Diary Of A Lagos Girl

I should be nice and listen to what this guy is saying. My head bowed a little with a noticeable smile on my face and with occasional shy glance I blink at him. The questions he asked about my academics are halfhearted but I can't help but notice the arrogance he is trying to suppress. Just about then a motor bike sped past and the lone passenger shouted my name. Instantly, my shyness was gone and I cheerfully shouted his name back. He is also one of my toasters just like Gbenga who I am currently chatting with and wants his application granted. I am even tired of all these guys ‘codedly’ dating me. Not that I don't want to be like Shade who has a stable boyfriend, but they all don't act responsible.

 Caleb smashed my previous phone after reading some text messages on it. He probably thought his money got the phone for me. He was amazed I moved on quickly from his pettiness. I got a brand new phone days later. It was even a newer model of the phone he smashed. Soji who got the phone for me was pissed at the attitude of Caleb. He wanted to confront Caleb but I dissuaded him by telling him Caleb is a miscreant angered because I wouldn’t return his greetings.

Now that those little girls are in higher institution, they wouldn't let us be. They are becoming unbecoming. It is a common knowledge that it is ‘ashawo’ work undergraduates do. I am certain their hair isn’t original Peruvian. I am not jealous of them but stating a fact. No matter what, I am a bigger girl than they are. Boys that I have dated and dusted, is who they roll with. Mtchew! Many don’t know my worth until they visit my Facebook wall. Come and see big boys begging me to accept their friend request. The ones I accept can’t stop thanking me and appreciating my beauty. Girls will always beef, that’s why I prefer many boyfriends. You won’t believe Sade who stays in our compound can’t even send me a friend request. She is always reluctant to greet or even respond to my greetings. By the time I learn to use that Instagram, they will know I have finally arrived. I heard it makes one beautiful like Beyonce and endowed like Toolz. Me, I don’t think I will use that twitter o. I heard bad-mouth people are too much there.

It is time to upgrade from local boys and seek for love and overdue attention from the wider internet ocean. I will pocket my pride and just ask one of those small girls to teach me how to use it. I will also use the opportunity to ask where they get their clothes and make their hair. In return I can tell them the broke ass boys and big-mouth boys to avoid in the area.

Ireti has gotten a car, a Toyota Spider. Proper Ashawo. I pray I don’t end up like o. She follows old men up and down. Which work does she do to be able to afford a car? Later, they will be going to church crying for husband.

If only Jaiye wasn’t in a serious relationship with that ‘omo mommy’. He is a fairly decent guy. I would have been his main chick and God knows marriage would have been certain by now. Marriage sha! Do I even think I am ready for marriage? Anything can still happen. I will pray and give him all he wants. I will even try to close-mark him and act jealous maybe he will develop feelings for me.

Those ones doing born-again, your secret is open o. I know I am not the holiest but why do these ones pretend? Even Ireti the Proper Ashawo is better than them. They will be using choir as a façade. Even the Choir master isn’t left out. He was sending me text messages and calling me with free call at night. Poor church rat! When his mate are sleeping and resting he is doing night call with me. He doesn’t even know his mate at all. I think it is because I attend that church. By the time I start attending Christ Embassy, maybe they will even see my brake light.

On to matter of importance. My subscription expires tomorrow, maybe this maga will pay. Let me chat with him

“ Hi loff. When will you be free to chat? I miss chatting and reading your lovely messages. I would be offline tomorrow as my subscription expires today. Missing you. Love love love kiss kiss”

 Let us wait to see maybe he will subscribe for me.

Photo from google

Friends

A bottle of water sat on my table. I will sip this till my buddies arrive. The music blaring from the speaker makes my heart pound. One day I’ll understand how and why people love music loud. Across my table sits a man and a young lady. Excess bright red lipstick on her lips and she chews carelessly on a gum, a trademark of a certain profession. The man was rubbing his beards, said something to her and smiled. She rolled her eyes in an irritant way and took a sip from her lager. He winked at her and whispered something into her ears. She smiled broadly at him.

Emeka nudged me and sat beside me. ‘Guy, why na water you dey drink?’ he asked. ‘I no wan start action without you’ I replied. He twitched his nose at me and ordered for two drinks.

A few minutes later, Kola joined us. I can recall our undergraduate days, we were the coolest, and so we thought. The three musketeers we were.

Emeka has grown to be a modest man with a decent wife. We have tried severally to hook him up with a girl for a fling which has been unsuccessful. We think his wife has him pocketed whilst he thinks he loves his wife dearly. Today we’ll ensure he drinks more than two bottles so he returns home drunk. What are best friends for? He sees Kola and I as irresponsible.

I know Kola will die from a woman related death or live longer than Metusellah. He is an incurable womanizer. His new thirst for teenagers is appalling. The last time I visited him, while he saw me off, a tiny girl probably older than his daughter called him by his first name on the street. As an African man this is a mark of disrespect. He must have stooped so low for him to get this. The annoying part was that he smiled sheepishly and called the ‘mgbeke’ baby girl. I had to stroll away from them with a deep frown on my face. I won’t let anyone see me nor will I be associated with child abuse.

You don’t have to tell me I am the perfect amongst the three. I am not bragging when I say I have a balanced view of everything about life. I know when to get drunk. I know the limits of promiscuity. Any man that has this in control is the ideal man. I believe my friends think I have these in control, I know I don’t but what my friends think is what matters.

Emeka will always have something nice to say about his wife. He never speaks ill of her. The mark of a good husband but in his eyes there is emptiness. I can’t help but notice some flash of admiration when we leave him and flirt with the loose ladies. He won’t open up to us but we know there is something wrong. Though the boys in us want him to flirt around, the man in us wouldn’t want his marriage to crash.

Kola has a life literarily. The charm he used to win hearts of the most beautiful ladies in campus hasn’t left him totally. The peak of his career was when he met his match, a female version of him but the slight difference was Kemi wanted marriage at all cost. The result of the relationship is a daughter but no marriage. He convinces himself loudly that he’ll get married soon, but I don’t know if it’s to one of those ‘children’ he calls small chops.

I have the perfect life amongst us. So, I don’t hesitate to give invaluable advice. I know everything that needs to be known about relationship, marriage, dating, flings and women. Emeka especially needs to be tutored about bossing the home. He should know he is free to do what he likes. He can return home late; get drunk or order his wife like a slave. I can’t overemphasize these things to Emeka but he won’t learn.

While we chatted from politics to sports, I remembered I had to take permission from my wife to stay late at work for a few hours. I sweated profusely under the Air Conditioner as I struggled discretely to send a text message. I pray she doesn’t call back and hear the loud music from the speakers. Just about then, call from Ifeanyi came in. Oh! This Ijebu-Igbo boy again. ‘We dey Chikodi’ I screamed over the phone. He’ll come and shorten my ration. He never has money but he can finish a whole brewery if it’s free. Less than three minutes, he had already arrived. ‘Guys, I just come greet una. I no get money o’ he said. I hissed.

Emeka ordered two bottles for him. Shortly he received a call. ‘I dey with my padi, we dey chillex’. ‘No o, I no use am buy anything o’ he continued his conversation on phone. ‘Okay come collect am now’.

‘See the yeye boy. Na woman wan come collect money from him so o’ I muttered loudly.

At around 11:00pm we left. I forgot to send the message to my wife because of the call from Ifeanyi. I bought some groundnut and Tom-Tom from a Mallam by the road side. I still don’t know the story to tell this woman when I get home. I think I should call Kola. He can corroborate my story that we were at Emekas to settle a domestic dispute. If I don’t hide my imperfections, who will?

Oyingbo to Okokomaiko

In front of my wife’s mirror singing ‘wa gba control’ by W4 - a Nigerian artist. I love that part where I have to shout: “girl, you use me like a roll- on”. That’s the part I apply my deodorant (roll-on). The little guy who is whining stops to look up at me. I wink at him and he smiles. In addition to the deodorant or “prespirant” as i love to call it, I also bathed myself with some excess perfume - the journey to work is always long and sweaty and I still need to smell fresh when I get there.

It is better to board the long coaster buses that leave Oyingbo for Okokomaiko directly rather than take the small buses that stop at almost every bus-stop along the road. For those who ply this road daily, they know the cheapest and most sensible option is the long rickety coaster buses: Five people squeeze on a seat designed for four. The bus-conductors beg skinny people like me to sit with the plus-size women for this purpose. The half-empty or half-full buses are to be avoided because the comfortable seats would have already been taken. From experience, it is better to sit on the single seat closest to the exit or you sit up front with the driver. As for other seats, be ready for the worst. It is either you have dirty sacks of “ugwu” leaves shoved on your laps or your white shirt becomes stained by the sweaty and big upper arm of the “ugwu” traders. It seems and sounds unimaginable! It is however painfully so. Even with my concentrated smell of perfume, I get to work smelling of a perfume with a confusing mix of “okporoko” (stock fish) and “ugwu” leaves. There are also the front row seats which are not too tall-people friendly - they have to bend almost to the point of breaking in order to get to these seats. As for the “apoti” (bench) seats in the middle of each rows, not only do they have no back rest, the occupiers have to get up for anyone who wants to alight. Their clothes mostly end up getting stained by shoes of those alighting.

And there are the drug hawkers too. You will enjoy live testimonies and miracles about how a single drug cures almost all ailments. HIV and AIDS drugs are only available in these buses. There are also the stickers with the important messages for those who need them: “Cure for pile and Erectile Dysfunction”; “Magic ring from India”; “Get a job no matter your qualification” etc. Other voices to cheer you up also include the usual morning devotion by some commuters and the occasional cries of “enter with ya change” by the conductor or the agberos shouting at the conductors for loading fees with their breath smelling of “ogidigba”, “alomo”, “asianma” and “shepe”. Of course, the Fulani boys selling “Vicks” also amuses. Their effort at speaking “yoruba” is hilarious. Some of us end up buying Vicks even when we do not need it.

The conductor won't give me my change. I know it is because I look like “aje-butter” dressed up in a suit. At this point I remember the popular tweet “change can't be given to you. You must bring change”.

 You should know how it feels struggling for seats in a bus while dressed in suit. You must guard your pockets lest you lose your phone or wallet. The other option is to take off your jacket and tie at risk of getting your shirt stained. The same applies to when you are alighting. You must be vigilant!

Gbogbo er, o sanwo oo sanwo boole! (All passengers alight!). I still don't know why Lagosians rush down from a bus. The scene is like that of a bus on fire.

When The City Boy Visits The Village

The Stream

The stream was too open! There were some people doing it (answering the call of nature) in the open. Women were beautifully taking their bathes and others doing laundry. It was all beautiful but I could not join in. Not that I was bothered about hygiene. I was too shy to pull down my shorts. I could not fathom people looking at me while I let it out. The forest was the other option. My privacy was sure to be guaranteed there. Escorted by a cousin who is familiar with the terrain, I went to the forest armed with a paper and a cutlass. He chose a good spot for me to do it. After digging a hole with the cutlass, I emptied my full bowels. It was bliss! Fresh air gently soothing my bare buttocks, and a big fly buzzing around trying to perch on the goldmine. The paper came in handy. I swerve it around to swat the fly without success. I was not an expert in using paper to wipe - it is not as tender compared to tissue. I did not wipe well enough, I thought. I called on my cousin somewhere in the thicket also doing his thing. He told me the unimaginable, “use a leaf”. Oh! God! The cave men must have suffered. I felt worse and messier after using a leaf. I had also smeared my shirt in the process of getting the leaf. I felt like shit! All through my way home, my palms came up my nose a number of times. I could smell feaces.

The Food

Garden eggs! My cousin even told me how valuable it was in the household. Little wonder that it is cooked with the soup and serves as meat on our garri during week days. We tasted beef or chicken only on weekends and special days. I felt their parents are wicked – how can one eat carbohydrates with the assumption that garden egg is the protein supplement for the balanced meal. So, i knew it must be a great day when Uncle told us all to take a garden egg each from the basket for a nibble. You could see the joy in my cousins’ faces. That was my first time eating garden egg outside the soup. It tasted kind of sour. My cousin told me watch out for maggots. He joked that the maggots are very good for the body. I think he saw the odd look on my face when I took a bite. He grabbed it from me immediately. I had mistakenly picked up unripe tomato from the basket rather than garden egg.

Others

There were some other good experiences, we stoned down bats at nights; roasted cocoa yam in the wild - nothing beats the taste of cocoa yam and palm oil. I saw how garri was made – it tastes best when freshly made. I tasted some fruits which till today i do not know their names. I saw strangely colored birds. And yes, I killed my first snake; a tiny little creature probably a few days old. A great achievement that is compared to people who only have seen snakes only on TV.

So, when my mom came for a visit, she asked if i was going back home with her. My cousins were there, so I boldly said I was not, like a big boy. When I was alone with her, I confided in her; I could not hide my feelings. I wanted to go home badly. I missed the mattress. I wanted the water closet. I was tired of staying awake all night being scared of different insects flying around the only light bulb in the room.