An Aristo Offer
Happy new year to everyone out there. It’s going to be a fulfilling year for us all. It’s so refreshing to be back here after a long break. I had to take another break to the ancient city where I had internet difficulties(in my room). Even calls were difficult to make. Well, xmas and new year caused a mass exodus of people out of the Federal Capital into various towns and villages in Nigeria. All the weekend and month end husbands finally went home to their families.
Travelling back here, I had an interesting encounter. I had gone to the park early Sunday morning because I had loads and wanted to sit in a comfy space. The interesting thing about travelling by road is that you sometimes meet some nice, good individuals who are top shots in Abuja but are either afraid of Nigerian airplanes or have heavy loads which a plane would not carry. Mostly, it’s usually because of the sorry state of the airlines and so many would gladly endure the unpredictable nature of the road and the long hours. Again, many would prefer to eat hot pounded yam at Ibillo( a part of Edo, just before Okenne, Kogi state) instead of the cake and fruit juice that Arik would serve them, lol.
I had heavy loads too including a washing machine and other important stuffs. So, this generated a debate on whether it should stay in the booth or in front with me. One man stood out, a passenger who was dropped at the park in a hilux bearing OYSEMA. He was telling me to make sure they didn’t place loads on it, telling the driver how to pack the loads properly and so on. I discovered he had a good rapport with the driver; he was a regular customer. The driver was eager to please him and even called him Bro Mustapha (an elderly man).That settled, we set out on the journey.
The journey was uneventful because it was a Sunday and the driver told everyone who cared that there was no ‘iyan’ at Ibillo that day so they should eat breakfast at Ile Ife. I didn’t care, however the only thing on my mind was to buy dodo ikire at my dad’s birthplace. I usually tell myself I am from Ibadan (well, born and bred there) while my dad is from Apomu-Ikire. Even though I love Ibadan more than my dad’s state of origin, yet I grew up eating dodo Ikire and Aadun(sorry I don’t know the English word for these things). I have a friend though from Oyo town, but who loves and makes me buy dodo anytime I pass that route. Now, my good friend in faraway Chicago asked me to send dodo ikire as well. Yipee!!! Our dodo is going international, #proudmodeactivated#So, if you want to be my permanent friend, you must love to eat dodo ikire. Little wonder my dodo ikire eating friends are so dear to my heart,lol.
As usual, I bought eighteen pieces of dodo (three in each nylon, you can do the maths). The journey continued with a stop over at ife, then Ibillo till gwagwalada. The traffic on the way was hellish. Soldiers, customs, NDLEA on the road causing traffic jam. Bad traffic at airport road too within FCT but we couldn’t locate the cause, probably witches and wizards holding meeting like on third mainland bridge in Lagos.
Some passengers were going to Kaduna and had to stop at a place called Giri junction(after gwagwalada). Now, the real blog story begins…. At this point, everyone came down to check their luggages(to avoid stories that touch the heart-of misplaced bags). This was how the elderly man(the driver’s friend) who was interfering earlier at the park(I discovered he works with INEC in Abuja, don’t ask me how I got to know. It’s all part of investigative journalism) came to meet me in front where I was seated to help him plug his phone and put my number on it. Wonders!!! He spoke so discreetly. I decided to give him my number with a different motive in mind while he also had a sinister motive. Let me digress a bit, if you have been following this blog for a long time, you would recall how I met a guy at a press briefing at NTA Channel 10, Tejuosho in Lagos who came to represent Guardian Newspaper and I consciously gave him my sister’s number instead of mine? He kept calling my sister until he got tired and discovered that I actually played a prank on him. The part two of that story was that as fate would have it, barely few weeks after, I walked into the multi-purpose hall of the University of Lagos for an exam and behold, it was this guy I saw. I did a double take, changed direction and ran for dear life. I had to go hide in a corner to write my paper. Very funny story. I didn’t know I was going to see him again. Thankfully, he didn’t see me. So, that experience taught me not to play pranks again.
Back to my story..By the time the others came in, he pretended as if nothing happened. I smiled to myself. I was getting excited within me because I was going to get a scoop- a blog story. Everything is news worthy to a writer. So, you won’t blame me. Few minutes later, my phone rang. I looked back and discovered he was holding his phone. He didn’t say anything. A text message came in “my name is Kehinde Mustapha, this is my number”. So I saved it. It was getting more interesting. Another text came in “may I have your bb pin?”. I ignored it till I alighted at my junction. So he called me later in the night and had this to say ” how was the trip? Hope you aren’t too tired. I would like to really know you and to help you. Do you know Abuja very well? I live in Apo Legislative Quarters, you have no problem at all. I don’t have any girlfriend here that would disturb you. You’d be my only girlfriend. My wife and kids are not here too. So,I’ll call you tomorrow by 4pm so that you can come and see me. Please add me on facebook.” I was just amused.
Some men don’t look at faces before they make their move. They assume that all women are the same. Well, some of us do earn our keeps and are proud of ourselves. We don’t depend on randy men old enough to be our fathers to buy us blackberries or Ipads or chicken suya and gizzard. He must have thought I got my phone and tab from a sugar daddy like him. After sending him a stern text, I haven’t heard from the randy fool again. Silly old men whose third legs dictate to their brain. This is Abuja where sugar daddies/aristos rule yet they go home and pretend to their wives like a dutiful husband. God pass them
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