LAGOS (OUR CITY) a short story

Homepage – Life News PRO Forums Coolval (series) LAGOS (OUR CITY) a short story

Viewing 8 posts - 1 through 8 (of 21 total)
  • Author
  • #1033317 Reply
    • "Posts"92
    • ☆☆

    Title: LAGOS. (Our City)
    Album: King’s pen
    Author: Oluwafemi
    Tweet @: odukoyafemzie95

    This piece of writing is just for us to read and enjoy, fell free to share, spread the gospel please. I realized it’s been a while I dropped a work here and I’m gonna do throw back of all my works here next Thursday. However, your criticism are highly welcomed and your opinions are gonna be highly respected. Thank y’all. Read and enjoy.

    The blaring sound from the mosque’s speaker was enough to consciously sprung Peter from his seven foot mouka foam bed. Perspiration elope his bald head skin scalp down to his jaw. The Nepa had starved them power again. He hissed out loud as he looked towards the corner where his wall clock was hanged. Five O’clock! “Yeh!” peter shouted, he swiftly turn on his phones torchlight to get a clearer view of his two rooms apartment. He hastily ragged down his towel that was hanged on the wooden door of his bedroom. “traffic, traffic, traffic, Mushin to Onipanu, Onipanu to Cms, traffic at stadium, traffic at Eko Bridge linking towards Marina before getting to Cms” he remembered he had not say his morning prayers. He forcefully dragged himself on his knees and opened up his palm then mumbled some words to himself which took him sixty seconds; he concluded by spreading his two arms up to the air three times in quick succession. Peter picked up his water drum key on his small refrigerator and began mumbling some words. “After this month’s salary, I would go have to go to Alaba market and get a bigger bridge” he had said, going for the door. All his prayer was for him not to be trapped in queue by the time he would get to the bathroom. He got to the backyard, the building’s double faced two toilets and bathrooms had already been occupied with two people standing on queue already. He regretted ever renting this apartment, so managing a resource was the landlord that he had not attached a toilet and bathroom to his apartment but he had no choice this was what he could afford. “Peter, you woke up late oh, shey you know set your alarm?” Ngozi, the fair-skinned banker had asked rhetorically yawning out loud in the process. Peter furiously hissed on her and head back for his room dropping his water bowl behind the two people’s queue.
    It took peter five minutes to bath; he had swiftly raced back to his apartment. He had a whole lot to do today at work. First was to first attend the PR meeting by 7:45 am, then to drop a business proposal bill at Badocs group of company at Obalende and then head back to the Nigerian Breweries at Iponrin.
    The Imam’s voice was re-echoing again; he looked at the wall clock and hissed aloud, furiously taking his shirt and suit he had neatly re-ironed last night when the power was on from his wall hanger. “rise up for prayer, rise so Allah will grant you al-janah fridau, but if you keep up sleeping like a battered pig, you’re conspicuously sending errands for Jan-na-ma….” the Imam was saying, waking his folks up for prayer. Whatever he was saying sounds like curse to peter. ‘Must he then curse?’ peter asked inwardly.

    **** ****
    It was now 5:36 am. Peter was already outside his house waiting for a passing bike to ride him to Mushin where he would board a bus to Onipanu. Ngozi also breezed outside, looking flashy and sophisticatedly conspicuous even at this very dawn hour of the day. This is the type of ladies you would see in banks, looking glamorous like an untouched angel that fell from the pageantry department of heaven; who would believe she was just an ordinary contract staff who, peter believed would eventually open her skirt for a permanent employment. The night watch guards, retiring to their homes gave Ngozi some curious looks before going their way with their kijipa gracefully strapped to their loins, looking abjectly like mad men. Oh glorious God! A bike guy finally strolled by. “Mushin olosha one hundred naira” the bike man had said, using his left back hand to squeeze away sleep, looking so weird. “Oya make we go, aboki wake up make you ride, take am easy, no fall me oh” peter had cautioned him.
    On getting to Mushin, dozens of people were already at the popular Olosha Bus-stop. Peter checked his wristwatch; it was ten minutes to 6’Oclock. The crowded bus-stop had already started bubbling, with danfo drivers, shanking and yanking off paraga and supporting it with cigarette and marijuana. “Oshodi! Apapa! Apapa! Jegunle! Jegunle! Ojota! Ojota! Ketu-Mile 12! Oyingbo wole pelu change oh. I know get change oh!” those were the phrases of the conductors purging their commutes on. The bumper to bumper had already begun, with horns piercing ears at all roads. The market women going to mile 12 to buy their markets, would not take things easy, they were struggling hard to enter the ‘next turn’. Those going to Oyingbo would wrestle each other with tongue lashing abuses. A bus, calling Onipanu finally arrived, Peter fought his way through to the front seats, laughing out loud at Lagosians dogging their ways to the backseats. The delirious driver had let full the bus before blowing off his rocket. “Onipanu hundred naira” his voluminous voice vibrated. “You must be mad” “you’re definitely crazy” “you’re a fool, driver” “go and convey people from your village, bastard” the angry passengers blasted out ferociously. “If you know you are not satisfied, come down now! Are you all mad ni. There are people there willing to enter for One fifty” the driver reiterate furiously. “Agbero boys would collect two hundred naira from me before I leave here, I’ll give police officers three hundred naira at Onipanu. See, it’s not by force, if you’re not willing to pay Hundred naira, come down!” he ranted at his choice less commuters. “Sha drive” the passengers had said.
    Peter had been on the queue now for about ten minutes, the Brt buses had failed him today, he was contemplating on his mind if to take danfo bus, but on the other thought he realized he had already bought the ticket and would expire in two hours so he kept his calm.
    The cloud was now brightening, white collared men and women waiting anxiously for Brt bus to convey them to Marina, Cms or Tbs where they would then take keke-maruwa to their various offices. There was a lady standing two rows after peter who was busy applying makeup while standing on queue yawning loudly on the long run. Not ashamed. The time was now 6:15; the traffic on the long Onipanu lane was now beginning to rack up. Peter cursed himself under his breath. “I should have woken up a while longer”. The small chops sellers were already up for work, to sell gala and snack for people who would love to have them inside the bus while going on the ride. “Gala’ the makeup lady had called after she was done from her applying expedition. The gala sellers in their numbers had rushed to her, pointing galas at her. “Na me she call jhor, anty shebi na me?” they were arguing. The lady with her countenance regretted ever making a sound, as everyone was laughing at this unpaid performance. “mama, na you I call, abeg give me two” that settled the rubble as she gave the woman 200 Naira note and told her to keep the change. With her mode of dressing, you would have no doubt she works in bank coupled with her curly zilian hair she had on.
    Finally a Brt bus came and they all gracefully made their ways to the bus tendering their tickets’ to the conductor.
    Peter’s gaze was fixed at the admiration and beautifications of some of the Brt bus-stops they’d passed along, from Stadium to Iponrin to Costain driving downwards to Eko Bridge linking towards Marina. He had for long wondered how meticulous God was in his creations, the credibility mystery of the Marina Lake, that alone could make anyone say what a ‘Vivacious God’ coupled with different kinds of people in this our self acclaimed Eko-Mega City. Every day, people troops in from across the country to this city for abode and commerce. But, this city was not really meant for lazy people, not for feeble people either. If one must triumph in this city, one must be ready to dogged it out and fight till the end, one must be strong and gait. Finally, peter alighted at Cms, it was now 7:o’clock. The castigating early morning sun that blared his skin was nothing to write home about. The dropped commuters were yawning so loudly after minute’s naps in the bus. The roadside food sellers were busy selling different types of quick meals to their willing customers, bankers, traders, students, businessmen, artisans and all were all on a long queue just to buy either bread and beans, or to buy rice served in a take away pack, coupled with chilled pet bottled Big Cola. Peter felt he should get his own pack and keep it in his bag, but time was not on his sides, as he joined the packed filled people waiting for the next turn Maruwa that would take them to Obalende.
    Just as the people were expecting the next Napep to arrive one was coming from afar and was stopped by the Agbero boys, they were arguing until they started beating up the Napep driver. One could not really tell what went wrong, as the Maruwa guy was now drenched in his own blood. “This guy dey mad sha! Buy ticket one Thousand Naira, you dey give me figo” the Agbero boys had said with their faces looking hostile like a wild beast.
    Getting down at Obalende, the time was now 7:20, peter knew he’ll be in serious problem if he made it late for the PR meeting, queries would glare at him on his computer screen and that would be tragic for him, he just got this job as a departmental assistant manager, into his fourth month. In his sixth month his letter was already on ground for an official car and an official apartment, he knew how important this meeting was for him. In twenty five minutes the meeting would commence and all the attendees must be in attendance before the commencement.
    The busy Obalende bus stop was blaring with cars serene, those who would not take things easy, and those who took themselves superior just because they were inside exotic cars. Those who preferred to buy Lexus and drive around the streets of Lagos on day time and at night to flash raw cash at uncultured harlots’ inside the clubs at night were the ones driving around. Those were the ones police officers would stop but only to smile at them after the ‘dude’ would have stretched a folded palm at them. ‘Early morning blessing’ was the cops’ slogan.
    Peter stood for minutes trying to stop a bike man that would take him to his office; he had nothing less than two minutes here to ‘ger’out’. The Fuji music blaring out of speaker could make ones head turn apart. ‘On a Monday morning’ he thought out loud.
    “Ole! Ole! Thief, thief” was all Peter heard as he ran to the Fuji music shop to look for coverage. Two expert guys on their sport power bike had quickly made a snappy operation on a lady coming out of the ATM place. They flared up in haste with their shadow waving good bye to bewildered Lagosians. The lady sprawled on the floor and weep in anguish.
    Peter cursed this day, his eyes had seen enough today, he had to get to office now, now! Just then a bike came by and he waved at the bike guy “Nigeria stoc…” he shouted. “Two hundred Oga” the aboki guy replied. “Drive!” he shouted at him and he sped up in no time. With his six figures salary he felt he should have gotten a car with his four months’ previous salaries, but his mother’s ailment had drove away his money, but all thanks to God, mama had came out of surgery alive, at least he was grateful. Just two months from now he would have a car and an apartment; that he was graceful for.
    On getting to the office, the parking lot was at the second entry at the back like a university gate. He greeted the security men at the gate and swiftly quickened his steps to the reception to sign in for the day, his face and brow soaked in perspiration. He knew he had pushed his luck and he had fallen from the fence he had sat on since he woke up this morning. 7:48am was what the gigantic automated building wall clock said. He looked at the picture of his M.D that was hanged on the wall and felt he should cry, he knew today was one of his last days here. On going to the elevator, he heard the security men and the receptionist saying morning sir, he looked back and saw his boss walking into the office, he felt like he had just won a jackpot. “Sorry peter, I was late it was due to the heavy jam-packed traffic at third mainland bridge, I knew you guys must have really been waiting for me, shall we go to the hall for the meeting now?” he smiled brightly at his boss, collected his portfolio from his driver and they headed for the elevator together.
    THE END…

    #1033350 Reply
    • "Posts"5559
    • ☆☆☆

    Wow, Nice and interesting story.

    #1033355 Reply
    • "Posts"3438
    • ☆☆☆

    Nice piece.

    #1033364 Reply
    • "Posts"926
    • ☆☆

    Hmm lagos niyen o nice write up

    #1033379 Reply
    • "Posts"1526
    • ☆☆

    No piam

    #1033393 Reply
    • "Posts"5659
    • ☆☆☆

    Nice one.

    #1033421 Reply
    • "Posts"3499
    • ☆☆☆

    Lagos and its palava, intresting.

    #1033499 Reply
    • "Posts"19837
    • ☆☆☆☆☆

    Such a lucky dude

Viewing 8 posts - 1 through 8 (of 21 total)
Reply To: LAGOS (OUR CITY) a short story

You can use BBCodes to format your content.
Your account can't use Advanced BBCodes, they will be stripped before saving.

Your information:

<a href="" title="" rel="" target=""> <blockquote cite=""> <code> <pre class=""> <em> <strong> <del datetime="" cite=""> <ins datetime="" cite=""> <ul> <ol start=""> <li> <img src="" border="" alt="" height="" width=""> <div class="">

Skip to toolbar