Apapa - The Journey

A good week to everybody! I sometimes wonder that I may have spoken too soon last week regarding keeping my joy. I have been tested sorely to know if I could really back up my claims I made regarding my sweet joy. I have had feuds with my friends especially my dear Ario who’s still not talking to me. Lola had yet another incident yesterday and is currently at the hospital (mechanic’s – beginning to wonder if I’m being scammed or not by these notoriously wily but short sighted fellows). It’s just one thing on top of the other, The most infuriating thing of all is that no one has lifted a finger to find my two hundred plus daughters who were kidnapped up north except for their parents, well wishers and foreign nationalities who till today are still ‘helping’ us wipe our smeared backsides in full view of the whole world; a case of the outsider actually grieving more than the bereaved. No matter, it’s of little consequence anyway; in a week’s time we’d have forgotten about the heartbreaking story of the hapless early teenage girls carted away far off north to fill violent men’s bellies, and have their bellies filled in return, and thank God it didn’t happen to us, until it does. Like I said before, I’ll vent my spleen, and then grab my joy back.

I had some real joy on Easter Monday last week when I went to visit the medium prisons at Kirikiri in Apapa, Lagos. A friend and colleague of mine, Evangelist Taylor, had invited me to join him in celebrating his 61st birthday at the Kirikiri maxim- sorry, medium prison which I curiously accepted but not without some angst. You see, the Apapa traffic is one I have a serious dread for. This is because being the main seaport of the country, the traffic, owing to the ubiquitous trailer-lorries laden with all kinds of goods, and their drivers who are a law unto themselves, routinely cause traffic snarls all over the place, adversely affecting businesses in the area. It is also important to point out that 70% of these trucks are forty years old or thereabouts, and as a result, are prone to breaking down all the time and consequently blocking traffic. Be foolhardy enough to vie for the right of way with them and you’ll be given a ‘crash’ course on the demerits of fighting with a forty year old truck: no brakes, 75% blind spot, ability to move only in a straight line as every attempt to turn even an inch to the left or right requires al the manual assistance of the driver’s mate, and above all, a very silly and stubborn driver! I say all this to say that I only dared go to Apapa because it was a public holiday and so I knew there would be no truck on the road.

I got to Apapa without incident and drove past very long rows of parked trucks until I realized too late I had made an inadvertent illegal turn at a market square – there were no road signs warning against this error. I only knew about the error from the menacing way the police and LASTMA officers came hulking towards my car, almost licking their lips in anticipation. They didn’t know that one whose buttocks have been stung by a soldier-ant is always cautious of where next he plants them. I leaned forward, my nose almost to the windscreen, grasping the steering wheel tightly with two hands, a fierce look of concentration on my face looking this way and that, as if trying to look for a familiar landmark, a look not unlike that of a sixty year old granny daring to pick her grandchildren from pre –school. I squinted my eyes and tried to look as stupid as possible as the officers pounded their fists at the car for me to stop. One of them even attempted to jump directly in my path but jumped back immediately when he seemed to realize that he might get crushed by this clueless driver who did not even seem to know his bearings. That was how I was saved from paying for some official’s child’s school fees for him.

I finally got to the prison gate and the rest of the incredible experiences I had there, are they not to be written in tomorrow’s conclusive post; this post being in the danger of being excessively long? Be sure to sign in tomorrow to read about Apapa – Kirikiri. In the meantime I leave you all to a glorious start to the week. Have a great day everyone!

Keeping My Joy

I really don’t know what the point of driving a new car in Lagos is any more! Good week everybody! I’m in a very good mood this day of our Lord. Why you may ask. Nothing I say, I just will myself to be in a very good mood because I have seen that it is the only way one can frustrate evil in this world. I know what I’m talking about. It’s as if no one has the right to be happy and content. When I’m done hurling lies at you, walk into your office or place of work and loudly announce how ecstatically happy you are. The first question you’d be asked is the source of your joy; is it the lottery, is it a new promotion, great night with the spouse? Say yes to the former and the evil demon invites itself in either of two ways: first, by your invitation. Everyone, feeling it’s their God given right to share in your good fortune, suddenly remembers how close you used to be and so cajoles or compels you to remember you owe them an obligation to share in your wealth in its entirety – until it is spent. Second, you say no. You’ll find out how one mouth can be more deadly than twenty thousand open graves – and that’s the nice ones. The not-so-nice-ones, well, put it this way. You would be well advised to relocate yourself, your family, aged parents from both sides and leave your belongings so they think you’re still coming back – a self imposed exile from your beloved community

Regarding the latter, the great night with the spouse, hmm, Frieda once told me that if ever the topic of our sex life were to come up among her female friends and her, she would lament my total lack of prowess – in equipment and in vigour – in bed. Laughing, I asked her why she would mock me thus to which she replied that when women see something good in their fellow woman’s possession, they don’t want one like it, they want that very thing that’s been tried and tested. To my mischievous nieces and nephew sneaking to read this piece, sex is after marriage and not before! Uncle Kalu was delirious while writing this piece! Office workers reading this know only full well the perils that come with announcing a new promotion too brashly – brandished daggers stabbing from all sides that would make Julius Caesar’s assassins’ humble with respect. Demons everywhere trying to steal your joy. Like I said before, I don’t know what the point of driving a new car in Lagos is any more.

My poor Lola has been bashed and nudged so many times that if all her nudges were to be likened to love trysts, she’d be branded promiscuous or a victim of abuse – which she is. One would simply look at the paint smudges left on her body and count how many lovers she’s had, and from their colours, racially profile them. In fact were I to go to a body shop to give her a paint job, her body would serve as my catalogue to pick one colour out of the many samples on her person. In Lagos traffic, if you don’t go looking for trouble, it will come looking for you: drivers who feel they’re smarter than everyone else and drive into, and block oncoming traffic, LASTMA officials waiting for whom to pounce on, dreaded police checkpoints lurking under desolate bridges, disillusioned people who, beset by society’s numerous pressures, suddenly walk out into the road to be mowed down by you. Thank God the era of street parties are over. Sometime in the past, while it was still in force, I have had it in my head to park near one of the odious parties, surreptitiously tie a rope to the furthest table to me at the other end, tie it to the back of my car, wait till the guests are served food and drinks, and drive off in the opposite direction. It just never ends.

In conclusion I have found that no one has the right to steal my joy no matter what. Being and staying joyful is my prerogative and no one else’s. If you hurt me or annoy me, I would simply take some time out, rant and rave, deal with the situation and mentally go back to my state of joyfulness; it’s all with good reason I tell you. What’s the point of venting your frustration from an earlier accident on an innocent acquaintance who may have the intention of introducing you to some lucrative deal, or you impatiently brush aside some youngster who has admired you all his/her life, scarring them forever? When I’m in Lagos traffic now, I’m very calm, I don’t fret. I simply toss my impatience out the window, reach into my joy and think all the thoughts I haven’t had time think about; what I’d do if I had a helicopter, what if a meteor came crashing down to earth, how best I should play this role or that, what would make a good story, why is the blacked out SUV in front of me bouncing up and down, are there empty bottles in this car should I need to ‘go’? Point is, a positive outcome can never be the offspring of a negative mind so guard your heart with all diligence for out of it flow the issues of life. Have a great week everybody