Sunday, January 27, 2008

Double application for future oil allocations from NNPC and construction contracts from NDDC

Please check all of the boxes below, and also, do not forget to enclose a personal letter with this application form.

Do you have connection in high places? If yes, check the box most applicable to you. If no, do not bother continuing with this application

Minister
Governor
President
Senator

Do you like fun?

Yes
No
I don not know what fun is

If you have checked the box “I do not know what fun is”, do not bother continuing.

Do you like to travel?

Only in Nigeria
In Africa
Overseas

What kind of native material do you like?

Adire
Lace
Ankara
Brocade


What kind of food do you enjoy?

Chicken peri peri
Pepper soup
Pounded yam
Jollof rice


Dear Sir/Madam,

My name is Waffy Waffarian and I am an indigene of Delta State. I have recently been made aware that your establishments allocate contracts on a regular basis to citizens of the country. I have been informed that no prior experience in any sort of development work as in the case of NDDC, is necessary.

Since I am an indigene of the Niger Delta area, I am supposing that I might have a better chance of getting these contracts and oil allocations. Although I do not have any sort of connection in the government, I have written to Yaradua on several occasions and I am sure to get a reply from him, any day now. Also, I have experience in sleeping on leather couches, reading magazines and eating jollof rice, I am told, this might be a good attribute to have. I also like to wear native attire and in fact, I have just ordered the latest material from Ghana, so I will be a worthy ambassador of your good names.

Furthermore, I enjoy travelling to exotic places, visiting the best spas around the world, and have been known to enjoy a helicopter ride or two, thus making me a perfect candidate for future contracts and oil allocations.

P.S:I just want to bring to your attention the N17. 5 Million naira that is causing wahala in one of the western states. Something about a statue. Is that your money too?

Yours sincerely,
Waffy Waffarian

Sunday, January 20, 2008

Reform plan for Niger Delta

Make una siddon there dey look! Na so all of us here dey shake like leaf wey wind dey blow! Una never hear? Dem don carry mercenaries enter the matter! Oghene biko! Una dey there dey give us tory about Ridabu every day, meanwhile, all these MEND and counterparts dey do their own for here. As una no wan do anything, I take God beg una, make una give me chance, make I solve this wahala, I get my plans already.

Start building: I don’t care how much it costs, start the building of hospitals, schools, roads, hospitals, all at the same time, let things start happening. Look, if you think it’s too hard, leave it to me, one phone call, and in a month things will start rolling. Yes, that’s what you use the internet for.

Open an unemployment agency: You think this is funny? Where do you think we are going to get the manpower for all these buildings about to be put up? From our local boys and girls that’s who! And the name self, dey “sweet”, e come be like serious matter.

Sports hall: Let every community have a sports hall. Yes, for basket ball, table tennis, volley ball and all those other sports our P.E. teachers teach us “theory” about. We have enough talents in that area, you need coaches? Leave that to me, one e-mail, and I will get you the best coaches from the former U.S.S.R. Considering the fact say most of us dey swim before we even begin waka, I have never understood why Nigeria has not made it to international swimming competitions. I can bet you, that Ufuoma my childhood friend will “overtake” any of those Australian wonders.

Cinemas: Yes, we love nollywood. See us laughing and we will forget all those serious issues threatening to drown us. Na for cinema we go siddon everyday.

Arts and performance schools: If you have not noticed, we waffarians have a talent in the arts sector. We can make you roll on the floor with laughter at any given time of the day. Let us tap into this, na natural resource.

Fishing industry: Wetin dey do una self? Una no know say many countries dey survive solely on fishing? Make I tell una one secret, una go laugh: You know that kain rubber fish wey hard , wey poor people dey chop for dis country, una know say una dey import am? I don talk about this particular matter reach.

Tourism: Look, if you see our fine fine creeks and water ways for here, (the ones wey Shell never pollute), na so I dey watch discovery planet, if you see as tourists just dey praise all the creeks dem…I come vex, cos our own fine pass all those Asian people own dem! The thing vex me. After all, we have the best rain forest in Africa, green, lush, beautiful, if they could only see it, they will understand.

Night life: We need discos, clubs, bars, places where the people can sit and relax and enjoy themselves after a hard day’s work. You all have them in Lagos and Abuja, why can’t we have them here? I am telling you, we have nothing here. What do you expect the young and restless to do after 7 o’clock? They can’t watch TV anyway, there is no light.

Palm oil and Garri: Okay, I know a lot of people think Ijebu garri is of high quality, but ask any southerner, yellow garri is the best for eba. Ijebu garri is the best for “soaking”, any child that went to boarding house will tell you that! Anyway, all our palm oil making “refineries” are down. We need to empower that sector, let’s use what we have.

Give all MEND members enough money and scholarships to live abroad. Yes, we shall pay, name the country and the school or vocation you have chosen, we have the money, we will send you anywhere. I suggest Australia or New Zealand; they have a history of accepting criminals.

Anyway, as una see, I get my own plan, where una own? Una own na to form committee every day, Abeg, Presido, halla at me, make I solve dis matter. You can reach me on waffywaffarian@yahoo.com

P.S: I have many more ideas for our people, no consultation fees required.

Friday, January 11, 2008

Welcome to Hotel Kaduna

Welcome to the hotel Kaduna,
Such a lovely place, such a lovely face
Plenty of room at the hotel Kaduna
Anytime of the year, you can find it here…..

I can’t get that song out of my head. Ever since Layabout came back from Abuja…you all remember him don’t you? He moved to Abuja to become a masseuse during the days of Madam Etteh when being a masseuse was fashionable. Well, he has since returned. He says Abuja weather does not agree with him and he missed Banga soup too much. Anyway, he says he is now moving to Kaduna, he heard there is a prison there that is like a five star hotel. According to him, this prison has electricity, 24 hours a day, and when the electricity fails, they put on a generator. Imagine! Have you ever heard of such a thing in Nigeria? They even have cable TV! Don’t start gaping just yet; you have not heard the best part. He says if you become an inmate of the prison, it is obligatory for the prison to throw regular parties for you and your friends at least twice a week. My people! You know, I used to be very suspicious of Layabout’s yarns, I thought he was the one insane, but anything can happen in this country.

Why can’t a prison be a five star hotel? Everything in this country has no logic; cows graze on runways, highways are lakes, lakes are rubbish dumps, rubbish dumps are restaurants. Abeg, anything can be anything; our only limit is our imagination.
Our policemen/women are beggars; retired civil servants are beggars, teachers, beggars, handicapped, beggars. In fact, come to think of it, in one way or the other, we have all become beggars. Constantly begging for one thing or the other. If we are not begging for light, it is for water or some other basic amenity. Yes, I dare say, a prison being a five star hotel makes perfect sense in this insane world we live in.

However, before you all go rushing off to Kaduna, there is a small catch in the matter. Do not think stealing “bonga fish” will give you admittance in this high class establishment, na only if you hold “Gold card” for serious theft, dem go even look ya face. Well, I hope Layabout makes it this time, I wish him all the best although I cannot imagine him being successful in crime. As for me, I am left here, singing this dreadful song that will not just go away!


On a dark desert highway,
Warm smell of suya, rising up through the air
Up ahead in the distance, I saw a shimmering light
My head grew heavy and my sight grew dimmer
I had to stop for the night

Welcome to the hotel Kaduna,
Such a lovely place, such a lovely face
They are living it up at the hotel Kaduna
What a nice surprise, bring your alibis….

waffywaffarian@yahoo.com

Monday, January 7, 2008

Nylon bags

The wretched nylon bags!

I have been having sleepless nights, no; it is not the flesh eating demons of our roads that have been chasing me but “nylon bags” as we say in Warri. I don’t know why Lagosians always laugh when I say “nylon bag”, for your information, it is more ridiculous to call it “paper bag” or “water proof”. In my dream, they were flying everywhere, different shapes and colors, entangling me in a web. I woke up sweating and almost had a heart attack when I saw that one had blown in through the window. It is not only nylon bags that have been chasing me but empty plastic bottles, banana peels, “pure water” sachets, brown pieces of cardboard boxes, orange peels....

I don’t know how you all sleep at night, how do you pass overflowing gutters in your neighborhood and not have nightmares about it? The last time I went past one, I had a terrible nightmare, but I won’t bore you all with that now. I have been thinking…do you think our President is aware of the takeover by those wretched nylon bags? In my mind, I really do believe they are planning a takeover, really, they are everywhere, on the sides of roads, on roof tops, stuck in tires, in the gutters, hanging on trees, especially the black ones. Where do they all come from? Okay, I know people throw them away, but why on earth are they everywhere? Are they not all supposed to be in a refuse dump somewhere? I mean, let’s look at the normal order of used products, you use them, then you put them in a bin, (dust bin) and then, somebody collects them and they mysteriously disappear, recycled, or ends up an incinerator or perhaps used in a compost pit? That’s the logic right? I am sure there is a government agency whose job it is to clean up all this mess, or is there?

It is a mystery I tell you and one that I must get to the bottom of!
The only way to find out for sure is to go to Aso rock and see who collects their refuse. I am sure our President who loves the “rule of law” will certainly not stand for any sort of hanky-panky. His rubbish, I am sure, must be deposited in a bin, which in turn is collected by a special government or non government agency (it is this particular link we are trying to find) and then, burnt in an incinerator somewhere in Abuja. The only problem is that I am not willing to risk my life in vain on our roads to get to Abuja, that is why, I am beseeching the President, to please send us the name of the agency responsible so that I can get in contact with them, or even better, if he could tell me the exact time when his own garbage is being collected so I can waylay them. It is very important that I get in touch with them as soon as possible; my doctor says these nightmares are not good for my health.

N.B: Please, I‘d like to just say, to the governor of Yobe state that donated 1,6 million and 28 bags of “assorted/multi grains” to the families of auto crash victims, may the almighty God bless you for your generosity and seeing you are in such a generous spirit, perhaps you might take it upon yourself and your administration to repair the roads as well, thus avoiding such accidents in the future. Did I hear a yes? We thank God.

Waffy Awards 2007

By Waffy Waffarian


Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, to the first annual waffy awards where Nigerian people and places are awarded for their contributions to different areas of entertainment. Before we proceed, I’d like to say that all nominees were voted by a panel of expert judges and after much deliberation arrived at a winner. The awards cannot be contested and all forms of complaint will not be looked into, although suggestions will be taken into consideration.

BEST ACTION SEQUENCE 2007

Nominees:
1) Niger Delta
2) House of Assembly
3) Ondo state

And the winner is Niger Delta! Ah! All the kidnappings of white men here and there, speed boats appearing from nowhere, oil explosions, all mixed up with espionage, guns and serious money. Ondo state was a close runner up with area boys taking over politics in true Al Capone style, but the fact that Niger Delta made it to CNN,( washing our dirty laundry like that in public!) not even Delta TV…abeg, una win hands down.

BEST DRAMA SEQUENCE 2007

Nominees:
1) James Ibori
2) Niger Delta
3) Murtala Nyako and his four wives
4)Madam Etteh

And the winner is Ibori! Okay, I know, you are all thinking Madam Etteh should have won, but let’s not forget that the Ibori show is still on, with market women baring their breasts, elders making fools of themselves, different groups constantly embarrassing the good people of Delta State, this drama has just begun. Ibori wins this award for evading the “rule of law” in a lavish and nonchalant style that can only be found in Spanish soap operas, he wins. Please, I implore people not to bare breasts or make threats; next year is another year, na turn by turn.


BEST COMEDY SEQUENCE 2007

1) Orji Kalu on BBC
2) House of Assembly

Without much deliberation, the winner is of course the House of Assembly, although Orji Kalu was certainly up there, his performance on hard talk is one that even our waffy comedian “I go die” could not rival. In fact, that is a good Christmas present, one to get your “ribs cracking” as we say in the comedy world. The House of assembly wins this prestigious award for showing that old men, fathers can still be active in the entertainment sector. I mean, it is no secret that those big agbadas prevent them from doing their jobs, but who would have thought that they could put on boxing matches with such clothing? It was delightful! Now that’s what I call true comedy!

So there you have it, my people, the year has come and gone, but we the people, are still here. That is why the last award, COURAGE IN THE FACE OF ADVERSITY goes to us, the people of Nigeria, for showing courage and tenacity in the face of all the action, drama and comedy. Good luck my people, next year is a new year, and that too, we shall survive. Happy New Year.

waffywaffarian@yahoo.com

10 musts for a Naija Christmas

By Waffy Waffarian

1)Christmas rice: Must we eat rice at Christmas? What is so special about Christmas rice? Is it not the same party rice we are subjected to at weddings, birthdays and every other occasion? Actually I won’t mind eba on Christmas day, hot eba and ogbono soup, please if anybody is serving this on Christmas day, invite me.

2)Church: I cannot tell you how amusing it is for me to watch the whole neighborhood dress up in their best clothes, all that heavy lace, George, Ankara, haaaaaaaa, so you mean they have been hiding all these beautiful clothes? Where did they get them from? Take for example, mama Rukevwe the road side seller, she has transformed, her usual scanty hair is now full with “Bob Marley”. I just wonder, why did she not do this all year round?

3)Village: All these village travels, the village has been there the whole year, why must everyone now rush home like there is no tomorrow? Especially with our poor roads overwhelmed with all the “EkenediliChukwu buses”…..by the way, is it true that those buses have toilets and u can watch films on board? If anybody has travelled with one of those mighty monsters, get in touch, I’d like to know.

4)Father Christmas: Our father Christmas, poor men, they have to sweat in those horrible itchy costumes and give a way plastic toys to crying children writhing in their mother’s arms as if possessed by the devil…a nice contraction don’t you think? All the kids having epileptic seizures at the sight of the man in long cotton wool beard and red horrible clothes. Of course they are scared, after watching all those Nollywood films, what do you expect? When I was a child, I thought Father Christmas was “willy willy”.

5)Christmas goat: A sign of prosperity…everybody knows who bought a goat, we can all see it, tied with a rope right beside their house….we all know who has enough money this Christmas, just one goat, and your status in the neighborhood is well taken care of for the rest of the year. Who knew an ordinary goat could play such an important role in the society? Imagine a goat, determining the “who is who” in society, quite amazing don’t you think?

6)Christmas returnees: The Americanas, the Amsterdam boys, the jand bobos, this Christmas will be hot in Warri. I heard there will be serious oppression this time around. The cars have already been rolling in; from different ports. It will not be easy. If you are single this year, Warri is the place to be, our boys are giving those Lagosians a run for their money.

7)Accidents: I do not want to destroy the Christmas spirit, but this is our own Christmas myth. Everybody thinks the forces of darkness step up their game at this time of the year. Not so my people, our roads are too bad, and with the amount of vehicles travelling to the villages, it is inevitable that there will be an increase in the number of accidents.

8)Christmas television: This is an open request to all TV stations to stop bombarding us with Jesus of Nazareth part 1-3, church services, and variety shows. Please try and be innovative this year, show something else, we have all repented; we repent every hour on the hour. There are no sinners left, except in Abuja.

9)Christmas hampers: The receiving and giving away of Christmas “hampers” with the ever present bottle of groundnut and Eva wine/ fruit juice. I do not know where this hamper business originated from, but I do not like it. All the “hampers” being given to big men. As if they need it! By the way, what did our dear boxing champions in the house of assembly get this year? I am sure they will live up to their reputation and pamper themselves with very special hampers flown in from one country or the other.

10)Christmas visitors: Whole families, parents all dressed up in matching clothes, young boys in vests, little girls in “cork shoes”. This must be my favorite part of Christmas. You never know who might show up, a neighbor, your former teacher, a former neighbor, an old class mate, an old work mate. Expect anybody; Christmas day is the official “drop-in” day!

waffywaffarian@yahoo.com

Market

My people, today, we shall be visiting our nearby market, I know all these big men and women don’t do their own shopping anymore, so I have decided to give them a firsthand account, I am sure, they will all enjoy our trip. Let’s, see, there’s the bus, we are on our way!

1hr later

Chineke! This is madness, it is market day, there are people, birds in cages, hawkers shouting at the top of their lungs, children and mothers, okada men and baskets of tomatoes, and wait...FILTH! It is everywhere, the gutters are overflowing, it is disgusting, pollution from vehicles nearby...no, I must be in the wrong place, can this be the market? Isn’t food supposed to be sold in a clean environment? I really hope all I have been eating did not come from here, I’ll have to ask my mother afterwards, because, this is just madness. Well, we are here now, let’s look at our list...hmmmm, meat, where is the meat section? Oh Lord! There it is, meat everywhere, sweaty men chopping away, and what the...Jesus on a bicycle! The machetes are so rusty! I can’t buy from him, I’ll die of food poisoning, no, let’s move on, ah, look, there’s a woman, she looks clean enough…. Ehhhh, is she using her bare hands to touch the meat? And some other customers too, there are just touching the meat with their hands, just like that? Have they never heard of bacteria? And look! There are thousands of flies, they are everywhere! No, I can’t buy here, I cannot. I refuse to buy bacteria infested meat. I have to call my mother, it is impossible....

“Hello, mummy, there is a mighty problem”

“What is it? Hurry up”

“The meat section....ehhhhh is there anywhere we can buy meat from a refrigerator?

“Look, that joke is too dry, what is the problem?”

“Ehhhh, I am not joking...The meat...they are just there like that, bacteria everywhere, and under the hot sun!”

“Is that why you called me? Don’t worry, we will pre- boil, and then boil, and then we will fry it. By the time we finish with it, there will be no bacteria left”

This is crazy. Food being kept like that, and under the hot sun too! And look at those birds in the cages. How can they survive all cramped up like that? I know what I’ll do, these people have been getting away with this for too long. I’ll call in the health inspectors, I’ll write a report, I am sure the government will take care of this mess in no time, especially that man with the rusty machete, something has to be done...Oh wait, a phone call...

“Hello?”

“Yes, waffy, it is mummy, before you think of going to the commissioner of health or doing any of your crazy ideas, just bring my meat home, you hear?”

“But I can submit it for evidence, in case the health people want to test it, I am sure they will find at least a hundred different kinds of bacteria in it”

“Don’t worry, we’ll send it from here, enter Okada and come home”

Well my people, I hope you enjoyed our trip to the market, I can assure you that this will be my last time in this disgusting place, now I understand why all those big people never come to these areas, it must be the filth. I don’t blame them, the sight is very disturbing.

P.S: Just in case Emma (I dey hail oh! Ehen!) reads this, could you please visit P.T.I road (Effurun)? They said they are fixing the road but I have a slight suspicion that a bomb was used in the process. The whole place looks like a scene from World War 2. That can’t be right, even if you are repairing roads; some sort of sanity has to be maintained. You might want to check that out, and while you are at it, please do something about the market (I am sure a Doctor like you will be appalled when you see the health risks) really, it is too bad.

P.S.S: When approaching the market (also in Effurun), you might want to use Okada as the road there is too narrow and will definitely not support an arcade of your vehicles. In fact, just call me when you reach P.T.I roundabout, my uncle has an Okada, maybe we can get him to give you a free ride, but I am not promising anything

Irreplaceable

“Waffy! You get phone call oh! Na layabout, from Abuja!”

“Hello, Layabout, where you dey?”

“Sista, I don land Abuja”

"wetin dey happen?”

"I wan become massager”

"Massager? Wetin be dat? Ah! Okay, you mean masseuse! Why now?”

“Na the new profession for Abuja. Everybody wan be massager. Dem say dat woman, wey dey share rice and ram, dem say, she don order plenty equipment for massage reach this side, so everybody here, we dey go learn massage work, so wey equipment land, she go employ us join”

“So na dat side you go stay? Good luck, no forget us for this side oh!”
“ No wahala sista, I go land for Christmas”

It is very unlikely that Layabout with his lean hungry face will be employed as a “massager”, but I did not want to spoil his day. It is good he is learning a new vocation, much better than sitting on fences and spreading idle gossip. At least all that gym and massage equipment will be fully utilized, I am certain of it. Come to think of it, that woman might just be a genius. I am almost 100% sure that she ordered all that stuff for one of the following reasons:

1) To make employment opportunities for our young people in the society. There is a serious lack of masseuses in this country. Honestly, after all the hard work our ministers, governors, senators put in, they really need all those muscles relaxed. Especially all the hard working men in the House of Representatives (don’t forget all the extra time they put in for the compulsory “choir practice” and “P.E” exercises)

2) To “beef up” our police force. Honestly! Those people need to pump themselves up. It is no wonder there is so much crime, our police men, they are so skinny, hungry looking, perhaps, that’s why she ordered those equipment? Ah! What a thoughtful woman! All our men and women of the police force will be well trained and in perfect condition, ready to chase and even “overtake” fleeing suspects.

3) To encourage the garri making women in Delta State. To make garri requires a lot of muscles, and I heard madam was especially sensitive to the plight of our women, so this kind of gesture would not have been out of the ordinary.

4) To encourage “wellness” in the House of Representatives. Heart disease and obesity is on the rise in this country, not here in Warri of course, we are all hungry, but I have seen TV, those men, their agbadas hide a lot of weight underneath. Perhaps it is their health she is concerned about? What a caring woman! You know she is a beautician? It must be heart wrenching for her to see her work mates in their present shapes. Poor woman! That’s why she ordered all that gym equipment to whip them all into shape!

5) To donate everything to schools all over the country! Imagine the joy of physical education teachers; finally, they would be able to make sports men and women out of our youth! This could be a beginning, a journey to big things, like Olympics.
Could it be that Madam is that wise? She had such noble thoughts? What a brain! Being able to see how such equipment can better this country! Oh! What glory and honor for all Nigerians!

P.S: If I may, I‘d like to suggest to our president that madam might be more fitted to be the minister of health, her talents are wasted as speaker. Just a thought, while eating your fura de nunu and all that stuff, (I personally will recommend banga soup and starch, very nutritious and contains the key nutrients required in your daily diet) you might want to think about it.

P.S.S: Imagine those Warri children! I heard them singing that Beyonce’s song Irreplaceable, and these were the lyrics they were singing, how can they spoil such a beautiful song?

To the left, to the left
Everything you own in a Ghana must go to the left
In this house, that’s our right
Yes, if I voted, madam please go
And keep talking that mess, that’s fine
But could you walk and talk at the same time?
And it’s my right as a Nigerian
Abeg, move your bags jare, let me call you okada

Standing in the house of reps, telling us
How we are such fools, talking about
How we’ll never find a woman like you?
You’re irreplaceable?

You must not know ‘bout us
You must not know ‘bout us
We could have another you in a minute
Matter of fact, she’ll be here in a minute (madam)

So come and be going jo!
Call up that salon and see if they need extra help
Ooops! I bet you thought we didn’t know
What did you think we are packing you out for?
Because you was a yahooze
Rolling around in the house that we bought you
Abeg, drop them keys
Hurry up before your okada leaves

To the left, to the left
To the left to the left

Everything you own in a Ghana must go to the left
To the left to the left
Don’t you ever for a second get to thinking
You’re irreplaceable?

Special wedding brigade

It all started on my way back to Ikeja, I was in high spirits, life was looking good, and the traffic was at least bearable, even though I had already been irritated by the small inconvenience of the “telephone card boy” running off with my 50 naira change! I would have chased after him, in fact, I am quite sure I would have caught him, after all, I used to be known for my agility those days in secondary school. Anyway, nobody explained the cardinal rule when buying from street vendors from a car window which is “get your change first”, so I gave him the money first, and off the guy goes like a gazelle! (this was at the roundabout at salvation road, he was about 5 foot tall, dark in complexion with tribal marks running down both sides of his face, he also had one of those yellow vests with a religious slogan on it, just in case).

I get to Ikeja and what do I see? My people, if I tell you, you won’t believe the sight that met my eyes. I was amazed; I never knew Nigeria had such a special force! All young men, police men, in special gear with dogs! Dogs! Rottweiler, German Shepherds, I was dumbfounded, I thought I was in one of those action movies, I kept expecting to see “Rambo”, in fact, if Arnold Schwarzenegger had appeared, I would not have been surprised. I really thought they were shooting a movie. They were all so clean and fresh, lined up by the side of the street with their dogs. It was a long line I tell you, and as usual, I just had to find out what was happening, perhaps all the presidents of the African Union were having a meeting somewhere in the vicinity? Imagine! Discussing the different ways on how to end the Darfur conflict, the meeting must be here, somewhere, perhaps at the Sheraton? But there goes my fantasy again, it might not be our African leaders, perhaps the governor is inspecting the police and its resources in fighting crime? Ahhhhhhhh that must be it! Our uniformed men and women, the best we have to offer, showing their skills in crime prevention? This is so exciting! Things are happening in this country and I am here, at the right place, seeing history happen, well, let us ask, see what is happening, then we can celebrate....

Waffarian: na wa oh, see as you just dey shine anyhow!

Policeman with dog:......

Waffarian: ah ah! I dey hail una oh! Anyway, bros, wetin dey happen? Na meeting?

Policeman with dog :.....(mumbles something)

Waffarian: what did you say? I did not catch that...is there a meeting somewhere around?

This man is clearly not feeling comfortable about his job, his head is bent, and he is mumbling....

Waffarian: speak up na! I no hear wetin u talk, na meeting?

Policeman with dog: na wedding

Wedding? This is quite strange, I have to find out more about this, you mean Nigeria has a special squad for weddings? Perhaps they have a special name, like “Nigerian Wedding brigade”, motto: “ensure smooth passage for the wedding train”, something like that, I guess, although I don’t know if other countries have a special wedding brigade, it must be a new concept, perhaps it comes in a package? “Includes flowers flown from South Africa and special wedding brigade”. How much does it cost I wonder? Do they do naming ceremonies as well? I have to ask; perhaps you can even get a discount if you order on time.

Needless to say, I spent the whole afternoon watching the special brigade, even though the officers did not seem so happy to answer my questions, I’ll have to write to their superiors about that, the special wedding brigade must always have a smile on their faces, after all, no be wedding?

Thank you Nigeria

Thank you, Nigeria.

Thank you, my great country, Nigeria.

Thank you for allowing the public to participate in the elections; we would have felt left out otherwise, for this, we are eternally grateful. We are also forever grateful to you for showing us how democracy can be used as a tool in providing our area boys and touts with useful employment. Without these dear boys in politics, we would never have known their hidden talents.

Thank you for teaching all waffarians to be appreciative of our very own “okere market” which runs smoothly and orderly compared to the House of Representatives. Without that wonderful show you gave us, we would never have known what a gem we have in our own back yard.

Thank you for enabling all waffarians appreciate our military, without military presence in our lands, we would never have been able to appreciate the beauty of our military uniforms which I must say our young men wear with style.

Thank you for allowing our roads to become eroded craters, we would never have truly appreciated what patience means.

Thank you for not giving us light, we can now enjoy the true meaning of romantic evenings with candle light.

Thank you for showing us what our money is doing in Abuja, it gives us hope for our state, that one day, if we really try hard enough, we just might be able to make it.

Thank you for allowing for our wonderful green passport, without it, we would never know what it means to have the full attention of customs officers worldwide.
Thank you for allowing foreign embassies to treat us as criminals, we would never have appreciated the full meaning of going abroad.

love from Warri

It was a cool evening in Warri, there was no light as usual and nothing seemed to be happening, the latest echo of gun shots had already faded away and the nearby church had not yet started their customary night vigil songs. I was bored so I decided to take my usual spot by the window and observe the going ons of my fellow waffarians. I soon noticed a man on a bike that stopped right in front of my home; he was talking to another man....

“How you dey?”

“long time oh”

“any better?”

“ssssssssssssssss, where you!”

Much to my astonishment, the man was looking straight at me, the signal was for me.

“Sir?”

“abeg, bring two tumblers there”

Although I could not imagine why I would give tumblers to strangers that I have never met before, the waffarian in me jumped to his command without once questioning the total lack of etiquette displayed by my fellow countrymen. Needless to say, I gave them two “tumblers”, and much to my astonishment, they proceeded to start drinking ogogoro(where the ogogoro materialized from, I cannot say, I am assuming he had it in his “French suit pocket”)and chat about old times right in front of my home. Their conversation soon bored me though and I headed towards the junction which can always be counted upon to produce enough action. A little girl stood by the roadside; she could not have been up to two years old and seemed to move with a speed very abnormal for a child that age. One can only begin to wonder how many children around the world are forced to grow up faster than they should due to circumstances. I noticed that nobody seemed to be in care of the little one, I started asking around....

Me: See as you leave your pikin for road anyhow!

Nearby newspaper man: sista, no be my pikin oh!

Me: which person pikin be dis? If car jam am nko?

Nearby newspaper man: Ah, car no fit jam dis one na, u know see as she don dey waka already?

The little girl seemed to know the area well, going around the huge craters by the side of the road and expertly dodging the mad okada drivers coming from the opposite direction. I sat with other busy bodies on a bench and decided to wait for the mother or whoever was in charge of the child. The little girl soon got tired of the road and proceeded to sit on the ground, beside the bench. A girl in a nearby store soon appeared, going over to the little child, she roughly nudged the child with the balls of her feet

“oya, fight me na,”

The child looked up at her and pushed the feet away....

“you no wan fight? Oya make we go chop”

The girl in the store was not in any way related to the little girl but had decided to share her food and take care of her until the mother showed up. It’s no wonder the small girl was a tough cookie, everybody around her seemed to be preparing her for a tough world. The girl’s mother never appeared while I sat there, but I met Monday, a man who I had known since childhood.

“Ah Uncle Monday wetin dey happen?”

“No work oh, my sista, you know say my white man don comot warri ,e be wan fix me job with another white man for Port-harcourt but my sista, I don work for white man all my life, abeg, I don tire to work for whiteman, I don tire”.

I left the little girl and uncle Monday at the junction, leaving them to the fate of a city that is worn out and tired. As for me, I crept into bed with the familiar sounds of Christian songs and gun shots in the air. Na so life be.

Waltzing through pain (2)

Another adventure, it’s not as if the last adventure from warri to lagos was not enough, believe me, it was enough to last me for years, but my people, you know the situation in this country, one has to be able to face unexpected challenges. Thus, I had another opportunity to travel by road, this time to Warri.
It is 6’o clock in the morning and I am in high spirits, but………what is this? Is it raining? Oh Lord, rain in Lagos can only mean one thing: CHAOS. Not to worry, I know the drill now, cars in Nigeria all swim; they go against the law of nature so no problem.

8 o'clock

Lord have mercy, I am still on the way, the traffic is terrible, I cannot bear it, time to abort mission, really, the roads are too terrible, I ll soon start eating my fingers out of desperation, wait why are people still smiling? Do they not see what I see? Why is that guy still hawking in the rain? I really should stop and tell him about pneumonia...is that possible in Nigeria,to catch pneumonia? I should find out, ah ah! What is wrong with these people? Can’t they see we are all in the same boat here? Why are they blowing sirens and flogging cars? Where dem want make we shift go? Ah ah! Even a mad man can see that this is not a time for “sirens”, hissssssssss

9’oclock

Let’s try “greener line” this time around, their park seems so busy....Good, there are seats to Lagos, very good, I and my fellow traveler (who on this occasion we shall name “aproko”) get seats in the middle. Now, let us see the characters of our fellow travelers. Behind me are two pastors, I shall name them Peter and Paul for easy identification, beside them, a thick market woman, on the last row, four business men, all on the way to warri to sell or deliver products, I could not quite figure that out. Beside the driver, a young woman who has decided on this morning to kill us with the smell of “kessingsheen” in her hair. Let us call her “kessingsheen”, and beside her, an old gentle man. Now, to our driver, who I must say proved to be the lead character on this journey, I will call him “Koboko” head, (only because throughout the journey, I had to physically restrain myself from knocking his head with “koboko”).

And now, let the journey begin......

What is this ? A church person is going to start us off with prayers, good, one really needs prayers on these roads, infact, he should do a serious scripture confession, I want prayer warriors, holy water, holy oil....oh, he’s about to start....hmmmmm, this man na wah oh, his prayers are serious, wait oh! Did he just say “flesh eating demons” ah! Abeg, this prayer don dey fear me, which one be flesh eating demon again? , honestly, this is too much, now he is praying against the “blood sucking demons” on the road. I need to talk to this young man, set him straight, the “blood sucking and flesh eating demon” is the road. He should not be fooled, really, but no problem, he is doing this for free, out of the goodness of his heart…………ah, is he asking for money? I thought the prayer was for free? Anyway, here is 20 naira, after all that “flesh eating and bloodsucking” talk; I now doubt the capability of the young man.

4hours later
Ah, sleep is good in times like this, I am sure we are almost at Benin now, beautiful.....ehhhhhhh, No way! Somebody shoot me, excuse me. Where are we?

Koboko head: Na ore road we dey.

What do you mean Ore road? I can recognize Ore road when I see it, this is not Ore road, what is wrong with this man?

“Driver, this no be Ore road oh! No be this road we dey pass those days wey I dey go secondary school”,

Koboko head: “Ehn, this one na “old ore road” n aim we dey use now. “
Ah! I don’t get it, why will anyone choose to use a muddy, bumpy “forest trail” when we have a federal road that is tarred? This whole thing is not making sense to me.

“But driver, you mean the “real” road is worse than this road that has never been tarred?”

The man is not even responding anymore, he is now haggling with the village youths who have now used this opportunity to put their own “homemade” gate, consisting of a huge log of wood, across the muddy road. I am told this is a “toll gate”. I am speechless, I have nothing to say, the driver is busy haggling with the self appointed toll gate workers while I observe the thriving business (hawking) going on all around me.

2hours later

We have not left “old ore road”, we are now at the second “toll gate”, the workers here are younger, restless and more determined that the first toll gate workers.

1 hour later
We have still not left “old ore road”, we are now at the third “toll gate”, the workers here are older, I do not think they are part of the village youth association, I think they are the touts of the village. Peter and Paul draw my attention to the smell of “igbo” all around us. This toll gate seems to be the “bubbling” one, the guys are in high spirits, drinking and smoking, they seem to be having a good time, at the expense of Koboko head that has now launched into a tirade of curses in Yoruba.
Koboko head has proven himself to be a mad man. I think he escaped from Yaba, with all the pot holes and eroded craters, he drives as if he is on one of the best highways in the world. His talent is wasted on old ore road, he should be on formula one, I am sure he will give Schumacher a run for his money. I have pleaded, begged, admonished but Koboko head is bent on delivering us all personally to the flesh eating and bloodsucking demons. The rest travelers seem to be all scared of koboko head. Peter and Paul are quiet apart from mumbling “Jehovah jireh” and “elshadah” after every single morsel of food chewed and swallowed. Aproko is sleeping apart from raising up her head once in a while and saying “this driver!” or complaining about the chewing sounds of peter and Paul. The travelers on the last row are conversing in Yoruba with the market woman. Kessingsheen is bent on distracting koboko head with her little flirty looks, I am very worried about this, the last thing koboko head needs, is to be distracted. I’ll be watching this development closely. The old gentle man, I have no idea what he is doing, he must be in pain though, because the smell from kessingsheen’s hair must be pure torture.

4 o’clock

My people, that I am still alive today to write this story is a miracle. I have come to the conclusion that “driving from lagos to warri” should be added as a course in our driving schools (by the way, do people still learn how to drive?). All drivers of the “lines”, edo, delta, agofure, greener, edosa, and others too many to mention, all have a special language which we mere mortals cannot decipher. For example

Koboko head: Straight dey good?

Other driver: Ehn, straight good, use other side but na straight u go use enter.
(if anybody can make head or tail of this conversation, do not hesitate to write me)

At this point in time, we are now on a road called “paradise” road. As the old gentleman remarked, that name should be renamed “hell”, there was nothing remotely heavenly about that road. It was pure chaos. So much so, that a civilian who was immediately named “general”, took it upon himself to co ordinate traffic. The general did a good job but much to my astonishment there were about 6 policemen not less than 500 meters away, on the road. I am sure they had no idea about the chaos that was transpiring just down the road, I was going to inform them but then I saw the inscription on their vehicle, it said, “Operation clean”. They must have been on a high profile secret mission hence; they could not afford to be distracted. That must be the only explanation, I am certain of it.

6 o’clock.

We have all been on the road for about 10 hours. It is a shame. We are in Benin, stuck in traffic. Koboko head has not stopped once throughout the journey, instead the men occasionally hop down when in traffic, ease themselves by the roadside and hop back on. I brought the attention of the driver to the blatant ignorance of the women in the bus but the driver could see nothing wrong in women “hoping” as the men do. According to him, it was perfectly reasonable for a woman to hop down, go to the side of the road in the midst of igbo smoking self appointed toll gate workers, do her business and hop back on. None of the other travelers seemed especially concerned, apart from Peter and Paul who nodded sympathetically as I went on a rant about “discrimination”.

7:30

We are on the outskirts of warri, for once ia m speechless my thought warped up in banga soup and eba which I knew must surely be waiting for him at home. Suddenly, we are stopped by the police. The policeman is bent on making trouble, koboko head is already frustrated and angry and soon a fight is about to start. I can not believ it, I am almost home, I have to get home, I aks the policeman to forget about kobokohead and let us through. All of a sudden the last row comes alive, there are talks of us not giving the police man anything, “even if it means we stay here until 10”. Now, I understand them, yes, a revolution in this country is called for but now on the outskirts of warri, not after barely surviving kobokohead’s madness, the flesheating and bloodsucking demons, not after surviving old ore and paradise hotel. Not after all that. One has to learn to pick on’s battles, and as waffi, it would be irresponsible of me not to mention the dangers of entering warri at night. The last row is not convinced, they tell me there are from “lagos”, and are not really convinced about my warnings. Luckily, the policeman sees some sence and allows us to go. As the driver pulls into the car park, he informs us that one of their drivers was killed right in front of the park, about the same time, 7:30.

Rice and yam

It was unusually quiet in my neighborhood, our area people had gone for thanks giving at the nearby church, it was rare for us to have light for two days straight, hence, the thanks- giving service. They have taken the goat that was being fed for Christmas to be slaughtered. We have had light for two days, we must celebrate. It was unfortunate that as soon as they left, the light disappeared with them. I was contemplating how to break the news to them when I saw Layabout with a “Ghana must go”,coming towards me.

“Sista, na go be this oh”

“Where to?”

“ehhh, dem say dem dey share rice and ram for Abuja, so I wan carry my leg reach there small, Rukevwe say I fit follow am for “agofure motors”.

“What do you mean they are sharing rice and ram? You have started with your stories again, abi?”

“No oh, dem say, person go do just one round of boxing match, after that, na rice and ram”

I have never heard of such a thing. Sharing rice and ram after boxing matches? Is that possible? He must have got his facts wrong again, as usual. Rice and Ram indeed!I have never heard of any country sharing rice.Perhaps it was for Independence Day? Could it be that the government has decided to give every household a bag of rice? That seems more feasible to me. We all deserve bags of rice in this country, even if it is “ekpoma rice”, we all deserve it. I remember all those “match pasts” and flag waving under the hot sun as a child, I was never paid anything for my troubles, yes, a bag of rice I will happily collect. In fact if possible, they should add a bag of groundnut as well, which reminds me, whatever happened to those pyramids of groundnuts we used to have? Somewhere in the north? Was it not a tourist attraction at one point in time? I have always been meaning to go there, the pyramids of ground nut. However we did visit “obasanjo farms”, I remember it was hot and dusty, poultry; it was nothing to write home about. We all thought we would be given chickens on our way out. It never happened. Our school took us once on an excursion to a cement factory in Ughelli, but our bus broke down, so we never got to see how cement was made. I wonder if they would have shared free bags of cement? Those are days long gone, the children here don’t even know how palm oil is made and we eat banga soup everyday. It’s a pity, making palm oil is not hard, in fact I am considering using it now instead of Vaseline.

I saw so much as a child, as an adult, not so much. I remember as a teenager, my rebellious spirit had set in and I decided to go to Benin to see all those wonderful artifacts I kept seeing in art books. I found my way alright, the museum was not hard to find, unfortunately it was closed. An old man, sat sleeping on a bench by the gate. I asked him when the museum opened, he started laughing. He refused to co operate with me, in fact when I told him the particular artifacts I wanted to see, his laughter turned into hysteria. That was the end of my adventure. I never went back to that museum, which is a shame. There are so many things I would like to show layabout for example, whose existence is limited to sitting on fences waiting for free rice and ram. But how can I? Every suggestion I make here is met with laughter

The Thief

Somebody stole my phone and I know who it is. It was stolen by that useless layabout that hangs about the area waiting to accost me with different false stories. The man definitely has an imagination. The stories he tells about this country, I am happy I am a thinking person, otherwise I would have believed him, but today is the day; I will definitely accuse him of being a thief. There he is……

Waffarian: Bros, if na play, make u stop am, where my phone?

Layabout: which phone?

Waffarian: Look, this one don pass play, where my phone?

Layabout: God has forgiven me

Waffarian: How dat one take affect price of garri for market? Where is my phone?

Layabout: Sista, if God don forgive me my sins, who are you to hold grudge against me?

This man must be mad. I have suspected it all along, the kind of stories he spins, the other day, he told me the police were arresting women in Lagos, then he said, the only national theatre we have in this country was being sold off and now he has become a thief. I am tempted to argue with him, but I have now realized that what I have suspected all along is true. He must be mad, how otherwise, can you explain the fact that he is trying to cover up his act by proclaiming that God has forgiven him? How does he know? Did he use my phone to call God? Even if he did that, I am sure God would have told him to return my phone first and then ask ME, for forgiveness, after all, it is my phone and it was my hard earned cash that was used to acquire that phone....

Layabout: Even self, sista, I forgive you

Waffarian: You forgive me? For what?

Layabout: For all this your wahala wey you dey cause here because of common phone, as God don forgive me, meself, I don forgive you.

I am in shock....there must be a way to help this man....is he aware of the level of madness he has just risen to? Oh Lord! Have mercy on your servant. I really wish I could help him, but time is against me, I have so many things to do and I really do not have the time or energy to convince this man of his madness. What could have gotten into him? I wonder if he really believes...ah! No! It can’t be...but come to think of it...I think he just did...did he just play the religion card? Can he be that smart? that cunning? Oh, I almost fell for it! I was attributing it all to madness, but no, this one is not mad, he is smart, but he does not know who he is dealing with, I won’t fall for the nonsense.

Waffarian: Look, if you like, make God, plus you self, forgive the whole humanity, na una know, I just know say, if I count to ten and my phone no appear this very minute, you go see real brimstone, 1, 2, 3....

Layabout: Abeg take your yeye phone jare! Your wahala too much self!

My people, did you just see that? That man was a smart one, he was not mad after all, even though he showed every indication of being one. I have to congratulate him though, for a minute there he almost got me. I thank God I am a thinking person, if not, I would have fallen for that nonsense, not only that, but my phone, would have been gone. This country is indeed amazing, but I am learning every day, I have to be very careful.

Layabout: Sista, I hope say you no vex too much sha

Waffarian: From now on, keep a ten meter distance when you talk to me, you hear?
The man is useless, spinner of tales and a thief, but don’t worry, I have learnt my lesson, from now on; he will be at a very safe distance.

Memories of excursions....

It was unusually quiet in my neighborhood, our area people had gone for thanks giving at the nearby church, it was rare for us to have light for two days straight, hence, the thanks- giving service. They have taken the goat that was being fed for Christmas to be slaughtered. We have had light for two days, we must celebrate. It was unfortunate that as soon as they left, the light disappeared with them. I was contemplating how to break the news to them when I saw Layabout with a “Ghana must go”, coming towards me.
“Sista, na go be this oh”
“Where to?”
“ehhh, dem say dem dey share rice and ram for Abuja, so I wan carry my leg reach there small, Rukevwe say I fit follow am for “agofure motors”.
“What do you mean they are sharing rice and ram? You have started with your stories again, abi?”
“No oh, dem say, person go do just one round of boxing match, after that, na rice and ram”
I have never heard of such a thing. Sharing rice and ram after boxing matches? Is that possible? He must have got his facts wrong again, as usual. Rice and Ram indeed! I have never heard of any country sharing rice. Perhaps it was for Independence Day? Could it be that the government has decided to give every household a bag of rice? That seems more feasible to me. We all deserve bags of rice in this country, even if it is “ekpoma rice”, we all deserve it. I remember all those “match pasts” and flag waving under the hot sun as a child, I was never paid anything for my troubles, yes, a bag of rice I will happily collect. In fact if possible, they should add a bag of groundnut as well, which reminds me, whatever happened to those pyramids of groundnuts we used to have? Somewhere in the north? Was it not a tourist attraction at one point in time? I have always been meaning to go there, the pyramids of ground nut. However we did visit “obasanjo farms”, I remember it was hot and dusty, poultry; it was nothing to write home about. We all thought we would be given chickens on our way out. It never happened. Our school took us once on an excursion to a cement factory in Ughelli, but our bus broke down, so we never got to see how cement was made. I wonder if they would have shared free bags of cement? Those are days long gone, the children here don’t even know how palm oil is made and we eat banga soup everyday. It’s a pity, making palm oil is not hard, in fact I am considering using it now instead of Vaseline. I saw so much as a child, as an adult, not so much. I remember as a teenager, my rebellious spirit had set in and I decided to go to Benin to see all those wonderful artifacts I kept seeing in art books. I found my way alright, the museum was not hard to find, unfortunately it was closed. An old man, sat sleeping on a bench by the gate. I asked him when the museum opened, he started laughing. He refused to co operate with me, in fact when I told him the particular artifacts I wanted to see, his laughter turned into hysteria. That was the end of my adventure. I never went back to that museum, which is a shame. There are so many things I would like to show layabout for example, whose existence is limited to sitting on fences waiting for free rice and ram. But how can I? Every suggestion I make here is met with laughter.

Layabout

Layabout: “sista, you don hear tory?”

Waffy : “Look, you dis man, if no be better thing, no dey disturb me, dis early morning oh!”

Layabout: “Dis country, dem too like woman matter! Dem no dey take eye see woman before dem begin chase them!”

Waffy: “Na wetin again?

Layabout: “ My sista, dem say, dem don change police work for Lagos oh! Dem say, from now onwards, police work na to dey chase woman, ah, no be small thing oh! Law, come dey now self! No be bad thing to chase ashawo na, but na only for police dem! “

Waffy: “ your tory no get head or tail, how dem go change police work to ashawo work? You sure say you hear the tory well?”

Layabout: “ Sista, even if na Ogborikoko grammer school I go, I know wetin police work be, na to dey catch thief dem, dem no suppose dey chase woman na! so from today onwards, Lagos police na “ashawo ltd”, chei! See groove!”

Well, let us look at the matter rationally, no need to jump to conclusions here, I am sure there is a reason for this sudden development. In fact, I am sure that this new decree must have come about for one or the following reasons:

1) All crimes and investigations into crimes have been solved, including “cold” cases.

2) All thieves for some unknown reason have all gone on holiday; after all, we in the height of the summer/holiday season or better still, perhaps they all migrated to our neighboring countries?

3) All the area boys have all enrolled for jamb and to catch up with the forlorn years spent by the roadsides, they are now studying and slaving away over text books and past jamb questions.

4) All roads have miraculously been repaired over night by Julius Berger and RCC and thus, traffic has been flowing smoothly in Lagos.

5) All the 419 boys have all confessed their sins and repented, solemnly swearing never to open a “yahoo mail” ever, in their lives.

6) All areas in Lagos now have street lights and London style cops patrolling the areas, thereby eliminating any “shady” movements.

7) All corrupt officials in the government have all been apprehended and locked up, thus releasing a huge number of police officers that had been working on the cases.

8) All hospitals have now been instructed to give free drugs to sick children thus eliminating any risk for desperate parents to resort to armed robberies.

9) All lecturers in the Universities were taken abroad for a free orientation seminar and on return, they all decided to stop accepting bribes from students which in turn reduced the crime rate in universities and campuses

10) There is really nothing at all for the police in Lagos to do, and as you know, “an idle mind is a devil’s workshop”, and so in order to keep our uniformed men and women sharp and ready for action, a steady flow of work had to be created.

Ah! What joy! I am especially leaning towards number “10”, that really makes sense! Make I enter my Okada dey go jare!

Waltzing through pain (2)

Another adventure, it’s not as if the last adventure from Warri to Lagos was not enough, believe me, it was enough to last me for years, but my people, you know the situation in this country, one has to be able to face unexpected challenges. Thus, I had another opportunity to travel by road, this time to Warri.
It is 6’o clock in the morning and I am in high spirits, but………what is this? Is it raining? Oh Lord, rain in Lagos can only mean one thing: CHAOS. Not to worry, I know the drill now, cars in Nigeria all swim; they go against the law of nature so no problem.

8 o'clock

Lord have mercy, I am still on the way, the traffic is terrible, I cannot bear it, time to abort mission, really, the roads are too terrible, I ll soon start eating my fingers out of desperation, wait why are people still smiling? Do they not see what I see? Why is that guy still hawking in the rain? I really should stop and tell him about pneumonia...is that possible in Nigeria,to catch pneumonia? I should find out, ah ah! What is wrong with these people? Can’t they see we are all in the same boat here? Why are they blowing sirens and flogging cars? Where dem want make we shift go? Ah ah! Even a mad man can see that this is not a time for “sirens”, hissssssssss

9’o'clock

Let’s try “greener line” this time around, their park seems so busy....Good, there are seats to Lagos, very good, I and my fellow traveler (who on this occasion we shall name “aproko”) get seats in the middle. Now, let us see the characters of our fellow travelers. Behind me are two pastors, I shall name them Peter and Paul for easy identification, beside them, a thick market woman, on the last row, four business men, all on the way to Warri to sell or deliver products, I could not quite figure that out. Beside the driver, a young woman who has decided on this morning to kill us with the smell of “kessingsheen” in her hair. Let us call her “kessingsheen”, and beside her, an old gentle man. Now, to our driver, who I must say proved to be the lead character on this journey, I will call him “Koboko” head, (only because throughout the journey, I had to physically restrain myself from knocking his head with “koboko”).

And now, let the journey begin......

What is this ? A church person is going to start us off with prayers, good, one really needs prayers on these roads, in fact, he should do a serious scripture confession, I want prayer warriors, holy water, holy oil....oh, he’s about to start....hmmmmm, this man na wah oh, his prayers are serious, wait oh! Did he just say “flesh eating demons” ah! Abeg, this prayer don dey fear me, which one be flesh eating demon again? , honestly, this is too much, now he is praying against the “blood sucking demons” on the road. I need to talk to this young man, set him straight, the “blood sucking and flesh eating demon” is the road. He should not be fooled, really, but no problem, he is doing this for free, out of the goodness of his heart…………ah, is he asking for money? I thought the prayer was for free? Anyway, here is 20 naira, after all that “flesh eating and bloodsucking” talk; I now doubt the capability of the young man.

4hours later
Ah, sleep is good in times like this, I am sure we are almost at Benin now, beautiful.....ehhhhhhh, No way! Somebody shoot me, excuse me. Where are we?

Koboko head: Na ore road we dey.

What do you mean Ore road? I can recognize Ore road when I see it, this is not Ore road, what is wrong with this man?

“Driver, this no be Ore road oh! No be this road we dey pass those days wey I dey go secondary school”,

Koboko head: “Ehn, this one na “old ore road” n aim we dey use now. “
Ah! I don’t get it, why will anyone choose to use a muddy, bumpy “forest trail” when we have a federal road that is tarred? This whole thing is not making sense to me.

“But driver, you mean the “real” road is worse than this road that has never been tarred?”

The man is not even responding anymore, he is now haggling with the village youths who have now used this opportunity to put their own “homemade” gate, consisting of a huge log of wood, across the muddy road. I am told this is a “toll gate”. I am speechless, I have nothing to say, the driver is busy haggling with the self appointed toll gate workers while I observe the thriving business (hawking) going on all around me.

2hours later

We have not left “old ore road”, we are now at the second “toll gate”, the workers here are younger, restless and more determined that the first toll gate workers.

1 hour later
We have still not left “old ore road”, we are now at the third “toll gate”, the workers here are older, I do not think they are part of the village youth association, I think they are the touts of the village. Peter and Paul draw my attention to the smell of “igbo” all around us. This toll gate seems to be the “bubbling” one, the guys are in high spirits, drinking and smoking, they seem to be having a good time, at the expense of Koboko head that has now launched into a tirade of curses in Yoruba.

Koboko head has proven himself to be a mad man. I think he escaped from Yaba, with all the pot holes and eroded craters, he drives as if he is on one of the best highways in the world. His talent is wasted on old ore road, he should be on formula one, I am sure he will give Schumacher a run for his money. I have pleaded, begged, admonished but Koboko head is bent on delivering us all personally to the flesh eating and bloodsucking demons. The rest travelers seem to be all scared of koboko head. Peter and Paul are quiet apart from mumbling “Jehovah jireh” and “elshadah” after every single morsel of food chewed and swallowed. Aproko is sleeping apart from raising up her head once in a while and saying “this driver!” or complaining about the chewing sounds of peter and Paul. The travelers on the last row are conversing in Yoruba with the market woman. Kessingsheen is bent on distracting koboko head with her little flirty looks, I am very worried about this, the last thing koboko head needs, is to be distracted. I’ll be watching this development closely. The old gentle man, I have no idea what he is doing, he must be in pain though, because the smell from kessingsheen’s hair must be pure torture.

4 o’clock

My people, that I am still alive today to write this story is a miracle. I have come to the conclusion that “driving from Lagos to Warri” should be added as a course in our driving schools (by the way, do people still learn how to drive?). All drivers of the “lines”, edo, delta, agofure, greener, edosa, and others too many to mention, all have a special language which we mere mortals cannot decipher. For example

Koboko head: Straight dey good?

Other driver: Ehn, straight good, use other side but na straight u go use enter.
(if anybody can make head or tail of this conversation, do not hesitate to write me)

At this point in time, we are now on a road called “paradise” road. As the old gentleman remarked, that name should be renamed “hell”, there was nothing remotely heavenly about that road. It was pure chaos. So much so, that a civilian who was immediately named “general”, took it upon himself to co ordinate traffic. The general did a good job but much to my astonishment there were about 6 policemen not less than 500 meters away, on the road. I am sure they had no idea about the chaos that was transpiring just down the road, I was going to inform them but then I saw the inscription on their vehicle, it said, “Operation clean”. They must have been on a high profile secret mission hence; they could not afford to be distracted. That must be the only explanation, I am certain of it.

6 o’clock.

We have all been on the road for about 10 hours. It is a shame. We are in Benin, stuck in traffic. Koboko head has not stopped once throughout the journey, instead the men occasionally hop down when in traffic, ease themselves by the roadside and hop back on. I brought the attention of the driver to the blatant ignorance of the women in the bus but the driver could see nothing wrong in women “hoping” as the men do. According to him, it was perfectly reasonable for a woman to hop down, go to the side of the road in the midst of igbo smoking self appointed toll gate workers, do her business and hop back on. None of the other travelers seemed especially concerned, apart from Peter and Paul who nodded sympathetically as I went on a rant about “discrimination”.

7:30

We are on the outskirts of Warri, for once ia m speechless my thought warped up in banga soup and eba which I knew must surely be waiting for him at home. Suddenly, we are stopped by the police. The policeman is bent on making trouble, koboko head is already frustrated and angry and soon a fight is about to start. I can not believe it, I am almost home, I have to get home, I aks the policeman to forget about kobokohead and let us through. All of a sudden the last row comes alive, there are talks of us not giving the police man anything, “even if it means we stay here until 10”. Now, I understand them, yes, a revolution in this country is called for but now on the outskirts of Warri, not after barely surviving kobokohead’s madness, the flesh eating and bloodsucking demons, not after surviving old ore and paradise hotel. Not after all that. One has to learn to pick on’s battles, and as waffi, it would be irresponsible of me not to mention the dangers of entering Warri at night. The last row is not convinced, they tell me there are from “Lagos”, and are not really convinced about my warnings. Luckily, the policeman sees some sense and allows us to go. As the driver pulls into the car park, he informs us that one of their drivers was killed right in front of the park, about the same time, 7:30.