Princess of Lagos

The things I’ve been through in this Lagos

See, I know it’s not just me these things happen to. Or at least I hope I’m not alone. Sometimes I wonder, is there something wrong with me?… I mean, what is on my face that makes these riffraffs grow balls and approach me.

A whole me, Princess Adaeze Ilonze one… Ka umu ofia na ko akuko.

O di kwa shameful.

There are honestly too many instances to count. I’ll just be on my own walking the streets of Lagos, minding my business, then one miscreant will just appear from nowhere and be harassing me for my number as if when God was creating me, He wrote my name on their body.

And do you know what is even more painful? My name is Princess… so when they are shouting different things “Angel”, “Baby”, “Queen”… I will hear “Princess”, just to turn by reflex. Which is the worst thing you can possibly do in that situation. Once you make eye contact, your own have finish be that.

So last year, I was interning in Ikoyi and since my daddy is not a Lagos big boy, a girl must take public transport. So one of these days, I got stuck in traffic on the Island so much that, I left the office by 3 and got to Oshodi a few minutes to 7. It was already getting dark, normally, I’d wait for BRT but at this point I just needed to get home. So instead of BRT, I entered Mass transit.

For those of you who don’t know, Mass Transit buses are buses that are around the size of BRT but not Lagos owned. Slightly different from Molue buses, as Mass transit is not painted yellow and black. Basically, they pack too many people inside. There’s no leg room, people are standing, everybody’s rubbing against someone, people beg for money , preach pray & hawk stuff in there… cure for cancer for just N150 .


So I boarded this bus, sat in the seat behind the driver. That is how a small commotion started. The bus driver and the conductor both started disturbing me.

“Ah baby, you fine oh… how oyibo like you dey this kain yeye bus”
“Ogbeni shut up, who you think you be, wey dis angel go dey talk to you. Abeg aunty no mine am. But im talk true, person wey fine like you, no suppose dey here. In fact, no pay… just give me your number, after that wan, no need to pay again”

“Ha, oloshi,. No mind am oh. Na me be the conductor, na me wey dey collect money… na me you go give the number nau”

This went on for a while as other passengers were boarding. Eventually, the whole thing ended with me giving the both of them the phone number before we even started the journey. The conductor’s name was Deji and the driver’s name was” E.Z”.

So remember there was a lot of traffic. So at every point, when the traffic slowed to a long stop, E.Z would look over his seat to be talking to me. Asking me if I wanted gala, should he play some music for me…blah blah. Sometimes, he’d call me on the phone  just to talk and I tried really hard but for the life of me I didn’t understand 80% of what he was saying because somewhere along the line he started faking one nyama nyama overcooked indomie accent. . He asked me where do I work, that he can be bringing his bus to my route so that I won’t have to pay for transport anymore. People of God, that is how bus that was originally supposed to stop at Iyana Ipaja ended up driving to Abule Egba. Once I got down, he called me on the phone again and asked me to let him know when I got home safe.

So yes, that is how, I got home without spending a dime.

Of course he called me a couple of times, but obviously… after like 30 missed calls, he stopped.

 

This is just one out of my many many Lagos stories.

Comment if you want to read some more.Plus, do share your own stories ladies

Also… plix plix and plix, ugotalksalot.com is looking for writers… do apply if interested. It doesn’t even have to be in English.

 

 

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