I was late. Horribly late. I just knew that one bottle with Segun would degenerate into something else. That something else being that I woke up by 7:30. I had to be at work by 9. As soon as I saw the time on my bedside clock, my mind went into calculations mode. If I followed my normal routine, then factored in traffic and other Lagos factors, I would get only one result; lateness of life and destiny.

I took a bath in five minutes, my personal record. Skipped on brushing and used mouthwash instead. My teeth might not have been very clean but at least my mouth wouldn't stink up the entire place and cause my fellow employees to call disease control. Breakfast was skipped too and I only buttoned my shirt as I was flying down the stairs. I had just got to the main gates to open them when I noticed something amiss. There was something there that shouldn't be. A car. Parked right outside my gate.

On mornings like this, I'm convinced some people in my village are pulling strings.

"Ahmed," I called the security man." Whose car is this?"

"Ehn, na dat man wey dey stay for that green house. Wey dey drive red Camry." Clearly I could see it was a red Camry.

"SO why is he parked outside our gate?"

Ahmed had no answer.

"Please go and tell him I am kindly asking his permission to drive out of my own compound."

The sarcasm flew over his head like a fighter jet.

"But Oga, you no suppose ask am before you commot na."

I was about saying something about cars that can't fly over gates but realizing it would be lost on him, I settled on "Ahmed, just tell him to come move his car."

With each second Ahmed was gone, I fought a running battle against the urge to glance at my watch, as if not looking at it would make time pause. And Ahmed spent more than seconds - approximately ten minutes that felt like twelve hours passed before he emerged from the man's compound. And another two minutes must have passed before the man himself emerged, waddling lazily towards where I stood beside his car, shirtless, protruding belly bouncing like a water-filled balloon and, worst of all, one hand buried somewhere between his legs inside his large shorts that, with the motion coming from there, must have been exploring for oil fields. I shivered.

"Ahhh, neighbor." HE greeted on approaching me. "Sorry, I parked here. You know, there was no parking space when I got home last night..." as he was saying this, he withdrew his oil exploration hand from his shorts and extended it for a handshake. I shrank back like someone that had just been offered a dose of ebola.

"No problem,: I said, waving to him instead, although he was standing right in front of me. "I'm just running a bit late for work and I would like to get going."

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Let me move it. How is your wife, by the way? I heard she put to bed not too long ago. Congratulations. How is the child?"

Of all the times since delivery of my first child that this man could ask me about my family, he chose this not-very-blessed morning? The expression on my face alone told him to move his car or risk instant decapitation.

I watched him move the car before jogging over to mine, throwing in my work bag as I was entering the car. I shut the door, strapped my seatbelt across, put the key in the ignition and turned it.

The engine kicked.

The car didn't start.

I muttered a "God forbid" under my breath. My village people must not win today.

I tried again with the same result. I exhaled heavily in frustration. Why this morning for goodness sakes? I tried again. And again. And again.

Each time with the same result and more and more, the car was sounded like it was losing its self esteem.

I said a little prayer before trying the fifth time.

No luck.

This was turning out to be my worst morning since that morning five years ago that I received news that my dear grandmother had passed away in her sleep. This time though, I couldn't go back into my room to brood for the rest of the day. Not if I didn't want to start explaining to my neighbors why I wasn't leaving for work every morning anymore.

"Ahmed!" Ahmed appeared promptly. "Help me push this car. I think the battery is dead or something,"

"Make I push am go front?"

"Into someone else's car? No, push it up. To heaven." I hissed, the very picture of frustration as I put the car in reverse and Ahmed started to push. Once the car picked a bit of speed, I tried starting it.

It spluttered.

My heart leapt.

Then it died.

My heart sank with the dying engine.

"Make I push am front na," Ahmed offered. So we restarted what became a routine. He would push, the car would pick up speed, I would try starting the ignition, it would splutter and die. Six times. The impressively dark Ahmed was beginning to look purple in the face and had started muttering something about not doing "conductor work". The reality of using public transport, something I had not done in years began to dawn on me. I shook my head. If we tried one more time without luck, I would just take my work bag and sprint to the closest bus stop.

"Ahmed!" I called. He didn't answer - just glanced at me, looking positively mutinous, probably wondering which demon sent him to offer pushing it again after the first try failed. I began to reconsider asking for one more go at it. "Let's just try once more." I soldiered on. "If it doesn't work, you can go. I'll just take public transport."

Begrudgingly, he acquiesced and started pushing. As normal, the car reached almost terminal speed.

I tried the ignition.

And the engine roared to life.

I nearly jumped out to dance shoki, my only prevention being that I was running late and a grown man in suit dancing shoki on Monday morning wasn't likely to be a normal sight to the neighbors. Last thing I wanted was my mental state becoming a topic for street discussion. I shouted my thanks to Ahmed with a promise to "see him" when I get back and set out down the street, thoughts of how I was going to Fast and Furious my way through Eko Bridge traffic filling my head. That was till I got to the street gate to notice something odd.

A Red Toyota Camry was parked right at the street at.

I have always thought there was something evil about red Camrys.

I stepped out of the car, taking care to leave the engine running, and approached the street security men to ask which camel parked a car at the street's only entrance and exit point.

"Ehn, it's one woman that stays in that house." One of them said, pointing at a building adjacent to the street gates. "She just suddenly stopped and ran out of the car and into the house. Must be an emergency."

Just as I was about calling down curses on whichever witch it was that parked her car here to prevent me from going to work today, a lady popped out of the building and made straight for the red Camry.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" She gushed. "I forgot my phone!"

I was so mad, I was speechless.

Finally, the offending car was driven out of the street entrance, leaving the road clear for me to be on my way. I shook my head slowly to shake away the evil thoughts I was beginning to harbor towards other residents on this street as I walked back to my car.

Where I discovered that the engine had died.

I sank into the seat and tried starting once. Twice. Thrice.

No luck on all three tries. And someone had pulled up behind me and was honking insistently. I glanced at my watch. 9:30

I picked my phone, dialed a number and waited for it to connect.

"Hello. Good morning, Mr. Bello. This is Samson Adeolu-Sobanjo from the Quality Assurance Department. I just received news that my grandmother was involved in a ghastly motor accident......at Ketu......yes, I'm her only relative that’s resident in Lagos....."

Interesting piece, hoping update wil be follow for better understanding. Great work

LWKMD. Your village people were really at work today. Keep lying on innocent grandmother's head.

smilingazor:
Interesting piece, hoping update wil be follow for better understanding. Great work

Sorry dear. You see, it's a short story. That's all there is to it. C'est finit.

Hehehehhehe.
Sharp guy. I Can't count the numerous, varied excuses Iv Come up with myself... Right Now Im chilling In bed courtesy one Of them..
May God forgive us All. Lol.

Hey senby, You always write In The First person......give us something different sometime na...

And the granny in the grave would be like, 'what? I thought I died five years ago' . That line about being offered a dose of ebola, classic.

See excuse. God sef go dey shake his head for heaven. Nice work senb.

always classic

Granny in da grave be like "accident?? In ketu?? On which planet??... E no go better for dis boy o. while I died in my sleep,peacefully. He's lying I'm still alive and just had an accident. His car won't even start for 2weeks. His job? Let him forget it,he's getting sacked”.

Worth the read and nice story,senbo!

More grease to ur elbows, Kageyoshi-san. Arigato. Ur write-up jst livened up my day.

#Following....#Hooked

nobody found this a long read?

senbonzakurakageyoshi:
nobody found this a long read?

So far so good, none. For me sef it ended too fast as I was half expecting the guy to push the car in lagos traffic

An0nimus:

So far so good, none. For me sef it ended too fast as I was half expecting the guy to push the car in lagos traffic

That would have just been epic! The only thing left would have been for him to jump into the lagoon!

whitemosquito:
Hey senby, You always write In The First person......give us something different sometime na...

Lol, I guess I'm just really comfortable with writing in the first person. I'll give it a shot though.

Lol@ 'I'm convinced, some people in my village are pulling strings'.
Grandma will roll in her grave at the lies.
But don't worry, grandma will forgive. They always do.

Very hilarious!

My favourite line: '...some people in my village are pulling strings.'

Really funny.

Ishilove dear, homepage beckons.

senbonzakurakageyoshi:


Lol, I guess I'm just really comfortable with writing in the first person. I'll give it a shot though.

What of the Nightlies?

Hope your grand mother won't die for the third time someday. Nice piece.

Is everything happening again or is he killing the grandma the second time?

Nawa ooo...... Hw many tyms ur Grandma wan die nah? hundred tyms?

Ishilove:
What of the Nightlies?

You won't believe I still follow that thread hoping he'll visit it someday.

RealAlfranco:
Granny in da grave be like "accident?? In ketu?? On which planet??... E no go better for dis boy o. while I died in my sleep,peacefully. He's lying I'm still alive and just had an accident. His car won't even start for 2weeks. His job? Let him forget it,he's getting sacked”.

Worth the read and nice story,senbo!

he would surely loose d job if he invited his colleagues to the extravagant burial dat would av been thrown!;Dd oga wuld b lyk...wich grandma again??

Hahahaha interesting

senbonzakurakageyoshi:
nobody found this a long read?

You wish.
E be like say na your car dem take do meeting.

Interesante.

Ishilove:

What of the Nightlies?

Ahhhh, the nightlies......I was getting worried it was becoming a boring read so I decided to step off the accelerator......didn't expect that break to reach a year tho!