Thread by @ItsUncleStephen

Lagos is a crazy place to live. It teaches you things whether you want to learn or not. You don’t even realize, till you see your reaction in certain situations

A town rife with different kinds of people and packaging, a town we “hate” but can’t leave

Brethren
Issa thread

Brethren with how long I’ve spent living in this town, till date, I cannot stop myself from reacting the way I do whenever a stranger stops me on the road like

“psst! Bros! Excuse me. Im looking for so and so street....”

Eh? You say

First of all, I adjust, take in the strangers face, examine it mentally in my ritualist-o-meter to see in what range they fall. if they score low and my milk of kindness is flowing that day I point them in the right direction, one hand stylishly on my you know you know you know

In this town you can trust no one. Don’t care if he is carrying one of them Christian brother bag. It could be filled with people’s things. Lagos is a town replete with stories of people’s utensils disappearing and I don’t know if it’s true or not but I don’t wanna find out

Because if my utensil disappears, how do I cook for my partner. Tell me, How will you, an Indomie man, who cooks for two minutes and the food has cum, cook.

How will I, an iron beans man, three hours and e never even soft; how will I cook for my partner eh?

So Lagos has taught me to take precautions Abeg.

Can’t come and hear stories that touch.

My good friend Progress I trust him. This is the kind of story he’ll like. Useless boy will come and say “Stevhoe! StevOnokillpeopleDaughters!Tell me again how you say e take loss

Lagos brings out the other side of you. You’ll be thinking you’re normal, you’re classy. You’re posh, till rubber meets the road and your inner Ojuelegba surfaces.

I remember this one babe I used to roll with. Packaged babe. Fresh babe. Always speaking supri supri English

Always ending her sentences with yeah. Like you know yeah. That thing yeah. That I’ll do to you yeah. I’ve even head her say this year yeah?

Ehen as I was saying yeah(their daddies me sef sabi talk yeah) she was raised somewhere in the mainland, but she had me sold.

I mean, if our artists can learn full blown patois that can make Jamaicans jealous from agege then maybe she had purged herself of all her pako tendencies I said to myself yeah?

As motivational speakers say, I guess anyone can fire to perspire and retire to the choir

Amem?

So we were walking down my street and noticed a commotion. People were running helter, skelter, most in our direction followed by gunshots renting the air.

A robbery had taken place not too far away and the robbers were trying to scare people away as they were escaping

Instinctively I stretched my hands to my side, hoping to grab Aunty and take her to safety, and on getting there, I’d go on my knees as I sang “I can be your hero baby”

But as I tried to grab her, I grabbed air. Breeze.

Brethren, the babe was gone!

I panicked slightly, only to turn and see that in less than three seconds, Aunty had removed her heels, gathered it in her hands, and was running something very similar to a heavenly race or what my people call Osondu!

This babe had no lots wife spirit bruh she didn’t look back

See babe who was always cat walking. Always Dey waka small small like please don’t stain my shirt. Someone who to cross gutter sef she’ll want to hold my hand. Now she was a new creature.

As I saw her running, her spirit animal became clearer to me; Charley this be a hyenana

These babes aren’t loyal o. In a situation needing everyone to answer their respective surnames, the babe no even remember say our two surname start with the same letter.

Na wa o

Did I mention that the babe was fast. Brethren, try as I could to catch up with her, babe was “gapping” my spirit soul and body and feeding me dust.

No doubt in my mind she must have been the star runner for red house while In secondary school

Blood of Abule-egba!

By the time I reached her at home, babe had showered,eaten, changed into her nightie and was watching E!

Na wa o babe so you can run like this?

She started again with well you know yeah?

I’m like na yeah go kill you. Yeye

Or do we talk about driving in Lagos. That one certainly brings out your inner madness.

You might just be coming out of church where you just promised the lord that you’ll never utter another curse word only to hit the road and someone will drive absolute nonsense near you.

And before you know it, you can feel the word coming out of your mouth.

An F or an S word, which you know when it eventually comes out, will not be FUFU or SOUP

There is something about being called stupid or fool while you’re driving that hurts more than a 10 year relationship hearbreak.

I remember the day a man, demure looking, formally dressed, in his very nice Lexus rx350 SUV wound down at a traffic light and called me a fool.

Admittedly, I had driven nonsense. It wasn’t just the angst in his voice that hurt, it was the time it took him to produce the words that knifed my spirit.

Trust me when a stammerer calls you fool in traffic it hurts.

“Mis mis mis miista man, why are you driving like, like, like, like a, fu fu fu fu fooool”

I swear all the while he was dragging his words, I wished for a second it was fufu. Why are you driving like a fufu would have been better than being a fool in the way he said it.

Honestly, I felt like if I looked in a mirror, there would be the words fu fu fool tattoed in red across my forehead or even worse, instead of seeing my head, there’ll be a big mound of fufu where my head shoulda been. Even worse Cos I didn’t have soup at home

Lagos makes you feel life cannot be lived any other way if not fast. I remember during NYSC, how much awe I was in when a cab flagged down by a lady, overshot and was in London, only to reverse till it got to her in Nigeria.

What a wawu.

People were even entering small small and I laughed, remembering the day one old man was giving me elbow at costain under bridge as we were dragging for the last molue it seemed, at 10pm.

I don hang, baba don hang, baba dey gimme better elbow and closeline like ‘my son respect my old age na. allow me enter’

Lagos is a town of hustlers. You know this when you can see somebody comfortably selling alligator, not the pepper oh, the real animal itself, in traffic.

And you cannot help but wonder e don reach like this?

Yes we may say the guy selling it is mad but think about the guy driving his car, who winds down gently as if it’s nothing and says

‘psst wey! You. gimme two alligators there’.

It is this same hustling spirit that will make someone with the blackest lips I have seen in my life stop me at Ikeja underbridge like ‘psst yellow! Pink lips?’

I’m like don’t you have the fear of god or whoever you serve? If you say I be yellow why u come wan gimme pink lips.

How does it usually do you brother? This your thought for me is it a thought of good to bring me to an expected end?

Kuku buy me green shirt, blue trouser and complete me ROYGBIV.

But in all the madness of lagos, one thing I deeply appreciate is the never say never die attitude. People are genuinely trying their best to make it amidst all the madness, the flooding, the overseas president and so many other things, which should normally drive someone crazy

Wait maybe we are crazy sef.
Who knows?

To Lagos, the town we all hate but leave na. Wosai!

Have a beautiful week ahead.

With Love,
Uncle Stephen…..
#TalesbyTweetLight

Read this week’s main episode here