On this faithful night, after a particularly mind-numbing shift at my retail working place in Lagos, Nigeria, I embarked on a very hectic adventure with a couple of my friends. We were destined for a night of palm wine, beer, and drunkiness.
As we entered this particular lively buka, the atmosphere was electric. The spirits were high, and so was the palm wine. The conversations was going smooth as the beer, and the company of friend we were enjoying ourselves. It was this kind of night where you know that enjoyment knows no bounds, and fun are put to the test.
When it was time to leave, we as a merry group of seven, prepared to face the world. We stumbled out of the buka as Nigerians we call it, walking along this frightening car park in our Street. Little did we know that fate had a wicked sense of humour preparing for us that day.
From the depths of the car park, an audacious character in a Danfo appeared, hell-bent on making a grand exit. This human with this agbero personality decided to raise his engine, peel out of his parking spot, and speed straight towards us, who were at that time drunk. At this particular time, even though I seems not to be knowing what is happening, I still knew some.
With the grace of a drunken okada rider, my friends narrowly escaped the oncoming vehicle, defying the laws of physics and reason as that time. Well as we all know, in most cases, we always defy the laws of physics when we are faced with danger. Then, it was my very turn. In a moment of intoxicated brilliance, I decided to channel my inner suya man and defy the laws of gravity. I braced myself for a spectacular leap over the speeding Danfo not knowing my village people has actually gotten me that day.
Unfortunately, I failed to factor in the laws of nature. As the Danfo careened towards me, I leaped, or more accurately, attempted to. Instead, I found myself perfectly knocked aside by the Danfo, flying about a meter and landing ungracefully on my knee and chin. My shoes, perhaps sensing the impending disaster, abandoned ship, soaring into the night.
The perpetrator, an utter agbaya of the highest order, didn't even pause to acknowledge the chaos he had caused. He continued his reckless escape, leaving me in a painful heap on the ground all by myself that faithful night.
There I lay, nursing my wounds and muttering creative Yoruba expletives under my breath. My friends rushed to my side, genuinely concerned. In their eyes, I looked like a casualty from a Nollywood comedy, but I couldn't help but feel I'd just starred in my own real-life version of "Osuofia in London."
After a moment of breathless, agonized reflection, I managed to utter, "Yo, give me a freaking moment, please. I just got hit by a Danfo."
My friends sprang into action. One of them, displaying a commendable DIY medical prowess, slipped my shoes back onto my feet with a mischievous grin. He then presented me with a choice, as if we were in a real-life version of "Choose Your Own Adventure."
"The ambulance is on its way, but you know you don't have health insurance," he said with a sly wink. "So, you can endure the delightful experience of a nine-hour wait at the public hospital. Or, you can try the old 'walk it off' method, come to my place, and enjoy the massive blunt I rolled this morning."
While my friends deliberated, I took a moment to assess my injuries. My knee was swollen to the size of a small moi moi, and my chin was bleeding profusely. But I could still move, so I decided to go with the "walk it off" method.
We hobbled to one of my friend's car and embarked on a journey.
As we drove, we reminisced about the night's events, laughing until our sides hurt. We even managed to come up with a catchy new name for the Danfo driver: "The Palm Wine Goblin."
When we arrived at my friend's place, we immediately lit up the blunt and settled in for a night of laughter and smoke.
We watched the worst Nollywood movies we could find, told the most ridiculous jokes, and even tried to write a song about the Palm Wine Goblin. By the end of the night, we were all exhausted but exhilarated.
We had survived a near-fatal encounter with a reckless driver, and we had created memories that would last a lifetime. The next morning, I woke up feeling surprisingly good. My knee was still swollen, but the pain had subsided. And my chin was healing nicely. I couldn't help but smile as I thought about the night before. It was a night of absurdity, friendship, and laughter. And it was a night I would never forget.
Not everybody you see in this Lagos is normal ooo, you have to be very careful when you go outing next time
As in eh, they are few that are normal in this Lagos
Hahaha... If you have lived in Lagos you will understand this storyline well, Lagos is no man's land where alot happens
Lagos is not easy meh. People who live there try
Haha see how you humorously arrange lagos flex and rough lifestyle, do you still choose the walk it off method, u a get mind sha 😂😂
Omo wetin man go do
An experience worthy of a "What Happened Yesterday" movie.
I think being immersed in alcohol was medicine from the inside for your wounds.
Hmmm true