The Ajegunle Experience

I may have lived in Lagos my entire life but that didn’t mean that I knew every place in the city. However that didn’t mean I wasn’t aware of the on-goings in the different parts of the metropolitan state. It is common knowledge by now for any citizen that has been in Lagos for a reasonable amount of time to know that Ajegunle or AJ City as it popular called is considered one of the slum parts of Lagos.

Although I had heard and read countless stories about the shanties in Ajegunle, the infamous area boys and their notorious activities, I had never witnessed it firsthand though I am a person that is always on the go. I had no business there to justify my going and my curiosity to witness poverty and the much talked about display of raw talent hadn’t been piqued well enough. I was more accustomed to the more tush and lush environs of the Island and Mainland so it was only natural that I was very interested when a friend finally invited me to AJ city for a visit.

Skeptical about the nefarious activities, I dropped my expensive android phone home and replaced it with my less sophisticated Nokia 210 phone. My reasoning simply being even if I came into an attack, I wouldn’t be losing much in terms of valueables. My friend was quick to laugh at me and tried convincing me that things weren’t as bad as people made it to seem but I wasn’t taking any chances.

The bus ride to AJ city was quite smooth and uneventful with the passengers in the bus chatting gaily and while the bus conveyed us to our destination. Considering I had no companion, I took to blasting loud music into my eardrums through my headset and then the real ordeal began. As we all dropped at Ajegunle bus-stop, I looked around in confusion at the sea of faces swarming around me. Everywhere seemed so busy and the usual Lagos rush could be seen all over the place. It was a market with dangerously big buses and lorries passing in unimaginably tight spaces. I had my heart in my throat whenever any came too close for comfort; this was pure hell for someone like me suffering from megalocophobia. My fear for big vehicles heightened then with the kind of close proximity that they drove past and such reckless speed in such little space that wares, humans and vehicles juggled for.

My friend had said that I would find a bus going to Coconut-Tinker easily but as I stopped one mean face after the other, they kept on giving me contradicting directions till I finally realized I wasn’t going to get anywhere if I kept asking. My white jalamia which I had worn with the day being a Friday was soiled in many places by now and I was sweating profusely with my handkerchief powerless against the merciless rays of the sun. it was surprising that the weather which had all been rainy the day before could be so sunny the next; this was supposed to be the rainy season for cripes sake. When I couldn’t take the merry-go-round directions that I was getting any longer I decided to just get a bike to where I was going and of course the Nigerian syndrome came in. The bike man knew I wasn’t familiar with the environs so charged an exorbitant fee which I only gladly paid comforting myself that so long as he got me to my destination safely.

A hell of a ride I must say, bumpy roads with potholes everywhere and children in panties dashing about the place. In all fairness some of the houses looked quite new and expensive while the next door neighbor would have a dilapidating structure sometimes not bigger than a cubicle as house. To me it was a case of the oppressed oppressing a less fortunate oppressed. Mercifully I got to my destination after hanging on to the rear fonder of the bike for dear life so as not to tumble off or when I had to raise my legs high to avoid the puddles of water mixed with dirt and garbage everywhere.

I had just stepped to the front of my friend’s crib which thankfully wasn’t looking like it was going to collapse at the slightest blast of a wind when a bike sped by and splashed the concoction of water and God knows what else on my jalamia. I stared in shock and dismay at my outfit and right then and there I wanted to scream or throw something at someone. My friend was having a hard time holding back his laughter and when I gave him a hard look, he simply said:

            “Welcome to AJ city Poshkid.”

P.S. This post isn’t in any way written to ridicule anybody or place but simply to draw attention to parts of Lagos that needs attention.  

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