It is Saturday in Lagos. I can feel the beat of festivities and the smell of the Nigerian party jollof rice. Omg! I can’t miss out this weekend. This is part of the rewards of living and spending the weekend in the commercial capital of Nigeria, the party never ends.
There was this memorable Saturday, I would never forget in a hurry.
It was my maternal cousin’s uncle’s wife’s younger brother’s nephew’s wedding ceremony. Never mind, it was a distant relation’s wedding and their family had been known for their spare-no cost in the celebration of any occasion.
Least I forget, there was an aso-ebi requirements for being part of the family.
With utmost urgency, I called my tailor and insisted that my buba and sokoto (Yoruba men native attire) be delivered that very early Saturday morning. This he did and almost woke the neighborhood as he banged at my gate on delivery. Then, I started to prepare for the day’s event.
Well dressed up, looking stainless and suave – I drove my jalopy to the venue.
On arrival, I greeted the elderly relatives especially the ones had not seen in a while, then, joined the fine boys’ league close to the food station. Shortly, the foods and drinks started to roll in. Without any excuses, I started with the Chinese delicacies, moved unto the local dishes, followed by the intercontinental and crowned it all with desserts – asun(peppered goat meat), small chops and others. There was no bared for the drinks – was just drinking like a fish. My gluttony didn’t have part 2…lol.
As activities for the day wound down, I greeted the newly wedded couple and took a couple of pictures with them. At this time, my stomach had started to rumble…felt it would get better with time and manage myself till I get home.
So, I entered my car and drove off.
Unfortunately, there was this hell-sent traffic caused by some unruly weekend partygoers and it wasn’t easing up at all.
Meanwhile, there was a great turmoil ongoing on in my stomach; large drops of sweats had begun to ooze out of every pore on my body turning to rivets of water cascading down my body. The need to visit the loo became crucial as I was gradually becoming disoriented when all the mind games to reassure me that I would get home soon didn’t help.
On arrival at the last junction to my house, I couldn’t take the turn but kept driving.
Here comes the real dilemma, should I pass this ‘thing’ out on my body or look further for a relief harbor?
Without much I do, I stopped the car, propped myself out of it with great efforts and ran into the face-me-face-you building by the road side. Pleaded with the elderly man seated at the building’s entrance to use their bathroom. Luckily, he didn’t object, so he pointed me in the direction of the toilet.
It was a whole different story – there was a queue at the entrance. I started to plead for my salvation because at this time, I could barely stand erect from the abdominal pains crushing my loins and my white cloth was becoming a mess!
Pitying my state, they didn’t object. Thank God.
As I entered the dark small-holed 4×4 m2 sized pit latrine with the partly rotten wooden door, I could barely remove my trousers before I started to push out the culprits. Accompanied by some groaning and a loud noise, the first lump was forcefully ejected. On landing, it splattered on the floor as I cared less about meeting the target.
Then, I heaved a sigh of relief.
After concluding this feat, I cleaned up and stepped out. Everyone had taken to their heels, though, some stayed at some distance to see if I truly survived the ordeal.
Got some water to clean up and wash their toilet. Thanked the landlord ,the elderly man I met at the entrance earlier, and a few tenants that lingered around.
On return to my car, I realized that I had not turned off the ignition nor wound up my windows as my phones were on the seat. It was a miracle that nothing was stolen nor any of my valuables tampered with.
What an experience!And a big lesson learnt!
My dear friends, be careful of Owambe awuf, you might be next…lol…lol