Weird shit… Part I

My country people…

One of the reasons I started this blog is that, at a point in my life, I felt like I always had a story to tell because the weirdest shit used to happen to me.  It was like I actively magnetized extra-terrestrial activities. I entered the strangest buses, I attended the scariest job interviews, I got toasted by the most abnormal men and, at work, I encountered the daftest candidates. It was so bad that someone once accuse me of “cooking up” these stories, but the truth is, you can’t make a lotta this shit up.

Let me tell you about my weekend…

On Saturday, I wanted to go swimming. I got dressed, got on a bike and headed for my bus stop. I noticed the bike guy was wobbling a bit, but because it was a really short distance, I figured I would survive the journey. I only warned him to be careful. We approached a junction at high speed and just at that moment, another senseless aboki sped into the road. I heard  a loud screeching noise from the breaks, neighborhood people started screaming, then there was a loud crash and the bike fell to the left.

But I thank God… all those nights of staying up to watch action feem came in handy. I channeled my inner Bruce Willis and somehow managed to jump to the right just before the bike hit the ground. I felt the exhaust of the bike scrape my ass as I leaped over it. I landed awkwardly on my right ankle and almost fell head first into the gutter.

The two bike men were spread in the middle of the road. My guy was lying on his side and had the bike on his left leg. The other guy was in the worst shape, but you wanna know the truth? I didn’t care. I patted the back of my jeans to make sure my ass was still a nice round shape… that the exhaust did not burn a hole through it. Then I walked away from the scene like…

Next thing I know, it felt like the entire village was running towards me. I thought I was going to be mobbed. I heard an old woman shouting, “Hol’ am o! Hol’ am!! Make she no comot!”

My Bruce Willis was tired and my ankle was sore so I couldn’t even run. I held my bag tight and continued to walk limp. A large man appeared in front of me and blocked me with his huge belly. He had a blue plastic chair in his hand. He put it down by the side of the road and asked me to sit down.

There was more shouting… “Sista siddon o!” “Make she siddon!!” “Hol’ am” “Wey water?”

That’s when I realized that they thought I was in shock. Maybe I was, maybe I wasn’t. I don’t know. All I know is they had ruined my action feem stagger and I didn’t like it. I didn’t sit on the chair, but I paused long enough for two men to look me deep in the eye before they concluded that I was ok and they allowed me go. The old woman (selling tomatoes and other things) was still screaming from the opposite side of the road that they should “Hol’ am oooooo!!!”.

I walked away as quickly as I could in case they changed their minds about “Hol’ing am”. This was in an area notorious for fetish practices. They celebrate every ‘celebratable’ traditional festival… they leave sacrifices in calabashes at road junctions and have small shrines around the area. The last thing I needed was for one of them to touch me. What shall it profit a man if he survives a bike accident and is turned into a three-legged chicken after they “hol’ am”? What if I lose a boob? What if my destiny is stolen??

I was almost at the bus stop when the bike guy rode up beside me. He apologised and offered to take me the rest of the way. If I had a gun, Lord knows I would’ve shot him dead on the spot. Instead, I told him to go to hell.

First thing I did as soon as I entered a cab, was narrate the entire ordeal to my siblings in our group chat. There was a lot of ‘Thank God o’ and ‘It is well’… but none of them offered to buy me a car. *side eye the three of you*

Have a fantastic week you guys!!! :-*

ps- watch out for part II…