book-cover
Bolt Driver
Kegbu Mgbe
Kegbu Mgbe
a year ago

 22:50

cigarette one


Where to ma

“Ma?, please I’m not Ma oh, I’m a young girl” gold locs lady said

“I’m going to Ug wis”

Alright

I don’t hate it, driving strangers around isn’t the worst way to spend your Friday night. You could be half way through your body fluid over a 3 star hotel toilet in Ikeja like Bola the day he got dumped and thought the relationship was waiting for him at the bottom of a bottle,

or going into a 350K debit at an Island club because you don’t want to seem like a small boy in front of Arike, who doesn’t text you anyway because Temple got her a 14 pro max. This wasn’t me by the way, It was Lagos, and Lagos…

“What type of music is this Oga” 

Ma?

“Again, I’m not Ma please and I don't like the music”

Ah, you don’t like Tim Lyre?

“ Who be that? Abeg play davido, I’m going out please, I need to lift my spirit”

I got you

Lagos was many things, but It was a lot louder. The people talked more, and there was an unnecessary urgency no one else perceived because they had never been to slower places. Calabar was a slower place, everything was 30 minutes apart and everyone was 30 minutes late.


The Idea didn’t sound half bad; Uber-ing on Friday nights. Calabar was a slow river and it was easy to swim in it. I hadn’t been doing much since I moved back anyway and the hobby paid for itself so there weren’t many things to worry about. There was a car and there was a deep desire to drive through the heavy scent of turkey and fries at Atekong every night. 

I started earlier on the first Friday - 2 p.m in the afternoon. Transporting day people was alright, but day people didn't have as many stories. Day people were always going to Spar, or a pyramid scheme conference. It was simple with them, they didn’t talk as much, and their music was always something Davido released in 2016. 

Night people however, were very different from day people. They always wanted certain songs, all wore the same clothes, and everyone attended the same events. The town was small, but under the cover of Atekong street lights and the fluorescents on daddy k’s stand they was a vibrant city. So friday nights : 10:45 - 03:00 am became my golden hours.

That would be 800

“Ohhh, and I was enjoying this your music” gold locs lady said as she hummed to the beat of “i’m unavailable”

“Do you accept transfer?”


23:30

Cigarette two

I think the birth of the idea itself was ridiculous. Richard and I were on a little at my place and sitting on Claro's ruthless intoxication, we had an intense hour long conversation about driving therapy. It was a frivolous high conversation, but the idea sat with me until I closed my laptop early on a Friday night and registered on Bolt. The next two weeks I was on Marian road with a stranger in my car and a pack of cigarettes in my pocket.

My first trip was for Emem. She was thin with a Watt market buss down. I didn’t think I would but I forgot every other name after. Contrary to what I thought of myself, even people can be small things, small memories that fade because they did not have enough relevance to sit in your head.

Where are we headed ladies

“Omg did you see the way Ukpong was looking at me?” first girl said

“Yessssss, tell me why he looked at you for that long when he came to say Hi” second girl responded

“Rightttt, I was like - Okayyy boyyyy” first girl said back

“He wanted to devour you” second girl said

“Sir definitely wants me back” first girl said again

*clears throat*

Where to ladies?

“Oh, uhm Imperial college, satellite town” first girl finally says to me

Alright

I enjoyed when people talked. I know listening into people’s conversation can be questionable, but people talked and I didn’t have a knife with me to cut off my ears. 

I also liked to listen so that I could live through people. I placed myself in their conversations and existed there. 

For a moment I could be Edidong, screaming at my friends about how I would beat up a Kelly the next time I saw her because she kissed my boyfriend, Tunde promising to send the caller 200k if she met him at “the spot”, Or I could be first girl, excited that Ukpong noticed me in the way I wanted, in a way that says he wants me back.


“ He was looking at me head to toe, in fact he wanted to swallow me with his eyes” first girl said

“Girlllll, I saw, he wants you sooo badddd” second girl said, before breaking into an excited half scream with first girl.


The night people had very interesting lives, and I enjoyed living it. At least living through first girl, some Ukpong noticed me.

Personally, I didn’t ’t like my ex anymore. I didn’t want her akara to always be rotten but I didn’t wish her any good. I still thought about her, but it was more about warmth; my meaty arm around a thin waist, under sea blue covers. 

Maybe if I went to parties rather than uber-ing at night. My ex liked parties, If we ran into each other maybe her eyes would travel through me like this Ukpong and first girl, then I would share all the zesty details with Richard in the bolt back.


“Ukpong is fine oh but do you think he’s going to be serious this time” second girl said 

“Ah ah, why not?” first girl responded

“He wasn’t the best to you before” second girl said sounding a little sympathetic 

“ abeg abeg, you don’t know him like that” first girl responded


A lot of conversations I had during the drives were still with myself. My life was an uncoordinated one man dialogue. I always spoke to me, hardly about anything but the conversations I had with me were lighter, never about some Ukpong or getting back into a toxic relationship. I thought about the speeding mimi-bus, or the 2021 Audi that drove by. I thought about a bystander’s choice of footwear or the awful smell at Highway and I thought about Lagos. 


“Don’t worry I know how to handle him now” First girl said 

“Hmm, driver how much” second girl said to me 

“I’m telling you, I’m not even sure if I’ll accept him back” First girl said to second girl

One thousand two hundred.

“Do you accept transfer?” second girl said


Cigarette three

00:15

Big man where we dey go? 

“Ah boss, The place dey Fedral housing, just beside St Patrick” Big man responded

Alright 

When I had conversations with myself, I liked to trails my thoughts. A lot of the time people trailed off the conversation, rather than having a straight line from when they began to lift their lungs to where ever the conversation currently was, they hardly remembered a step or two prior. 

I liked the line, I liked how the origin billboard at Bogobri reminded me of the first time I had 404 - that, leading to the thoughts of Stella, my friend from Ibadan and her big words on exploration. She always said the world is to big to fit into your eyes, so take advantage of the bits and pieces that do. To her this meant “don’t be afraid to try new things” but to me this was just a writer trying to over complicate my NYSC years. 

But I enjoyed knowing that it all started from the Origin billboard. I didn’t do this for any particular reason, I just….

“Boss wetin you dey think like this?” big man said to me

I looked at him through the rare mirror                  

Ah Bigman, nothing oh

“As you just quiet so, you no even play music”

Ah soryy boss I just see origin, I come dey reason 404

He broke into a laugh that sounded like it rose from his belly. It almost felt heavy, but strangely genuine like he was as amused as he expressed.  

“This boy” he said, pointing a finger at me

“Be like you dey like better thing”

Ah me I like better thing oh

He laughed again, overly amused by my response.

Na the only better thing were dey this town na 

“My brother ehhhh” he responded, rolling the “eh’ in his mouth the way Calabar people do.

Ayade just enter scatter the place

“The town just slowwww” big man said in the grooviest way I had ever heard. 

I mean, I like as e slow lowkey oh but nothing dey happen, you no fit go watch film sef

“Things dey happen on the low sha” Big man responded  

“ We get one small jazz club on the side, somtimes we dey do sit outs - you know. My guys just they do some kind small small events sometimes”

You dey serious? 

“Calabar na the kind place were you fit just sit down, nobody dey rush, nobody dey shout. Oxygen go just they flow. Just get your people, buy your Gordons, do your party”

Ah bigman, you be rapper like this 

I said between laughs

“I be musician now. RexxyCoolz look up my Spotify I got some crazy stuffs”

It was less of a question and more of a joke because his mini Calabar thesis sounded like a rap song but of course he was actually a rapper. Another thing about Calabar was that everyone was a musician. 

Alright you fit connect to the bluetooth make we jam your stuff

“Ah serious? Oya now”

I don’t think he rapped the town as well as he thought. If anything Calabar wouldn’t be a rap song. It would be a poorly done classical production. It’ll be slow, breaking into irritating notes sometimes but then an Inem with shallipopi style dreadlocks would offer you Calabar south loud at a party and the production would feel like something from the 60s cocaine era.

So it did have it’s things but No one cared enough or paid enough to make them as loud as there were in Lagos.

“Alright boss, I go find you now, you fit run up my twitter, Rexxy” Big man said and continued humming to his “we ain’t making it out the hood” style music.

No worry big man I go run am.

“Eh, you dey accept transfer?”


00:56

Cigarette four 

Lagos was like a fast paced jazz song that you danced too in an energetic but enjoyable waltz. It sounded old yet very modern; like a classic. So, it might take you two hours to get from Unilag to anywhere else, but their house parties were full and there was Amala till 3am in the morning. 

“Sorry, is this Essien?”

Yes ma’am 

“Alright” Nose cuff girl responded

 Let me clear road for a queen 

I said waving my hand over the front seat as she opened the car door 

Was it stupid?- yes, Necessary?- No. She however, slid into the car, chuckling and running her hand through the curls in her locs.

“That was such a bad joke” She said, holding her eyes on mine for a bit.

Was it really that bad?

I knew it was terrible, but as a Lagos boy my real rizz was emotional manipulation. 

“No really it was, I’m embarrassed for you”

 I threw my head back in defeat

It was, I’m sorry. I hope it does affect my ratings. 

“It most definitely will be affecting your ratings” She responded

I couldn’t tell if she was joking or not but I had become a little fixated on my five star rating and was mortified by the thought of anything affecting it, so I hope she was.

I didn’t know why but she felt like Lagos. Sosa would have had me about three months closer to liver cirrhosis before 10, and she would have walked into Obi's house, curly locs and nose cuff. I’d think she was the prettiest woman in the world but I'll never actually say this to her.

“So, can I get the aux” 

Oh, yea yea definitely 

I said, pushing the bluetooth button by the AC panels

Damn i can’t believe I forgot to offer the aux

“There goes another star” she responded

I have great speakers though, would that help?

“We’ll just have to find out”

Different strain came on and the sound of Fasina’s fabulous drums filled the car. 

“You do have nice speakers”

In more modern productions this is probably what Calabar would sound like. Laid back and groovy, with an incredible hook that could only be done by Tim lyre. 

Back in Lagos my guy Olamide put me on to Tim. It was a fun day in your 20s where you’re cooked, meant to be at class and excited to listen to a new album from an artist you’ve never heard of. 

“ So do you fuck with Tim?”

Yea

I responded, pushing my voice to as low as it could go.She was cool, and I liked being cool around cool people.

“Oh really?” she said back with a little giggle at the end

“What’s your favourite song then”

You heard General? 

Rizz was an easy thing to have Richard said, just look good enough to say things a certain way. So asking rather than simply answering the question was my certain way, and hopefully it passed off as rizz.

“Of course I’ve heard general, what do you think this is”

I laughed at this

“We’re very serious over here”

Oh really? Aright alright , who else are you into

“I mean, are we talking about Nigerian Alte music, or you?

I laughed again. Flirting was fun, I had missed it

Music?

“Oh” she said, sounding a bit disappointed.

“Well we have big man Boj, SDC of course, My boy Fasina, love Santi, Hope you’re not one of those wereys that didn’t like subaru boys” 

I lowered my shoulder a bit, I was one of those wereys that didn’t like subaru boys. It was I and Richard’s routine argument. 

“Oh my God, you are one of them”

Hey I liked Mandy and the jungle

She playful hit my shoulder and let out a grunt

“Of Course you Liked Mandy and the Jungle, everyone liked Mandy and the Jungle”

I laughed again. She clearly didn’t play about her music. She was probably the fun kind of Santi stan, the one that’s probably a micro influencer on Twitter for their constant unhinged and politically correct tweets.

“So go on tell me yours”

This question felt like a transferred pick-two, because I may enjoy asking questions but when I was asked my palms got sweaty and my brain suddenly forgot about the years of personality building we’ve done.

Okay so right off the bat - Maddy wells, Amaarae, Burna…

“Of course Burna” she said, cutting into me

What’s wrong with Burna? 

“You mean kicking fans off the stage Burna?”

Her argument was pretty solid. Burna had a yearly routine of proving to us that he truly was the worst person in the world, then putting out stuff like "Love, Damini" and then everyone knows the lyrics to “it’s plenty” at the club

Okay I…

I said, stretching out the “I” and pointing my thumb at myself 

Like to separate the art from the artist something

“Naso” she said back like a sassy Akwa Ibom woman

Can I please continue my list?

“Okay oh, Mr “I separate the art from the artist” Let me guess? Kanye’s your favorite rapper”

Okay uhm

Please, the man made graduation.The choice was made at 16 and there was nothing I could do about it now.

No comment.  

may I continue my list?

“What do you mean no comment” she said, slipping into a light laugh

Ah no comment now, moving on

“You’re ridiculous”

So Juls obviously

“Juls?” she repeated “the producers?”

Can we not like producers in 2023

This time the laughter erupted out of her, the way water flows out of a coconut when you only manage to crack it. It was an enjoyable sound. I could sit with it, have a ridiculous conversation about nothing while it plays non stop.

“Why do you sound like a 17 year old from Tiktok”

Because I am the 17 year old from tiktok

She laughed again, Lighter like the first time

“Please don’t be 17 oh, ejoor”

“Why shouldn't I be 17” I said, looking into her eyes, post hysteria.

She looked back at me. There was a mutual longing in it; the staring. A silent desire to talk about music with a stranger on a friday night drive until the conversation was about more than music. Until there was more than a conversation.

“I don’t know” she said back to me

She held my gaze for a bit longer, but I had just pulled into the apartment the google map icon was sitting on. 

“You’ve arrived at your destination” The robotic voice from the map said 

“So….do you accept transfer?”

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