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A wise man once said that there is a whiff of creativity in us all. Another postulated that there is good in us all. 

Me, I’m saying that there is madness in everybody and if care is not taken we go “off clothe waka for market ”. 

Let narrate my ordeal

Image result for lagos madness

Lagos exacerbates our madness, and I’ll use one of my recent experiences to explain.

Since I moved back to the mainland, I’ve been a confirmed baby-boy. Driving around Lagos in a borrowed car, staying alone in my low-budget apartment, generally avoiding Lagos drama and not having a stress in the world. Life could only get better.

However, like Satan who has a tripartite mandate to kill, steal and destroy-Lagos comes for you when you least expect it.

 One of those occasions was my POP at Iyana-Ipaja  😕

Firstly some context. Iyana-Ipaja is one of those areas that claim to be in Lagos but is actually located in Ibadan (no harm intended for my IB peeps, I love the red roof town dearly). The roads leading there are terrible and mostly overburdened, so traffic is the order of the day.  

The POP event was scheduled to start by 9 am, therefore with my wisdom and knowledge that only baby boys possess, I opted to leave my house by 10 am, so as not to be drawn into the abyss of snapping pictures and meeting people in my slave clothes(NYSC uniform).

So, I left my house by 10 am, which is ridiculously close to Jibowu, and boarded a bus. It took us more than 3 hrs 30 minutes to get to Iyana-Ipaja during which my friend that left for Kenya earlier in the morning called to tell me he just landed. We finally got to Iyana Ipaja and I saw all the people I was avoiding.

After standing under the hot sun for 3 hours I collected my certificate and immediately headed out of the camp.

At the exit of the camp, my spirit ministered to me telling not to dare take a bus, so I opted for a bike. I asked the first bike man if he could take me to Ikeja GRA, as I had a parcel to pick up from work, the man said no, but he will take me to where I can get another bike. I said alright no problem let’s go. He told me my fare is 100 Naira and started looking for another passenger for me to share the bike with. I said to myself  “ how will Lagos big boy like me be sharing bike because of 100”. I quickly told him to take-off, that I will pay for the two seats (How does a bike even have two seats)

He took off, drove for like 2 minutes and stopped. I asked why we are stopping, he said that we have arrived, I looked at him, he looked at me, I looked at him, he looked at me, eyeball to eyeball.

I said kai, “na me f*** up, something wey I for waka, na im this baga chop, well no Lele. All na hustle.”

I gave him the 200 naira and cursed at him in Dothraki. Graddakh!

Then my journey continued as I started searching for a bike to take me to Ikeja GRA, fortunately, or unfortunately, an eager Hausa chap bullied me into paying 1000 naira, I agreed, after all, if I drove my borrowed car, I would pay more for fuel.

I climbed his bike and the chap made a U-turn and brought me to the exact place that the previous  mad bike-man carried me from, I asked him if he missed the road, he said “no o, na the road be this”, by this time my eyes were bright red like the lips of those boys at computer village “shouting pink lips here”

Kai the thing pain me. At the end of it, all he dropped me safely at Ikeja GRA and I collected my parcel.

Little did I know that my day had just started and would only get worse.

Misery comes in twos… or is it threes?

At Ikeja GRA I picked my parcel and I started contemplating taking an Uber home, but the traffic situation was terrible and Google estimated that it will take me 2 hours to get home. For a journey that would normally take 13 minutes, truly the devil works for Ambode. To avoid the traffic, I said to my self why don’t you retrieve your ATM, eat a burger and see a movie. I thought deep and hard about this unbudgeted flex and it decided that it was good, after all, I just concluded my NYSC.

In my wisdom again, I took a bike from Isaac John to Maryland, which was pretty smart considering all the traffic indices.

Now the next phase was to get from Maryland bus stop to Maryland mall at Idi-iroko. Ideally, I’d have walked but the sun was still doing a competition on who shine pass with whichever celestial body it was competing with. So, opted to take a bus. For your information, a bus from Maryland to Idi-iroko is always 50 naira, never more, never less.

At the bus stop, one conductor caught my attention and I boarded his bus. They immediately took off and I gave him 200 anticipating 150 as change. Only for baba to give me 100 naira, I thought he was joking so I asked again for my change, baba said the fare is 100 naira. I didn’t know when I started shouting at the b****, see me shouting like his fellow conductors. When we got to bus-stop baba said I should come down, kai, my eyes red. 

All the mugus in the bus were looking at me, I didn’t know when I put my finger in my buttock and cursed the conductor that he will have an accident and his hand will shrivel and bend, I was just so pained. The bus drove on, and there I was standing by the road with my hands in my buttocks, sweating profusely looking like a mad Corper. And then it occurred to me.

I think am mad.

Please share, it won’t hurt one bit