T.Y.P.I.C.A.L.L.Y. Yours

"Stop !, I say stop !, Immediately!

...I fit dash you the bus fare but make you stop, I wan come down!

Conductor! Tell your driver to stop oh! I no fit come die like chicken, my babies are too small to be orphaned. "

We were all cramped into a veryyyyyyy small bus, hugging the metal frames of the seats directly in front of us and silently praying for the bus driver to slow down. For where? The devil of a driver kept it strictly "Need for Speed (Underground)"-ISH. There was a maniacal smile on his face and he was saying something to the passengers in the front seat, something like "All the winch for this bus, dem winch bird go fly leave them today!". The bus conductor was hanging loosely (typically, with his shirt blowing in the wind like Superman's cape) to the edge of the bus laughing wildly,flirting with death (typically) and he probably thought the driver was funny 'cos he chortled and said "Oga, Carry Go!"... I laughed when I heard that and the guy beside me gave me a stare that would stop a raging bull; he said "You think it is funny? This madman is about to plunge us into the sea and you are laughing, I cannot blame you, you are a young man, no responsibilities and no children and wife waiting for you at home...". He ended it with a hiss (typically); I kept laughing. That day was no different from any other. In fact I think I'll title this post TYPICAL till something more creative strikes me.

I love drama! It's ingrained in me, I grew up as the last of ten children (four wives) and believe me there was a lot of drama and they mostly seemed so funny to me 'cos at the end the issues got resolved so easily only to reappear and keep the cycle going . I'm sure the family man in the bus that gave me the lecture was probably right about all he said to me that night...but it wasn't my fault that I found the whole scenario funny, in a kind of weird way, I could relate to the spirit, the connection the bus driver and his conductor had that made the suicide attempt so funny. Reflecting back on the bus flying trip, they were probably wrong in endangering our lives and being over confident about their driving prowess. I did major reflections on the incidence later that night (probably 'cos I wanted to make sure I was not particularly insane)...and I figured: "WTF, I wake up by 5 a.m., go to the mosque, take a bath and by 6.30 a.m. (max) I am at my desk in the office and close for the day by 8.30 pm on a lucky day. The highest point of the day would usually be trading links and arguing about the essence of Apple products with Onydchic (yes, the Onydchic)"

Damn it! I had a right to laugh, after a spent day, comedy/laughter is a mega blessing; I am one of the drones that make up the workforce of the emerging (?) new Nigeria. Businesses have become religions, Offices – temples and the workers are the varying groups of worshippers. We have welcomed this march towards a better future and are so grateful that we could find jobs that keep food on our tables and the shirts on our backs. BUT...Nna men, the situation na die!, we have traded our personal lives, very important sleep and laughter (most importantly) for the meagre wages. There should be courses/certifications on "Catching buses in the city of Lagos" but the real deal is the possibility of watching live drama or getting into a random argument/maybe quarrel (wey no concern you) on your way home. You can never predict what you get. If you want a bigger stage try the Molues (as soon as possible too 'cos i heard they'll soon be replaced by the BRT buses).

If : you've ever been harassed by the police, your pocket has been picked while hustling to get a bus space, insulted for no reason by area boys/Okada drivers/bus conductors, stuck in meaningless traffic, been duped by local Wash Wash/French Man/I came to see my brother in Lagos
but... type of fraudsters, lost your way due to mischievous "good Samaritans", found your way, discovered a new kind of joy, met someone interesting and nice (wink*), turned on the radio and fell in love with sound...etc. Don't fret, don't burst a blood vessel from the excitement, take your time, savour the moment, and smile 'cos no matter your reaction the bottom line is: This is Lagos!
(typically).

With all its clichés and oxymoron; explore it, blame it, experience all its frustrations, enjoy its possibilities, love it, hate it, whatever you do, find your own little niche where you can LAUGH out loud at the end of the day and let out the steam (and mean it). Why? You ask? 'cos you have to wake up by 4 or 5 a.m. the next day and be at work by......................................

Police and Thieves

Sorry folks, don't know much about stanzas etc...that poem {or whachamacallit} is sumthing i wrote on the road to Suleja from Benin City about 6 years ago. It marks a period when I thought I would be a huge crusader/artist/poet/whatever I decided to be. Had to post it 'cos I've been feeling so uninspired lately and I didn't want to post anything short of superb {don't know if it measures}. Added to the artists'/poetic block is a nagging feeling of nakedness. 

NAKEDNESS? yep!. Been reading a lotta people's blogs lately and and I decided not to comment on any of them. What constitutes these 
blogs sometimes is beauty wrapped in a glorious veil of creativity...BUT! what leaves them
short are the feedback/comments by readers. This whole thing to me is like a voyeur/exhibitionist relationship. We feed off each other. I mean a reader's comment could be stronger than the original
post itself. Folks just trod all over the web tagging melancholy along. Sincere comments are like water to a plant, but half assed
 'me self yarn' kinda comments just kill everything. 

Nuff said...gotta go home. Hope you enjoyed the Qest' Ion post. Drop a line.

QUEST 'ION

candles in the wind
little boats in storms and oceans
the hangman's noose
the desperate innocents
sounds to words
pen to paper
sticks to daggers
in anger we protest
this enslaving we reject
the police today
murder our tomorrow
and dem politicians
measure us intelligentsia
against the light of their loot
go away military! we said
we want a breed of our own
how sad when we realize
its still the same greed
in our type of garb
and still that's not the height of
our sorrow
we try,
we hustle and we bustle
but realize we still have to borrow,
our lives,
our seeds, our wives
their soul we nourish
with crumbs from a rich man's table
what can we do?
for silently we die
bearing our sorrows
'cos in diaspora
they say it's much poorer.

The good, the bad and the outright nasty (the sequel)

   

R I O T ! ! ! ? 

Scene Two:
The picture above is one of the pictures I took from the Seun Kuti event. It describes/captures Scene Two (from my previous gist). This scene happened rapidly, not particularly pre-meditated. Let me educate the undiscerning in the public about one of the most efficient ways/forms in which robberies and mugging take shape. Whenever you see a group of young men, arguing, acting shady and moving extremely fast towards you like a Comanche wheel, quickly duck out of their way. The process is simple, they argue and carry on a mock fight while they progress blazing fast towards you. They envelop their victim and strip him or her of every valuable item, of course with a dose or two of slaps and kicks {to leave you traumatic, I think}.

Let’s get back to my previous yarn. Scene one had successfully played itself out and we decided to enjoy the show, while pretending like what happened didn’t happen at all. So, Seun Kuti gets on stage and starts getting his groove on. Everyone expected a lot from him, drawing parallels against the memories of Fela Kuti and he seemed not to be bothered at all and did his own thing. To the right of the stage was the Sponsors’ corner, where the good people that made the show happen sat {most of ‘em were from ‘away’} and they seemed hell bent on showcasing all the gold jewellery in their ward robes {Eko for show}. This time around, we didn’t even notice any commotion, it seemed like a full mass gyration to Seun’s Music, but the security was beautiful and they couldn’t be bullshitted.

A pocket of bad guys had started a Comanche wheel, and were advancing towards The Sponsors’ corner but everyone knew the ruse. An attempt to stop them nearly turned to a full scale riot and shots had to be fired to calm the situation. This is what happened {amazingly fast too}, one of the mobile policemen stepped into the crowd and told them to back off. One of the Comanche’s stepped forward and asked the MOPOL (Mobile Policeman) to mind his business, tempers flared, balls grew and the MOPOL {having the leading edge of an AK47 and a police uniform} pushed the ‘brave one’ back two paces with the usual Zombie order “ get back into the crowd or I go fire you for here now now! ”. This must have obviously enraged “the brave one” as he took off his shirt and started shouting “God punish your father, na Island you dey o. If no be your uniform, look, I for kill you for here with my bare hands”. This scenario, to us, was a comedy, everyone started laughing, even the MOPOL’s colleague; a lot of Lagosians are known to bluff their way through life in this manner, but the MOPOL didn’t find it funny.

Imagine a common Area Boy, talking to him (a rugged agile) anyhow. He cocked the respectable AK47 and attempted to arrest the now over confident and comical “brave one” when a hand lashed out from the crowd and hit the MOPOL in the face. Rere run! Gbege set!; the second MOPOL instantly became alert and so did the crowd of Lagos Islanders standing close to them. E be like film for my eye, I saw them become one, a full scale guerrilla team. Punches, thrown bottles, arms flinging… R I O T!!! Seun started panicking on stage; even his stage manager (Eddy Remedy) looked shaken. Shots in the air, two police colored huge baseball bats started swinging at the crowd, and several shots fired into the air again, chairs were hurled, pure water sachets thrown, bottles getting thrown, Seun Kuti begging for peace on stage and the organizers making frantic efforts to calm the situation and then we finally had a breather from impending disaster.

Seun made it up to the crowd; he did his own version/rendition of the Zombie song. Lovely show, on the long run, everybody gyrated to the music like nothing happened. They didn’t even gist about the incidence. Such is the way of my people, welcome to Lagos Island.