People get robbed on their way back from an event. They get robbed in traffic. They get robbed by their nannies. They even get robbed at religious houses and weddings. People get robbed period. Yea, people…. Not Zibah. That changed today.
What I tell people happened
I had a buddy visit Lagos, I was occupied through most of his stay and by the last weekend of his visit my elusiveness had edged him into a maniacal frenzy and he was reduced to threatening my future wife with murder if I failed to make out time to hang out and catch up on things. I tried to get him to understand that I was now popular demand for desperate and lonely Nigerian newly divorced women and young oil heiress and thus could not make out time from my elaborate seduction scheme to ‘hang’ but he remained resolute to carry out murder in the future so I thought, what the heck, let’s do this.
Set day arrived and we were making our way to a popular bar and somehow got separated, no thanks to the volume of human traffic. Then I noticed a guy trailing me; scruffy, suspicious and generally looking like he needed several slaps. This was his undoing. I had my eyes on him so I was ready when he attempted to slip a hand into my pocket. Quick as lightening, I jabbed 2 fingers in the general direction of his kidney, as he bowled over in pain, I kneed him in his nuts on general principles. Straightening up, I noticed my mobile device crushed on the floor, the man probably succeeded in pulling it halfway out of my pocket and then a speeding commercial bike must have ran over it. It was just a phone that I bought barely 2 weeks ago. No big deal.
This version is properly tweaked based on the gullibility of my audience.
What really happened
Kenny was in town and insisted I followed him to see a mutual friend. Remember Kenny, the one whose cooking rewarded me with food poisoning? Anyway, I had wanted to decline. All day I had an unnerving feeling of wrongness and felt a potent desire to remain at home. I relayed this to Kenny only for the twit to resort to male bitchery and petty manipulations to get me to tag along and play third wheel with him and BBGF (his Big Butt Girlfriend). I agreed to do follow-follow and ignore my burgeoning skills at clairvoyance. This was my undoing. We got separated while navigating a particularly busy road and then
“guy why you take your bracelet scratch my hand” asked a gruff voice in pidgin English. He was dressed in a white Tee and jeans, he looked menacing
Me: Ah! Sorry
Gruff voice: if na another pesin I for carry am go station
Me: Ha! No vex, na accident sir
Gruff voice: You know…..
I attempted to find Kenny and BBGF by walking faster but gruff voice matched my pace and proceeded to distract me with threats. At this point I grew rather pissed and suspicious. I had erroneously assumed his target was the bulging wallet in my back pocket so when he bumped into me, I reached for it and lost my temper.
“ Don’t you friggin touch me again” I yelled in irritation. I had returned to speaking Queen’s English and thus solidifying my status as ‘mumu’ in his eyes..
I didn’t remember the Blackberry in my pocket till I took several steps and unconsciously felt for my phone….. NO PHONE. What!!!
“Chineke, my phone don loss” I yelled to no one in particular.
I tried to backtrack but the area was packed dense with humans; my assailant could be anywhere. I attempted to call my smartphone with the Nokia ‘dumbphone’ I had been clutching in my palm. No connection tone. Damn. At this point BBGF (big bum girlfriend) and Kenny finally found me. The glare I tossed his way said “hide yourself, your phone ( and your girlfriend- I didn’t communicate that through my eyes, just said it in my head) because I’m coming for you.
How I heard mama Zibah tell her friend it happened
Ah! Zib got robbed the other day. He was walking when 5 big men. Yes o! 5(repeating the number was probably to reinforce the gravity of the situation to her friend) surrounded him. They told him to lie down on the floor and took everything he had in BROAD DAYLIGHT. People were walking past but nobody offered any help. Can you believe this country, no security at all. Poor boy
Now you know the source of my remarkable story-telling skills, its genetic
How I like to imagine it happened
I noticed a man following me as I walked down the street. So he hadn’t accidentally brushed my side earlier, I thought. Interesting.
I acted cool and casually made a turn into a narrow and mostly-empty street. The would-be thief made the turn seconds later. This was his undoing. I grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and lifted him into the air.
‘Why are you following me’ I demanded.
“SPEAK!!” I growled through clenched teeth.
‘I…. I wanted your…”
“Speak up vermin”
“your ph… Phoneee. I was after your phone’
I was disgusted, he wasn’t worth my time. I tossed him into a corner and his inert form crumpled to the ground. On second thought, I withdrew my phone from my pocket and tossed it towards his direction then commanded thunder to strike his motionless form. The scene demanded I punctuate it with something that illustrates just how bad-ass I really am so I growled to the empty street “Don’t steal from the Zibah”. Having fed my ego, I turned away with a flourish and flew into the night leaving behind a properly roasted man and an electrocuted cell phone.
Ha! That right there is Oscar material.
In all scenarios, I lost my barely 2 weeks old phone and yes it pissed me off. For days, I saw the gruesome murder of my assailant in my dreams. I was angry with myself (and Kenny. This kind of blame must be shared, I’m thoughtful like that); If we hadn’t gotten separated, I won’t have been a target. If I had larger muscles and looked more like a thug, I won’t have seemed like easy picking. If I had configured a bomb with a small radius to go off in my phone when a password isn’t entered after 12 hours, I won’t have given the thief the satisfaction of enjoying his spoils. Ha! That look on the thief’s face when his head blows up…. Wait, he won’t have a face to make expressions with. Anyway, it will however impress you to know that weeks after the robbery and humiliation I tracked my cell phone to its ‘current user’, her name – Ibironke Am*****. She didn’t seem to give a rat’s ass or quake in fear when I told her the phone originally belonged to me- The Zibah and was stolen. Why didn’t she tremble at the mention of Zibah? This puzzled me greatly.
I eventually replaced my trusted qwerty with a touchscreen mobile device (currently bears title of World’s thinnest phone, guess? *geeky grin*) The autocorrect still drives me crazy but it’s a far sexier device than the blackberry.
Have you ever been robbed? Did you unleash Tai Chi on your assailants ass or you cowered in fear and pointed out to the thief the other phone in your bag he missed? Do share.
This post is dedicated to Mrs Ibironke whose ‘husband’ allegedly purchased a stolen phone, I have your cell number, I know your last place of employment and I now have a general idea of where you live. You have secured a spot on my official 2014 Shit List
Ps: I typed most of this post sitting in the toilet. Ain’t I awesome?