The Cycle

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“Oga ‘My car’ commot there! No try am o.”

I smiled as the bus driver boomed at a man in suit in a neat Corolla beside us, hooting incessantly as though it would clear the road. I knew he had no personal issue with him, it was just a thing they say to private car owners whenever they’re putting their fine vehicles in delicate positions in the traffic.

“Sumall time now I go brush yuar motor for yansh una go start to dey yarn me oyibo. . . no be me o.”

Perhaps from experience, Corolla man listened. He quietly swerved and kept to his slow-moving side, allowing the bus driver squeeze himself into the little spot. He was overtly satisfied at the man’s surprising obedience.

“This one get sense. Some of them go dey struggle with our jagamu for road with dem plastic cars like James Bond until dem hear gbo— ”

His last word coincided with a loud bang that was indeed a “gboosa” at his other side of the lane. He looked at me with a precursor to a smile on his face and motioned me to the exact location of the collision.

“My brother, wetin I tok? Honda don jam aeroplane! Una go hear ogbonge oyibo today.”

A young man stepped out of a sleek Hyundai whose shape truly reminded one of a jet, putting majestic drama to his approach like a Bollywood protagonist maiming the villain in his thought, assessing the condemned bumper of his car with total disregard for the man in Honda who was already apologising.

“I’m really sorry. I’m so sorry. . .”

Sorry unleashed the drama. The previously crawling traffic turned to a standstill with everyone seeing for free in 3D the movie that would’ve cost a ticket—and popcorn, perhaps—at the cinema.

“Are you kidding me? What d’yu mean by sorry? You bashed my car and ruined all this,” he directed him to have a good look of the dangling crushed bumper, “and you’re giving me all that crap?”

Sincere thanks to good diet and exceptionally stretchy ears, I got the audio and delicately followed the video. No static at all.

“You have every right to be annoyed, and that’s why I’m. . . begging. I’m sorry.”

The apologies were meant to soothe him but it was counter-productive; he didn’t want to hear the s-word and Mr Honda wouldn’t run out of its supply. Exasperated, he went on a fast one even my ears couldn’t keep up.

“Mr man I’m sick and tired of this! You’re wasting my time with the sorrys. Tell me, how exactly will “sorry” reconstruct this or solve the mess? Insurance guys just fixed this car so don’t even think in that direction. Capish?”

Mr Honda said more sorrys. Chief Hyundai blew him more words of caution, urging him to stop the apologies and talk in naira. Mr Honda realised that he was losing and had to turn to the popular trick of sharing blames; the no-be-only-me-waka-come approach.

“What exactly do you want from me?! After all, you abruptly applied your brake as well.”

Infuriated by the words, Chief Hyundai dropped all the little semblance of niceties. Being a gentleman in the situation wouldn’t help so he re-strategized. The moment he took off his suit and tie I knew he meant business. The other man got the message loud and clear, but he managed to mask his concern.

“Don’t even try my patience right now!” he inserted some tumbling local dialect and raised his finger, shaking it vigorously as a sign of warning, “keep that to your clueless self and talk to me, like right now!”

The dialectal spices of Chief Hyundai got the bus driver’s attention and he burst into laughter, waking a few passengers from the usual commute-nap.

“Now you’re talking! You think say oyibo fit settle am before? Yarn am correct one from village make he know say you no get time to dey yarn orishirishi english. Even his Honda End-Of-Discussion no go fit end this discussion today. Na only him waka jam for this one.”

The argument escalated just as the hold up began to subside. Mr Driver quipped and ran multiple commentaries as he moved on.

“I pity dem EOD bros people for office today o. Na dem go get the remaining kasala and better oyibo wey e no go tok for here.”

And right there, he struck a chord. He had a very valid point. I easily pictured the duo as section heads or managing executives who would take the frustration to work and blow off undiscerning subordinates at the slightest mistake. Worse still, they could be interviewers or members of a panel to determine the fate of job seekers on that very day.

Unlucky subordinates and job candidates, right? Right.

“Eii! Chisox christ of Tanzania!”

The driver’s exclamation came in the way of my thoughts and welcomed me to another bash involving a tanker and three cars. As the bus sped I could only see different video frames: a tanker driver close to tears, observing the damage he had done to three cars, especially the “Baby boy” car he had hit so hard it linked two more cars; a car owner standing akimbo, watching his car that just got totally crushed and re-christened “Ugly girl”; a work-in-progress infuriated woman dashing past the last silent victim with the tanker driver fully in her sight, with eyes that sparkled in anger.

Only prayers can save a life and make that single event not adversely affect many lives on that day, and I ensured to say one:

Gracious God, spare that tanker driver from the bashed three furies. . . and hint all error-prone subordinates or interviewees to put on their best behaviour today.

I am @jossef69 on twitter.

Facebook Like Page || Adewoyin Joseph A.

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6 thoughts on “The Cycle

    Yemie said:
    September 1, 2014 at 12:22 pm

    Mehn! This resonates Senor! I’ve seen enough of these kinda scenarios to last me a lifetime! Talk ’bout being between a rock and a very hard place! No be small sontin! Two of such scenarios stand out for me!

    There’s the one my uncle was involved in when another motorist hit him in a mad rush to switch lanes during an episode of our infamous Lasgidi log-jam of traffic incidences! They both alighted from their vehicles and the one who was clearly guilty tried playing a fast one! He went ‘Do you know who I am’?! My uncle replied ‘Yes, I know who you are’! The guy was first taken aback by his response and uncle continued ‘You’re a goat, a very stupid one for that matter’! All the onlookers in surrounding vehicles bursted into bouts of hysterics! In the end, they were both on their phones, calling every top ‘dawg’ they knew in a kinda power tussle! My uncle reigned supreme when he called a top military officer he knew, and only then did the other guy ‘cowtow’, appealing to my uncle’s good side! He let him off the hook after all his pleas! *smh*

    The other incident occurred when my friend’s sleeky ride was brushed by a commercial bus driver, also in our infamous Lagos traffic! Now, this friend of mine’s a really simple, unpretentious guy! Very humble and unassuming! He stormed outta his car and the bus driver was trying to act the victim! Realizing he was getting nowhere with his Foxy abilities, he asked to speak with the ‘REAL’ owner of the vehicle! Said he was sure my friend was JUST the driver! To which he gleefully replied him ‘Well then, let me blow your mind wide open, I own the damn car; you’re talking to the REAL owner’! And you can just as well guess what happened next…….the guy fell flat on his face to the ground, prostrating and holding fast to my friend’s feet, begging his forgiveness! My friend didn’t know if he should laugh or cry, after all the ‘demonstrations’ and insults this bus driver had subjected him to! He just shook his head, got back into his car and drove off! LMAO!

    Its a cycle really as you’ve said, when a person decides to lash out and vent at another who’d had nothing to do with his/her screwed up present state of being! God help such a person! Kudos Joe, I enjoyed reading this! Hilarious, yet thought-provoking! Thanks for sharing.

    Liked by 1 person

      Adewoyin Joseph responded:
      September 1, 2014 at 12:58 pm

      Holy Macaroni! This comment just made my day. 🙂

      “Do you know who I am?! ‘Yes, I know who you are. . . You’re a goat, a very stupid one for that matter!'”

      That part is golden! LOL

      I hate it when someone bashes someone else’s car and still thinks intimidation is the way forward. If you like text or flash the gods, are the irunmoles gon’ come fix my car? Unfortunately, young individuals with the pepper fall victim the most, as if it’s a crime to be young and successful. I wish your pal had shown him a lil’ bit of drama before zooming off. *EvilGrin*

      Thanks for reading and for commenting. You rock pass stilettos! 🙂

      Like

    HARD VOICES said:
    September 2, 2014 at 8:54 pm

    Just when I was settled to fully enjoy the drama, story ended. Haba Josefu, na how many words you waka come this blog? I think it was time we bloggers met and fashioned a constitution. Minimum number of blog words, 2000! But we can’t do this, people like Walter will be put outta business. That is by the way.

    Your post is revealing, we see it everyday. So if I ever get a car, I will never drive it. I will just quarantine it in my garage till the ebola-like epidemic of bumper to bumper is curtained!

    #Na so

    Like

      Adewoyin Joseph responded:
      September 3, 2014 at 5:00 am

      2000 words per blog post?! When some would lose interest just after the 600th word (I don’t understand them actually). You alone can anchor a meeting like that, I’ll definitely be in attendance *smiles*. Walter is pulling our legs and risking crucifixion, I’ve promised to supply the nails and the cross—for a token.

      You will get a car; it will likely remind us of a plane, a submarine perhaps, or something muscular. Unfortunately, I don’t see the ebola-like bumper to bumper epidemic going away soon.

      Knowing that you read and enjoyed this gladdens, and gives me the satisfaction another level of grace will not aptly qualify. Thanks. A lot.

      Like

    topazo said:
    September 6, 2014 at 9:53 pm

    very hilarious post…
    but the truth of the cycle of transfer of frustration is worrisome…

    Like

      Adewoyin Joseph responded:
      September 6, 2014 at 10:51 pm

      It’s best imagined than experienced.

      Having been interviewed once by a no-joy 30-something years old Ms who handled the session like I ran over her favourite puppy or withheld her supposed husband, I can boldly say that the transfer is indeed worrisome.

      Thanks for reading Doc.

      Like

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