LAGOS……MY SORROW

WANT OUT

Ok, Lagos has got to get a grip. The level of suffering is appallingly appalling (Zibah is allowed to write this kinda English so back off). Recently, Lagos turned most of her inhabitants to Israelites, trekking long distances to their various Promised Lands with the not-so-recent ban of commercial motorcycles (Okadas).

I remember the day after the announcement (wasn’t aware of the development then cos I barely ever watch TV and my blackberry was having a fit even going as far as giving me the finger so no internet access); I was lugging my laptop on my back and heading towards my IT centre for tutorial classes. Poor naïve Zibah stood by the road and waved his arm in a fancy gentlemanly manner at every passing Okada rider. For some reason none of them made to stop or slow down; all I got were glares and puffs of smoke from their irritated motorcycle’s exhaust pipes as they sped off. I was mystified. When I go by public transport, I usually observe commercial bike riders falling over themselves to get passengers so what was with the attitude? I did a double check to ensure I did not have a “Please don’t pick me up” tag clipped to my shirt. No, no tag, I went on to check my fly (I’ve gone peek-a-boo unknowingly several times leaving my pebbles exposed to the gawking of evil eyes), everything checked out. After waving fruitlessly and standing for close to 20minutes under the angry glare of the Nigerian sun with drops of sweat sliding down my drenched back and backing a gradually obesing laptop (the sh*t seemed to be doubling in weight), I dropped all zibah-freshness and started yelling “OKADA, OKADA…..YOU DEY GO” (trust me; I too wasn’t aware I was fluent in Pidgin English *chuckles*). I ended up walking all the way to the centre as apparently none of them were prepared to ‘dey go’. Continue reading