CHAPTER THREE
WHO STOLE MY PHONE?
I stormed out of my house around 5am to beat the heavy traffic along Ikorodu-Ketu axis so as to make known my disappointments, the other day to P.S.S. I was so angry that “if the man tell me nonsense walahi I will punch him hard as if he represents all my misfortune in life” I was already on the bike to the car park when I realized I wasn’t with my phone, I told the bike man to drop me as I was about to go home and get my phone (second mistake of my life after copying the wrong answer type in my first jamb exam). I got to the room picked the half dead phone and continue my journey obviously it was the journey of no return for my expensive machine. I got to the garage and entered the BRT that was ready to take off. I was sitting at the back when I realized I was not having a proper view of the hung tv, then I had to move to the front and sit close to a man in his early 50’s. not quite long I received a phone call from an acquaintance asking about my whereabouts ( sadly that was the last call on my BBZ3). After the phone call my usual hobby which is sleeping set in (am sure stopping it will be my next New Year resolution). From Ikorodu garage to Agric, Oladapo don sleep (this must be a spiritual attack). But I won’t totally admit this because I woke up in Agric to see this man leave the bus( first suspect). He left the bus and started running, I watched him as he crossed the gutter and head straight to the crowd
“Why on earth will somebody run as fast as this because of ordinary #50 to give the ticketer, too much poverty in the land I concluded? If I had checked my pocket, the actual where about of my phone will be known today, foolish me. From agric to oshodi I slept off and woke up when the ticketer asked us to exit the bus. I stood up as fact as can and I was probably the ist person to leave the bus ( it was later I realized the lady sitting beside me was the last to stand up “ sharp girl, why will she rush to leave the bus when a fine phone as BBZ3 was lying on the seat ( second suspect). Not taken cognizance of the contents of my pocket I proceeded to board the bus heading to cele bustop. All of a sudden a young man in his early 30’s stormed towards me and offer to sell me boxers and singlet, he was getting too close that I realized there is more to the selling , I looked straight into his eye ball and gave him a warning of don’t even try what you are thinking… he smiled and said sharp guy, your head dey dia!(NO suspect) If I had checked my pocket I could have retraced my step and accused the lady sitting beside me of stealing my phone, am sure there is no way she could have denied it. And if the phone was not with her I will be so sure the daddy that took to his heels in Agric was responsible.
I boarded the bus to cele and before getting to Ilasa the conductor asked the driver to stop because he wants to adjust the second to the last seat, which I was sitting. After the adjustment, the guy besides me told the driver to stop because he can’t continue with the journey (4th suspect). I think he got a hand on the phone and decided to disembark immediately before I suspect something was missing. After I dropped at my last bustop, and watched the bus zoom off then the reality down on me. I checked my pocket, my phone is not there again, my over 3000 music, approximately 4000 pictures, all my messages, my appointments all gone. How do I survive this? How do I look for jobs? How do I prove to p.s.s i got the postings? how do I keep tabs with all my applications? In the world of sadness created by joblessness and idleness my only source of happiness, company and hope that the future will be bright is taken away, what of the blog? How do I update? , I looked up all I could do is cry. Not that the 40k phone is the totality of my existence, but because it is the only thing that keeps me going. i can’t explain how somebody like me that lost few friends in a boat capsize in the undergraduate days and remain as calm and collected will suddenly start shedding tears over a gadget, not because of the gadget but the emptiness within me, why this time, why me, am I not really destined to be happy at all? With heavy heart and frustration I embarked on my primary assignment which is confronting p.S.S and as you will envisage, it cannot get bloodier.
Chapter 4
THE STAMMERER MEETS A BLIND ,DEAF AND DUMB.
Few meters to P.SS office, I had a rethink on the whole situation. And I felt there is no need to make the situation messier than it was, the best thing is to salvage what is left and make use of the only opportunities p.ss offer. I got to the office and try to narrate my ordeal maybe a little pity will grant me another posting , t fare back home( I had use my money to buy recharge card to call the stolen phone and the rest to mount bike to follow the bus that took off) or better still any soft words towards me will help at the moment. But to my amusement all I said, all the tears dint even draw the p.s.s guy attention as he stood there emotionless as if all I told him was a lie. I wouldn’t blame him totally because all my sentences were disjointed and up till now, I don’t know why.
Instead he keeps bombarding me with reports on the place I went the other day. “Why dint you tell me on phone you were given aptitude test? The phone call u gave me portrayed the P.SS as being fraudulent I replied “but the instruction you gave me was that I should give this paper to one Mrs Blessing, who will interview me and collect my CV, but nobody even asked of my name despite the fact that I spent more than 4 hours there, people are being called from outside for an oral interview inside while I stayed there without any reference until I was asked to move, am sure am not wrong to conclude something was wrong…. Shut up and listen, you wrote a test and if paraventure you passed you will be called………….. “God forgive me as I am about to punch this man in the throat… it took a banging phone call from my mother to snap me out of this evil thought.” I stood up, with heavy heart and no single money in my wallet and the rhetorical question of how to you get to Ikorodu from mile 2 keeps ringing…….. do I beg or trek. Since I can’t get a direct answer I went back to my ever reliable means of self-consolation which is cry my tiny eyes out and as usual it worked as I will soon find myself hang around the bustop relying on my gift of discerning of spirit to lead me to a bus conductor with an hearth of flesh. I was there for more than 3 hours waiting for any miracle to happen. Sincerely I dint know what I was expecting, will I see the bus that zoomed off the other time, even if I see him, how am I sure he has my phone or do I just expect this ever drunk conductors to carry me for free to Ketu?…… but this period passed and I can’t really explain how, but it did pass.



CHAPTER 5
HALF BREAD IS BETTER THAN PUFF-PUFF
The second posting was to an insurance company, I saw alliance something in front of the name, and right there I concluded am not going to waste my hard earned money to walk on that lane again. But again, the feeling that this might be a shot to breakthrough won’t just let me sit down at home. I went to Palmgroove where the so called insurance company was located and I went to the Madam that was to interview me? How old are you? You mean at this age you cannot knot your tie properly look at your shirt all rumple, see your credentials disorganized, I don’t need a sooth sayer to tell me how rough your room will be? In my mind I was like, did my mum say anything to this lady? If you are very familiar with insurance people and the way they cajole people on how to take their destiny into their own hands, how to be a boss of your own blab la bla………. Madam have heard it all with the other insurance company that I worked, what doesn’t sound well is the fact that I had to tell my client to bring money in case they die unexpectedly. To me personally, it does not make sense. Also the fact that my take home will be a percentage of the total insurance policy sold is like adding salt upon injury, not forgetting the fact I had to walk in the sun to make sales. Oladapo no dey do insurance job jo. what I need now is a paying job, no matter how little, constant supply of monthly income will solve 90% of my problems even the spiritual ones inclusive.” My countenance and the smart reply anytime the woman want to impress me with their insurance jargons and bullet words proved taking up insurance work is a NO for me. “It seems you are a born insurance man, you are so familiar with all our terms, only if you can give it a trial, you will see there is light after the tunnel and besides half bread is better than puff-puff…… I packed my credentials from her desk; deliberately leaving no copy with her, leaving it with her will make her mistakenly dial my number sometimes.
As I stepped out of the office I saw an old friend of mine (Tosin) but no love was really lost between us during our undergraduate’s days, we never really quarreled but our composure around each other is a reflection of underlying clamor/rivalry for supremacy in dressing, exposure and intellectual prowess. I wanted to rush and probably give him an eye service hug until I realized I was putting on the same cloth I wore the last time we saw in a reunion in elegushi beach… what a fcukin coincidence. What was meant to be a fake greeting turns to a “dodging fire”moment.. I changed direction almost immediately and the reflection from the car coming behind me show Tosin trying to decipher who was going in his opposite direction, he was almost shouting my name when I began to walk like a cripple. No way is suspecting I am the one even though he Is familiar with this purple shirt and my shortness.





CHAPTER 6: I CAME, I SAW, I FOOLISH
With #1000, I should be able to reach Okota from Palmgroove, slap the P.S.S guy, set his office ablaze and sharply come back that same day, right? But that was not the initial plan as I thought about this when I was already in the bus to Ikorodu. I had to find a way to drop without the conductor embarrassing me especially not when this cute damsel just boarded the bus. I had to employ my age long techniques of creating attention which is making a fake phone call. I dipped my hand in my pocket and I said something about my phone been stolen (stale news) and that I want to go down and pick it. Hurray!!! it worked even the conductor with his liquor smelling breath had compassion and told the driver to match the break so I could quickly go pick it up. I got down, waited patiently for the bus heading to Oshodi and by now I have started rehearsing lessons learnt from Jackie chan movies and the ever reliable broke kick moves from Seamus in the WWE, will be my final move on the P.S.S guy after I have burnt down the whole building.
I wanted to drop at the Oshodi bustop but I asked the conductor to point where I can board the Cele-Bustop bus. He said oga sit down me sef they go dia! It took me half way and he asked for the t-fare. I hurriedly dipped my hand into my pocket. But to draw the first blood I told him he should bring #1000 change. He stated fuming with so much rage. I no tell you say I no get change before you enter? I replied Mumu is #1000 too much for #250 t-fare, you must be silly (had I known I should have kept quiet. I checked the first pocket, the money was not there, check the second pocket the money was not there. I opened the purse containing my credential believing I kept it there unknowingly. I can see my original B.Sc. Certificate flying to the back seat and it seems I don’t really give a damn. What matters now is the# 1000 as a matter of fact this certificates has not been useful for almost 5 years( sarcastic me). Then my temperature rose to about 400c and I feel like, shiting, vomiting at the same time. Just 5minute to me running mad, I had to say something out to the conductor who is now sounding impatient. I dint know what I said, but for the first time a conductor consoled me, and am now convinced something spiritual is wrong with the way am misplacing my things lately. Is either am the most foolish person to ever reside in Lagos or the Whole legion of evil spirit are having a crusade on my matter. I’ll agree with the former because am sure the money fell when I dey form that fake Mumu phone call in the other Bus. I also gave glory to God for not siting 3rd Mainland Bridge around cele Area. Because if he did, you sure know where to find me now.
Am Short of Words, but this paragraph should be enough to reflect how I had to beg the P.S.S guy to lend me #200 to find my way to Ikorodu, and for the second Time I fail to dent this man’s face as I proposed, also the building remained.




CHAPTER 7: LETTER TO MY UNBORN KIDS
With the way the whole thing ended. my Mum still have to wait a little longer for those grandchildren, because their proposed Dad can’t foresee any erection soon, even I will not advice anybody to date my kind for now.so my Pretty penny advice to the kids, stay in heaven, enjoy whatsoever the heavenly host gives as food, belief you me, Manna is better than garri.
Am not saying something is good about paying a child’s Junior WAEC with pension either is driving your kid to common entrance examination venue with grey hair. nothing like reaping the fruit of your Labour earlier (referencing Iheanacho and Messi’s Father), kids are good thing for someone earlier in life when you can afford to cater for them and I will prefer to take my 15 year old son to Presidential Palace Polo club in V.I at the age of 60, than give birth earlier and watch another me go through all I went though. No son should call me to send money at 30years! We go get issues! (I wonder how my parents digest and cope with my requisitions).
A few days around Ikota VGC area, watching how reach kids and their parents relate,” I was close to concluding anybody that gives birth in penury should either be castrated or shot at close range”. That is a very big sin. Even the bible says a good father leaves inheritance for his children, even his children’s children. I guess that bible passage wasn’t for Nigerians because papa and pikin they exchange hustling like baton.
To end my epistle, am brooding with my roasted plantain and water inside the BRT (Fashola brought it cos of this) and hoping one day, all this will be a past tense. Even though am still in the present, something keep telling me, it can only get better and there is a big light after the tunnel. Seriously, I consoled myself without shedding any tears. Sorry I lied, am actually still crying…