THE NEW ADVENTURES OF SST Lagos Girls and Christmas Wahala! My brother, Christmas period is not the best time to be caught in Lagos. That is if you are not a smart player. while you are trying to celebrate the birth of our lord, Jesus Christ, the ajero girls will be out to bath you around in the eateries and entertainment joints in town. at the end of the celebrations, you end up giving birth to a load of debts tied by a long umbilical cord to your creditors. And so this Christmas season one of these Lagos girls wanted to play a fast one on me. But trust your bros, na today? One of the young ladies that worked in one of the new generation banks near my office decided that this year’s Christmas I would be her sacrificial lamb. i started noticing the signs of her impending ambush, much earlier, when out of the blues, the girl started returning my smiles whenever I go to the bank to make one of my small withdrawals. Before then, when I go to the bank and passed across one of my crumpled cheque leaves, she would hand back my small withdrawal of five thousand naira without any natural affection, like handling a piece of smeared toilet tissue. it was always; “have your money, Oga,” she would say, wearing a tired ‘it has been a hard day’ look. But since the Christmas season started getting closer, her countenance turned to a beam of smiles and a loaded “ha! Oga SST, weting de for the girls.” Of course i was not taken in by her change in behaviour. i knew most of these high-class society ladies never had time for men like me. Men on salary scales were not their best friends. They normally hook on to the yahoo boys, and the Sunday, Sunday spare part boys—Yeah, the Ibo spare parts dealers that you can only get them out of their shops on Sundays. And who are the yahoo boys? You know them of course! They are the ones that live on internet fraud. anyway, towards Christmas the yahoo boys that these girls have been scavenging on usually move abroad to corner their victims properly. And the motor spare part dealers would have moved to the village for the annual social show up. So, nothing for these ladies in Lagos at this time of the year! What about the big contractors—the married men? The ones these girls call baby in their rooms, sugar daddies at their backs and uncle when you are around? My brother, those are even harder for the girls to catch during the long holidays. Their wives cannot be that stupid—no excuses of long meetings at Alausa Government House, or Abuja conferences this time, they were all under lock and key at this time of the year. So, what do you expect? it’s the last cards like us, the once in a month happy bank goers, that remain for these professional spinsters. and so this girl started to patronize me as the season approached…. applying the mode of operation of most Lagos society ladies, which is usually to move from the general to the specifics. Like a military commander giving orders for an operation. First as the Holiday season gets nearer and nearer it was; “ha, Oga SST what’s there for the girls?” and before you can think of something cheap, like getting greeting cards for the girls, they will quickly move to the specifics, giving away their hidden options. “Haba, Oga SST, won’t you take us to Silverbird Cinema? 2face is having a show there, you know!” she said happily. Sometimes, I love the great faith of these young ladies. A man that at most cashes a cheque of 5,000 naira, you still want him to take you out for a 20,000 naira show, and you work at his bank? You can’t even guess his worth? anyway, Lagos women possess great faith. always believing men have a hidden source of funds. My problem with Lagos girls was I never knew how to say, no, to them, like a police officer confronted with a bribe. and since I couldn’t learn to say no, I made sure I learn how to survive without a ‘no’. So I agreed to Cindy’s request to take her out on Christmas day to the show. and as if that was not enough punishment, she added another one; “Oga SST, my friend just arrived from Paris, she is lonely, and can she come along? Please . . . !”. I quickly answered, as if I could not wait to have her friend added to the team; “of course, Cindy why not? She can come along, we can do with more company, it’s the festive period, so where can I come and pick you girls?” i said; making it sound as if taking them out was my best Christmas gift. “Hmmm, maybe we can come and meet you at home, just give me your address.” She said with a patronising smile. Cindy am I just coming to Lagos? She knows by the time i cross the gutters to her house, i won’t price her meal beyond a plate of rice. Ha! Lagos, everybody is an actor ... EKO NI BAJE! “alright, meet me at the Ikeja Estate, that’s where I’m staying for now. My accommodation is yet to be processed.” I said smiling back. I needed to make an early excuse to cover up for any shortcoming before they see the deplorable condition of my place. I could see her smiling sheepishly; she was not new to the game too. So on Christmas morning, I made sure I got a new grape wine bottle and sandwiched it in my refrigerator amongst the packs of sachet water. You know the wine? Made in Ikorodua with the Italy label? And all you need to make it foreign was to exchange the rubber cork with an old wooden one. And since one of my guest was said to be just arriving from abroad—as Cindy claimed, I decided to search for a wooden cork and have a foreign wine for them. You can trust Lagos girls, Cindy that said it would be a problem locating my place was knocking on my door by 9a.m. I quickly sprayed the last drops of my body perfume and opened the door for them. I could see Cindy had a friend lagging behind her, the one she told me she was bringing along. “Meet my friend . . . . l’asseine.” She said as if announcing the queen. “She is born in Paris” Cindy added with the strong determination of a debater out to convince an audience. The way Cindy kept pronouncing Paris—Pareeee—you would think she was consulted when the city was to be named. “Oh l’asseine?! it sounds French.” I said taking her friend’s hand with much care. From the hard touch of her tough palms I won’t be surprised if l’asseine was not christened at ghettos of Ajegunle. You know what Shakira said? That hips don’t lie? well, your palms don’t lie too; they easily tell how life has treated you. i still managed to maintain a straight face. She giggled and smiled. “Yes it is; i was born and live in Paris.’’ She said in a very soft voice trying hard to hide the local accent. Born in Paris? Oh my God! Lagos girls, any lie is possible. I wasn’t giving up, so I continue “oh Paris, I love Paris!” I said. But hoping I won’t be taken on what I know about Paris by my ‘born in Paris’ friend. But from the fear in her eyes, hearing me saying, I love Paris, I could see my ‘I live in Paris’ friend didn’t want to be taken on what she knows about Paris too. So, we left Paris alone. Time for us to go — I could see the girls have drained half my bottle of wine. Awuf they run belle .... anyway, time will tell! So we went outside to pick my car. My next door neighbour who travelled abroad for the Christmas left his Mercedes Jeep keys with me to be warming the car in his absence. Trust rich guys, they always move with rich ideas when it comes to their properties. The car keys could only start but would not move the car—expensive security system. No problem! It’s in line with my plans. I could see how their faces lighten up when i approached the sparkling white Mercedes Jeep. They were rusting to catch to the doors of the car! Not so soon, ladies! The speed with which Cindy opened the front door and jumped inside the jeep with the agility of a triple jumper as soon as i beeped the security lock, you would think the car was packed in her father’s garage. i could see the two of them giggling excitedly as they settled into the leather upholstery of the car seats. You know, some girls desired nothing more than for a friend to see them in an expensive car, a clear sign that their status has changed. I started the car ignition, but of course, as expected the car won’t move. “Oh shit!” I said loudly, banging the steering wheel, but taking care not to use much force. “What’s the problem?” Cindy asked in a worried voice. “Oh, the car won’t move.” I replied her. “Why?” Cindy asked. I could see she was very concerned. “I was supposed to warm the engine for two hours last night, to get the security system started. But I forgot; now I will need a day to start it, shit!” I exhaled loudly. I could see Cindy and her friend near to shed tears on realising they won’t move out to town in the glittering big jeep. They all looked so ruffled; one would think they were getting a horrible report from a doctor. “So can we take a taxi drop?” Cindy asked with the determination of ‘nothing is going to spoil my day’. “There’s no need for that, we can use my other car. But you have to manage; it’s so small, I really hardly used it, except when going to the gym on weekends.” i said with a feeling of disappointment. I felt bad as I was talking so badly of my Peugeot 206 car that had served me faithful in the last four years. I hope cars don’t have feelings! I could see their annoyance when we got near to the battered small blue car. The exuberance earlier exhibited by Cindy in entering the Mercedes jeep had since disappeared as she opened the door to the small Peugeot car. As soon as I entered, I started the engine, and took off fast before any of them could suggest anything different. We didn’t go far before Cindy started winding up her side window glass. I turned to look at her shaking my head apologetically. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t inform you, the air conditioning just packed up, and the car brain box can only be worked on by a computer. The only workshop that has that facility has closed for the holidays. Shit, I never thought I will have to use this car any soon.” I said to her. If I had told Cindy to come down and walked on the street on bare feet, I would maybe have gotten a less hostile stare. “There’s no AC in the car! Oh, My God! Do you want us to roast here? Are we chicks . . . I mean chicken?” She let out her frustration so loud with the air of one not used to such discomfort… FOR THE BOOK THE NEW ADVNTURES OF SST, ORDER FOR A COPY AT AMAZON.CO.UK OR PICK ONE AT LIFESTYLE MEDIA STORE (BOOKSHOP) THIRD FLOOR SILVERBIRD ENTERTAINMENT CENTRE ABUJA
Posted on: Fri, 27 Jun 2014 08:55:37 +0000