TwoCents | Blood On Lekki Express-Way: Part 2

Emmanuel woke to the jarring sound of his alarm and blaring music from Mr. Kuforiji's apartment next door as both unwelcome sounds pierced his Friday morning calm, threatening to shatter his windows. "Won ti gba PVC, won ti gba vote..." the Afrobeat lyrics screamed. Emmanuel rubbed the sleep from his eyes, grimacing at the unpleasantness of it all.He hissed, tossed off his blanket and strode to the window. Rapping gently on the louvres, he called out to his jobless neighbor, "Oga Kuforiji, abeg, reduce the volume na!" Mr. Kuforiji's voice, laced with apology, drifted through the thin walls, "Sorry, my brother! I forget say na workday!" The music softened, replaced by the distant sounds of prayers from a mosque on an adjacent street. Emmanuel shook his head, grumbling. “How you nor go forget when you nor get work?” He hissed to himself.Only in Lagos would a neighbor blast music at 5 am on a Friday, and think it perfectly normal. He supposed he wouldn’t blame the man who had been jobless for as long as he had lived in the compound. Emmanuel couldn't help but pity Mrs Kuforiji, his neighbor’s wife who was out earning her daily 2k while her husband lounged at home, being a compound nuisance. Thinking of her sent a shiver down his spine. Her husband, Mr Kuforiji's lifestyle was a cautionary tale for Emmanuel - a stark reminder of the idle, dependent existence he vowed to avoid. Idleness would not be his portion in Jesus name. Trudging on with his day, he showered, brushed his teeth, and made some custard powder with milk, a makeshift breakfast born from an almost-bare fridge. "This suffer no go last," he muttered, thinking of the upcoming salary from his near future job that would change his fortunes.He savored the sweet, creamy treat, imagining the day he'd stroll into Spar or Shoprite, grabbing whatever he fancied. No more managed meals or "there's-no-money-in-the-account" excuses.His phone’s reminder alert interrupted his reverie. It was time for his interview.He donned his best corporate attire, carefully selected from among the pile of tattered ones he had left and strode out the house, optimistic.Fresh from his interview, Emmanuel quickly dashed off a text to Ayo, his guy. He had a date with Folake and as usual, he needed to pull all the stops. Courting the daughter of Chief Olatunji, owner of Shop-eet, one of Nigeria's biggest retail chains, wasn't for the faint of heart. Her mix of Yoruba and Igbo heritage also added to her allure and even though Emmanuel had dated babes with plenty money before, Folake's family's wealth and affluence were on another level entirely. Their meeting was pure providence, courtesy of Anita, his former colleague turned friend. Anita had dragged him to that singles' conference at the start of the year, only to ghost him last minute. Emmanuel suspected Anita fancied him as more than a friend, for she always seemed to manufacture excuses for their paths to cross.Anita's yoyo games puzzled him, though and he suspected she had a long-distance boyfriend, one she was probably losing interest in, as that singles event wasn’t her first time inviting him over only to cancel at the last minute. Emmanuel remained perplexed by Anita's change of heart but thanked his lucky stars he had attended the event solo. Boredom and the desire to recoup his investment (the ticket wasn't free, after all!) had propelled him to go, and if Anita had joined in or he had skipped it, he would have missed out on meeting Folake, who turned out to be the loveliest woman he'd ever laid eyes on.He stopped over at Ayo’s car dealership and picked the Benz up. His friend owned a successful car business and was always ready to help with lending him a car, particularly when a woman was involved. A typical ashewo boy. Emmanuel chuckled to himself.Wading the sleek machine with the plushest seats his buttocks had ever touched through the chaotic Lagos traffic, had him smiling like he won the lottery, until he was nearly sideswiped by a reckless Danfo driver. The driver, sporting a "Jesus na my Oga" sticker on his windshield, yelled, "Omo ale! (Crazy person!)" as he sped past.Emmanuel shook his head. "Na you almost hit me, but na me be Omo ale."Thankful the Benz emerged unscathed, he avoided all the other buses like the plague. Imagining the explanation he would owe Ayo, its owner, made him shudder. Where would he start from to explain, if the Danfo driver had grazed the car? The most he would get from the driver would be empty apologies; given his paltry daily income wouldn't begin to cover the expense of repainting, let alone repairs. “Jesus na my Oga, indeed.” He hissed.Taking a deep breath, he refocused on the evening ahead – and the stunning Folake waiting for him.Navigating the Benz through the winding roads, Emmanuel finally approached Folake's upscale estate. The grand entrance, flanked by sleek steel gates, gleamed under the evening lights. As he drove through, meticulously manicured lawns and ornate streetlights lined the paved roads. He had to first call in before the guards had let him through and when he drove past, he couldn’t help but marvel at the estate’s opulence.Every house was unique, each a testament to Nigeria's elite architecture as they sat amidst lush greenery. Impeccably designed gardens, complete with sparkling fountains, added to the ambiance of refined luxury. Pulling up to Folake's family home, Emmanuel couldn't help but be awed. The stunning villa, with its modern façade and sweeping driveway, radiated affluence. The carefully curated exterior, replete with elegant water features and sculpted hedges, hinted at the lavish lifestyle within. He whipped out his phone on arriving at her gate to inform her of his arrival, dialing her number. "Folake, bobo don arrive," Emmanuel announced, attempting to sound suave.“You’ll see me in a bit” she replied.Her voice, sweet like ice cream, always had a soothing effect on him.A few minutes later, her gate opened to reveal the woman he had just spoken to.Folake's beauty always took Emmanuel's breath away. She looked gorgeous in her body hugging  gown that flaunted her curves. The sleeveless design showcased her toned arms, and the neckline drew attention to her elegant neck. And even her dreads which he had never been a fan of before her, looked beautiful, regal, fitting.Emmanuel gallantly opened the car door for Folake, offering his hand as she slid into the passenger seat. He ushered her in, ensuring she was seated comfortably before closing the door.As they drove to their date, the evening sun cast a warm glow over Lagos. They chatted effortlessly, Folake's laughter and smile captivating Emmanuel as usual. Everything about her made him dizzy. At the restaurant, Emmanuel held Folake's chair, seating her with a gentle smile. He thought about how he had never been this much of a gentleman before her. What women cannot do, does not exist. Perusing the menu, Folake's eyes sparkled as she deliberated."What will you have?" Emmanuel asked, trying to sound nonchalant while secretly praying she wouldn't opt for the most expensive dish.Folake ordered the grilled chicken with quinoa, a relatively affordable option. Emmanuel breathed silently, relieved. Next, they awaited the arrival of their meal, while the DJ spun a lively tune. Folake's eyes lit up, and she rose from her seat. "Want to dance?" she asked, her voice playful.Emmanuel nodded, watching as Folake moved effortlessly across the dance floor. Her beauty and poise mesmerized him. In that moment, the social divide between them melted away. Emmanuel envisioned them as a couple – laughing, exploring Lagos, building a life together.But as the song ended, reality set in. He wanted this woman badly. Tonight wasn’t soon enough, he needed her to be his, yesterday. But his courage faltered when the song came to a halt and even as a soji Lagos bobo, he couldn't for the life of him, summon the words to ask the most gorgeous woman he had ever had the privilege of meeting, to be his woman.  He didn’t know if he could stomach the ela if she said no.

Other insights from Belinda Chiazor