The Thin Line Between Insanity and What Lagosians Find Funny
Obalende, Lagos Nigeria — Lagos is perhaps one of the few megacities where mad people roam freely, uncaged and untamed.
Rough, unkempt, and bald; Olore, the middle-aged wild woman wouldn’t stop hailing Banjo. She had crossed the road, muttering some gibberish that didn’t sound familiar. It wasn’t a street lingua, neither was it a prayer.
She got closer to Banjo such that he could perceive the stench of her terrible breath. Honestly, she seemed funny and for that moment, Banjo forgot he had two problems. First, the mad woman’s bad breath, which caused him to spit everywhere. If not for the flesh hanging between his legs, he’d have been convinced that there was more to it, like pregnancy perhaps.
Secondly, the near-death experience he had earlier that day. Banjo had spent his last N1000 to visit the den of some friendly goats. He was the cocoyam to be consumed.
He had walked into an office space requesting to see the human resource person for the job interview he was scheduled for. The warm smile of the receptionist welcomed him and for a moment, his heart melted. That was soon short-lived when he found himself in what should be an office space but looks like a ritual altar.
He was in a space covered with big red curtains. There were little lights from the flames dancing on melted waxes. Precisely, twenty candles. Yes, he counted. Banjo is quite a mathematical genius. He’d still do some numbers even when facing danger.
He sighted the two cow horns pointing at him, seven calabashes filled with ashes and three big black ikoko steaming hot. Forgive the chaotic description. Banjo himself thought he was in a Kanayo Kanayo Nollywood film.
He turned to look at the receptionist who had followed him and shut the door behind them.
“I’m not here for a Nollywood audition,” he muttered under his breath.
Poor Banjo was too slow to understand what was going on. Or, maybe he just wanted to convince himself that there was a mix-up and the pretty lady whose smile had melted his heart couldn’t be aiding rituals.
Not long after, it dawned on poor Banjo that he was in a shrine and needed to act fast! Many thoughts raced through his head.
Why has nobody had said anything? Are there more people that he couldn’t see because of the dim light? Can he overpower the receptionist and find an escape route? In that moment, a curtain opened. There was an inner room!
He froze at the sight of the head of human resources whose back was revealed after the inner curtain was unveiled. On second thought, he probably didn’t freeze because he still counted his fingers while sweating profusely. Out of fear, he screamed — Egbami! Mummy, ejor!
Then fainted.
He opened his left eye, hoping it was a dream. His eye met a young woman holding a staff with a skull, staring at him with a mischievous smile on her face. He shut his eyes and tightened his fist, screaming out his name under his breath. The voice in his head seemed to say, “Banjo, it is a woman. Maybe you reason with her. Women are compassionate and this one is smiling at you.”
He opened his eyes slowly and there she was – his girlfriend! He jumped away, screaming at her to stay away. Adanne, his girlfriend, was confused by his theatrics, or betterstill, strange act and wouldn’t stop asking, “Banjo, it is me. What happened?!”
She had been trying to wake him from his deep sleep and was starting to scream out his name when he opened his eyes. He was in his room and on his bed, soaked in his own sweat.
All the drama happening in his bedroom was interrupted by an SMS notification. He quickly went to his phone and read the message, slowly but aloud, “We have got everything ready for you, expecting you again — HR”
Later that day…
Banjo, on his way to buy food in the street met Olore, egan ologbon – the wild cat – as she was fondly called in the neighbourhood.
Olore wouldn’t stop talking all sorts of funny nonsense to him. He tried to mind his business and distance himself from whatever drama the mad woman brought to him, but soon found himself laughing out loud.
It seemed like a good distraction from his nightmare and his wandering mind. But, he soon realized they had been surrounded by a crowd, with cameras pointed at them.
He had become a character in Olore’s display of madness, for she had gone naked before his eyes. Olore wasn’t the only mad person; Banjo was too, or so he thought. Some religious fanatics who believed Olore was a witch, had pointed their bible at them, reciting the scripture and blasting tongues.
He was losing his head and breathing in the stench of Olore’s bad breath while Lagosians watched on to their fascination, laughing and satisfying their amebosity. Perhaps everyone there had some madness. Remember what they say about everyone living in the trenches of Lagos? Madness sums it up!
*Elements of this story are nonfiction, but coloured with paints of creative fiction*
