All posts by Temz

Giddi Commute Series- Abegi Sa!

Abegi Sa!

This evening’s drama was straight out of a bad Nollywood movie. It started out as the normal story, dánfó driver on Lékkí-Èpé Expressway driving nonsense. He scratches someone’s Prado Jeep and tries to escape. Mr. Prado Jeep gives chase and of course he catches us after all of two minutes. Where exactly did Mr. Dánfó driver think he was running to, what with the usual traffic on Lékkí-Èpé Express way? So, Mr. Prado catches us and steps out of his car in full military uniform. Kpekélé kpekèlè, arúgbó je gbèsè! Of all the Jeeps in Lagos, this dánfó driver went to scratch a soldier’s own! I don’t know much about the Nigerian Army but the guy’s uniform looked so impressive, he must have been a top guy.

The passengers who had been raining abuses on the driver before then became subdued and kept shut. You know how when someone presses the mute button and the TV just shuts up kpam? That’s how we all just swallowed our voices as if on cue.

The Soldier simply went to the driver’s side, pulled his door open and dragged him out by his shirt.

“Oga abeg…” the driver started. The rest was silenced with a bone shattering slap.

Kai, I felt that slap from where I was sitting. The driver tried to fall to his knees (or maybe his knees just gave way beneath him) but Oga Soldier simply dragged him up by his shirt and delivered another slap. At this point, we all overcame or speechlessness and started to beg earnestly on behalf of the driver. The conductor went over to prostrate himself flat in front of the Soldier but mba, him no gree. Before we knew it, some minion Soldiers had arrived at the scene. Of course, a big boy Soldier like that one doesn’t walk alone. They just jejely took Mr. driver and carried him to their pick up truck and drove off with him.

“Ah, tiè ba lóòní!” someone exclaimed.

“The kain beat he will chop today ehn?”

“Na where dem dey carry am go?” a woman asked.

I was thinking the same thing but was afraid of what the answer would be.

“Ah, dem dey carry am go barracks be that!”

“When him see Soldier again, him go run!”

“Conductor, you no go go look for your driver?”

“Abi oh, you no go go bail am out?”

“Na where him wan go look for am?”

“If he follow them, them go just beat am join!”

“Abeg, who sabi drive for here?” That from the conductor.

We all stopped in our commiserations when it hit us that we were now sans a driver and had only just reached Ìkàté.

“Ah, it’s true oh, how person go reach Àjáh now?”

“Abeg give me my money oh make I join another bus.”

The pity party was over. People really weren’t smiling at all.

“Make una no worry, we go reach Àjáh.” The conductor said.

“How? We go fly?”

“Abeg no waste time jàre, make we quickly find another bus enter.”

“This man go sabi drive the bus.” The conductor said, pointing to a man on the second row.

All our collective necks swung to look at the man. The man sef swung his head to see our would-be savior only for him to find all eyes on him.

“Me ke?!” he exclaimed.

“How you take know say him sabi drive?” someone demanded.

“Abi you don become Octopus Paul?” someone else said.

“Na wetin be that?” some other guy asked.

“Na where you for dey when them dey play World Cup?”

“Which one consign me consign World Cup?”

“See you, them never born you that time.”

“Shey you even sabi who Obasanjo be?”

“How I no go sabi that one?!”

“If Octopus Paul still dey alive, he for tell us tey tey say PDP no go enter again!”

“Abeg stop that nonsense! Him for warn us say na like this dollar go cost!”

Were these people for real at all?! We were stranded here by the side of the high way and they’re arguing over Octopus Paul! Lagos really is a crazy place.

“Oga, abeg come drive the moto commot for here.” The conductor implored.

“How you take know say I sabi drive?” the would-be savior asked.

“I see as you dey control the driver.”

Say what? What does that even mean.

“True oh, im dey tell am to cut him hand that time when he jam that soh-ja!”

As in seriously! So that’s all that’s needed to qualify for the driver’s seat?

In a heartbeat, everyone on the bus was swearing by their mothers that they just knew that the man was the black reincarnation of double-oh-seven himself.

“I sabi drive the bus but na Igbó Efòn I dey go oh. After that one you dey on your own.” The man finally conceded.

“Oga, nothing do you, abeg help our situation.” The conductor begged.

“Na wetin you wan make I do? I no go go house?”

“Chairman no worry, I go settle you bus money reach Igbó Efòn, just hep me drive this bus reach Àjáh abeg.”

Long story short oh, the conductor psyched the man sotey he agreed to drive us all the way to Àjáh without jamming anyone’s car on the way! This is Lagos after all, what else is new under the sun?!

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Meetings and Dressing Rooms

“Mr. AJ, what do you think?”

He looked up from his phone at the yellow dress with multi-coloured stones on the neck line.

        “This shade matches my complexion better and I just love how it flows easily without too much drama, simple and elegant!” Mrs. AJ was saying.

She made a half turn and smoothed her hands over her hips, arching her neck to see the back. He opened his mouth and then shut it again, wondering if he was actually expected to give an answer. Truth be told, he couldn’t see how this shade of yellow was different from the last one she’d tried on.

        “What do you think?” she asked again, still inspecting herself.

He didn’t mind going shopping with the Mrs (well not too much) as long as he wasn’t expected to know the entire colour spectrum or which style fit which body shape or any of the other weird things women worried about.

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        “Err…well, I think it’s okay.” He replied.

She paused her inspection to stare at him.

        “Just okay?” she asked, arms now akimbo.

        “Well…it’s okay…I mean it’s good!” he floundered. 

What was he supposed to say, that it wasn’t an okay dress?!

She shook her head at him, giving him her signature look and went back into the changing room.

What did I do now!

        “Never ever describe a woman as okay.

        “Sorry?”

        “You’ll never live that mistake down.”

He vaguely recognized the guy who’d spoken to him. He’d seen him around earlier that day at Ikeja City Mall, first at Mango and probably at MRP as well. The guy seemed to be in the same shoes as he was, tagging along with a woman on a shopping spree. Unlike him though, the guy looked unruffled and had the sort of confident poise that could only come from several years of experience.

        “But I said it looked good!” Mr. AJ replied defensively and his new friend tsked.

        “That’s even worse.” He said, juggling several carrier bags from one hand to the other. “Common rookie mistake.”

        “But it was a nice dress!” Mr. AJ spluttered.

        “Another forbidden word.” He said with a shake of his head. “I have a twelve year old so I’ve been in this business long enough!”

Mr AJ raised an eyebrow. How can he possibly compare shopping with a twelve year old to shopping with a grown woman!

        “As a rule, everything is beautiful or stunning or dashing or amazing.” He said. “Sometimes, they’ll take pretty but that one is a bit dicey. You should read the situation before dishing that one out.”

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Say what!

        “If you’re ever caught off guards and can’t think of an appropriate word quick enough, just go for ‘Wow’”

        “O…kay…

        “Trust me on this one.”

        “But what if the dress looks hideous on her!”

        “Diplomacy, my friend. You think the politicians are the ones with the tough jobs?”

        “Omo mehn!”

        “Rule number two: it’s always the fault of the dress. The colour doesn’t flatter her eyes. Who made that dress, a carpenter? That dress isn’t doing your amazing figure enough justice. Catch my drift?”

        “How do you even wrap your head around all that colour shade and style nonsense?!” Mr. AJ asked in exasperation.

        “Take it from the man who had to hunt down a Barbie Pink Mac Book Air, you learn!”

Just then, the door to one of the dressing rooms banged open and a girl who could have easily passed for sixteen flounced out, clad in a pair of pencil jeans, a silk shirt and Louboutin’s.

        “Daddy, how about this?” she asked, arms on her hips.

        “Wow, look at my little Princess! I think it’s perfect!”

        “Really?” the girl asked uncertainly. “I’m not so sure of the shirt. I think peach will go better with my new purse.” She said pulling at the shirt at the edges as if that would miraculously change its colour.

        “Peach? But this one…”

        “I just knew beige would be too far off. I’ll go ask them if they have this style in Peach. If they don’t, we’ll have to go somewhere else.” She said going back into the dressing room.

        “Rule number three: sometimes, even saying the right things doesn’t work.” Simon said on a resigned sigh.

        “You could say that again!” Mr. AJ replied. “By the way, I’m Mayowa.” He said closing the distance between them and proffering his hand.

        “I’m Simon, but everyone calls me SB.” Simon said juggling the shopping bags again to shake his hand.

        “SB?” Moyowa asked.

        “Oh yeah, my initials. I can’t really remember how it started but at some point, even my little girl called me that.”

        “Oh well, SB it is then!” Mayowa said smiling.

        “Nice meeting you.” Simon said returning his smile.

        “Pleasure’s all mine!”

        “Mr. AJ, what of this one?” the Mrs said, coming out of the dressing room again. This time, she was wearing an A-cut midnight blue dress with a high neck which stopped just above the knees.

        “Oh wow!” Mayowa gasped. “It’s….wow!”

The Mrs beamed from ear to ear and Simon turned away to hide his smile.

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photocredit: googleimages

Bestie of Life

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! This can’t possibly be happening!

I was having a heart attack, cross my heart and hope to die. Really. I refreshed the Internet Explorer window again and tried to open the word document. I got the same error message that the file I was trying to open was corrupt and could not be opened. I ejected the flash drive and tried it on another laptop. Same results.

Kai! T’emi bami!

That wretched stick of a thing had somehow gobbled up my project and I was due to show it to my Supervisor. Unfortunately for me, my supervisor is stationed at Idi-Araba, not Akoka, so I always have to make the dreaded weekly visits there to meet with him. And if you had a sadistic supervisor like mine, you would realize that you didn’t even need a ‘world-people’ flash drive for him to do you ‘strong thing’.

In fact, my predicament would have him doing cartwheels in glee.

There was only one person that came to mind in that instant and I called her up immediately, knowing she would have a solution sha.

“Bimpe.”

“Hey what’s up!”

“I need your help.”

“What’s the matter?”

“Please tell me you’re still at home.”

“Why, what’s wrong?”

“My stupid flash is corrupted! And I have to show Ajayi my Chapter six today!”

“Wow! “

“Everything is on my desktop at home. I just need someone to send it to me.”

“Okay, let me see…”

“You’ve left already abi?”

“Yeah but don’t worry about it.”

“Ah, how will you do it now?”

“Shebi you can access your emails from Idi-Araba now?”

“Yes but I don’t want to put you out like that oh, I’ll just rush back and pray that there’s no traffic.”

And Dr. Ajayi will gladly kick me out of his office for being late.

“Don’t worry, I’ll email it to you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re simply the best!” I gushed, relief washing over me.

“Haha, and I know it!”

“Thanks a million, I owe you big time!”

“Yup you do! Give me like twenty minutes.”

“Okay, oshey ore mi!”

“Laters.”

What ever would I do without that girl?

Bimpe is simply the best friend and sister anyone could ask for. She is the Martha to my Mary in the practical sense of it. She is as organized as I’m scatter-brained and the thing with my project is just one of many instances where she’s come in and saved the day.

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Who went to face off my Landlord when he suddenly decided to disconnect me from power supply? Who plans our shopping and cooks for the week on weekends? Who helped me pick out the dress to wear to my class Dinner? Who helped me sort things out when my junk-heap of a car was burgled and my laptop and handbag stolen? Me, I just had a total meltdown. Who was there to kick my butt through second semester exams last year when I lost my mum?

Now you’re starting to get the gist.

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We had been roommates in Moremi in year three and we got along so well even though we were in different faculties. We decided to step up to the Big Girls level in our final year, so we got BQs in Ozolua and stayed just around the corner from each other.

We were more than Besties, she was more like the sister I always wished I had. I had even introduced her to the Connected Family and she had been a big hit. She had dazzled at the cookout and when the, ahem, Landlord put her on the hot seat, I was beaming with pride as I read the chat. She got the keys to her mansion straight off. That was why I was doubly excited when Capt’n Zii gave me gist of this road trip to Ghana. When I got back home that day, I was bursting to tell her the news.

“Connected is organizing a road trip to – wait for it!!” I started dramatically and she laughed. I started to make dramatic drumming sounds.

“Hope everything went well with your supervisor?” she asked and I ignored her. That one was past tense joor. I was talking legendary stuffz here and she’s bringing up Mr. Ogre.

“Ghana!”

“Wow nice!”

“Yup, yup.”

“Gee, can I come?”

“Of course! Why do you think I’m telling you? Zii has warned me not to show my face if you’re not there too!”

“Yay!”

“I’ve thought the whole thing through.” I said and she gave me a dubious look. Everyone knows I’m soooooo not the planner. “We have to go by air, but we can save cost if we share a room. We can also save on feeding by taking some edibles along. Then we can…”

“Really? We’ll share a room?” she interrupted. “The both of us?”

“Yeah. We could save more money if we got a bigger room and shared with two other people but I guess it’ll be better if it’s just two of us. The cost shouldn’t be too bad and I’m sure we’ll be fine. Worst case, I’ll pull the Baby-Sis-card with my Brother and get some money off him.”

“You’re willing to do that for me?!” She asked getting all mushy. Bless her, she was such a sentimental wuss.

“Of course! It’s going to be such an amazing trip, we’re going to have such fun!” I said literally bouncing off the walls in excitement. I gave a silly little laugh and she laughed too, getting infected with my excitement. Then she threw her arms around me and kissed me smack on the lips.

“I love you Boo, I’m so glad I found you.” She said earnestly.

Say what?!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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I pulled back from her, totally lost for what to do or say!

Navigator

This beautiful Saturday morning (aren’t they all beautiful!), I spent 45 minutes in Obàléndé waiting for the Bus to Berger to fill up. When it was finally full, the conductor sauntered over and proceeded to collect his money.

“Oga, you no fit collect money for road?” a man on the third row grumbled.

“Na for road I go pay Agbèrò?” The conductor retorted.

“So you knew that one since, you come just dey collect money? Someone from the back row said, disgusted. At this point, I knew how the drama would go, probably ending in a I-no-get-change argument. I was about to plug in my ear phones to drown out the noise when one madam beside me upped the ante.

Oníìranù, the time him suppose dey collect money, na that chingum geh him dey chase up and down! “ she said drawing out a long hiss.

“Na ya business?” Oga conductor challenged, stopping in his collection to face off the woman.

“Abeg dey collect your money dey go, this heat too much nah!” another passenger said.

“Abeg make I fire am! Abi you no hear the nonsense him dey talk?” Oga conductor asked.

“Ehn dey collect your money as you dey fire am nah!” the passenger said.

“Woman wrapper!” madam hissed.

“You dey jealous?” Oga conductor fired back.

“God forbid! Na your kind me I dey follow?!” Continue reading Navigator

editor’s pick 2016: Cougar Town

I over really loved this one- the ‘accidental Cougar story’. Lol


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“Hey Babes, can you pass me a fiver?” Noah called out to me.

We were at a KFC Drive-Through and he had his head stuck out his window to place our order.

I love KFC chicken and I think it is the Holy Grail of chicken and if anyone dares disagree with me on that, I’ll be bringing out the claws. So, this beautifully freezing Saturday morning, I made him drive through Clapham Common despite the traffic we were bound to face, all so I could get my chicken-fix.

“I haven’t got a fiver.” I said as Beyonce’s Smash Into You came on the radio. The moment couldn’t have been anymore perfect. I had my favorite person in the world, Robb Howard seemed to be reading my mind and I was two minutes away from chicken-heaven, Ah-mean, what more could a girl ask for?

“Will a twenty do?” I asked.

“Nah, can you check the cubbyhole?” he replied.

I reached into the cubbyhole and made a face at the junk inside of it. I was crazy about the guy and he ranked up there along with my beloved KFC chicken (which really is saying something) but mehn, his car was the stuff of nightmares.

Continue reading editor’s pick 2016: Cougar Town

My Best Friend’s Girl

I’m stood here, under the hot sun, fanning myself with my hands. The man on my left raised his phone to his ears and gave me a generous whiff of his under-arms and I almost passed out! I wonder why there isn’t a waiting lounge at MMA’s Arrivals. Why do they always make people wait outside, like suffering souls awaiting the arrival of their loved ones. Or their hated ones, depending on what side of the street you’re standing on.

I’m here with my Best Friend and we’re awaiting the arrival of his Girl Friend. I haven’t even met her yet and I hate her. Very much.

Continue reading My Best Friend’s Girl