After a small argument on which beach to go unleash our frivolities on, we decided on Elegushi, at least there we would see enough things to "talk about". Chai, if only I had known, I wouldn't have allowed those babes to convince me to go. Being a Sunday, my brother and his family had gone to see a friend of theirs with the driver. So all we had at home were cars but no driver and seeing as I don't know how to drive yet (BTW, I'm looking for a good teacher), I suggested we just take a cab or better yet sit home, order a pizza and rent Dr Strange from Boxoffice. But my friends decided we should just take danfo and save money. Well, I was cool with this, after all Monday to Friday each week I'm jumping danfo from Lekki to Yaba like a pro.
On getting to Elegushi bustop though, it hit me that I have never thought on how we would get to the beach from the junction. Getting a taxi was nearly impossible and we couldn't even use Uber since the only phone that had the app, that's mine, was stolen. Finally getting a bike, we decided three of us can sit on the bike seeing as we were all lepa girls. May the good Lord save you from oversabi okada riders...say AMEN!
Instead of this man to pass the normal road, he decided to take a "shorter cut" which according to him we wouldn't even have to pay the 1k per head entrance fee. Mmmm....God save me from awoof too sha. So we started our journey which till today, I will not recognise the path we took. At one point the route got so bushy and lonely, with only a path big enough to take a bike, I thought we were being kidnapped. The only thought going through my head was "meeehnnn, who send me o?"
As I was about to demand that the man turn the bike around, a group of men...more like boys, seemingly came out of nowhere. My heart cut, "this was it, I thought....I'm going to the big "white house" kidnapped people used to see in Lekki. God I didn't tell anyone where I was going". My friend sitting behind me was just holding so tight to my arm I could feel her nails biting into my skin. She kept whispering "Jesus, Jesus", making me feel even more scared than I was. I used to pride myself on being able to understand Yoruba fairly well for an Igbo chick, but damn the way they were speaking and the sound of my heart pounding in my ears I could barely pick out their words not until the bike man told the leader of the boys that we were his girlfriends, saying he wanted to go and show us to a "Saheed".
After some whispered deliberations, one of them pulled out a bike hidden in the bushes and commanded our bike to follow him. We drove for about 10 minutes before the road suddenly widened up into a clearing. There, sitting not so far from the water was an almost completed house. Fortunately for us, the bike man was immediately recognised by the older man sitting in front of the house. They pulled aside to have a quiet conversation while three of us remained slightly huddled beside the bike. Our relief was almost palpable when the okada man came back smiling and told us we were free to go.
A ride that should have taken 5 minutes lasted an eventful 30 minutes. By the time we reached the beach, the desire to have fun had left us but there was no way I was going to climb that bike for another ride. I'm glad we decided to stay on the beach though because what happened to us next is something enough to become another gist for next week. This time next week you people will laugh ehn!
Written By: Shalz Ekelaka (Content Writer, 247NNU)
Facebook: Shalz Ekelaka
Chronicles Of A Distressed Omobutty is a compendium of the life experiences of an omobutty in the city of Lagos.
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