It was a most blissful morning in Lagos eerily reminiscent of halcyon days when you woke up in the village to be greeted by the wonderful smell of moin-moin and akara in the vicinity. If you are a master in this gastronomic matter, you could tell which stage of readiness for consumption the delicacy had reached by merely putting your nostrils to work: from the faintly undercooked to the delicately cooked and on to the grossly overcooked which was usually reserved for the impertinent interloper.
After the midnight rains which clattered on the roof and whined on endlessly, a wondrous calm had descended on the nation. Hopefully the rains would have washed away the last vestiges of the dreadful coronavirus which had turned the live of everybody into a dreadful misery in the last three months or so. The traumatic impact of this plague is such that nobody would be in a hurry to forget.
But Coro virus or no Coro virus, nothing could have bettered the calm tranquillity of this early June morning as yours sincerely curled up in bed watching America unravel on television with sleepy-eyed disbelief. The serenity of the beautiful morning was eventually shattered when Okon barged in resplendently attired in resource control costumes replete with colonial bowler hat and carved walking stick to match. Snooper was bowled over.
“And where is his Excellency heading out to so early in the morning?” snooper asked with affected reverence.
“Ha oga morning sir. I wan quickly reach dem place dem dey call Online make man sign dem comdomless register for dem 12 2/3 Ibadan man. Dem say dem place dey between Mile 12 and Majidun”, the crazy fellow responded with pomp and swagger.
“Ah yes. You turn right at Mile Twelve to connect with Alapere”, snooper noted, hoping to send the chap on a false trail to terminal perdition. But the fellow picked the scent of ambush.
“Ah oga, Okon no be fool o. You wan make dem Alapere police finis man? Those one dem be like dem Obudu red ants. Dem dey fight anything and dem dey bite anything”, Okon noted with a cynical snort sending one to convulsive laughing.
“Okon, but you said you were going to Ibadan to sign the register last week?” snooper inquired.
“Ha oga, dat one na Ogbonge wahala. Dem border police come arrest Okon for dem Ojodu Berger say man don reach Ogun State. Dem useless police just stay near dem Motor Parkand dem dey collect passenger money say dem don cross border. Naim I come jump inside ditch and I come tell dem say I don reach Lagos again,” Okon sniggered.
It was at this point that Mama Igosun crashed in eyeing Okon with malice even as she attempted to remove his hat with her walking stick.
“Akanbi, gudu morin o jare (Good morning, please) I know say dis boy na rascal and na proper asinde( madman) I no know whether him be ogbologbo jaguda. He good make you dey on him case before him come bring army robbers make dem come do sababi (evil) to you ooo.” The old woman chanted breathlessly.
“Ha mama, what has Okon done again ooo?”, snooper asked in a very conciliatory tone.
“Are you see. Since I come Lagos, all my knickers and dem corsets dey disappear one by one”, the old woman lamented.
“Ha Iya, I know knickers but what is corsets?” your sincerely asked in genuine ignorance.
“Ha, you sabi knickers but you no sabi corsets, abi? So if you wan pieces all dem Lagos women how you dey do am? Corset na komu. Abi you no sabi komu? Se o mo komu?” the ancient woman screamed in vernacular.(Komu is Yoruba word for brassiere)
“Ah o yes, I know bra, I know brassiere”, snooper hastily assented with a touch of coy embarrassment, before the whole thing descended into village vulgarity.
“All dat one na yeye grammar. Bra ko, bra ni. All dem corset I buy dem from Lennards, Leventis, Kingsway, Chellerams, Enike Zard, Patterson, Bhojsons and dem I. Mudah dem done steal dem for high wire”, the old woman wailed.
“Mama Okon may look like thief but he will never do that”, snooper pleaded. Sensing a lull in the hostilities, the mad boy, as accident-prone as ever, put his heavy boot in.
“Ha oga na dat one na wetin dem Fela dey call Hot Pants or pata gbogbona”, the crazy boy sniggered as he eyed mama Igosun with mock pity.
“Shut up. I know say you be thief. Na Akanbi him head no dey well. I dey hear you and dem Ibo boy well well for night becos you think say I don sleep. I give you seven days. If you no return dem stuff thunder go pieces you before dem eight days. If he no happen no be Akanbi Olukoso born me”, the old woman cursed and swept out.
The Nation