No-Nonsense! - Independence Edition

Twas such a quiet afternoon in Molete.Business wasn't so favourable for Madam Bisi on this particular day but she still had her customers, say like 3 stopped-by every hour. Nite time was the hit when the Okada elites and Danfo moguls came to have a fill of her catfish peppersoup they called 'Point and Kill'.
Point and Kill was everyone's favourite but it had caused Bassey (her waiter boy) a broken tooth the previous week. He had supposedly served it to the wrong person while the original owner had waited almost an hour. As if that wasn't enough, Bassey had brought 4 cold pure water sachets and dropped it in Suberu's front which was actually ordered by a different table.

Suberu had reportedly gotten furious and given Bassey a backhand slap on the chest which had ensued in a fight leading to Bassey's missing tooth. Thanks to Baba No-Nonsense that came to his rescue but by his arrival Suberu had fled.

Well, the afternoon was calm and one of her customers was leaving after downing Madam's sweet rice and pomo with 2 sachets of purewater. You would think he just ate at Chicken Republic as he bounced off with a toothpick in his mouth.

Shortly after, Madam Bisi had rushed off to buy catfish for the nite at the market while her new attendant took over the shop's affairs.

The afternoon was about to get interesting...

As she left, one okada had parked in front of her shop. The young man had gotten down and supposedly ordered for food. "Wosss...gimme rice, wan meat and wan beans...put 2 pure water", he had told the attendant.

2 minutes later, Madam Bisi entered, she had 4gotten her purse...her fat physique had blocked the little sun rays illuminating the canteen. And suddenly she shouted, "ehn ehn...na you abi!!! You get mind come chop for hia!"

She swayed gallantly as she moved towards him, backward forces counteracting her forward motion towards him. The stunned man stood with a chunk of Pomo in his mouth wondering who she was referring to even though he was the only one eating there at the moment. As he tried to mutter some words, she had by this time raised her right hand and "TWAI!" The slap landed on his left cheek while the pomo made its way in the opposite direction. This was Newton's 3rd law in practical.

"Madam....no be..." he stammered, TWAI!!! ...Yet another slap from the 'fat one' as he tried to compose some letters out of his mouth. By this time a small gathering had formed outside her shop as she dragged him out.

"NO-NONSENSE!!!, I don catch am", Madam Bisi bellowed at the top of her voice. "Madam... no be..." TWAI!! TWAI!!! 2 rounds of slaps followed again as he tried to justify his innocence. Madam Bisi clutched tightly to his worn-out shirt as she screamed and returned gifts of slaps each time he tried to speak. "NO-NONSENSE!!!", she bellowed again as she called out to the owner of the name.

Suddenly a short man in a dirty white flowing Agbada ran out from one of the shops. "Baba No-Nonsense don show!", one boy had screamed from his spare-parts shop.

Then the crowd hailed in unison, "NO NONSENSE!!". He was celebrated and they jeered him on as he approached with velocity.

The wind blew his large flowing attire as he ran towards the scene with arms spread out. It was only a little more momentum he needed and he would have taken-off like a plane.
It was almost like the scene in Mission Impossible 4 (a Togolese version with 2 midgets as the hit stars).

In sharp speed, Baba No-Nonsense had lifted the young man off the ground...if only the young man knew, he would have fasted on this fateful day.

"Na you comot my Madam boy teeth abi? I go arrange you today!", Baba No-nonsense had said, granting him privilege of knowing what he did.

Baba No-Nonsense wasn't really a fan of slaps, so he engaged the punch therapy. The thin young man had now regained his balance and stood face-to-face with Baba No-Nonsense, hands blocking his precious face. Taking a defensive stance, he tried stammering out the few words he could but the blows seemed to assert themselves more than his stammer. No-Nonsense as his name implied didnt take any nonsense. Himself and Madam Bisi could make super-heroes anyday. They were the Dynamic Duo.

Then suddenly, a man emerged from the crowd shouting, "Ha! Monsuru...happen?!!!", he asked as he looked down at the perplexed creature on the ground. He looked exactly like the person who was being dealt with.

Alas! It was Suberu!

By now the battered young man in self defense had screamed out, stammering seriously with tears in his eyes..."na na na...ma...MY TWIN BROTHER...!"

Then it dawned on the dynamic duo...

They had just beaten up Suberu's twin brother, Monsuru.

In a flash, Baba No-Nonsense flew up in shock, his white make-shift parachute now covered in dust and chanting something the only the crowd seemed to understand, started running towards Suberu with crazy speed. Suberu took off...The crowd followed...Madam Bisi wasn't left out...Market women left their goods and joined the race...Suberu was done for!

The rest is history...

     

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'Lagos Wahala' by Afrosays

Okay! so you have made the right choice coming to tthe Humor world of the blog!


This week's post features a humorous write-up by Afrosays a.k.a Oluwole Bankole whose style of writing mixes the classic African setting with the modern happenings of the present day.
Enjoy!

I woke up to the tantrums of the crazy goddess. I was still swooning in the world of wonderland when a painful juxtaposition of bright stars, rudely introduced into my dream space by a quick hand across the face, brought me to a startled consciousness.

She smiled at me excessively, her smile was bordering on edgy. I kind of retreated into safer bed territory half expecting her to pull of one of the famous scenes from ‘The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’.

She cooed softly at me, moved closer and then she told me excitedly that she’d been talking to some of the local deities types at Mushin and Isale Eko. I shook my head in disbelief, noticing her recently conjured attire; she was wearing a slightly over-bright attitude top that read “Yels! lepa to bad”, with skinny jeans and the signature white and blue bathroom slippers associated with the downtown fashionistas. Lord knows what she’d been doing with those ‘Ajepako’ gods of disarray.

She talked passionately about Shandi, the patron god of all garage touts. I was quite shocked to hear that he wore a three-piece toga but it was quite unfortunate that he couldn’t part with his bathroom slippers. She also mentioned Zanga of Surulere, Sure-Boy of Unilag and a host of other unimpressive deities.

Call me biased but I’m in love with the idea of an ‘Ajebutter’ goddess, this experiment wasn’t working for me.

I’m beating a merry Alanta tune on my gong with my head held high, just because Afrosays:

LAGOS WAHALA

Lagos in action

I doubled over in my unsuccessful attempt to contain laughter well come. Things were just beginning to get interesting! You could only get drama this great on the streets of Lagos; yes! Africa’s got talent!

“I did not do it! I say no be me!” the embarrassed fellow weakly protested, trying unsuccessfully to extricate himself from the supposed evidence of his social indiscretion. “Shey u catch me ni?”

He was still tucking in his cheap shirt in when a woman had showed up some distance behind him with a menacing scowl on her face. She obviously had been totally offended by something she saw and she looked like she was on a mission make it right. Meanwhile, our culprit had walked hurriedly back towards the bus, his face betraying whatever misdeeds he might have carried out in the little corner he was desperately trying to escape from.

“Sssssssssss! Sssssssssssssss! You dey mad! You no get shalanga for house?” “Tu-baba!”, she called to one of the garage touts, “come see wetin this craze man do for… “

He had seen the atrocity before she finished her request, “AaaaaaH!” “O shiere ni?” “You dey mad?” , Tu-baba promptly interjected, closing distance. More heads turned. A good drama always attracted a sizeable audience.

I was teetering at the edge of my seat because our conductor suddenly showed up and wouldn’t allow the humiliated fellow into the bus. He reeked of whatever sickness the gods had chosen to plague him with. He was looking like a trapped animal, lost in a myriad of instinctive responses and blessed with the gift of indecision. It was obvious he would not remember his name for the next two minutes.

And there was laughter, and temper, and more confusion, and then more curiosity. Our little episode was already cooking up a sweet pot of passions with all the spices of a typical Lagos melodrama.

Our culprit started making movements alternating between vibration and gyration. Tu baba was already two feet away with his hands raised. He seemed positive a reassuring hand would to help steady our unfortunate fellow from his oscillations. Humor almost seemed wicked.

“Chairman, na piss I go piss oh!” “I swear, me sef see am for there oh!” and then, “Abeg oh chairman!” the personality of his speech was as unsteady as his body language. He seemed unsure as to whether it was a good idea to be assertive.

“Abeg, show am say na we get this garage!” the accuser of brethren pitched on, “Which kind nonsense be this?” she goaded on, hoping to get retribution delivered as soon as possible. Call me wicked but at this point I was really hoping to see some action.

“Shey were yen leleyi?” a rhetoric fired from one corner, the fellow was just pondering our culprit’s insanity aloud. Another member of the crowd also jokingly asked aloud if he could volunteer a vehicle tire. He must have been a bus driver who was willing to sacrifice a spare tire for our good man to wear around his neck in case the crowd thought it was expedient to execute justice by petrol fire. The growing mob was really excited and there were all kinds of ridiculous suggestions that brought tears of joy to my eyes. Some of the action hungry volunteers didn’t even have a clue about the ensuing fracas, they just wanted a taste of Grammy-winning Lagos theatrics. Even passing motorists raised the fists in agreement, some even shouting out votes of solidarity. Maybe I chirped out one or two of my own in my mock garage accent, and then the fever pitch was hiked up two notches.

Tu-baba arrived like Father Christmas in December and he came with gifts for the crowd. His spectacular movements were worthy of 10 million YouTube views. He started with two ‘fakeys’ that turned our suspect into a vibrating carousel, he quickly steadied his spinning puppet with three and a half healthy slaps. I really am not sure how I arrived at that count but the last sound I heard was sublime. I knew I’d finally discovered the sound that was missing from the jazz drum set.

Culprit seemed lucid but for a moment, then he started to shed tears. He suddenly rushed towards Tu-Baba and embraced him. We were confused for a moment but our confusion was further compounded when culprit started screaming strings of mumbo jumbo in a south-south accent. Tu Baba looked like he had just discovered that Sango was a pony; we were all inanimate for a few seconds, each discovering something similar… and then Tu baba screamed.

“Oko mi oh!” “My Penisula!”

Would you have waited?

                   


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