So the thing is, I live in Ibadan now.
It doesn't have the hustle and bustle of Lagos, the beauty of Abuja city centre or the sheer debauchery and steely eyed ashewo-ism of Port-Harcourt but it's a city that still holds its own.
Sure you've heard the the jokes and seen the pictures. Primary School kids in Ibadan, excitable little creatures; skin as black as the night and scalp white from ring worm, going on once in a life time field trips to the local Shoprite.
Or the market women, skin bleached to a beautiful shade of red very much like Ughelli palm oil!
Sure, Ibadan has all the things and maybe even worse but we Omo Ibadans(born or adopted), love the town.
Even J.P Clark. a great Ijaw man and hopefully not a relative of the not so great Pa Edwin, described the beauty of Ibadan in his famous poem of the same name.
'Woss!' In the voice of famous for no obvious reason Nigerian rapper CDQ, if you don't know J.P Clark, just keep reading.
Nigerian education has probably failed you and we are sorry!
Anyway, as had become customary for me on Sundays when I don't have to be at work and ultimately church, I take a drive round the town.
Mostly through parts of Ibadan where the roads are as smooth and the houses as beautiful as any good neighbourhood in Lagos and more importantly, where the motor touts and meat market boys won't in the words of the street 'use me to catch trips'.
This Sunday was different though!
This was no leisurely drive.
This was in fact a drive for ultimate survival!
Fuel tank on empty, A.C knob on off and sweat dripping from forehead like Patience JOE getting used to the Otuoke sunlight again, I slowly drove to the nearest petrol station.
My word!
The queue that had formed before my arrival was a beauty.
A real sight to behold!
How the cars formed an orderly queue on a full kilometer and half of a crescent shaped road and then topped it off with a full circle at the round-about without obstructing traffic is something I would marvel at till the day I pass!
Anyhoo, I being neither T.Y Bello (Aunty photographer) or T.Y Danjumao(Oga oil bloc owner), the inherent money making appeal of the queue was lost on me and I made my way up the line to, in typical Nigerian fashion, subvert the orderliness.
Straight faced and with brow furrowed, Don Jazzy and the Mavin's 'Looku Looku' wafting through my car speakers, I edged my car into a newly formed space ahead of a man who from his loud snores had probably spent the night on the queue.
'Looku-Looku, prayer is the master key' crooned Korede Bello from the speakers.
Cries of 'Eskis Sir, Eskis Sir!' rent the air as the expected barrage of insults against my person began.
An elderly gentleman, white haired and resplendent in his gray lace was the first to approach me physically.
'I ham very disappointed in you sir' he began, wagging his index finger at me like you would at a goat trying to eat your lunch.
' A fine looking boy like yourself from a good haouse should act better in public. People like you ha the problem with Nigeria!' he continued.
Normally, I wouldn't reply an elderly person in an aggressive tone but I don't know if it was a combination of his strong H- factor hitting my ear drums like a Konga or the fact that I had just been accused of been the problem with Nigeria.
Me! Problem with Nigeria! Nigeria!!! Haba!!!
'Sir, with all respect, Nigeria's problems are without any doubt in my mind, the following'
1) Insecurity
2)No electricity
3)Poverty
4)Petroleum products distribution
I, Sir, I'm just a Nigerian looking for fuel for my generators!' I answered.
'E ri oju e! See his face! Wo bo se jo inoki! Gorrilla!' ranted a dark skinned middle aged woman; so obese, you would think she had NNPC's missing 20 billion in her tummy!
'So you don't think that e, as you hav jhump the line, that you hav e do anything wrong ehn! Ehn? she asked.
'Madam, is it me that has been paying Femi Oteshola and Ifeanyi Ubang trillions of Naira to go Yacht racing on Victoria Island? I replied .
'Or is it me that sold off NEPA to every crooked business man with two legs and a signature?'
'Abi it's my blood that Dziani Alice's private jets run on?'
'Madam, I am just a Nigerian looking for petrol for my car. Please if you don't mind, the queue is moving' I ended.
If she were any darker, she would have turned into a bright charcoal red!
'Is me you are abusing abi!' she countered.
'Foolish boy! Is not your fault, when Yoruba children like Femi-Fani Kehinde and Doyin Okugbe made abusing elders a normal something, you are also copying them abi? Is okay oh!'
'Anyway sha, change hav come. Buhari hav come. Change have come to Nigeria and it will not reach your haouse!' she continued.
'What is it Madam!' What is it?'
'Person no fit sleep again?'
'The small boy jump ordinary line, you wan use curse finish am!'
'Na ya Papa line?' shouted the once sleeping man in the car behind mine.
Lo and behold (I'm really tired of making excuses for your poor education, just keep reading) and as God would have it( you're more familiar with that Nigerian line right?), it was Mazi Chuks.
Mazi Chuks just happens to be Mama Nkechi's husband.
Honest and faithful readers of this blog (God bless you by the way. Hopefully Buhari would make someone in your family a Senior Deputy Special Assistant to the P.A of someone important) would be familiar with Mama Nkechi and her bar of Happiness.
'Mazi Chuks!' I shouted in genuine surprise.
'Oga Surveyor!' he replied excitedly.
'Mazi, what brings you to Ibadan? You're the last person I expected to see today!"
'My brother, na petrol oh. We hear say petrol full Ibadan and as we hear say una nor get motor for this village, I say make I use the last petrol wey I get come Ibadan.' he answered.
'One petrol no dey Lagos! Na serious suffer we dey! Thank God say Buhari don enter sef, things must to better now!' he continued.
Maybe because I knew that Mazi Chuks, his four brothers, their wives, 6 children and four dogs all voted for Goodluck Joe, I couldn't hide my surprise at what I just heard the man say.
'But Mazi, you did not vote for Buhari?' I questioned
'You nor hear when the man say na we all get am! Abi you nor get light that day? My brother,the line don dey move again. Go put fire for ya car make we comot this place!' he answered as he swaggered to his car.
P.s: as far as I can tell, there are no grammatical errors in this write up. All ' errors' were meant.
Kindly follow the Flipside of life on the twitter machine @doctorrotcod.
It doesn't have the hustle and bustle of Lagos, the beauty of Abuja city centre or the sheer debauchery and steely eyed ashewo-ism of Port-Harcourt but it's a city that still holds its own.
Sure you've heard the the jokes and seen the pictures. Primary School kids in Ibadan, excitable little creatures; skin as black as the night and scalp white from ring worm, going on once in a life time field trips to the local Shoprite.
 |
| Mufutau and friends wondering what's going on! |
Or the market women, skin bleached to a beautiful shade of red very much like Ughelli palm oil!
Sure, Ibadan has all the things and maybe even worse but we Omo Ibadans(born or adopted), love the town.
Even J.P Clark. a great Ijaw man and hopefully not a relative of the not so great Pa Edwin, described the beauty of Ibadan in his famous poem of the same name.
'Woss!' In the voice of famous for no obvious reason Nigerian rapper CDQ, if you don't know J.P Clark, just keep reading.
Nigerian education has probably failed you and we are sorry!
Anyway, as had become customary for me on Sundays when I don't have to be at work and ultimately church, I take a drive round the town.
Mostly through parts of Ibadan where the roads are as smooth and the houses as beautiful as any good neighbourhood in Lagos and more importantly, where the motor touts and meat market boys won't in the words of the street 'use me to catch trips'.
This Sunday was different though!
This was no leisurely drive.
This was in fact a drive for ultimate survival!
Fuel tank on empty, A.C knob on off and sweat dripping from forehead like Patience JOE getting used to the Otuoke sunlight again, I slowly drove to the nearest petrol station.
My word!
The queue that had formed before my arrival was a beauty.
A real sight to behold!
How the cars formed an orderly queue on a full kilometer and half of a crescent shaped road and then topped it off with a full circle at the round-about without obstructing traffic is something I would marvel at till the day I pass!
 |
| S |
Anyhoo, I being neither T.Y Bello (Aunty photographer) or T.Y Danjumao(Oga oil bloc owner), the inherent money making appeal of the queue was lost on me and I made my way up the line to, in typical Nigerian fashion, subvert the orderliness.
Straight faced and with brow furrowed, Don Jazzy and the Mavin's 'Looku Looku' wafting through my car speakers, I edged my car into a newly formed space ahead of a man who from his loud snores had probably spent the night on the queue.
'Looku-Looku, prayer is the master key' crooned Korede Bello from the speakers.
Cries of 'Eskis Sir, Eskis Sir!' rent the air as the expected barrage of insults against my person began.
An elderly gentleman, white haired and resplendent in his gray lace was the first to approach me physically.
'I ham very disappointed in you sir' he began, wagging his index finger at me like you would at a goat trying to eat your lunch.
' A fine looking boy like yourself from a good haouse should act better in public. People like you ha the problem with Nigeria!' he continued.
Normally, I wouldn't reply an elderly person in an aggressive tone but I don't know if it was a combination of his strong H- factor hitting my ear drums like a Konga or the fact that I had just been accused of been the problem with Nigeria.
Me! Problem with Nigeria! Nigeria!!! Haba!!!
'Sir, with all respect, Nigeria's problems are without any doubt in my mind, the following'
1) Insecurity
2)No electricity
3)Poverty
4)Petroleum products distribution
I, Sir, I'm just a Nigerian looking for fuel for my generators!' I answered.
'E ri oju e! See his face! Wo bo se jo inoki! Gorrilla!' ranted a dark skinned middle aged woman; so obese, you would think she had NNPC's missing 20 billion in her tummy!
'So you don't think that e, as you hav jhump the line, that you hav e do anything wrong ehn! Ehn? she asked.
'Madam, is it me that has been paying Femi Oteshola and Ifeanyi Ubang trillions of Naira to go Yacht racing on Victoria Island? I replied .
'Or is it me that sold off NEPA to every crooked business man with two legs and a signature?'
'Abi it's my blood that Dziani Alice's private jets run on?'
'Madam, I am just a Nigerian looking for petrol for my car. Please if you don't mind, the queue is moving' I ended.
If she were any darker, she would have turned into a bright charcoal red!
'Is me you are abusing abi!' she countered.
'Foolish boy! Is not your fault, when Yoruba children like Femi-Fani Kehinde and Doyin Okugbe made abusing elders a normal something, you are also copying them abi? Is okay oh!'
'Anyway sha, change hav come. Buhari hav come. Change have come to Nigeria and it will not reach your haouse!' she continued.
'What is it Madam!' What is it?'
'Person no fit sleep again?'
'The small boy jump ordinary line, you wan use curse finish am!'
'Na ya Papa line?' shouted the once sleeping man in the car behind mine.
Lo and behold (I'm really tired of making excuses for your poor education, just keep reading) and as God would have it( you're more familiar with that Nigerian line right?), it was Mazi Chuks.
Mazi Chuks just happens to be Mama Nkechi's husband.
Honest and faithful readers of this blog (God bless you by the way. Hopefully Buhari would make someone in your family a Senior Deputy Special Assistant to the P.A of someone important) would be familiar with Mama Nkechi and her bar of Happiness.
'Mazi Chuks!' I shouted in genuine surprise.
'Oga Surveyor!' he replied excitedly.
'Mazi, what brings you to Ibadan? You're the last person I expected to see today!"
'My brother, na petrol oh. We hear say petrol full Ibadan and as we hear say una nor get motor for this village, I say make I use the last petrol wey I get come Ibadan.' he answered.
'One petrol no dey Lagos! Na serious suffer we dey! Thank God say Buhari don enter sef, things must to better now!' he continued.
Maybe because I knew that Mazi Chuks, his four brothers, their wives, 6 children and four dogs all voted for Goodluck Joe, I couldn't hide my surprise at what I just heard the man say.
'But Mazi, you did not vote for Buhari?' I questioned
'You nor hear when the man say na we all get am! Abi you nor get light that day? My brother,the line don dey move again. Go put fire for ya car make we comot this place!' he answered as he swaggered to his car.
P.s: as far as I can tell, there are no grammatical errors in this write up. All ' errors' were meant.
Kindly follow the Flipside of life on the twitter machine @doctorrotcod.
