Lagos is quite beautiful at night. Now I’m not saying this isn’t also true during the day but, with the street hawker trying her best to run away with your change, the agbero who’s trying to steal from you and then beat you up, and the Lastma official whose major purpose in life is simply to frustrate you, it’s kinda hard to see the beauty in the city.

At night however, Lagos is as pretty as a peach. It’s a little bit past 1am, and I’m comfortably seated in the front seat of a cab. This isn’t just any random cabu cabu though, before you pipu will goan be reasoning someone’s matter. My cab is an Uber:D
The amount of people whose lives have been helped by Uber ehn, they’re just too much. Every time free ride and promo code, their slogan should probably be “We Know Sey Una Dey Scam Us, But We No Mind” or something like that.

The cab cruises along the serene streets of Ikeja, the driver is busy asking me if I want chicken suya, cow suya or shark suya lol. I just want him to drive abeg, this their ‘5star’ rating policy has turned all these people into something else, this man will soon ask me if I want a massage. I definitely do NOT want a massage, at least not from him.
We drive past the famous Allen Avenue, past the many ‘working class’ women trying to do their best at their jobs all in an effort to make the Nigerian economy strong again. These pipu are the real heroes please, nobody can tell me otherwise. The two most important jobs in the world that require the most skill are definitely doctors and these women right here. Cos if a mistake is made while ‘work’ is going on in both fields, countless lives may be lost. As we finally move along, I raise my fist in a silent salute towards these great patriots as a teardrop rolls down my face.
My destination today is one of the many clubs in Ikeja where my guys are already waiting for me. It’s been in a while since we turned up, and it has become very necessary seeing as this Law Life no pay anybody. Amean really, who Law epp? Mtcheeew.

After a very comfortable, and relaxing journey with ‘Jon Bellion’ blaring across the speakers, the driver finally brings the car to a stop in front of the club. I take a minute or two to enjoy the AC and reflect on how dope I am dressed. As I attempt to unlock the door and step out of the vehicle however, the driver gently places a hand on my arm and looks at me inquiringly. I just assume he wants to remind me about ‘5stars’ so I quickly nod and reassure him.
Apparently, it’s not his rating he is concerned with because the man mutters something about money. Ahn ahn, when did people start tipping Uber drivers plix, abi this man thinks I just arrived from Enugu or what?

He notices my confusion and proceeds to pull up his phone. Some seconds later and after a very thorough explanation, it slowly dawns on me that I’ve been confused all this time thinking that this was a free ride. I’m actually going to pay…and in cash. I laugh one of those deep, long, throaty laughs and the man laughs along with me. This life is beautiful. 

The driver continues to look at me expecting me to bring out my wallet and pay, when the only money in my wallet is a torn fifty naira note. I start to laugh again, but he doesn’t join me this time, I think he’s finally starting to get the message.
I take one or two deep breaths as I make my decision, then I push the door open. The last thing I see is the look of shock on the driver’s face as he begins to unhook his seatbelt. Lol he should not even bother, even Usain Bolt cannot catch me right now. I’m about to win my own gold medal in the ‘Ikeja Olympics 2016’
Imagine when you wake up in the morning and the very first thing that confronts you is an argument among your roommates about who finished the last garri and who’s buying the next one. I struggle to go back to sleep, but the tempo of their voices rise and rise. It seems this argument is a serious one and it is about to turn violent. And I was having the best dream ever, about one female in my faculty with the body of a mammy water (minus the tail of course) sigh. This life is just sad
I consider joining the argument, after all garri is a very important something at the moment, but then I remember all the one billion things I have to do today and I change my mind. Let the garri shaa be present and available when I return in the evening if not, World War III will begin.

I have finally decided to cut my hair. As in all of it. I really do not know why or where the sudden desire to do this came from but, what’s the harm really? Amean, I’m an official member of ‘Beard Gang’ and lord knows I pay my dues. I’ll probably end up looking like a much finer version of Mr. Idibia, and if the hair cut is really that fresh I might just make it a permanent something. Who knows?
I think about calling my father and telling him about my decision cos I’m sure that my allowance will double, maybe even triple sef. But that will come later, I’m still not sure if I can actually go through with this. Most of the people I’ve told about it have actually advised me against doing it. Maybe they know something I don’t? Lol. Abeg, it’s my hair and I shall do whatever I please. As a wise man once said, “once a fine boy, always a fine boy”.
As I stroll to the barbershop, I receive the usual admiring glances from the female populace. A part of me starts to wonder if I’ll still be receiving these glances in the next hour or less when all my hair is gone, but I brush it off as all the evil pipu from my village trying to make me change my mind.

My barber welcomes me and after all the chit-chat, he asks me what ‘direction’ I wanna go today. I tell him what I want and I see the shock that crosses his face. He asks me if I’m sure once, twice, three times and I confirm it. He shrugs and begins his manifestations.
I have certain things that I do which I have no logical explanation for, and one of these things is closing my eyes while I cut my hair. Ladies and gentlemen, if you’re ever going to enter into any risky venture, at least do it with your TWO eyes open. Towards the end of the haircut, I begin to feel some hesitation in the barber’s hands and I immediately know something is wrong.

I slowly open my eyes and I am confronted with an image in the mirror. Now, I say AN image because this person is definitely not me, it cannot be. I close my eyes and open again, then do it one more time. Still no change. My heart begins to beat faster and I look up at my barber. He is trying his best to keep something in, I don’t know if it’s laughter or tears. I look around the shop, all eyes are on me. Even the TV that was on some seconds ago seems to have paused.
I lift my right hand up and slowly rub it across my head, I can barely recognize the image in the mirror. Deep down inside, my conscience whispers to me “you don fuck up”

And then the laughter begins, all around the barbershop, everywhere.

I think I’ve made a mistake.

Great Opara


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