Seriously, I still can’t tell whether it was plain stupidity or whether I really got overconfident, especially after gulping and using this "anointing oil" to cook and bathe for the past six days, just as recommended by the guest prophet my church brought from Maiduguri to minister in our recent Youth Convention. It might also be a ploy and spell by my unforgiving village people to get back at me after I had refused to send the so-called monthly contribution for community development for the past six months. Until this very moment of this post, I’m still feverishly asking myself whether it was 1X Bet that sponsored the audacity that made me want to play this gamble with an active member of Lagos's most dreaded people: bus conductors. Not just any gamble, even, but an entirely senseless, irrational, and impossible gamble. A gamble no one in Lagos has ever won

Imagine placing an odd of over 4.5, over 3.5, over 1.5, or even a straight win on a finished team like Chelsea with Akamus like Enzo Fernandez, Conor Gallagher, and Mudryk in the midfield. Sorry, this example isn’t even enough of a depiction of how stupid my gamble this morning was! In Chelsea’s case, one can still risk it considering that they have a new coach who’s now gradually adapting to the Premier League, but in my case, even my supposed confidence bank, "the anointing oil," is expired and tastes as sour as what was made with the blood of three-month-old millipedes.

I still find it difficult to believe that it was the same me, who has not only read and heard but has also seen real-life evidence of how unruly Lagos bus conductors can be, would stupidly offer myself as a living sacrifice to the unbrushed abusive mouth of One Oluwa Kayode this morning.





STORY

So this morning, as usual, and just like my fellow Lagosians answering Sir/Ma to one inhumane employer, I woke up very early around 4. AM, observed my morning prayers, did a few push-ups, took my bath, ate, all within an hour, and was now fully ready to rush up to the bus stop, to this workplace, and to this job, I recently secured about two months ago, after about two years of being unemployed.

I dared not joke with the probation period of a job that pays 250k monthly in this country, where first-class graduates of chemistry are now excos at Iyanu-Ipaja and Oshodi Tricycle committees. So I practically did everything in my human capacity to impress and probably even over-impress my employers so they could not only retain me but probably even grant me a raise after the six-month probation period. To achieve this, of course, punctuality had to be a watchword, so I literally made sure I was up and rolling even before 4. am, so I could beat Lagos’ crazy traffic and also beat all my co-workers to time, or at least be one of the first three people to report to the company's rooster daily.

In fact, today I even overslept and woke up a bit behind my usual time, so I had to rush everything up. But unfortunately, after all the rushing, the worst happened: I reached out for my wallet, and it was empty! Empty! Like no single Kobo was in it.

Jesus! What kind of silly mistake did I make? I had crossed past several POS machine operators yesterday while returning from work and met several others when I had gone out last night to buy a bottle of stout with the previous 300 Naira on me. How in God’s name did I forget to restock my wallet?

Of course, there was no slightest probability that those lazy bunches of entitled POS girls around my street would be out by now, at 5. Definitely not possible. Not now, and not even in the next three hours. I’m practically sure those girls watch a complete season of an American movie before even thinking of trying to come to work. These same liabilities would open their gutter mouths to say, "I cannot marry a broke n! gga. Made man or nothing! Wereys.

At this point, I was vigorously searching the pockets of all my trousers and almost shattering all my room in search of at least 200 Naira for transport fare to my workplace, but instead of the money I was searching for, all I kept seeing were all these flyers I had been given by over-zealous members of Salvation Ministries and Winners, empty containers of Mentholatum, sachets of maltose, and other annoying items. As an ardent believer in self-respect and a fervent anti-see-finish advocate, the last thing I would ever do was knock on the door of any neighbor to say, Abeg, borrow me. God forbid! So I had to creatively devise this strategy that almost landed me in the mouth of a hungry wolf this morning.

So, brothers and sisters, that was how I carried my strategic penniless self to the junction, pennilessly halted an Oshodi bus, and confidently got into the bus pennilessly. I sat in the bus, and as the bus continued moving, I plugged in my earpiece and jammed to Nathaniel Bassy’s Tobechukwu, all this and more in a penniless state. Shishi, I no hold.

Soon, the bus conductor, this chocolate-skinned young man with huge Yokuzuna arms and chest like that of recently divorced Nollywood actor Bolanle Ninalowo, stood up and shouted......
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