By Bayo Olupohunda

"Oga, wetin be this now? Dis nah why I no dey like carry you office people o. Small time, una don begin shake like leaf. I beg siddon well before this boat go sink." We were in the middle of a turbulent Lagos lagoon. The ramshackle boat engine had ground to a frightening halt. After so many futile attempts to revive the old Suzuki engine, the area boy-like boat driver gave up trying. He brought out a crumpled wet cigarette and lit it, all the while a mischievous grin playing on his face. I looked down to see the ominously black water of the lagoon, with heavy waves lashing against the edge of the wooden boat. The wind was particularly high that evening and it increased the waves' turbulence, ceaselessly tossing the canoe back and forth like a reef. As we continued to sway at the deep end, from under the canoe's wooden seat, lagoon water seeped slowly in. I became alarmed as I had not noticed that the canoe was leaking when we began the journey some few minutes earlier. But as soon as the engine stopped and we remained on the same spot, the water found an opportunity to flow more rapidly in, creating some panic among the already scared passengers. The situation became more precarious because most of the passengers were females who had immediately lost their nerves, creating a stampede in the overloaded boat. Most of the passengers were office workers who had tried to avoid the traffic at the Mobil end of Victoria Island in an attempt to make the short but often risky cross to Falomo. One of the female passengers with whom I had earlier developed an acquaintance held on to me tightly. Now, that presented a clear danger considering that she wouldn't let go of me in spite of assurances that another engine was on its way to replace the one that had become the cause of our misery. As she gripped me more firmly each time the canoe swayed, many thoughts ran through my mind.

What if the boat capsized? How would I save myself with a plus size woman clutching my arm as if we were both locked in a marriage of ‘till death do us part'? I tried to wriggle free from her vice-like grip on me. My reassurance that there was no cause for alarm did little to convince her to release her grip, which tightened as a surging wave thrown by a passing speed boat shook our boat violently. As a result, more water got into the boat. Then from behind me, a woman began a dirge-like song in a voice that reminded me of a funeral procession. "Nearer my God to thee, nearer to thee, " At first, the woman sang alone among the cacophony of wailing and cries of anguish. Then, slowly, as if realising that the end might truly be near, the entire passengers joined in. As we sat there, I suddenly realised that we were all wearing life jackets that could make us stay afloat if the boat decided to go down the bottomless lagoon. But taking a closer look at the old, worn out jackets, I realised they would do little to save us. I turned again to look at the lady that was holding me. She had not released her grip. What was I going to do now? My only option was to make do with the life jacket which I quickly zipped, join in the supplication and hope that the rescue engine arrived quickly enough.

But I had myself to blame. I had always avoided using the boat cross shortcut from Lekki to Ikoyi, favouring the Ozumba Mbadiwe-Law School and Falomo Bridge route. However, on this day, the hold-up was bumper-to-bumper. I had remained in it for more than an hour from Lekki when I decided to use the waterway. I should have known; the boat was overloaded at the point of entry. The operators near the Addax Petroleum were so intent on making the most of the rush hour that they did not mind overloading the boat with impatient passengers scurrying to secure a place in the ramshackle wooden boat. Fortunately for us, a new engine was eventually brought in. How the two guys managed to stabilise the boat with the long planks they dug deep into the lagoon belt remains a mystery. As we arrived safely on land, I turned to look at the lady banker. The shock in her eyes said it all: it is still a risky venture to use the waterways in Lagos.

http://234next.com/csp/cms/sites/Next/News/Metro/5686343-183/story.csp

jegunyomi:

"Oga, wetin be this now? Dis nah why I no dey like carry you office people o. Small time, una don begin shake like leaf. I beg siddon well before this boat go sink." We were in the middle of a turbulent Lagos lagoon. The ramshackle boat engine had ground to a frightening halt. After so many futile attempts to revive the old Suzuki engine, the area boy-like boat driver gave up trying. He brought out a crumpled wet cigarette and lit it, all the while a mischievous grin playing on his face. I looked down to see the ominously black water of the lagoon, with heavy waves lashing against the edge of the wooden boat. The wind was particularly high that evening and it increased the waves' turbulence, ceaselessly tossing the canoe back and forth like a reef. As we continued to sway at the deep end, from under the canoe's wooden seat, lagoon water seeped slowly in. I became alarmed as I had not noticed that the canoe was leaking when we began the journey some few minutes earlier. But as soon as the engine stopped and we remained on the same spot, the water found an opportunity to flow more rapidly in, creating some panic among the already scared passengers. The situation became more precarious because most of the passengers were females who had immediately lost their nerves, creating a stampede in the overloaded boat. Most of the passengers were office workers who had tried to avoid the traffic at the Mobil end of Victoria Island in an attempt to make the short but often risky cross to Falomo. One of the female passengers with whom I had earlier developed an acquaintance held on to me tightly. Now, that presented a clear danger considering that she wouldn't let go of me in spite of assurances that another engine was on its way to replace the one that had become the cause of our misery. As she gripped me more firmly each time the canoe swayed, many thoughts ran through my mind.

What if the boat capsized? How would I save myself with a plus size woman clutching my arm as if we were both locked in a marriage of ‘till death do us part'? I tried to wriggle free from her vice-like grip on me. My reassurance that there was no cause for alarm did little to convince her to release her grip, which tightened as a surging wave thrown by a passing speed boat shook our boat violently. As a result, more water got into the boat. Then from behind me, a woman began a dirge-like song in a voice that reminded me of a funeral procession. "Nearer my God to thee, nearer to thee, " At first, the woman sang alone among the cacophony of wailing and cries of anguish. Then, slowly, as if realising that the end might truly be near, the entire passengers joined in.
But I had myself to blame. I had always avoided using the boat cross shortcut from Lekki to Ikoyi, favouring the Ozumba Mbadiwe-Law School and Falomo Bridge route. However, on this day, the hold-up was bumper-to-bumper. I had remained in it for more than an hour from Lekki when I decided to use the waterway. I should have known; the boat was overloaded at the point of entry. The operators near the Addax Petroleum were so intent on making the most of the rush hour that they did not mind overloading the boat with impatient passengers scurrying to secure a place in the ramshackle wooden boat.

Fortunately for us, a new engine was eventually brought in. How the two guys managed to stabilise the boat with the long planks they dug deep into the lagoon belt remains a mystery. As we arrived safely on land, I turned to look at the lady banker. The shock in her eyes said it all: it is still a risky venture to use the waterways in Lagos.

http://234next.com/csp/cms/sites/Next/News/Metro/5686343-183/story.csp

  ROTFLOL . . . .   my gosh lol, this is the funniest thing I have read in a while on NL . . .  LOL. When it comes to survival, its every man (and woman) for himself.

jegunyomi:


By Bayo Olupohunda

"Oga, wetin be this now? Dis nah why I no dey like carry you office people o. Small time, una don begin shake like leaf. I beg siddon well before this boat go sink." We were in the middle of a turbulent Lagos lagoon. The ramshackle boat engine had ground to a frightening halt. After so many futile attempts to revive the old Suzuki engine, the area boy-like boat driver gave up trying. He brought out a crumpled wet cigarette and lit it, all the while a mischievous grin playing on his face. I looked down to see the ominously black water of the lagoon, with heavy waves lashing against the edge of the wooden boat. The wind was particularly high that evening and it increased the waves' turbulence, ceaselessly tossing the canoe back and forth like a reef. As we continued to sway at the deep end, from under the canoe's wooden seat, lagoon water seeped slowly in. I became alarmed as I had not noticed that the canoe was leaking when we began the journey some few minutes earlier. But as soon as the engine stopped and we remained on the same spot, the water found an opportunity to flow more rapidly in, creating some panic among the already scared passengers. The situation became more precarious because most of the passengers were females who had immediately lost their nerves, creating a stampede in the overloaded boat. Most of the passengers were office workers who had tried to avoid the traffic at the Mobil end of Victoria Island in an attempt to make the short but often risky cross to Falomo. One of the female passengers with whom I had earlier developed an acquaintance held on to me tightly. Now, that presented a clear danger considering that she wouldn't let go of me in spite of assurances that another engine was on its way to replace the one that had become the cause of our misery. As she gripped me more firmly each time the canoe swayed, many thoughts ran through my mind.

What if the boat capsized? How would I save myself with a plus size woman clutching my arm as if we were both locked in a marriage of ‘till death do us part'? I tried to wriggle free from her vice-like grip on me. My reassurance that there was no cause for alarm did little to convince her to release her grip, which tightened as a surging wave thrown by a passing speed boat shook our boat violently. As a result, more water got into the boat. Then from behind me, a woman began a dirge-like song in a voice that reminded me of a funeral procession. "Nearer my God to thee, nearer to thee, " At first, the woman sang alone among the cacophony of wailing and cries of anguish. Then, slowly, as if realising that the end might truly be near, the entire passengers joined in. As we sat there, I suddenly realised that we were all wearing life jackets that could make us stay afloat if the boat decided to go down the bottomless lagoon. But taking a closer look at the old, worn out jackets, I realised they would do little to save us. I turned again to look at the lady that was holding me. She had not released her grip. What was I going to do now? My only option was to make do with the life jacket which I quickly zipped, join in the supplication and hope that the rescue engine arrived quickly enough.

But I had myself to blame. I had always avoided using the boat cross shortcut from Lekki to Ikoyi, favouring the Ozumba Mbadiwe-Law School and Falomo Bridge route. However, on this day, the hold-up was bumper-to-bumper. I had remained in it for more than an hour from Lekki when I decided to use the waterway. I should have known; the boat was overloaded at the point of entry. The operators near the Addax Petroleum were so intent on making the most of the rush hour that they did not mind overloading the boat with impatient passengers scurrying to secure a place in the ramshackle wooden boat. Fortunately for us, a new engine was eventually brought in. How the two guys managed to stabilise the boat with the long planks they dug deep into the lagoon belt remains a mystery. As we arrived safely on land, I turned to look at the lady banker. The shock in her eyes said it all: it is still a risky venture to use the waterways in Lagos.

http://234next.com/csp/cms/sites/Next/News/Metro/5686343-183/story.csp

Those must have been some creepy moments But the risks that people take in Nigeria is something else