. I involuntarily started screaming "ole! ole!! ole!!!" {Thief! Thief!! Thief!!!}, as a typical Lagos babe I couldn't "dull myself". While my hands were in the air and I was screaming at the top of my lungs, it just dawned on my that my bag was still in my hand. First I saw the shoes and then the legs, and when it dawned on me; I suddenly wanted to flee, I couldn't look up, I wanted the ground to open and swallow me as I heard the audio of my live video playing in the hands of the "Incredible Hulk" himself. I felt a sudden strong urge to pee engulf me, but I listened to the calm voice in my head instead and went on my knees, "Please Sir, I can explain. Please don't be annoyed Sir". He just kept staring at me with a slightly amused look on his face, I noticed that suddenly the street seemed so quiet and everyone was whispering in hushed tones. "Stand up Nkem, you messed up though. Why would you put my face on the internet, do you know I can sue you?" I almost burst out laughing at the thought of a lout taking me to court but sensibly, I didn't. I apologized deeply and asked him how I could make it up to him. "You go carry me go chop peppersoup, today na kuku Friday, T.G.I.F things" {You will take me out and then buy me peppersoup, Today is Friday afterall} ** Wale and I became friends ever since that incident, his life wasn't always filled with terror and horror, most times there was humour and God knows I love humour. I begged him to leave this thug life and do something better for himself but he never did, he kept telling me I wont understand and he was in too deep. He would often tell me about a certain friend of his; Lekan who went to Europe through Libya and once sent him money, Wale would fondly say "Nkem, nothing dey this Naija! I want to travel, may me sef hammer. My mama dey Epe dey suffer." And then he would demonstrate how he would walk when he finally becomes rich. His right hand in his pocket, left hand stroking his beard while he prances up and down, the soles of his feet constantly avoiding the floor. Wale's dream was the "Nigerian dream" and him being a lout didn't make it invalid. The money Wale collected from danfo bus drivers at our bus stop everyday was not his. He remitted a percentage of it to the chapter of the Nigerian Union of Road and Transport Workers closest to us. He told me that he had been beaten severally for not meeting his daily target, there were marks on his body to show for it. My incessant pleas for him to leave this mess of a job fell on deaf ears, all he ever used to say was "Nkem, I no fit dey do office work like you o. I sure say my OND certificate don lost" {Nkem, I cannot work in a corporate environment like you, I'm sure my OND certificate has gotten lost too}. We would then laugh and continue eating our peppersoup, while laughing on comments on my thriving gossip blog. My unusual friendship with Wale sparked a lot of controversies, my neighbours kept talking, other louts kept hailing me, it was new for me but then, new was always different. I invited Wale for my birthday dinner, and he promised to be there. While I was still wondering how I was going to tell him to dress appropriately, he took a look at me and said "Nkem, no worry I no go disappoint you". My birthday dinner commenced, my guest list consisted of Titi from the office, my other friends and my siblings. A total of 20 invites went out the week before but sadly only 19 people were seated at the dinner table. I kept excusing myself and dialling Wale's number but the line wasn't even connecting to start with. I made sure I enjoyed the dinner, my gifts were so beautiful and I took the most beautiful pictures. Titi dropped my siblings and I off, and then I brought out my keys to open the gate but it was already opened. Our parent's had taken a trip and there was no one at home, we didn't even have security guards. So what could have possibly happened? My fingers were firmly wrapped around my pepper spray can which I always carried in my purse because "This is Lagos". I gave the gate a swift, firm kick as seen in Jackie Chan movies, my fingers instinctively tightened around the pepper spray and as I stepped into the compound, I heard fast movements behind me, I screamed and shielded my siblings and let my fingers generously spray the pepperspray into the air. "Nkem ti pa mi o!!!" was the next thing I heard. I recognized the voice, it was Wale's. "Wale what are you doing here? You scared me", I retorted. We went into the house, my sister got a clean towel soaked it in ice cold water and wrapped it around his eyes. Wale had stolen some money from the NURTW office, a total of five hundred thousand naira which he added to his escape fund. He was supposed to travel the day before my birthday. He didn't want to break my heart and was bent on making it to my party, until his very good friend Habib got arrested that day and was told to produce him or remain in detention. I gave Wale a new sim card and set up a room for him in the Boy's quarters. I also called Titi to come over by 4:30am so we could both drive him to Badagry; a small town on the outskirts of Lagos, where he would then find his way to Cotonou and God willing, hopefully one day make his way to Europe. Days went by, then weeks and finally months, I hadn't heard from Wale in a long time and I started to get so worried. I opened my diary and stared at the page where he had written his parent's address. Should I pay them a visit? Give them a call? What would I say? I shut my diary and went to bed. That night I had a dream, Wale sent me a perfume from Paris, he left a note in the box that read "Nkem, I don reach Europe!!!" {Nkem, I have arrived Europe}. In that dream I smiled sheepishly and even wrote a blogpost about it, titled "The Nigerian Dream"… At about six months after Titi and I made that early trip to Badagry, I was on my way home from church when I got a call from an unknown number. The caller was speaking French frantically and God knows my French was soooo rusty. I had to calm the caller down and ask him what the issue was. Wale had been murdered the day before, he never made it to Europe. The NURTW boss had gotten to him and unfortunately he didn't have the money he stole anymore. I had to make that trip to Epe, it was the most difficult thing I had ever done in my life. Looking his mum and his siblings in the eye and telling them he was no more. Watching them weep for him was just too much for me to bear, his mother told me that he hadn't communicated with them in over a year. Although he has been sending money to them regularly, they had no idea where he was. Appropriate arrangements were made for Wale's body to arrive Lagos. We had a quiet ceremony in his parent's home in Epe, his friend Habib was inconsolable and so was I, as we laid our dear friend who tried his best to achieve the Nigerian dream to rest…