Okada don kill me o

Hello all, this is the end of the Eko Corper series, it seem rather ironic that i'm ending as the new corp year is starting for some and a friend recently lost somebody to the people in my final story, I hope this note is not too painful for you.

Thank you all for being supporting and attentive.

Everybody who has ever had an encounter with an okada (kinda like taxi motorcycles, not as glamorous as it sounds) has complained. I remember the first time I got on an okada, it was about 4 months ago, not long after I came back from camp and it was one of the most exhilarating of experiences. The wind in your hair the swerving in and out of traffic, getting to places at half the time, I felt I had found the transport of my future, I was wrong. Now I cannot stand the blasted thing, they are out to kill me, and mine, and as I tell them ‘my mama only get two pikin, I no go let you kill me for am’.

The reason for my tirade against okada’s is that in the last month on last count I have had 4 near death experiences with them. Now I know you all think I am a drama queen, but I am not exaggerating this time around, they are really out to kill me.

Event number 1 – okada in a pot hole

I was on my way to work and as those of you who have read my blog will know, the road is not exactly paved with gold, or to be honest, paved at all. So as one must do on such occasions I got on an okada. I’m sure most of you will say this was my first mistake, I agree, but give me a way of getting to work without getting an okada, and does not involve me spending money I don’t have, or getting a car with money I do not have, and I will probably kick your backside because I did not think of it.

Going back to my story, now, I don’t know if this man had or had not taken his ogogoro, but whatever it was, brother man ran straight into a pothole. I don’t mean he maybe did not see it, the pot hole was in front of him, okada man was looking in front of him, saw the pot hole and still drove into it. Being the nice generous person I am put my hand on his back as he went into the pot hole, and he tasted sand while I shouted at him.

Event number 2 – okada crashing into car I was in

This story is like a number which if you ever lived in Nigeria in recent times, you would know or have heard about. I was in a car going on a job assignment, and what happened, well an okada shot out from the front of a packed truck, without looking at the road. The sound as he hit the car was sickening, it was made even worse because the idiot of an okada rider was carrying a passenger who broke her ankle because of his bad driving.

When the incident happened, I jumped out of the car and was about to rain all types of hell on the idiot’s head, but some friends with me calmed me down and we checked on the girl who was alright, except for the broken ankle of course. It wasn’t that I was angry necessarily, you kinda get used to this type of thing in Nigeria, but it was company car, and the buggers are not paying me enough to afford to repair one of their cars.

Event number 3 – okada I was on trying to outrun a danfo bus

Another okada story which I cannot believe I was involved in. OK, it was about 6am on a Monday morning, I was making the exodus back to Lekki from my parents house, and had to take the okada from the front of my estate to the ‘bus stop’. Well to cut the long story short, (actually the story is not really that long) the okada rider decided to race a danfo. I started screaming, shouting ‘my mama only born 2 pikin oh, no kill me for her’. The sound of my screech must have shocked him out of his delirium, so he stopped, either way, I got off the bike sharpish, and did not pay him. This pikin no be fool.

Event number 4 – okada man fighting with me because I told him I did not know direction he was taking me.

Now last but not least, the okada rider who I am sure was trying to kidnap me, but for my big mouth, I might have ended up as a sacrifice. What happened was I was going from where I live in Lekki to the main gate as I usually do, and I got an okada, this follows the same course of my day. What happened that day on the other hand, is a tale for legends.

I got on the bike, and halfway through the journey, the okada man turned into road I did not know. I kindly asked him what the hell he thought he was doing and he told me he was taking me to my destination. Oh no you are not I said politely of course, he thought I was joking until the shouting (at each other began since wanker would not stop the bike) began.

Either way we eventually ended up where I was going after 30 minutes, this journey is not meant to take more than 10 mins on a bad day, and the sun was shining on this day and we had been lucky with rain, so explain to me what he was trying to do with the extra 20 mins. On arrival at my stop, I was prepared to walk away but since I was surrounded by a lot of okada riders I thought, fine pay the arsehole, (it is not a good idea to try to walk away in such a situation, murder, death, kill not being part of my immediate plans at the time) which I attempted to do, but first I asked him for my change.

Mr Man refused o, he said that I should give him the money, that he had carried me and that he wanted the money before he gave me my change. Now my mama didn’t raise no fool, so I let him know in no uncertain term that he was a liar and an cheat and I would rather face the wrath of a thousand okada riders than pay him without getting my change first. Our argument brought the attention of the okada riders on us, and one of them got into the mix and played mediator. He basically said that Mr man should give my change to him and I should give my money to him, which I did and he would do the swap, you know I don’t trust nobody, you should have seen me snatch my change from mediator’s hand.

That sorted out the money issue, the problem was as I packed my bags ready to continue the day he had ruined, Mr okada started cursing at me, telling me I was a witch and would not succeed. I got mad and went all Yoruba on him calling him olori buruku, oloshi, asiwin and other Yoruba insults that I knew and my mother had used on occasion.

So you tell me am I being paranoid when I say these suckers are trying to end my life. Then again, it could be that they read the blog and decided that they decided they needed to make my life more interesting. I’m not sure, but I hope to find out soon.