Daily Independent (Lagos)
Michael John
5 January 2009
column
Who exactly should we make our "Man of the Year? Already major newspapers and magazines have decided to give it to Barack Obama, the first African American to be elected president of the United States of America.
This, obviously, would have been a really good choice, but we have been watching him with keen interest so far and we are not satisfied entirely with him. He has neither made up his mind nor has he told us that he intends to turn the White House into the Black House.
More so, from the dawn of slavery, the Whiteman has always depended on the Blackman to clean up his mess. President George Bush has messed up everything in America and the White House has become a "bush" (serves them right for electing a man with such a queer name as president), and now our cousin, Barack, is being asked to go and clean up the mess. Like the late Fela Anikulakpo-Kuti sang, "white man na dem come teach us to carry shit."
Then we also thought of Palin, the Republican Party's presidential running mate, who came second in most "Man of the Year" assessment by magazines abroad, but we hastily perished the thought. A woman who does not know that Africa is a continent may not even know that there is a country called Nigeria. Palin claimed that she had experience in foreign affairs because her state is next door to Russia, which is like my uncle claiming that he is a professor because he has been living next door to University of Ibadan for five decades. So Palin? No!
Then there was Hilary Clinton. Still cute at sixty, she claimed that she was the most qualified to be president of United States because she was married to a president for eight years. Now let us ask you this question someone popped up, "If a brain surgeon quit his job, would everyone in the operating room say, 'Wait, let's get his wife.'" And when we remembered how she dragged the Democratic Party primary and even offered to debate Obama anywhere, anytime, even at the back of a tuck, we discountenanced her because such strange offers were usually made by her husband.
Samuel Peters also came up for mention. Our team decided that if he had allowed Bash Ali to fight Vitali Klitscho, perhaps the fight would have been more interesting. And since he has not even said anything about another fight with the man who beat him, we decided to let him rest in peace wherever he is. When he comes out of the shadows we would organize a fight between him and Bash Ali to determine who fights Klitscho next time.
But finally we decided to look inwards and discovered that the thing "where dey for Sokoto, e dey for shokoto." Lagos Commercial drivers are our "Man of the Year." No one has yet come up with the innovative idea of the Worst Driver in the World award. And for obvious reasons - they are afraid that Nigerians would win it every year. I know you are thinking that the drivers in your town are great, but take a breather and wait for the real gist.
For starters, I have driven in most towns in Nigeria. I have driven in Uyo, the capital of Akwa Ibom State, where there are so many commercial motorcyclists that they remind you of a swarm of locusts. If you manage to avoid them, you cannot escape the interminable stream of curses which they spew at you at every turn while carrying about five passengers with a twenty-ton bag hanging from their stiff necks. I have driven in Port Harcourt where the drivers crawl with the maddening gridlock and at the earliest opportunity would zoom off as if they have just escaped Armageddon. And the fear of militants is the beginning of wisdom here, so you lock yourself inside the car as rule number one.
Or is it Benin where drivers hit you before they blare their horns and threaten to set you and your car on fire if you do not disappear from human sight. Ibadan? Oh yes. Nice town, but the only reason I would recommend driving in the town is so that you can lock yourself inside your car and escape the stench of dustbins which litter the roads. How drivers manage to avoid the wastes in the city is one of the wonders of the modern world and should rank on the same scale as how motorists in Uyo manage to avoid hitting the ubiquitous commercial motorcyclists in the town.
But Lagos has what it takes for the award - and by a mile. Their drivers have all mastered the fine art of cursing and would extend the curse to your mother and father - not minding whether they are dead and resting in peace. Well, as drivers, they assume that curses can travel anywhere and not be encumbered by police checkpoints and roadblocks. So they curse to their hearts content - all in day's work. And where else in all of creation can you witness the sight of a fully loaded bus, shoving another broken-down bus bumper to bumper to force-start it? Where else can you enter a bus and when it rains, it rains inside the bus and you have to carry your umbrella up? Where else can you board a taxi and look down to see the earth rolling by, through a hole, as the ancient cranky assemblage of scrap rattles on?
After careful thought we, National Association of Angrymen, decided to give them, Man (or if you prefer, Men) of the Year Award. It takes some skill for a man to be chewing corn with one hand, holding the steering with the other, and cursing every other motorist, while humming the latest Fuji music blaring from the bus stereo. Of course you must have also observed that they have the best eye sight in the world. In spite of all the kparaga they drink and the igbo they smoke, have you ever seen any danfo driver wearing glasses?
The runner-up are the bus conductors who manage to scream their destination every day without losing their voices. And even though there is no communication equipment between him and the driver, he would always pay out the balance to his passengers and sprint like Ben Johnson to jump into the bus. It is an interesting life full of twists, runs, turns, and leaps. A life deserving of our Award!
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