Joey’s Chronicles Of A Lagos Aje-Butter: “Missing My Lovely Agberos”
TO MATCH FEATURE STORY TRANSPORT NIGERIA LIGHTS.
I am an Aje-butter. Not by birth, or by formings, or by swag – I am simply an unapologetic ajebutter by default. I didn’t choose to be born one. God, without seeking my opinion (because He’s God, I guess), gave me the genes of an Ajebutter and a funny BriMericana accent . By luck or some twisted work of fate, fortune, karma (I might have killed ten defenseless puppies in my last life) or destiny, I have found myself in Lagos, crazy Lasgidi, and this is my story…
I hate to admit it, but I think I’m in love with Lagos. Yeah, it’s a tough one for me to accept, but recently I took a trip back to the Southern Nigeria, did a brief stop in Port Harcourt (where I grew up. Diapers and nappies and all), then made the road trip to Uyo. But 3 days into my little journey to my past, depression set in. I felt homesick. It wasn’t simply the ache in my heart for a taste of some awful Yoruba cooking (I meant the ‘awful’ part, no apologies), or the longing for the sight of rickety Danfo buses with their stereotypical uncultured weed-smoking conductors who never miss an opportunity to scream ‘Bole’ or offer silent prayers in their hearts (to Sango) that you forget to demand your remaining N50 T.fare balance in their possession.
I missed Lagos. I longed for the frustrating traffic jams that make you age faster than than your dad. In the previous six months, I could put good money on the fact that half of my life have been spent in lengthy traffic jams, and the other half have been spent on…a lot of things actually. Like going on 17 first dates, which went horribly awful, seeing endless fights in Mushin and Ajegunle, desperately trying to steer clear of them Agberos who would waste no opportunity to have a go at you, and working off my ass at my awesome job.
I also did miss the ladies and all their little, lovely, and sometimes nerve-wrecking peculiarities. Seeing them sashay past me, booties and grace, every day gives me more reason to keep death at bay. Sure I wanna go to the afterlife, but not yet. Haven’t had my fill of Alomo. Or can I take my favourite bitters to the afterlife? Not sure God will approve.
I missed the Agberos. Their hugely distressing mannerisms, their crude pidgin English, their scary menacing stares, and their penchant for Marijuana. Walking past my home every day, the whiff of spiff, that banned drug, smoked by the Lagos Agbero Nation, keeps me company. I even found myself longing for the haze of the smoke in the air. It’s shocking because I don’t smoke. And even though my Mum says it’s bad, I secretly long for the weed-tainted air to soothe my puritan lungs. God help me. I’m a bad person!
It’s official now. Lagos is my home. Though I’d still have a special place in my heart for Port Harcourt, but Lagos rules my path now. This city of angels, demons and Agberos is my home. Fate, finally has found me.
See you next Tuesday.
Rosebeds & Cupcakes!
Tags: Ajebutter, Joey, Lagos
About the Author
Joey Akan 'I know I'm a bad lover, but you gotta admit I thrill you'. Joey leans on the crazy part of journalism with a unique skill-set which has seen him attain journeyman status, writing for a plethora of media houses. He likes hot gossips, sweaty parties, rocking jams, snobbish celebrities and Tonto Dikeh falling on stage... When I'm not busy earning your admiration and disgust here, then you can stalk me on Facebook or give me some love on Twitter
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