I was having a holy dream
of praying fervently and getting closer to God until I heard a loud bang on the
door. This was about 3.00am. My friend and I scampered up from bed looking very
scared. A female voice from the back of the door angrily told us to open the
door. That is the voice of Vanessa. My friend opened the door and she matched
into the room angrily with a wrapper held loosely, barely covering her bossom. She said she
wouldn’t get out of the room not until we speak to her client and explain to him
that she couldn’t go on anymore. She is one of the prostitutes living in the
brothel managed by my friend. The hairy client also walked in with a frown on
his face. He was pulling his jean over his erection. We were left with no other
option than to intervene if we wanted to get back to our sleep. She said the
man had used a local aphrodisiac which was working its magic non-stop since
11.00pm.
Imagine waking up to this
sort after having a very spiritual dream. The man did not deny the accusation.
His argument was that he had duly paid for all the services he is getting and
he expects her to honour her part of the agreement.
After about half an hour
of persuading both parties to shift ground, I discovered it was time for me to
start preparing for work. I had to leave them to start my daily routine.
This is Lagos, I work on
the Island as a contract staff in a bank and I leave home as early as 5.00am so
that I can get to work early. Though it is always still dark when I leave but the
traffic in this city wakes before me. Even the motor park touts and duty-loving
policemen are already up to make ends meet.
I grabbed my toiletries
from underneath the bed and made for the bathroom. The voice from the bathroom
was miming a classic by Celine Dion. I wonder when this termite infested door
constructed with wood and roofing sheet will be changed for a better one. I
filled my bucket with water and knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Aunty please, do quick,’ I said. ‘You for enter come join me since you wake
late today,’ she replied angrily. I had no strength for argument today I
just endured till she sang the whole album in her high pitched voice. She
stepped out with an irritated look on her face. I muttered good morning but
instead she hissed and walked away. I threw my towel over the door and scooped
some water to hurriedly brush my teeth. As I splashed the cold water on my
body, I remembered my days in the village. I remember the morning dew, the calm
and peace which greeted us each morning. Unlike Lagos, where you prepare for
the days battle for ten hours ahead and you do the battle for the remainder of
the day. As I dressed, I took two slices of bread and munched on it and gulped
a sachet of ‘pure water’. Even if the water is impure, as long as it is in a
sachet, we call it pure water. I sprayed the remaining perfume I bought from
‘Oshodi under Bridge’ on my jacket which also seriously needs dry cleaning. I
stepped out of the building and one of the numerous ‘tenants’ chewing gum
carelessly looked at me, smiled and said ‘Oga
banker, buy something come o”. I quickly looked away, waved indifferently
and said ‘good morning’ as I walked away.
The first day I resumed my
job, my fear while going to work as early as 5.00am was that I was at risk of
being the only one out at that time. Today, there are just a pocket of people
at the bus stop and I don’t have to go through the royal-rumble to board a bus.
After managing to beat some people to board the bus, I double checked my phones
and wallet in my pocket. Oh! I forgot my phone charger at home. I brought out
my earphones and plugged them to my ears. The elderly man beside me tapped on
my shoulders and pointed to the bus conductor. I understood, and gave the bus
conductor my fare. As I go through my mails and messages, the elderly man was
also reading my personal messages with me. Next thing he asked me was ‘How much you buy am?’ It is the IPhone
5s which I had to save money for several months to buy. I decided to tell him a
small unreal price so he can end the discussion. I said I got it for Thirty
thousand Naira. He replied ‘Them cheat
you’. I was surprised. He continued and said his daughter in a higher
institution got it for twenty thousand naira. I replied and told him I got my
own when it was first released into the market. ‘You young people sha, how will you buy a phone for thirty thousand
Naira?’ He continued with this topic of buying expensive phone and I
already wasn’t concentrating anymore. I just muttered uhn and hmm and also
nodded my head from then on.
Life in a Lagos commercial
bus isn’t complete without the morning devotion which everyone gladly joins
except for the stern looking Muslim cleric, I suppose from his beard.
After alighting, I stopped
by the make-shift canteen at the garage to drink some local pap ‘koko’ before
going to the office. The irony about my job is that undergraduates dream about
it, while we who are presently working see it as bondage. The only beautiful
thing about the job is the beautiful office. I have never for once completed my
tasks and the files keep piling up despite the fact that I work overtime always
and also weekends.
When I return home at
night, I always manage to call my fiancé to listen to her voice and narrate my
daily experience. She says it is unbelievable how we live our lives in Lagos. I
also think it is unbelievable too but I am a witness to it. One statement she
re-iterates is that Lagosians are mad. She wanted to relocate to Lagos with me
and has constantly pressured me to secure an accommodation. She has a fiancée
working in a bank in Lagos and wanted nothing less than a two-bedroom flat
apartment. She couldn’t believe me when I told her the cost of securing such
apartment in Lagos. Even after agreeing on a single room, the cost is still
crazy according to her. Her first visit to Lagos was that of a ‘johnny just come’. She was amazed at how
people of all ages shove and push each other to board a bus. She complained
about the cost of everything and concluded that Lagos is over-hyped.
On Sundays, I don’t go to
church because that is the only day I have to rest and prepare for the new
week. On this day, I sometime ponder over this craze of a life called Lagos.
The battle to board a bus remains tasking every day. The extra caution to avoid
body contact and preventing pick pockets remains. The excessive noise from
power generating sets and partying neighbours is annoying. The frustration of
paying power bills which you never consume. The nagging accommodation issue and
the slavery which is falsely tagged employment. As a man, I should just fashion
out a way to make these burdens lighter for me.
One weekend, I decided to
get a laptop so I can bring some work home. Since my boss won’t push for me to
get a laptop from the office, I got one from my hard earned money. The
following week, I was robbed and disposed of my laptop and phones while going
to work. I visited the Police Station to make a report and I got to work late.
On getting to work, my boss looked at me cynically; I ignored and sat on my
chair to find a query letter on my table which I am to respond to in less than
forty eight hours. I got home that day and drafted my resignation letter. This
madness must just stop. I woke up around 6.00am the next day. Yes, an hour
late. I took my time to queue to take my bath and I also cooked which hasn’t
happened in a long time. I got to work around 10.00am with a sense of freedom
and relief. I smiled at my boss and he was a little surprised at my rare
happiness………………………………..
Photo from Google
