Lagos Ajebutter
I have never really seen the point of Valentine's Day. To me, Valentine was just another excuse for women to celebrate their scary birthdays, and get gifts again. It was so unfair, and so I decided to ignore it.
5 girlfriends, 2 heartbreaks and a University degree later, here I am. I have survived the years, ignoring Valentine's lovely (and expensive) day, choosing to spend those days as far away from a passionate woman, and keep a healthy account balance. But this year, everything changed. I still didn't celebrate, but man did I feel the groove.
Leaving home for work at 5.30am, I felt every bit of normal. Nothing special, no phones ringing, no Valentine message. Just a lone Joey Akan, his black backpack, and his thoughts about getting a new girlfriend. I left my street and made my way to the Barracks Bus Stop at Surulere for a BRT bus to ferry me to the Island.
'Happy Valantine'. A thick Yoruba voice from behind me screamed.
I turned to find a scary looking Abgero staring at me in anticipation. He had his hand outstretched like he was the Valentine tax collector. I quickly looked around. No one was in view. I was alone, with a menacing Valentine Agbero taxman.
"Ogbeni, Happy Valentine too". I played it cool with a gentle smile. I will not get killed on Valentine's day. I will never die for love.
"Wetin you get for me". He seemed to like my smile because he smiled too. I hoped and grew bolder.
"Bros nothing dey oh. Na hustle I dey go hustle". Stingy me. I played my stingy hand, speaking tush slightly accented pidgin English. I seriously need pidgin English classes.
Just then his countenance changed. He looked at me with eyes red and puffy from spending a night with marijuana. His gaze went from my face and settled on the back pack hand from one arm.
"So with your fine face, and sweet voice, you wan tell me say you nothing for me"? He threatened.
Just then a familiar figure arrived from nowhere. A savior from the blue. It was Oliver, an Agbero whom I secretly fund his smoking habit, with the occasional N20 donation. He broke into a smile, and screamed.
"Joey! Na your face be this'
"Yes Oliver, it's me oh".
Oliver quickly took in the situation, moving quickly between me and the taxman, he spoke in Yoruba language in some placatory tone. I don't speak Yoruba, but the taxman appeared a bit disappointed. After some pleading from Oliver, he requested for N50.
I quickly handed it to my savior, who passed it to the taxman. And he walked away.
Right there, I made a silent promise to double Oliver's smoking allowance to a N100. He's earned his increase. Also, I'll be getting a small handgun for illegal tax collectors.
The rest of Valentine went well. I got cakes, underwear, an interview with Karma, a chat with Joke Silva, and plenty of wishes. Next year's will be better…I hope.
See you next week. Peace & Good hustle.
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