'Police is Your Friend'

‘Bros keep eye for road, all man dey highway abeg’

Gbenga had a knack for driving and arguing. I don’t understand how the best place he could pick to argue ‘Man U VS Liverpool’s recent match was the highway to Benin. Coupled with the fact he was in a ‘good mood’ added to my paranoia that morning as we set out for Benin some minutes past 7. The car was full. Boys planned to move together in hopes of adventure. Hehehe. The 14-seater-bus has seven occupants at the moment, Gbenga the driver, Adebayo the 2^nd designated driver and Nnamdi the 3^rd designated driver. (Nnamdi doesn’t know how to drive tho).

Na so we dey road, blasting MAVIN’s ... No... They were already arguing the match by the time we passed the police check point. Our car was told to park as expected. Police is really y/our friend (who else decides to always check on you when driving)... We park, and a long bald policeman comes to Gbenga’s window. I remember he was tall and bald cos I was reading Game of Thrones and his look was the exact opposite Tyrion Lannister. The only ‘difference’ is he looked stupid.

Black Tyrion: Corper shun!!! He shouted

I closed my eye and rolled it inside. Well, he didn’t say ‘otondo’ which I hate more.

WE: Yes sir, shun sir etc the boys replied...

Black Tyrion: How far now, wetin una get for us..

Adebayo: Oga sir, see we be corper shun, gov no pay us allawi till we comot for camp, we hear say dey go soon pay, na why we dey rush go back benin.

Anthony: Shingbain ko si sir.

Black Tyrion: nNa so una go talk, see as u kack dey say money no dey

Nnamdi: Oga all this one na packaging, kosowo. Ego le.

Black Tyrion: Ehen so if we search una now, we no go see shishi

Taiwo (mumbling): Why does he want to search? We have done nothing. He can’t just flag us down and want to search us. He should ask nicely for whatever he wants and let’s go.

Me: Oga pls now, no be so, na small thing we hold say make we pay for t-fare buy fuel for this car dey with us. Shun sir, tuale.

At this point, he looks at me funny....

The alarm bells in my head go off but as ever I’m unable to know what/where the problem is. I question the point of knowing something is amiss when I can’t figure what it is...

Tyrion signals another policeman who looks at me, looks at the car and goes off mumbling,

“...na dem now, u know see him face”.

Gbenga looks at me, “dey don recognise you. Hope say you get money for them o”.

I’m wondering how they could know my face when the DPO comes to the door of the car and orders everyone out.

I scan my head for where I’d seen him before, any of them...

I come up with blanks...

I look at Jide and he knows...

We are in deep shit!!!

I start to come up with a plan...

We are travelling with 20k worth of vegetable to start a farm.

That was sure guaranty we were fucked up.

I remember the policeman I met at shrine the other day and remember I have his number somewhere..

‘Where’ is somewhere I’m trying to remember, shit I collected it with Muyi’s phone.

We are fucked and screwed.

You are fucked and screwed a fact it is.

All this travel faster than a hit of ayemowa to a 1^st timer in my head.

We come down and two policemen enter and start to search while Black Tyrion opens the boot and gets our belongings out and starts to search. The DPO stands a way off and watches with eagle eyes.

I’ve seen him somewhere before. I know this.

Fat Ibo man (police): Wetin dey inside this case?!!!

I start to look at everyone’s face.  What was happening wasn’t bad luck. Someone snitched. This was all a set up. One of us planned this.

Gbenga, Adebayo, Nnamdi, Jide, Taiwo, Anthony and I.

Who is it??

Taiwo’s bag was opened and inside were two smaller bags, one is identified as underwear and the other wrapped more closely is brought to the DPO

DPO: What is inside?

Anthony: Oga sir, it’s nothing, it’s just .....

Black Tyrion: it’s wetin? Na illegal thing? *Anthony shakes his head* then you fit show us wetin dey the inside abi now.

DPO doesn’t wait for tales by the road side and tears the bag open. At first the content was quite unbelievable in their eyes. I’m sure they had never seen so much at once.

One chuckled “see wetin we hammer today”. If it wasn’t for the situation we was in, I would have burst out laughing cos walahi, the scene was too funny. I managed to let a grin escape.

DPO: Explain this (with deep unbelief in his eyes)

Black Tyrion: Haba!!! Only you?

Anthony: No sir, not only me. It’s now what it looks like, I, we, have this urges, we can’t control myself so I have to whenever. My parents ...

Black Tyrion: E no even fit speak English well and you say you be corper. Disgrace!!!

DPO: you said ‘my parents’. Your parents know about this?

We bust into small laughter and the DPO glares at us.

Anthony: no sir, they don’t, they gave it to us at camp sir, NYSC camp.

DPO: camp? What kind of camp is that? Give you all of this?

Anthony is a sex addict. So he is always packing. He is your resort for a condom in the land of no rubber. So staring at us was all the condoms given during our camp to share, Anthony was platoon leader and as such embezzled all the condoms he was suppose to share.

This was his dilemma as he stood on the road side, cars passing and a policeman harassing him for having the sense, decency to use a condom.

Shaking his head, the DPO orders the search to continue and our faces turn grim from the predicament we hadn’t left.

Jide is by this time fidgeting and worried. Seun, Gbenga, Adebayo all had the look of disaster on them. Only Taiwo looked liked he didn’t associate with our present trouble. He might be thinking of how to get a police favour to intervene for him. Rich bastard.

The search continues and apart from finding lighters which they believe is proof we had vegetable on the bus, nothing else is found. We are in a separate police bus by this time as they searched every nook and cranny of our engine, boot, tires and etc. I was sure by this time that they had been tipped off. Who did and why was processing in my mind. Black tyrion and his partner come back for us and take us one by one to be questioned by the DPO. Whoever was questioned wasn’t allowed to return to us in the bus. I was questioned last.  I knew I was going to be, so I took my time to come up with the best story to escape the present situation. My turn came and the DPO asked where the vegetable was. I tell him there was none on board... And stuck to the same story.

‘SLAP’

That was how it actually sounded.

The daze from the DPO’s hand tasted slap as well.

Never lie to a friend. Police is your friend.

I stick to my story.

Next moment, the DPO sends for someone.

I couldn’t imagine the shock he probably saw on my face but his actions showed he was mad at this point with the way he rushed at me the moment he entered the room, and shouting...

‘...A Y, how far... where this ish now, na me and you load am for bus this morning. Where you out am, u bastard?’

I tried to remember where things could have gone amiss, when was he bought, who bought him, When did it happen,  All this is playing in my head while he is shouting threats at me and so on, while the DPO was shouting on him for leading him to a failed bust raid.

Lots of shouting. I tune out and visit my favourite place.

The DPO faces me and issues another slap. This one with more enthusiasm in front of the snitch.

He (snitch) begged the DPO to give him time that he was sure the vegetable was on board. He now looks for it where we kept it together that morning. The guys seeing what was happening and understanding the picture were shocked and looked surprised.

He doesn’t find the stuff and soon the DPO grumbles off after ordering his own arrest and we continue our journey...

I really did not care what his fate will be.

We continue our journey and after 20 minutes, Anthony slows down, parks the car and we all take a moment to just stare at nothing.

We saw the lights flashing before we realised the sound was with us as well.

The police car turns off the highway, and parks behind us.

He gets down and struggles with his load as he reaches our car.

                                                               He: ‘no vex about wetin just happen’        

Me: small thing, na small thing

He: u sure? No tell Rikky say I slap you

Me: na all for show now

The DPO leaves without the load he brought down from his car.

I at that point wanted to ask what he will do with Jide but Gbenga starts the car and we continue our journey. I open the bag and bring out a small quantity, assure myself that all was in order, smile and close the bag.

A friend with weed is a friend indeed.

Police is your friend.

Giving

Good day,                             

I heard of a story back then...

About Benny Hinn.

He was in a village as a missionary,

A very very poor village.

They had lil’ food,

They had no more money.

So, come Sunday,

In the House of the Lord,

After all the praying and singing,

And preaching and of course,

More prayer for their condition,

Benny wouldn’t collect offering.

And this went on for a while,

Until Benny asked God,

“Why, what is going on? Don’t they pray enough, praise You enough”?

To which God replied,

“You are the reason for their poor state”,

I can’t imagine what Benny would have thought at that moment.

I’d be so sad and ashamed I’ve been found wanting by God.

Benny in a confused state (anyone will be in one) asked God how he was the cause of their poor state.

God replied “You don’t help them give. You don’t collect offerings and so they remain the way they are”.

We often hear amounts and accounts of ‘crazy giving’ asked for /from the congregation,

And we wonder how someone will actually comply and give.

Or we see things like poor congregation, rich pastor (or well packaged pastor),

And we point fingers and say that isn’t right.

I’m with you on that thought. It doesn’t look right.

But then I know giving isn’t a man thing.

Especially when it’s to God,

I see it as God owes me,

And that is just a ‘placard to have about saying ‘God owes me’’

And God always pays exceedingly more abi?

Then we agree God sees all,

as in all, everything, gbo gbo e,

So please explain why you find it hard (and utterly suspicious) to give your pastor money

(to hold for God),

Is it your money after you have dropped it?

No be God get am?

Sorry mate, this isn’t your cross.

All you know is God owes one,

And God will always pay. ... .

So if your mind tells you that pastor is shady, please don’t give offering. But PLEASE also, don’t spread the gospel of ‘rich pastor, poor congregation’ etc. Preach the Gospel of GIVING as Jesus did for us.

*pockets offering to give baba by the junction*

Please the post should be read with an open objective mind as I’m neither endorsing pastors asking  for(and telling people) to give in ‘outrageous’ amounts..... or saying you should close your eye and give somewhere you are ‘convinced’ the pastor is shady or whatever else besides what is written in plain ink.

Lagosian

At first, I thought I was the only one. Then, sure as I knew I wasn't, my brothers began to show around me.

We were the chosen of our Kind, to bring fame and honor to our Kings from old.  We never failed. But that was then. Then when we fought against men of our race, Our own skin, Our own round world. For now, even though noone showed it, That in itself was showing clearly, The anxiousness of not knowing your enemy. The ease with which the Lads had prepared, Before other battles where they were not chosen, Wasn't evident before we left.  There had been no tiddy bitty about the 'others'.

The cry was given. And we started to run.

Run, we ran towards where our steady gps, Beeped us to run.  Soon and clearly, we saw the clouds they evolked off in their race. Swords abalzing, hats charging forward, We had come across our 1st group. The Mexicans, No ordinary features.  They stopped and looked us over.  Each race had their 1st representatives step out. The race had to continue. So teams agreed to drop people off to fight and catch up if possible.

We were about moving off when we heard the next group grope into view.

With their square jaws and broad shoulders,

The Germans looked fearsome.

The Mexicans and we knew we had to collaborate this time and so the two races joined together their next assault team and the rest along with the Germans continued.

As is usual in this games, when there are three. The rule of odd begins to apply and immediately, it is best to watch one's old friend than the new one.

Hence, when the Mexican came to attack our own 'chosen', we killed theirs and destroyed the Mexican ambition. The chosen is one who will break into the Dome of life. He has been chosen to sacrifice himself for life. The race which got to bring life was crowned Abraham. Each team usually fought all the way just so the 'chosen' had a chance. The Mexicans were gone and the Dome came into view. Getting there, we saw the Lebanese already drilling their way in for the chosen one. Quick as can be though, both sides swung at each other and started to fight for his race's honor. I swung and swung and chopped and axed and I was in front of my 'chosen'. His face was cut above his right eye and he was dropping dead at the moment. I clutched him and looked into his eye, 'Chosen Bashir, you can't do this'. He looked me and said 'yes, I can' and swinging with his sword he cut out the piece of his staff holding the great Gene of our race, placed it in my hand and told me go. I knew what was required of me immediately and so I ran and dodged and moved and went through fire till I reached the wall of the dome. We had all been taught though, the secret way to entering the dome. A secret I intend to keep too. I am writing this from inside the outer dome. I will go on inside now and bring honor to my race.

................................................................................................................................................

"Madam, you are pregnant"

"Really doctor, it worked"

"Yes maam, it worked"

"Thank God"

"And science for artificial insermination"

"So which of them worked? Is my baby going to be a Mexican or German or Lebanese or a typical Lagosian?"

"We will just have to wait find out maam"

"Eko oni baje"

Shoprite Bread

I woke up that morning around 7:15 as usual. I stopped the alarm and went back to sleep. The sleep string had been cut though. My head came out from my wrapper. 7: 16 a.m. I mentally go through my day. I had to be at Lere soon. I grabbed the phone and checked for messages. Dropped it and checked other phone, glance through e-mails, IMs. Delete. Delete. Deleting the NEWS subscription e-mails. I wish they sent the gist instead of links. Boy was too lazy for clicking. I put phone down and start my usual 7-10 seconds of Morning Prayer. One day, I will pray like my Mom. Amen.

My phone rings at that moment. I look at the caller ID and ignore it. I finish my prayer and get up slowly, pull on a pair of shorts and called the number back.

Me: Morning, where you dey?

Caller: I just dey comot for house. You?

Me: I won dey comot now now.

Caller: Ok, movement.

Me: Movement.

I open my twitter and post ‘movement...#legalizeIT’. Just then my stomach growled. This is the first warning.  Hunger sucks. After what I ate last night? I open the windows, doors and gate. Fan the curtain out and quickly sneaked out before mumsi came out from the (intended) noise I had caused.

I hooked up with Seed at our usual spot.

Seed: Menh. There’s this new stuff. It’s very very good. And stupidly expensive.

Me: Seen, where you get am?

Seed: Na my guy tell me about am. I get small from am. Make we light up.

I had heard of many ‘stuffs’ that are the best. Never hurt to find the true Neo. I squashed some and rolled it. It smelt good. To the point (whatever this could mean). I like that.

*stomach growl*

Seed: Hunger dey wack me this momo self.

Me: You know, some kind shoprite bread on my mind.

 ‘LegalizeIT’.

‘LegalizeIT’ he replied.

I pressed the lighter and the flame popped out. I moved it to my rolled up blunt and took a drag.....

I took a good long look at Seed and asked him

‘But guy, why you call yourself Seed, and you tall. You be baby iroko?’

Seed looked at me and laughed long. ‘See? I tell you say stuff dey alright’.

Me: Well, I would say it’s just there.

Seed: All join. Admit jare. Of which, that babe come yesterday.  She dey come over today

Me: Oshey!!! Easy on her o. I know say baba ti kun (body is full)

‘Na the way now’

His phone rings and he had to leave, so we both leave. I got home and got my bath ready, spent time on twitter in a lovely buzzed state. I took a look at the time. I was late already. I had not eaten. I got to my bus stop and to my disappointment, there was no bus. This would mean taking the bike route to Lere. I groaned at the cost implication and rebuked myself for not leaving since.

“If only I could get a bus”, I wished in my green state

Just like that, three buses rushed from the bend screaming at the top of their hoarse voices;

‘anthony town planning oshodi oke/new garage, gbagada Anthony oshodi oke/oshodi isale Anthony’

Nice!!!!

I smile(well I am smiling) as I looked for the one that looked like it would leave soon. These bus drivers if given the choice would go to bus stop, pick passengers and gladly go and pick the last seat (person) at the persons house. I sat down and first thing I noticed is an Imam sitting in front of me. I enter an absent sober mood and ignored all around. The bus moved and I heard ‘Jesu’, the bus had almost entered the path of a tanker coming from behind. I thanked God for the protection inwardly and turned to look back at my phone when I noticed people staring in my direction. I look up. They were all staring with mocking looks at the Imam in front of me. Just as I wondered what happened, the girl beside me retorted in a mocking tone

‘Shebi Imam le pe rayin, hmmm, Olorun ni kan lo mo eni to n si o’

(But you called yourself an Imam, hmmm, only God knows who really worships Him).

It dawned on me that the imam was the one who shouted ‘Jesu’... oops... I couldn’t laugh out loud like I’m sure the girl beside me and some others would have loved to.  We soon move and then conductor goes

‘Owo da ni wa ju. E jo mi o ni change o’.

(Money from the front. Please I don’t have change)

I give him five hundred naira and indicated I was going to town planning oke. He grumbled and I ignored him. I begin running mentally, stages of my day.

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

I alighted at my bus stop and proceed to join the BRT along Ikorodu road. I get there and first of all, whoever was selling ticket decided to not come. Now I had to cross to the other side to buy tickets. I remember when I was arrested for crossing Ikorodu road during A- levels. Once beaten, second time will use pedestrian bridge. I got to the top and looked down. First thing that went through my mind is...

Me: Superman na bad guy o. Imagine say you jump now from this bridge and you call am. He go reach here catch you.

Me again: But but you know say for naija, anything wey fly na witch. They go stone am, catch am, burn am.

Me: Ehn but but he is a bad guy(strong) now. Except the mob get kryptonite, they no go fit touch am.

Me again: They tell you say we no get krptonite for naija ni, dey dere dey dull.

Me: Oh, really? We get?

Me again: HOW? I no know now. How I won take know.

This convo plays in my head till I climb down the other edge of the bridge (there is nothing wrong with talking back to the voices in your head so far you know they are voices). There’s no zebra crossing. You will be shocked the things you notice when you are on the high way. I select the best time to cross. And suddenly from nowhere, a power bike comes into view. I skilfully do a side step with a back jerk. Unfortunately, a BMW was coming. ‘No, I will not be your wife’ I say as I do a fast moonwalk back to the curb. I’ve got a little audience at this point so as an agama lizard would - I bowed to the homeless guy, the rams walking about and nobody else while thanking them earnestly for coming out to see me- I buy my BRT ticket and cross back. The first BRT bus comes and I think in my present status, I won’t mind a nice seat instead of standing after paying N120. So I wait for the next one. And the next. And the next. And the next. I finally tire of waiting and enter the next one. At least, there were few ‘standings’

.........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

    ‘Oga no dey?’ I ask disappointed.        

‘E no dey o, you no dey with key’

I hadn’t taken the key the previous day. Bro said he would be home so I saw no need to. Now, I couldn’t enter. I couldn’t leave for his office on the island so I decided to head back home. But I was hungry, and had been looking forward to hot shoprite bread. So I made my way there, and got on queue. No sooner than I had taken my spot when two guys walk up to me,

‘Bros how many you won buy’

I reply without looking away from the three girls buying food: ‘Four’

This brought a pause, I sigh and ask ‘Wetin happen’,

The short one squints(o_O) his eye and asks ‘how you won do am?’

‘You go help me carry one’

Knowing that was exactly what he wanted me to do (when there is a long queue, shoprite rations its bread to two per person), they both walk away.

Hustle is real.

Buy shoprite bread two hundred and something and sell in traffic for 400-500 box. This people were genius. I look to see the three girls in front but they had already gone. Watching bread you want to eat get baked isn’t the best thing when having munchies. Wickedly wicked!!! I start to contemplate that I would launch the bread as I got it. Eventually, after waiting for the bread to be planted, watered, grown, and harvested. I finally got my two and gave the guys one with a smile. They holad ‘nice one bros, God bless you’, I reply ‘God bless our hustle’ and walk to pay. Shoprite needs an express lane please. Of which Gbagada needs its shoprite. Even if it’s just the bakery. We(I) won’t mind. I rush out fuelled by the hunger and attempt to dig into the bread. The look on the security man and the parked bike gave me second thoughts. Should I go back inside and eat at the food court. I can chill at that shawarma place. I bone the idea and start my way back home.

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

Bike man: You be student or you dey work?

I reason I should tell him I’m a student so he won’t have ‘gist’ to yarn with me when he goes

‘Good, make I ask you one riddle.

In the morning, I crawl, in the afternoon, I don’t know what I’m doing, in the evening, I am just useless, and at night, I’m fast’.

It took me less than 3 seconds to say sarcastically ‘MTN abi’?

He goes ‘Ahhh, you no book o, make I ask another one,

We are three and we are orange, two of me is in the great goat. If you remove the last and add a guitar. I become someone.

‘You are GTB, then with the guitar, you become GT the Guitar man’.

His grunts shows approval of my answer. He dropped me at Yaba and doesn’t allow me pay. I thank him and karma and make my way to take a bus to Bariga. We get to that four way junction on Herbert Macaulay and that’s when I was sure people were looking at me. I looked around and see/saw that my bread was the source. Hmmm. You know how lovely shoprite bread smells, now imagine, rushing to work probably without breakfast and you in a tight position with such. I didn’t like the look of the people on the bread and jejeli said ‘conductor abeg I won drop’

‘For where, we never reach anywhere now’

The looks I (the bread) started to get at this point was beginning to make me feel like this niggas are about to pounce this bread. Or was it just me being paranoid. I decided to sit back and instead look for trouble. So I dipped my hand inside the nylon and tore the bread.

Open olfactory sesame!!!

I could ‘hear’ peoples taste buds open and begin to salivate. Just as I was going to connect bread with mouth, the person beside me (maybe intentionally) chose that moment to move his hand and hits the bread out of my hand.

I turn to look at him like ‘dude!!!!!!!!!!’ but he is oblivious to the act and readjusts his headphones. It’s like no one saw this happened. I bone, send my hand in again. I tear a bigger chunk this time. Felt good. Just as I was to connect bread to mouth again, the driver suddenly stops. I lunge forward, desperately holding unto the bread. Good!! I made it. Just as I was going to steady myself. The driver jerks forward and then sideways.

Noooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I lost this chunk too. Wtf is going on??!

I shout at him to be easy ‘abeg chairman easy o... na people you carry o. No be goat’. He looks sideways at me and gives me the eye. I stare back at him and look away. I chuck the rest of the bread away nicely. Something was wrong with the universe at the moment. Would wait for her to cool down.

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

I get home, meet mom in the kitchen and she goes  

‘You have plenty money o, Omo Dangote. Why would you leave Oworo to which shoprite did you go to buy bread, don’t (collects bread) we (grabs knife) have (brings bread out) ahn ahn you have started eating it? Don’t we (cuts bread) have bread in Oworo’.

The bread is now ¾ gone, I’m still hungry. I look at momsi, (take her to the place I shout at her in my head) and just keep quiet. I cover the bread and go to change in my room. I take one look at my laptop and sit to do something. I really don’t know what. I finish and move to the kitchen to eat. There is someone in the kitchen. Shit! Lil Bro is still around? I enter the kitchen to see him munching the bread and he’s just about to put the last bite of bread into his mouth.

Me: Stop! Stop! Stop! (Looks at nylon), na the last bread be this?

Lil bro: Yeah, what’s up?

                                                                              Me: I never chow now                                   

Lil Bro: Ehen, momsi said you started eating it on the way

Me: That was the hungry plan but stuff kept happening jare.

Me:  Is (stretches hand to collect last morsel of bread) there any (I retrieve hand to mouth) other (slowly looking around for the next thing that would happen) chow at home (touch down).

....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

I pause, look at my hand and what I held there. Seed turns to look at me asking ‘wetin happen’.

I exhale the first drag and just smile. ‘GOOD STUFF’

I think about MM next before taking the second drag.

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The Ban on Okadas: IDIOTIC or NEGLIGENT

The new Lagos State traffic rules has citizens and netizens on both sides of the divide with respect to OKADAS. There are those that believe that for Lagos state to be the super city that our Governor is fighting for, this Ban is a step in the right direction. I do NOT agree. That has to be the most stupid thing I have heard/read. Read on to find out why.

I should start out by saying I fall in the average class and I use Okadas mostly to get around the metropolis that is Lagos. Also, you might get the notion that this reeks of bias. IT DOES but not for the reason you think (that as a fervent okada commuter of course I will side with them). I am biased because this law affects a whole class of people and then more. This law basically screws us over.

The Problems VS The Logical Solutions

I will be the first to put my hands up and say that the Okada riders are a menace on our roads. Anyone remember when Bus (Danfo) drivers were the exact same thing because I do and for some reason they are still on our roads. Do we know why, because I do. LASTMA. While the bus drivers can still be a nuisance we all can admit that LASTMA has put fear in them. Why can't the State have LASTMA type enforcers for the Okadas as well? I reckon it can be a source of revenue for the state. Plus I can't be the only one that has noticed how much better maintained Okadas are compared to Danfos.

They say Okadas are the preferred mode of transport for Armed Robbers (http://ipad.ynaija.com/ynaija/#!/entry/givethedogabadname-month-98-of-robberies-are-by-okada-police,508a5ffe94f4be7169287679). I sympathize with those that have fallen victim to such but is a ban on Okadas the solution? Are our legislators and Governor that delusional that they think the ban on Okadas will reduce robbery? From where I am typing that is just so flawed. Why? Well for one the ban is on Okadas not all Bikes. So basically all the robbers have to do is buy a bike after which they ride to their hideout which is not that much of a chore seeing as there are many back roads as opposed to the 500-ish roads that they can't ride on. My solution to curb this problem is simply to have all Okada riders register for a license to ply in the City (Another revenue stream). What this does is provide the State with Bike registration details and who the Bikes belong to. In the advent of robbery, all we have to do is get the License plate numbers.

I read that our Governor says that he is outlawing Okadas because of the people in the hospitals. Seriously? Is it just me or this just reeks of desperation? Where are the numbers of those that have died in car accidents, where are the numbers of those that have been hospitalized as a result of car accidents? I am not trying to trivialize the victims of said Okada accident but to use them as an EXCUSE to ban Okadas is very somehow. Please, how many people do you know that was involved in an Okada accident? How many of them stopped taking Okadas afterwards? For me the answer is None but then again, that is just a tiny proportion of accidents. The same way the Okadas involved in robberies is but a tiny fraction of honest to God okada riders.

Another school of thought say that the ban on Okadas is necessary in the transformation of Lagos State into a Mega City. They even went as far as itemizing the top cities in the world and had the temerity to ask which of them had commercial Bikes. . . . How to put this delicately without calling them what they really are; FOOLS. It just goes to show how retarded we are. We take an item out of context and twist it to make a point. FOOLISHITTY (I made up a word cause no existing words aptly describes my disgust). Have those people thought of why there are so many OKADAS in Lagos? How could they, their limited brains will not allow them? There are so many because there is a huge demand for an alternate means of transportation. All those Mega Cities have them don't they? I hope your stupidity is embarrassing you now. In Lagos majority of us commute via road and the roads aren't nearly enough, the Buses as much as they are not nearly enough, the roads are in a bad scratch that terrible shape.

What are the other arguments for the ban again? I can't seem to remember them again. My main gripe is with stripping thousands of Okada riders a livelihood and the stupid comments. Someone actually said crime rates will not go up. Based on what evidence did he arrive at that conclusion? Are the Okada riders just going to miraculously find employment? Mayhaps, they know something I don't. Another said we Nigerians are selfish and unwilling to make sacrifices. Are you taking a piss? What sacrifices haven't we made? Does the idiot not know that we pay more for Okada fares? It is a different thing if there was some alternative means of transportation to look forward to. As far as I can tell, we are all meant to just get used to busing. Has anyone noticed the amount of people waiting for buses now? Has anyone noticed that people are walking because there aren't enough buses? Do you see the problem here? With the Bikes on the road, there was traffic, without them it is even more. There will more cars on the road as a result. Una never even see traffic yet.

The fact that I have to type this "tirade" shows how detached our lawmakers really are, they are obviously delusional if they think this Ban is for the masses. The masses that voted for you all.

You can sense I am angry right? That is because I am. Governor Fashola, the middle class and below are getting the shaft, we have been royally screwed over with this Draconian legislature. I think this is an elitist law. There is a word making round that Fashola bought helmets as a campaign thing. So, he was ok with them before. Wonder what happened.

In summary, the solution of this B-Tech holder is to have all current and prospective Okada riders register to ply on Lagos roads. To have enforcement agency similar to LASTMA to curb their excesses.

   

  

 Fashola campaigning on Lagos-Abeokuta Road. Bikes can't ply this route. IRONIC. 

Bikes that do end up here 

The Ban on Okadas is Lazy legislation in my opinion. I left out the economic implications but feel free to enjoy this.

  "Written by SAI"