Lagos: The Fight to Finish edition

If you’re a true Lagos bred, there are instances where you are seconds away from finding yourself at a psychiatric hospital shouting “I swear I’m not mad” due to one of your actions on the streets of this “amazing” city. I’m sure there’s a smile on your face as you are conjuring up one memory. Today was one of those days for me.

Imagine having a 9-5 job where it turns to a 7-7 on a regular day and even worse sometimes. Imagine your frustration, fatigue and excitement to see your bed again. It was one of those days. After leaving my house by 7am, walking up and down my office because my boss totally enjoys giving me the jobs that require lots of physical exercise, sitting through a meeting that could have taken place on a WhatsApp groupchat or even gotomeeting.com, finally closing, waiting for a while for keke (tricycle) to carry you to the bus-stop where you’d finally board a bus that would get you to a destination where you can finally walk to your house, then someone somewhere decides to be unfortunate. Imagine your anger and frustration.

I got to the bus park, boarded a Yaba bus and that was where my problems started. The driver was driving so rough and trust Nigerian mothers, they got it locked down with the shouts. Other motorists kept hitting the body of the bus to show their anger but for some reason, our dear driver had no concern for his baby. We got to third mainland bridge and his driving finally resembled that of someone who had a prior knowledge of driving. I plugged in my earphones, kept my music on shuffle and was having a mini concert in my head. I had all the moves, facial expressions and attitude on lockdown. The person performing in my head was a superstar.

We finally got to the mainland and as we were approaching Agnes (Dominos/Saint Dominic’s) bus-stop, my phone brought up the perfect song. Lagos Big boy by Ajebutter22 always got me in my feelings and prayerful. I wanted that song to be a description of my life in the near future. As Ajebutter was busy singing about Range Rovers, Bentleys and the latest phones and I was helping him perform the song, I was thrown forward and backward in the bus. My back hit the wooden seat with a force that knocked the air out of me. My first thought was Tony Tetula’s hit song of that year and I was waiting for the drama. Whose car was hit? What kinda car was it? How would the owner react? Trust the Nigerian mothers in the bus, the shouts and yelling of attempted murder had begun. We all evacuated the bus and that was when we found out the real reason for our “accident”.

Our driver had apparently driven straight into a manhole. I paused my song and I gathered that he was receiving a phone call (despite one woman in the bus advised him against it) and wasn’t paying attention to the road. A vulcaniser close by swallowed his pride and asked a couple of men among the passengers to help the driver lift the bus out but like a synchronised dance, they all walked away to board another bus. The driver just kept facing the bus without a word of apology. I was standing by the side of the road with a couple of other women and soon enough, it was just I and another woman left. I would have left to board another bus but I made so many bad choices that day. From leaving my ATM card at home because I couldn’t find it and I was running late already, to taking only a thousand naira cash with me (very irresponsible, I know. My mother tells me all the time but in my defence, that was double my transport money without hike) so I would have enough cash to transport myself to work the next day if I still didn’t find my ATM card, to buying 500 naira groundnut for my coworkers and I. I had just enough cash to get home and 50 naira extra. I played my song back and was waiting for the man to find a way to lift the bus out. After about 20 minutes, the other woman was about leaving and then I asked the driver to put us in another vehicle rather than delay us. That was when the can of worms opened.

The driver started shouting at me and asking if he was playing. He said that they asked me to come and carry the bus and I refused. That I had to be patient for him to fix the bus and drop me at WAEC bus-stop. I was still calm and told him that was not the way forward as he was delaying us. He started shouting at me and was attempting to get physical. I don’t know when I lost my patience and I told him that for someone of his age, he wasn’t quite smart. That he had no atom of respect or humility in him. That his mates had retired and were eating the fruits of their labour but he was at that point of his life because of bad attitude and I really wanted him to hit me. That he would sleep in a guardroom with all his family members begging me. I told him to stay there and try fixing his rickety bus that was one accident from being a write-off. That if only he apologised and asked people nicely, he would have left the manhole a while ago but due to his excessive and unnecessary pride, he was stuck in the same spot. I even told him that I didn’t blame him but instead I blamed myself for waiting for him to fix the car. That I should have known from first glance that he wasn’t smart enough to find a solution. I then walked away while telling him to enjoy his problem.

I walked a little distance to the bus-stop and I was waiting for another bus that I could board home. I could still see the driver struggling where I left him and that gave me joy for some reason. After 30 minutes of waiting, all the bus drivers refusing to pass where I was going, me ordering an Uber and the driver lying to me about where he was even though I could see his location on the map, the Dominos pizza security woman telling me to move further down since I wasn’t a car or a paying customer (jisos!!!!), I finally got a bus. I was in the bus trying to write this article when the conductor called my bus-stop and told me to get down as he couldn’t pass there because of the traffic (Mind you, I haven’t eaten real food in about 2 weeks because of one water diet that I was doing. It was totally worth it in terms of the amount of weight I was losing but the fruits weren’t really all that). I had to start a long walk to my house and when I finally dragged myself up my 4 flight of stairs, I realised I forgot my key at home that morning.

For some reason, MTN decided that it was a fantastic time to steal my network and even though I tried knocking on the door, it was to no avail. My mother was in her room watching African magic Yoruba. My puppy came to the door, started barking and scratching it. The more I heard the scratching noise, the angrier I got. Like!!!!! Go to the room and call your grandmother and stop acting like a child abandoned by the mother. After a couple of minutes, my mother came out to check why Thor (my puppy) was barking and heard my knocks (Thanks be to God). The way I hugged my dog once I got in was so emotional. He saved me from sleeping outside that night.

After all the emotional turmoil I went through, I just took a bath, made a promise to get my car before the end of 2020 and I slept off. There wasn’t even much I could do. MTN stole my network again.

All I know is, this Lagos, I will still leave it for you people one day. I’d wish you people a happy independence from “the abroad“.

(I finished this story at work the next day)