FOUR DAYS IN LAGOS.

PHOTO CREDIT: PINTEREST.

EDITED BY: THEUNUSUAL _WRITER.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Omo hunger pursued me to Lagos!

“Ikemefuna! Ikemefuna!”. Mama had poured cold water on my face. “Go out and hustle like your mates! Efulefu! You think I and your father will spoon-feed you forever? You better go to Lagos and hustle." I grumbled and hissed loudly as I continued sleeping. It was just eight in the morning, and any responsible man is supposed to be out there hustling for his daily bread, but the reverse was the case for me.

Mama had learned the word “Efulefu” from my father during the early years of their marriage because somehow she wanted to fit in and she wanted to show my father’s family that she was learning their language. So every now and then she would throw little Igbo words to Aunty Ifeoma, my father's younger sister, whenever she was on the phone with her. “Ifeoma mba! Ekwuzina." She was trying so hard to sound like a real Igbo woman, but the sound of whatever it is she was saying will always settle between Yoruba and Igbo. Mama was a Yoruba woman through and through, with thick tribal marks lining her robust cheeks like crooked lines.

Some days are hotter than others. Some days you’d feel the scotchy sun burning into the delicate layers of your skin, and other days you’d feel like it was all warm and you were getting the right amount of vitamin D. But you’d never be able to tell which day was better than the other or which day the sun would shine the most. And if it were to rain, you’d complain that the roads would be worse, the gutters would have a worse stench, or you’d be trapped wherever the rain met you.

It was extremely sunny the day I got into Lagos! . OMO! They say it is the city of opportunities, but na who go find opportunity, na him opportunity they chase. Was that supposed to be an adage? Perhaps. I sucked on a fresh Udara fruit, the creamish liquid dripping down the sides of my hands, smacking my tongue against the roof of my mouth and squeezing my eyes shut slightly as the Udara smacked the sides of my cheeks. This one was particularly sweet—the best I had tasted in a long time. I scouted the busy road for the seller, but she wasn’t in sight. I might just have to make do with the two I bought.

After a stressful day on the hard streets of Lagos, I needed rest. I sat on an old wooden chair in an old woman’s shop somewhere around Ikeja, saddled with all the thoughts of how to get a job, marry an Oyibo woman who would likely be my ticket to Obodo Oyibo, and change my life for the better. My parents were not paupers. In fact, my father was a banker during his early years, and when he was retrenched, he started up his own microfinance bank, where he loaned money to people and helped save money. My mother, on the other hand, was a very popular Garri seller at the central Enugu market. She was the one that sold the best Garri and was the biggest supplier, and we lived with my Uncle Sandalili, who had a bush meat and suya stand at the junction, and he never failed to contribute money to the thick assorted soup and fluffy pounded yam Mama prepared. I attended one of the best schools; my sandals were always the brightest in the class, and my shirt was properly starched and ironed. Years later, Papa fell critically ill and was diagnosed with diabetes, and Mama had to lock her shop on most days to make him boiled plantains and vegetables. We had a leave-in maid then called Ebimo, but Mama had occasionally caught her stealing food, provisions, and money, and after using hot koboko to design her delicate skin, she carted her back to Bayelsa.

Chuckles in Remembrance.

Ebimo was my first real crush not all those small chewing gum girls in my class. She was big and soft. Her skin was dark, smooth, and even, and she had these deep, round, piercing eyes, and for a moment, you’d think she was staring into your soul. She would always put extra pieces of meat and fish in my soup and squeeze my cheeks playfully. I had a hunch that she had something to do with Uncle Sandalili. I thought she liked me at first. She was 20; I was 15, and it didn’t matter to me. I was in love with her, and I was going to marry her. When Uncle Sandalili heard of my father's illness, he had moved out before then, he came from time to time to check up on Papa. He would always smile and wink at Ebimo, and before I knew it, they would be under the mango tree in front of our house, laughing at something I didn’t know about. I nursed a silent hatred for my uncle for stealing my woman. And even if I was hurt that she left our house, I was happy that I would never see her again with Uncle Sandalili.

After 5 years of studying engineering, I was still jobless and idle. All my friends, from Chike to Bolaji, had all gone to the bigger cities to hustle. The last time I checked, Bolaji was in Port Harcourt and working on a big construction site. He knew his onions. Afterall. Mama had told me to go to Lagos; that’s where the fishes are bigger, she said.

OMO! The day I started my journey to Lagos was hell. Mama squeezed some cash into my hands and shooed me out of the house. “Go and work! You are 25 and jobless! No food for a lazy man.”. I divided the money into two. Half will be to enter one Tuke tuke bus, and the other will be for bread and chilled coke. The bus was tight—tighter than three fishes in a sardine container. I sat beside one pregnant woman who always compressed me whenever she wanted to spit God knows what out of the window. 

Never stay close to the window on a bus!.

She kept on calling her husband, and I could tell that was her first pregnancy. “Honey! I think the baby is coming!”. She would say sulking. What a woman!.  I thought for a moment that the driver was having some form of diabetic symptoms; he was always stopping to pee. “Sorry o! My people make me just piss small.” He would say, smiling, as he got down from the bus.

Finally, we got to Lagos, and it felt like my breath had been seized for 7 hours, and I had just taken my first breath in years. I inhaled deeply and exhaled, breathing in the air laced with hustling. It was about 5 p.m. I didn’t have any relatives in Lagos, and I had nowhere to lay my head. While on the bus, I called Chudi, one of my old friends, to know if I could crash at his, but he said his place wasn’t available. I gallivanted for a while, till 10 p.m., walking about the whole place like a madman, and with every step I took, I touched my back pocket to ensure my phone was still intact. After so many hours of gallivanting, I found an empty shop with plenty of cartons. It was quite littered, so I used my boots to clear the place up. I dismantled the cartons, spread them on the floor, and laid down. My body ached badly. I pulled my phone out of my back pocket, unzipped my trousers, placed them in between my legs, and zipped the trousers back. It was as safe as it could be.

THE SECOND DAY.

My eyelids fluttered as I slowly became conscious. My nose was hit with the worst stench, and my ears were angry at the annoying snoring that came from only God knows where. My senses were so much at war for freedom that I forced myself awake only to be greeted with the sight of a stark, naked, mad man sharing my carton with me. I was too shocked to move. Blood of Jesus! I rehearsed in my head. Suddenly I remember my days as a sprinter in Methodist Comprehensive High School and On Your Marks! Set ! Go! I was off with my belongings. 

I ran as fast as I could, and when I was sure I was far away, I stopped. The time was 5:30 a.m., and the roads were already starting to get busy. I spotted an uncompleted building at the side, and after looking left and right, I walked in and sighted a tap. I brought out my tooth brush and mini Maclean’s toothpaste and brushed my teeth, after which I undressed, washed my face, armpits,in between legs, and had a change of shirt, and I was off to search for a job with my mini bag pack slung on my shoulders.

My eyes became a searchlight as I scanned every wall and billboard for vacancy posters. The hustle and bustle on the road had started, and after a few hours of trekking under the scorching sun, I found myself a damn job! I walked into a cleaning company. They put up a vacancy sign board just outside their gate. 

“They needed a new P.A. for madam." I breathed in and out as I walked into the company. It was crisp and clean. I walked to the smiling receptionist’s desk and informed her of my mission. She asked me a few questions, which included my name and some other “kiniko kiniko.”.

“Sit down and wait for Madam!”. She was gesturing to a comfortable couch at the other end of the room. The environment was so cozy. After a few minutes, the receptionist brought me a tray of cold orange juice and cookies. OMO! This one pass princess treatment on top say I come find work. Mama had always told me not to collect anything that was open in public places, but Abeg, it’s not everything you apply home training to. I collected the tray, and after a few minutes of forming I wasn’t hungry, I started chewing the cookies. These cookies go havard, I swear!. It was even sweeter than the cookies Uncle Sandalili bought for me whenever he came visiting.

One hour later, Madam came. If someone had told me I would find “the one” today, I would have said, “It is a lie." Madam was an Oyibo... not those anyhow Oyibo o. Those fresh ones, like pumpkin, She was dressed in red, her eyes bright and sparkling.

“Hello!” She said, smiling. “You look really handsome and great! Are you here for a job? How may we help you? You know that sign board has been outside for a while, and no one really wants the job, probably because it’s cleaning." she said. She seemed to be talking too much, but I didn’t mind hearing too much of Alicia Keys voice.

My knees wobbled, and I almost started shaking, but I remembered who I used to be—IK, the bad boy. I used to be very charming and flirtatious in secondary school, and my good looks added the right icing to the already-baked cake. I was tall and built, with the right kind of dark, cute little eyes and a pointed noise, and it will shock you that I’m still like that, save for the full beards that now covered my boyish chin and made me look more like a man.

“Good afternoon, ma... It is so pleasant to meet you. I am IK Okide, and I am here to apply for the job of a PA." I said it confidently.

"Hmn, IK, you mean Ikpomwosa?”. She asked, puzzled, and quickly added, “Ikpomwosa used to be my ex-boyfriend. He was such a mess.”.

“No ma! It’s Ikemefuna…Ikemefuna Okide”. I smiled lightly. "Hmn, I like me a fine Igbo boy... Come with me."  All the while, the receptionist was there, busy, but I knew her ears were high, like radio antennas. I followed Madam into her big office; she asked me to sit down and bring out a file, looked through my CV, wrote some things down, and the rest was history. We started gisting, talking about our past, childhood, and all. She even said she loved my boots. I later learned that her name was Suzie Peters, but I told her I preferred "susu,” and she laughed so loudly.

“You have the job, my dear! You can start tomorrow.” She said this, stretching her hands for a handshake. Her hands were as soft as agege bread and butter. I was so excited, but I forgot to tell Madam I didn’t have a place to stay, and she probably didn’t notice the small bag at the reception.

After I left, I was able to trace my way back to the shop, where I slept, praying that the mad man would never find his way there. The owner of the shop was there when I arrived. She sold cold drinks and pastries, so I patronized her and sat on a plastic chair as I chewed the tasteless donuts. After eating, I laid my head on the wall and didn’t know I slept off till I heard.

“Oga night, don come. I wan close”. The woman said, I nodded my head and stood up, after which I left the shop, looking back to see if she had gone. After I was sure she had left, I went back, spread the carton, and continued my beauty sleep.

THIRD DAY.

I did the same routine of brushing my mouth, washing the vital parts of my body, and changing my shirt, but this time I added a tie. As early as 5 a.m., I was on my way to the cleaning company. I trekked and got there at exactly 7 o'clock. I stopped at the receptionist’s desk.

“Good morning! Is Madam around?”. I asked her. “Good morning! Yes, she is. In fact, she is even about to attend an important meeting, and she would be needing you.”. 

“Look who we have here." Madam immediately interrupted, smiling. “How are you, Ikemefuna?”. 

“Good morning, ma! I’m very well." I said, smiling. "Anyway,” she said, “you’d be joining me in my car... I have a very important meeting to attend on the  island." “Okay ma!”. I said. “Christie would give you some documents, collect them, and meet me outside." Madam said and walked out the door.

I stood behind Madam as the meeting progressed. Watching rich men and women laugh and speak “swe-swe-swe”. After the meeting, Madam took me to lunch; she said it was a date. The restaurant was classy and poised. I ordered spaghetti bolognese and grilled turkey, and Madam ordered salad and two bottles of champagne. 

“We eat healthy over here!”. She purred, laughing, and I joined in. She started off with how her first beauty company folded up and how depressed she was for over a year or more. She said a lot! And I watched her talk while savouring the tasty meal in front of me.

“I want you to marry me, Ikemefuna!”. Madam said this after a few minutes of silence. She didn’t even let the bomb settle completely; she picked it up again. “Look here, my love. I am a goal-getter, and if I see what I want, I go for it. You are a great guy, funny, you have a great sense of humour, you are peaceful, and that’s all that matters... You know, I went to that meeting today, and I discussed with those guys about my company. I intend to sell it off and travel back to the States, and I want you to come with me.”.

All the information was so unsettling and funny on my inside, but as soon as she said, “I am travelling back to the States, and I want you to come with me,” it hit me! It hit me so hard. My miracle!!!! 

My miracle is here! I’m getting married to an Oyibo; my ticket to America is ready.

Somebody shout Jesus!.

I cleared my throat and offered a small smile. “Umm… I don’t think this is a bad idea. I mean, from the very day I set my eyes on you, I just knew we were meant to be, but you were likely going to be my boss, and I didn’t want to be too forward, but I’m happy it all clicked.”.

“This is so amazing!”. She squealed, and I smiled so heartily. I was happy I was going to America. Madam asked if I had a passport, and when I told her no, she quickly made a few calls, and all I needed to do was come for capturing and biometrics, and kpakam, we would be off to Abakaliki to see my mother. That night, I called my guys Chike and Bolaji to tell them I was getting married to an Oyibo and I was travelling to the states. Shame had allowed me to call them in the past few months. I had nothing going for me, and they had everything going for them. So we weren't on the same pedestal and I didn't want anyone sympathizing or laughing at my jobless state.

Even when I told Suzie that I didn’t have shi-shi, She told me she had everything covered. I was going to introduce her to my mother, and I prayed Mama would like her.

FOURTH DAY.

Suzie’s Mercedes-Benz car pulled into our compound in Abakaliki. Mama was hanging clothes outside, and she stopped when she saw the car door open.

“Mama!!”. I exclaimed, going over to hug her. She hugged me back, but I could see clear confusion written all over her face. “Welcome back, Oko mi ! And who is this you brought along? How are you suddenly back from Lagos? Is everything alright?”.

“Mama! Everything is fine!”. I said, smiling. “This is Susu, my wife. Susu,  meet my mother.”.

The expression on mama's face equals a story for another day.

THE END.

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