EPISODE 6- FOR THIS LAGOS NA DIE
What my eyes have seen, my mouth no fit talk am
After I got posted to Lagos, I and my three notorious friends were scouting for accommodation. It was hard times, everything was expensive. Most of the houses we found were either situated in criminal communities or the living conditions were too horrid to stay in. Of the few decent places we found, the landlords were quick to assume male Corpers meant trouble; trouble meant bad business for them.
“Na so so parties una go dey throw for dis pace, abeg take una wahala dey go”
There is something about men in Kaki that denotes trouble. I knew I wasn’t a trouble maker, but Emeka and Osahon were. I was scared their company wouldn’t allow me to find a decent house. As luck would have it, we found a nice 3 bedroom apartment with good living conditions. The price was affordable and the landlord was quite welcoming. He however warned us of straying off, especially into the other side of the compound and staying out too late. I took his counsel and stayed off the other street
After 2 months, I had settled into the busyness and madness of Lagos. My only sanity as of the time was coming home. On a faithful evening, after the chaos of work, Osahon and I (we were the only ones serving in the same PPA) entered into his car, but the car wouldn't start. After about 2 hours of panel beating and an attempt to be mechanic engineers, the car still wouldn’t start.
We concluded to “toe” the car into the company’s garage and take a pubic transport home. We toiled to enter molue, 6 pm was rush hour in Lagos, everyone fighting for the next approaching bus. By 7 pm we finally hustled ourselves into one of the Danfo buses. We didn’t mind the outrageous price the conductor was demanding.
Oh my goodness, what is this now?
A Lady remarked in frustration. I thought it had something to do with the baby pulling her wig. I looked straight ahead and saw heated traffic. Osahon was already cursing his village people for damaging his car and other bad things that has ever happened to him in life.
3 hours later we arrived at our bus stop and a famished Osahon insisted we buy Akara at the other street. I reminded the stupid boy what the landlord had said about the other street at night. At this point, his stomach was running his brain. I reluctantly followed him, cause I was also hungry.
The other street was a total blackout, not a single street light was on, neither was anyone outside, not even the supposed Akara seller. I was scared (first-time I’m admitting this to myself). By the time we were about to cross the street, we saw the shadow of a man.
“See, that must be the akara seller approaching”
I have never met anyone as naive and dumb as Osahon. I told him to let’s make a run for it. He insisted we wait to see if the approaching man was the Akara seller. The man came out and what we saw made me wet my pants. Osahon was still struggling to pick himself off the ground.
“My children, you have come bearing me gift”
Ever watched a horror movie. Well, I was living mine. What the landlord failed to tell us was, at the other side of the street was a mad man who happens to be a chief priest. He often sacrificed young children at night.
Usain Bolt got nothing on the race we ran back home that night. By the next morning, we had packed our bags in search of other less diabolical pastures.
When you think you have seen it all in Lagos, the next day just proves you wrong.
This post is brought here because of a number of people who can’t access this series through their phone screens. Read Episodes 1 and 2 here.
