The year was 2022.
Typical dull evening, doing the death scroll as I familiarised myself with the TikTok environment, paying no attention to the pixels changing colour on my TV screen. See, I love December, the idleness and nothingness from closing from work, and more especially the harmattan. It always makes my skin look fresh. Plus, I like the cold. I don’t get people who prefer heat to cold. With cold, it’s easy, you can throw a cardigan or blanket on. With heat, there’s almost nothing you can do. Again, I also like the certainty that I would not need to relaunder my clothes because rain beat them. Anyway, I digress.
It was that kind of a December day, then my phone rang. My friend, Fisayo, hits me up and says, “Omo, e get wan silent disco and games night. Shey you go show?”. This was three years ago and my 30 plus syndrome was not yet in full swing, so I said, “Oya nau. Link up”.
I drove out, first to Fisayo’s in Akoka, and then we head out to the location, somewhere within the Yaba environs. Fisayo had a ‘friend’ with him. They were friends, but this lady, Cindy, you would need a knife to cut the romantic tension between them. There was also Fisayo’s housemate, Bam Bam, and we met up with more friends at the silent disco.
And so, it was. We drank, laughed, danced (Well, they danced. As a Badman, I don’t dance) and played all sorts of games. Ludo, Cards, Jenga, till about 11 pm when the place was due to close. One of our other friends, Niyi, decided the night was still young and coaxed everyone that a night club somewhere in Surulere was the next destination. I forget the name of this place. At this point the crew is larger, we’ve met more people. Friends of friends. So about 12 of us pull out in four cars and head out.
At this club. More fun. Everyone gets in their own zone. Bam Bam meets this girl, and they remain in their own world. Me? I’ve had a lot to drink already, so I’m taking it slow. You don’t get wasted in an unfamiliar territory. So, I spend most of the time drinking water and talking to Cindy. As a premium wingman that I am, I’m putting it in her head that her and Fisayo look so good together and I don’t understand why they aren’t a thing already. And I’m good with it. Because a couple of weeks later, they would be in a relationship.
Now, it’s about 4 am, and it’s time to wrap this up, go home, get some shut eye and deal with the hangover later. This is when the fiasco starts.
You see, we couldn’t find Bam Bam. We looked everywhere in the club, the restrooms, inner rooms, car park, everywhere. One of the guys remembers that Bam Bam had come to him to get his car key, stating he wanted to go and chill a bit in the car. This was a newly purchased GLE 450. About two weeks old, no plate numbers. The vehicle was still parked in the lot, but Bam Bam is nowhere to be found. After about 30 mins of searching and calling his phone, which was switched off, we spot some taxi drivers and decided to ask them if they’ve seen our friend. After a lot of description, one of them confirms he they saw him come out with a girl (the girl he had been talking with) but he was very drunk and incoherent. Now we are thinking this girl, who is a stranger, has probably taken him and robbed him off his phone, hence why it’s switched off. Priority now is to locate Bam Bam before he is harmed.
Another driver tells us, “No o. He no komot with the girl”. In his drunken state they got into an argument and she left him. After fumbling about for a bit, he boards a taxi to God knows where. Of course, the next question is “Una sabi the taxi man wey carry am?” Luckily for us, they do and they give us his number. Switched off as well. Problem.
Someone suggests that he probably went home and we should call the house to confirm he’s arrived there. So, we call his younger brother and ask him to also check at the security posts. Bam Bam did not arrive home neither is he at any of the street’s security posts. Now, there’s a dilemma. We can’t leave a new Mercedes on the street as we don’t know who is in possession of its keys. However, we know it’s a matter of urgency to find Bam Bam. So, we tip some of the touts hanging around handsomely, explain the situation and tell them “This Mercedes does not leave here”, with the promise of more funds when we get back.
Just as we are concluding our interaction with the area boys, a taxi drives up. The other taxi men confirm that’s the taxi man that took our friend.
“Chief, dem say na you carry our friend komot here. Where you drop am?” This taxi man regales us of his tale with Bam Bam.
You see, Bam Bam was severely wasted from drinking all night and after he fell out with the lady he was with, who turned out to be a lady of the night, he gave the cabbie the house address to take him home. However, during the drive from Surulere to Akoka, Bam Bam threw up spectacularly in the taxi and passed out. He was profoundly knocked out. By the time the taxi got to the estate gate, they demanded to know exactly where he was going, and Bam Bam, being inebriated as f**k, picked a fight with the Olodes. All sorts of insults were hurled and in the ensuing escalation, some cultists in the area had intervened and they had him detained.
Cultist ke? Who am I in this Lagos? Who knows my father?
Now, something unexpected happens. The owner of the Mercedes in question, who is just some guy we met at the silent disco tells us that he is a cultist, and that Akoka is controlled by Aye which he is a part of. He assures us that if it’s cultists, it’s his people and that we should head out. He’ll negotiate with them.
“Okay Chief, please just take us to where you left him”. The taxi driver agreed on the condition that we pay Bam Bam’s fare and the cost of taking us there and back. We agree. So, we convoyed using the three other cars. By this time, I had crazy tinnitus. The loud music from being too close to a speaker in the club had injured my ears, which had now decided to play its own tune.
Nevertheless, we arrive at the security post at Sobande Street. They tell us he’s at the post at the other end of the street. When we get there, everyone is at alert, cos, s**t might pop off anytime. After some dialogue with the security guys and our cultist friend talks to his comrades, they bring Bam Bam out, clueless about where he is or what’s going on. They tell us they found nothing on him. No phone, no car key, just an empty wallet. It is at this point that the taxi driver tells us he had searched Bam Bam when he was trying to clean up the mess he made on himself and the car, and that he found N2000 in his wallet which he took as some kind of payment, and also the key to the Mercedes. We settle-up with the cabman, the cultists, handover the key to our cultist friend, collect Bam Bam, exchange numbers with the cultists, who are now acquaintances, and everyone is finally able to head home.
What was a fun evening turned out to be quite the adventure. Lessons were learnt. The first was, in Nigeria, getting in trouble is an opportunity to make powerful friends. The second, I’m never ever doing a drink out with Bam Bam again in my life.
Bam Bam’s phone, as it would turn out, had died before we even hit the club, and was lodged safely in the glove compartment of my car. My tinnitus would go on to linger for about two months, and like I mentioned earlier, Fisayo would go on to date Cindy on an off for another two years or so.
Happy Decembering!
*Olode – Local neighbourhood security group
*Tinnitus – The tinini tanana sound that happens in your ear when someone slaps you
