Joey’s Chronicles Of A Lagos Ajebutter: Crazy Romantic Mushin Fights
I am an Ajebutter. Not by birth, or by formings, or by swag
– I am simply an unapologetic Ajebutter by default. I didn’t choose to
be born one. God, without seeking my opinion (because He’s God, I
guess), gave me the genes of an Ajebutter and a funny Bri-Merican
accent . By luck or some twisted work of fate, fortune, Karma (I might
have killed ten defenseless puppies in my past life) or destiny, I have
found myself in Lagos, crazy Lasgidi, and this is my story…
‘There’s no love in Mushin, men!’
I sat down on the balcony of a duplex, staring at 2 able-bodied men
fighting in pidgin English on a busy street. They were cursing in
Yoruba, and trying to tear themselves apart with heavy blows. A crowd
had gathered, and cheered happily. Grateful for all the entertainment it
offered. The place was in Mushin, and I still can’t recall why I had
found myself in Mushin. Of all places Mushin. But here I was, and I,
Joey Akan, was witnessing a street battle.
I have never liked Mushin. Even if the roads are laid in diamond,
and the houses in the most brilliant of gold, I will never like Mushin.
Popular legend tells the story that during the war in Heaven, when Satan
was cast to earth, together with his demons, he landed in Mushin first,
before he made the trip to Ajegunle, Bariga, some parts of Lagos
Island, then hell. So you see the connection? They’re all similar
places. (Disclaimer! I pulled that story out of my ass. Believe it,
only if you love big, majestic farts).
I had found myself in Mushin, in pursuit of one hot sexy babe. I have
been on her case for over a month, so when I got her invite to visit
her home, I was delighted. I had a new haircut (an expensive one), wore
the best perfume Yaba can offer, and rocked my Sunday shoe. Trust my
shirt and trousers. Only James Bond would have looked, smelled, and
smiled better than I did.
But when I got the address, and it read ‘Mushin’. My appetite for
love vanished. Poof! I didn’t want again. But then I had given her my
word, and being a principled lover boy, my word is my bond. If I tell a
lady, that I’ll steal the moon for her. Then that night, the moon will
certainly vanish from outer space. I am that good.
I finally made my way to Mushin, and men! I witnessed 4 street fights. Two were over ‘baba Ijebu’,
one over a woman, and the last one was over a person taking a piss in
the wrong place. I almost got into a fight myself, because I spoke
‘grammar’ to an Agbero. And then that was it.
I have long ended my love affair with that lady, after I received a
slap for speaking that ‘grammar’. I can’t die for love. Neither do I
find it romantic, taking slaps for a lady. I am Joey Akan, not Romeo
Montague. She’s definitely not Juliet Capulet, and Mushin is not Venice.