Film Review: The Last Flight To Abuja: May Day!

On Friday, August 3, 2012 when my friend Atoke buzzed me to invite me to the premiere of the Nollywood movie The Last Flight To Abuja holding at the Genesis Deluxe Cinemas I was a bit hesitant. You seeI am not a fan of Nigerian movies (there have been the odd few that I have really enjoyed.... Guilty Pleasures, Mortal Inheritance, Rattlesnake, Out of Bounds, Thunderbolt... to mention a few)...but since it was a chance to share a few laughs and hang out with a friend and see the movie at no real cost to me I decided to give it a go.

The pre-premiere opinion of the movie shared by quite a number of people was that the movie should not have been made and that it was rather insensitive of the makers of the film to “cash in” on the events of the fatal June 3 Dana Airways air crash. This impression was corrected by Mr. Alex Otti, MD/CEO of Diamond Bank the main sponsors of the movie at the premiere. The Last Flight To Abuja, written and directed by Obi Emelonye (The Mirror Boy), which was loosely based around the Bellview Airlines crash of 2006 had been in production for months and was scheduled for release when the Dana plane crashed -  a case of a very bad coincidence.

So I “crossed” my mind and decided to be as objective as possible as I watched the movie. And what can I say? Although it was a commendable attempt, The Last Flight To Abuja crashed both literally and figuratively! Now where do I begin? Armed with a good but cliché ridden and predictable plot and storyline, The Last Flight To Abuja would have been a good movie if it had had a good script and dialogue, any decent acting and passable video effects.

The dialogue was abysmal to say the least; the conversations were alternately stilted and rushed like they were in a race or something. And when did the word “some” become a definitive article? e.g. “Let’s watch some Titanic”, “You have some temperature”. This wrong usage was rife throughout the entire movie with no one finding it fit to correct it!

Wardrobe and realism as is with many of our Nollywood productions was questionable particularly the uniforms, couldn’t the producers get authentic pilot and police uniforms? What was with the plastic tape used to make the pilots’ stripes?  The pilot’s wife also did not have a wedding ring on as she spoke to him on the phone. Were tablets available for use in 2006? Just one air hostess/cabin crew member on a plane? Are we to believe that the airport’s control tower is just one room, closely resembling my BQ room at the university? And the CGI? Hmm, definitely not 2012 stuff, no scratch that, definitely not 2001 stuff!! And the realisation that a scene from another movie was used to depict the air crash scene!! Shame!

The acting? Ever present were the shifting accents and affectations that are more in line with stage performances. However, I did enjoy Hakeem Kae-Kazim’s acting as well as Jim Iyke’s (sorry o but for some funny reason I like his acting *big grin*). The pilots played by Anthony Monjaro and Celine Loader effectively portrayed the distress and panic that any pilot in their positions would feel. Everyone else? Average.

However, the movie was not all bad! I wholeheartedly welcomed and commended Obi Emelonye’s cinematography and use of non-linear sequencing in telling his story, reminiscent of Chris Nolan’s Memento (2000). It showed a certain amount of ambitiousness that I liked. However, the downside was that there were too many flashes between scenes alternating between Abuja and Lagos which was a bit disorienting. His attempt to tell a story from different points of view and perspectives of the characters where they all converge on the plane is also worthy of note. The sound and sound effects were not bad either and the score was very very good! I particularly liked the use of radio commentary featuring a few of our OAPs as background sound as it helped the scenes. There was plenty of comic relief especially by Hakeem Kae-Kazim and his wanna-be philanderer friend. So we had loads of good laughs.

In the end The Last Flight To Abuja is a good attempt but is still beset with the basic challenges to good film making in Nigeria – scripting, acting and realism. The movie might take off with you but I am not so sure of where it would land you. Enjoy!

NB: The Last Flight to Abuja is dedicated to the memories of those that lost their lives in the June 3, 2012 Dana Airways plane crash. Written and directed by Obi Emelonye, it stars Omotola Jalade-Ekeinde, Hakeem Kae-Kazim, Jim Iyke, Ali Nuhu, Uru Eke, Celine Loader, Anthony Manjaro and Jide Kosoko.

Film Review: The Dark Knight Rises: Did it really?

On Wednesday, July 25, 2012 I got an invite to the Genesis Deluxe Cinemas’ premiere of probably the year’s most anticipated movie, The Dark Knight Rises, the concluding installment of director and writer Chris Nolan’s three part Batman series. The hype and anticipation was unprecedented, probably only matched by movies like Terminator 2: Judgement Day and (perhaps the only other comic universe franchise to match DC) Marvel’s The Avengers. The latter had broken records to become the third highest grossing movie of all time in just about eight weeks, earning $260m in its opening weekend in April 2012. I was among the very few people who believed that The Dark Knight Rises would beat The Avenger’s record.

And why did I believe that it would? Simply because Chris Nolan is a FANTASTIC director and writer. Indeed, The Dark Knight smashed records when it was released in 2008. It earned more than a billion dollars worldwide upon its release in 2008. Many would attribute this to Heath Ledger’s epic portrayal of The Joker based on Nolan’s interpretation of Batman’s most villainous villain. Others (myself included) would attribute it to the psychological study that was The Dark Knight. Nolan took Batman from comic book icon to a study in humanity, the battle between good and evil, and the grey areas in between. 2011’s Inception was a case study in film making. Nolan brought bits of what made his sophomore film Momento (2000) to bear in the critically acclaimed Inception. So little wonder The Dark Knight Rises was billed to rise and rise and rise. But somewhere along its intended ascent the two hours plus movie lost its wind.

First and foremost The Dark Knight Rises seemed like a lazy effort. The editing was abysmal. The scripting and plot scenes were like a series of quickies that did not get to the climax. The holes in the plot and storyline were so gaping and the material just did not hold water. I was left to assume so many things: How come Blake could so very easily figure out that Batman was actually Bruce Wayne? How did Bane figure out Batman was Bruce Wayne? How come after eight loooooong years, the city was still mourning White Knight Harvey Dent? I thought Lucius Fox left at the end of The Dark Knight? If he did not, why did he change his mind? How did the 3,000 plus Gotham City policemen survive three months underground? How come Alfred left? No, seriously why did he abandon Bruce? Where was the prison dungeon located? How come Bane could come and go as he pleased? Thought it was supposed to be somewhere not mainland USA? Bane broke Batman’s back (I actually cheered at that scene because it stayed true to the comics!) But come on! One does not recover from a broken back in a prison dungeon overnight!!!! The time-wasting speech and by-force kiss at the climactic scene when time was running out was cringe worthy! A nuke is about to go off in two minutes and you still have time for catharsis and a smooch? Like seriously?!! At the very best the script was overly simplistic.

The acting was not any better really. Joseph Gordon-Levitt had a good performance as the incorruptible cop John Blake. So did Gary Oldman and Marion Cotillard. Michael Cain was poor to say the least while Morgan Freeman and Christian Bale both seemed bored. And Bane’s voice! I had to strain my ears and mostly got someone else to tell me what he said!! It is bad enough we have to strain to catch what Batman (Bale) says due to his hoarse lisp but Bane’s Darth Vader-like voice was just inaudible!! The final fight scene was bleh! I know Chris Bale is not the biggest person or known for his fighting skills, but it was stiff (maybe it was the suit)! Bats is a bad ass martial artist schooled in the shadow arts! Most of us were also hoping that Tom Hardy who played Bane would bring some of his “bad assness” from The Warrior to bear on The Dark Knight Rises but alas that was not seen. The fighting should have been better choreographed.

On the positives, I loved the Talia al Ghul twist! It made sense. But the lovey dovey between Bruce and Miranda Tate her alter ego was not convincing enough. The twist at the end – Blake donning the role of Batman, Bruce Wayne (still recognisable!) turning up alive in Paris with Selina – reminiscent of Inception was almost cheesy but very welcome. It gave the film its final and much needed airlift. I mean no one, no matter the speculations, wanted to see Batman killed. We are glad Nolan kept him alive. If he had not, I daresay The Dark Knight Rises would have been deemed a bad movie.

I would be the first to admit that I was looking forward to identifying themes in The Dark Knight Rises. I found a few.

Nolan by bringing thematic elements of Batman Begins together with those from The Dark Knight stresses that Bruce Wayne cannot exist without Batman simply because he is first Batman before he is Bruce Wayne!! This was an epiphany for me because it was comforting to realise what I had long suspected: that like Superman whose alter ego is Clark Kent, Batman’s alter ego is Bruce Wayne! His life is the cowl! Bruce Wayne’s deterioration in spirit and body after the Batman disappears is evidence of this. In furtherance of the Dark Knight mythos, Nolan again confirms that Batman’s first and only love is the city of Gotham. Batman exists because Gotham exists; when threatened Batman defends her. Simple.

Nolan to my mind explores the symbolism of a “people’s” revolution against their government and the elite in Bane’s uprising (think #occupy). However, I failed to get that sense of anarchy or break up when the status quo of the previous eight years was destroyed. Where were all the mad men? Where was Arkham? The only thing reminiscent of it was The Scarecrow acting as judge and executioner of the new government. Was it a reverse Tunisian revolution gone wrong?

In the end, The Dark Knight Rises successfully brings to an end the Batman trilogy. However, deep inside I got the general feeling that Nolan and his team just wanted to get this trilogy over and done with really.

NB: As of July 29, 2012  (i.e. in 10 days) The Dark Knight Rises has made $537m worldwide at the Box Office.

For the Love of Bobbi!

“If you are still sucking breast, whether your wife’s or girlfriend’s, Happy Children’s Day! Lol!”

That was the joke I got via BB from a friend on Children’s Day. After I had a good laugh and responded adequately to her message where I placed the “blame” entirely on the shoulders of women, I began to think about breasts and why men of different ages are undeniably drawn to and fascinated by “bobbi” as my Warri connect would refer to them. Well not having enough time to carry out a proper survey, I restricted the scope of my rationalisations to my experiences and the few things I have heard other men say about boobs. From this we can hopefully draw a generalisation of the reasons behind men’s love affair with breasts.

First, I think that men are inexplicable drawn to boobs because we do not have boobs. One lady once remarked: What’s the big deal about breasts sef that you men can’t keep your eyes to yourselves?!” Simple: What one does not have, one covets. Yes, I am sure you can identify with wanting something that you do not have, like the new Blackberry phone or the new Jimmy Choos or Prada bag or that job, or that car etc. Yes, men see boobs as something to have, like “Damn! I want those pair of boobs!” Please do not be offended as it is not my intention to objectify women but it is the truth. Deep down inside I think most men are jealous that you women can carry something so delectable, so round, so protruding with panache and style. Really breasts add to a woman’s figure and enhance her curves and overall appeal. I read something off Twitter from @uberfacts, which went something like this: “Human females are the only female mammals whose breasts do not decrease in size after weaning their young.” So maybe human breasts are meant to be an added feature that promotes physical and sexual attraction during non-breastfeeding periods? Talking about breast feeding we have all heard of women who refuse to breastfeed (for long periods) because they do not want their boobies to lose shape. Why? To preserve the beauty of their boobs and to please man of course! Please ladies, breast feed your babies as doctors will tell you that there are numerous health benefits for the baby. By the way, spare some for oga too!

So my first encounter with breasts was around the age of twelve. No, mine was not as a baby because according to my mum, I did not take to breast milk so I was not breast fed but drank from a bottle (yes, you Psych majors can go Freudian on me now). So my first real notice of boobs happened one evening when I rang my neighbours’ doorbell and their 20-something year old aunt opened the door wearing a wrapper. Fortunately or unfortunately, as she said my playmates were not home her wrapper came loose and slipped from her chest. Gbam! I saw a pair of creamy mammary glands. Hmm....now those look interesting I said to myself.

From then on as any normal teenage boy would tell you, my life apart from school revolved around any opportunity to take a closer look at a woman’s chest. It became a thing where a guy would claim to have seen a classmate’s bra. We willed ourselves to see beyond the fabric; we would stretch our arms and jut out our elbows just to cop a feel.  It did not matter whom as long as they were females who were non-relatives, but since we spent the most time in school and at home it fell to schoolmates and neighbours. But I reckon in those early teenage years it was hardly a sexual thing, it was just a matter of curiosity.

My first physical encounter with boobs was at fifteen during a make out session, and boy were they big! Double Ds I believe. And no, they did not belong to the help. They belonged to the first girl I kissed, and she was my age. The feeling was great and I remember thinking “So this is what these feel like!” My curious mind had been sated, I knew what boobs felt and tasted like, finally. Or not. I encountered the same pair for a while until I had the opportunity to meet with another pair which were quite different. Now my curiosity was piqued even more. It became a “Hmm, I wonder what Sade’s breasts would feel like? Jennifer’s?” Then it became one encounter after the other as I got into the university. The thing is as one woman was different from the other, so were one pair of boobs different from the other. Now ladies please do not get me wrong, the boobs thing was just complementary to the whole dating experience, I promise.

Breasts have no “real” sexual function at least from the man’s point of view. I say this because we have been told that women have the capacity to orgasm via stimulation of the breasts. For men who suckle breasts during the sexual act, Sigmund Freud argued that it is an advanced replication of that first “love relationship” a man has with his mother as a baby. So men MUST suckle. And maybe that is another reason for our fascination with boobs, we need nurturing, and since our mums cannot do this anymore, we turn to you women to provide that safe embrace where we know that nothing can go wrong and all is well.

Ladies, men love your boobs, big and/or small. We cannot help it if we stare. But some of you are to blame for the stares. Ah ahn! I have seen low cut blouses that would make a priest stutter, and from married women at that. I have a friend who was quite endowed but deliberately wore those tight push up bras, ol’ boy, guys noticed and formed a long line! The cleavage! Oh! The cleavage! It calls to us, whispering our names, begging us to look.

There are some women who understand the power those creamy mounds possess. There is a friend of a friend who is a motivational speaker/etiquette and communication coach, who confessed that jiggling her top heavy chest opens doors for her and helps “get her point across” whenever she gave presentations and talks.

On the health side of things I am aware that big mammaries can cause severe back pain as a woman ages. So breast reduction is being practised. On the other hand, some women have had theirs increased. What for? In my personal opinion, except you are flat as a washboard, you really should not be getting breast enlargement done. You know why? Because men will still suckle! Yes, some men like theirs big, let them go get the big ones; there are others like a friend who says “more than a handful is a waste” who like them small.

The point of this article? None really. Men simply love boobs, and the truth is no reason is needed! Do not be offended when we ogle, instead be proud. Stick them out, proudly especially if you have been blessed with a “Manchester”. But if you like, cover them up, wear Wonder Bra or wear “Kostay”, it is up to you but men will still stare and forever love and be fascinated with your boobs.... Chei! See bobbi!

No.

Each time she says NO, it is like a reaffirmation of that first NO I heard. It may not hurt as much but it hurts just the same. Dunno why I get myself into these situations. It’s never the same unravelling but it does unravel. Some I chase away. Some push me away. However, I inevitably plead and try to get back. Maybe it’s the pleading or maybe it’s the affirmation that I need.  Jeez, I’m not supposed to be in this kind of place. I shouldn’t. Maybe that’s my particular weakness. Maybe someone understands; maybe God understands. Maybe that’s what Solomon was all about. But hey, he was king, and rich, and wise, and in the Old Testament to boot. I need help. I need to be understood. I need to be loved. I need to be slapped. Hard.

When She Makes Up Your Mind for You.

I have quite a number of single male friends. I can count the number of my close male friends that are married on half a hand; yes, it is that bad. Sometimes I long to be able to chat with guys in the same boat as I am. So in order to help my situation, I occasionally ask my homies such questions like:

“How far? What’s up with you and that babe?”

“That Tolu babe no bad o! When una dey marry?”

“When are you getting married?”

“Guy you’ve been dating Cynthia for like two years now, when are we coming to eat rice and drink Coke?”

And what do I get in response? ....

“Bro, I’m not ready.”

“Pepper never rest o.”

“Marry who? Cynthia? Nah bruv.”

Even the ones that seem eligible and are in seemingly good relationships repeatedly say things like “I haven’t made up my mind yet”. That line has become the mantra for the single yet eligible guys in Lagos. But in closing that bit of the conversation I always tell them “Guy make up your mind, before she makes it up for you.”

Now some of you (and them) may not get what I mean by “when she makes up your mind for you”, allow me to explain. Now this is no threat but a fact: some guys are under the illusion that they call the shots in eventually deciding to marry a woman. But in some situations, that is not the case. You have been dating this girl for upwards of nine months, you are over 28, and have a good job, a nice apartment with the flat screen TV and PS3. She comes over as often as possible, cooks, cleans and performs other girlfriend and “quarter-to-wife activities. Everyone knows she is your girlfriend – your folks, your siblings, your cousins, friends and boss – but somehow somehow you have no plans to marry her; and when questions are asked as to the wedding date you mumble something in the region of “I’m not quite ready.” The sad thing is very often, many dating couples play this scenario and in the end they break up even after five years of dating. These are the ones my guys see and think that they can still call the shots. What they do not see or deliberately choose not to see are the situations where the women make up the men’s minds for them.

My dear cousin is a bit notorious for being a ladies’ man. He is doing quite well for himself and at 30 thinks that he’s got to live it up and groove until he is ready to settle down. This does not mean that he refrains from serious type relationships. He actually gets involved in serious relationships and all. The first one lasted for about three years and when he broke up with her, we (being the entire family) thought that the next one would be the one. Nay, not so. Cousin of mine began running through women like they were going out of fashion, I tried to get him to focus and all that but he was having none of it. In all other ways he was the epitome of hard work and diligence but when it came to having a good time he lived by his own rules. He then finally got into another serious relationship with another girl and after I met her a couple of times (including Christmas Day dinner at my folks’) I had to ask what his plans were. I got the same non-committed answer. The next thing I heard was that the family had intervened and hooked him up with a young lass from the “area”. I thought to myself that this might just work considering that the family was involved. I followed up with the relevant questions as to the degree of his seriousness. Again I got the same non-committed answer! At this point I had to give him the speech. He nodded and listened and said that he had heard but that he just was not ready. A few weeks later my sister buzzed me saying that girlfriend had gotten pregnant. OK. But how did my sister know? Wrong question! How did everyone know? Girlfriend was not having any of that “let’s solve this problem” option. For her it was not an option because she was under the impression that boyfriend was serious about her and as a result she had duly informed her parents about the situation. Being that family was involved, my cousin could not front. Cross level consultations were held and after a few arrangements, their introduction took place last weekend. I attended the introduction but I could not help but laugh. Serves him right, you might say, because despite all his “I’m not yet ready”, girlfriend had made up his mind for him. But the truth is (if they would ever have the guts to say so) many marriages have been brokered because despite the man’s uncertainty, the woman took in and helped to make up boyfriend’s mind.

Now, I do not mean to present women as being manipulative, in fact, my intention is rather the opposite. A girlfriend getting pregnant for her eligible boyfriend is perhaps just the little nudge or kick in the butt that homeboy really needs. Men are known to be rather indecisive when it comes to things that require a great deal of commitment, especially marriage. Insecurity, fear of the unknown, fear of change, fear of losing one’s freedom are common reasons why men hesitate on a formal, legitimate partnership. They say women prepare for marriage right from the age of 18. Men on the other hand, have no age attached to it. All men require is a great deal of maturity and the desire to move to the next step. Only boys would want the milk for free. Mature men would buy the cow and invest in it ensuring that they get excellent milk on a daily basis. Thankfully, many boys mature in marriage becoming men they were afraid of becoming. Unfortunately, a few do not and well, they tend to consciously or sub-consciously blame (or is it dislike) the girl for “forcing” them into that situation. But like I always say, nothing is by force; except someone puts a gun to a guy’s head to get married. I pray my cousin becomes the former by maturing into his marriage. I have not yet met the bride to be but by all indications including a summary from my sister and a look into her Facebook profile, I think she will make a good wife and mother.

So to my homies out there I think it makes you a bit more of a man if you make up your own minds and behave in tandem with your decisions, as against having her make up your mind for you, which believe me she can.

Photo credit: www.essence.com

A Woman's Worth

Deji had had enough, the whole thing was becoming a little too much and he couldn’t take it any more.

Things had really deteriorated at the office; more specifically things between him and his boss. Lately, nothing he did impressed the man. He found mistakes in everything Deji did and took forever in approving his jobs. Even Deji’s subtle tactic of passing his jobs to the other ogas in the department was wearing thin as they now refused to okay his work stressing that although they felt he had done a good job, Collins was meant to approve them. They tried to encourage him telling him how he must ‘manage’ his boss.

Manage whom? To Deji that was asking for more than he could do at the point in time. Firstly, the department was short-staffed, and he was carrying out more than one function, in short he was doing the work of three people; so where was he going to find the time to kiss his boss’ ass? Secondly, he got along well with the other team heads and ogas in the department without any ass-kissing so why was this particular ass so special?

Deji was in the creative team of his department which called for churning out of good marketing communication ideas for the organization. Creativity required a high degree of equanimity of the mind and soul and he was not getting any of it in his department. Since Chisom went on maternity leave he also had the added responsibility of dealing with the media guys and the Director’s correspondence; requests which came in at odd times of the day and week with all sorts of near impossible deadlines. Well, this was what he signed up for and he could handle it; as they say ‘work no dey end.’ But the ass-kissing? Sorry, no can do.

Deji was one of those people who believed that one’s work should speak for one’s capabilities and not any other thing. Choosing his friends carefully, he was civil and cordial to others in the company making him the nice guy.

Now one of Deji's colleagues, Stella would often come into his office to see him under the pretext of making enquiries. Stella was relatively new in the company having just spent three months and they got on pretty well. They sometimes had lunch together in the cafeteria and talked. She liked Deji as he made her laugh. Deji found her very attractive and often told her so. She would then laugh and remind Deji that she had a fiancé in the UK who was coming back soon to take her to the altar. Deji in response told her that he had a girlfriend and was quite content with just looking at her. Stella and Deji’s friendship would sometimes attract friendly jibes from his colleagues which he took good naturedly without being overly defensive.

One day he found himself in a situation where his boss gave him a query for some unfinished tasks which had exceeded their deadlines. The HoD was copied in the query. Deji explained to the HoD that he had actually finished some of them but was yet to pass them on to Collins for approval. The others had not been completed because Collins had earlier told him to put them on the backburner as they were of lower priority.

The HoD did not buy into Deji’s explanation. How could he? When Deji could not explain why his boss constantly refused to approve his work, or why he sometimes took weeks to look at a draft or dummy or why he was also in the habit of misplacing Deji’s painstaking marketing plans. Deji responded to the memo with the promise to improve on meeting his deadlines.

A few weeks later another issue came up and Collins ranted and raved threatening Deji with a poor performance evaluation and non-promotion for the year. Deji could not bear the thought of not being promoted. He had never failed at anything in his life and he was not going to start now. He quietly dropped his letter with the Human Capital Department and without telling too many people, he resigned his appointment. He had had enough. He did not need anyone to kill his spirit or destroy what little confidence he had in himself. There were easier ways to make money in this town.

Two months later, Deji found another job with a media firm. He took a pay cut but got his confidence and game back making considerable contributions to his new employer. He still kept in touch with some of his former colleagues especially Stella who had found it a bit hard to understand why he left so suddenly and why he had not confided in her. He reminded her that he was not her boyfriend and therefore not answerable to her. She laughed at this and told him that she missed him.

He took her out to lunch one day, where they sat and were able to catch up on things. She still wanted to know why he resigned his appointment, as he had not told her. This was one question he was tired of answering. Depending on whom was doing the asking, he would explain the issues he was having with his boss and the fact that his work and ability were being called into question by the unfriendly and mean attitude of his boss. To others he gave the generic answer of wanting a new challenge and wanting to work on the media side of things. Well, he had come to see that his reasons for leaving were actually a combination of both.

After the meal, he was about to tell her the whole story when her phone rang. After a brief conversation with the person on the line where she explained that she’s having lunch with a friend, she disconnected. Deji enquired to the identity of the caller, teasing her about her fiancé. She smiled and told him that it was his former boss Collins, who had taken her out for a drinks a couple of times. She explained that they had recently become friendly after he gave her a ride home, which had become a regular thing since he lived not too far from her place. Deji had a ‘light bulb moment’ as the picture became very clear to him. The crude teasing, the looks, the veiled comments and antagonism from his boss now made sense. The possibility had never crossed his slow mind. How could he have been so blind? Stella seeing the look that briefly crossed his face, asked him what was wrong. Deji just smiled and he shook his head. She smiled and again asked him why he left the company.

Untitled

The okada came to a stop just by the side of the road. Peter dismounted and paid the okada. The bike noisily clambered along the sand strip before it joined the main road.

Peter dusted the grains of sand that had clung to his trousers during the undulating ride along one of Lagos’ finest pathways.

He took a look at the road. Good. The traffic was gradually building up. He looked at his watch, a Seckiko, his pal Jude had given it to him in lieu of the N1,000 he owed him. Cheap rubbish, the thing had begun to fade. Anyway that was not his problem today. It was 4:30pm and he had arrived early.

He took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. The sun was slowly going down but still doing its job. Well, he had his to do. He swung his satchel to the front of his waist and removed his fez cap from it. Hat on head, he rolled up his sleeves. Someone whistled in his direction. He looked up and saw Chidi, one of the competition.

“Pally, how far?” Chidi said in greeting.

“I just dey come o.”

“How your people?”

“Dem dey, we thank God.”

Peter wasn’t sure he was happy that Chidi got there before him but sometimes it was not about the early bird but about who had the sharpest eyes and his eyes were sharper than Chidi’s.

Peter brought out his stash from his satchel and quickly checked it. Everything was okay. He took a look at the oncoming traffic and when it slowed down a bit he darted in. He unrolled his dummy cards and looked for prospects.

He had spent an hour and was making good sales, roughly N12,500. He wiped his brow again. Looking neat was important in this business. One had to look presentable and responsible especially when it came to those girls. Yes, the ones in their new SUVs and Korean cars, looking like they did not fart. They were heavy buyers as against the men who mostly bought in N500s.

He heard a car horn. He quickly turned. It was the blue Passat that had just passed. Indecisive people, didn’t they see him before? He ran after it. The driver wound down and showed a one thousand naira note. Airtel he guessed. He caught up with the car as it slowed down.

“Please, give me one Zain, one thousand.” He guessed right. He was getting good at this. He could predict within a good degree of accuracy the network provider a particular person wanted to buy.

Ssssiii! He looked up. A woman in a danfo was beckoning to him. Mmm…. Glo, five hundred. He crossed to the other lane just missing an okada man. “You no dey see?!” the okada man spat at he whizzed by. “You sef, you blind?!” he shot back.

“Abeg, give me Glo, five hundred.” Another satisfied customer.

Where was Chidi? He searched. He spied Chidi further down the road trying to pick up the ones he had missed. It was getting dark and he was thirsty too. He saw Sunny the guy selling drinks. “Sunny, you get water for there?” “No o, e don finish, na only soft drinks remain.” No, that was above his budget. He would look out for the other guys who sold drinks.

He really could not afford to be reckless with his money. Especially now that Helen, his girlfriend had told him she was pregnant! Chei! God had caught him! It had been a surprise to him but he had taken it like a man. It must have been those few times they did it without a condom. Na wa! Just like that? Well, he was a strong man, a goal scorer.

What would he do for money now? He needed more money. In a few months a baby would come and preparations had to be made for his first child, a boy… or a girl? Fear gripped him suddenly… maybe twins?! Ah no o! He wasn’t looking for a brace or a hat trick! He offered a silent prayer. He would have to accommodate Helen, and eventually perform the marriage rites. See wetin person come find for Lagos!

He considered his options as he was almost hit by another okada. Mmm… maybe he could buy a bike and rent it out. He had no interest riding it himself. The wahala was too much and he had witnessed a few okada accidents. Not a pretty sight. Option one.

Option two would be to take his uncle’s offer of assisting to manage his carpet shop. But was he really interested in doing that? After all, he had turned down the man’s offer and his pride would not permit him to take up something he had rejected. He wanted to be his own man and make his own money and drive a nice car like the End of Discussion that was in front of him. He looked at the driver, a young man he was sure could not be older than he. Chei! All fingers are not equal true true! Another option popped into his head as he looked on with envy; he could look for driver work! He had learnt to drive in his hometown before he came to town and he was sure that he could handle these new automatic cars. Didn’t he teach John how to drive? Now John was a driver for JB! Maybe John could help him out. Oh! He just remembered John had his WAEC while he didn’t. Enh, he could get one as a private driver, couldn’t he? But could he really do the work of a private driver? He took a look at the traffic around him. No way, he thought. Some of these ogas and madams could be nasty! He heard about one man that used to knock his driver on the head whenever he felt he had made a mistake. He had witnessed a few women shouting at their drivers too. No, it wasn’t for him. He had too much pride for that kind of rubbish. But he thought about his situation and reconsidered the option, after all na condition make crayfish bend. Money, money, money.

He heard an approaching siren and quickly got his bearings. Another big man was passing slowly but surely as the other car owners moved aside to allow the convoy to pass. Peter always wondered how space was always readily made available for the siren blaring police officers, military men, commissioners, council chairmen, etc. wait o! Couldn’t he join the police or the army? Maybe even the air force? No, his mother would disown him. Besides could he go and fight in a war if he was ordered to? Mba, no.

It had gotten dark and it suddenly looked like rain. He did a quick mental calculation. He had sold about N37,000 worth of recharge cards in three and a half hours. It was time to go home before he tempted fate. What with thieving policemen, taskforce raiders and okada riding thieves it made sense to call it a day.

It began to drizzle. He looked around for a free okada. The traffic had really built up and people were moving bumper to bumper. The road was bad and grossly inadequate for the volume of traffic it carried. And all these people will wake up at 4am to leave early for work again tomorrow?! He felt sorry for them. Anyway he had his own problems.

He hailed a passing okada, spoke with the aboki briefly and asked him to go. Nonsense! The guy couldn’t understand or speak English and he was rather young. No be me e go kill today!

He was beginning to get wet. It is going to be a cold night he thought. He quickly found another okada, negotiated with the guy and rode on home where Helen was waiting.