Chapter 1: For This Lagos, Every Ride Fit Turn Your Last

For this Lagos, every ride fit turn your last—especially when money dey tight and night dey hungry.

New Year's Eve, I pick one babe wey body dey vibrate like generator—job interview dey worry am.

As she enter motor, she smell like cheap perfume mix with dust—like say she rush comot house. The air outside heavy with leftover harmattan dust, the kind wey make everywhere chalky and dry. I for just dey house dey chop rice and chicken with my wife and pikin, but hustle na hustle. As I see the babe that night, the way she dey rush enter motor, you go know say wahala dey press am. Na God hand dey always cover people for this Lagos.

From all the calls wey she dey make for back seat, I gather say na only technical secondary school certificate she get, and she never work before.

Her voice dey quiver small, she dey form courage for people wey she dey call, but I fit sense fear inside. Her face dey shine hope, but her eye get that fear wey Lagos dey teach person. I remember when my own sister nearly enter wahala for Abuja, na prayer and sharp eye save am. All these Naija girls, wahala too much for their head. As I dey drive, I dey remember say even me sef go school, still dey hustle for road.

But the job wey she dey chase talk say dem go pay her sixty thousand naira every month, plus full health insurance and house allowance join.

Sixty thousand! My hand almost slip for steering. For this period wey bag of rice don pass fifty-five k, person still dey promise new worker full benefit? Na wah o. Even all those bank job sef, no dey too reach like that for new staff.

She talk say the projects na top-secret government work, say na only if person wey get level recommend you, you fit enter.

Na this kind talk dey make person eye open. Which government dey do secret project for bush? Abi she no hear of all those people wey dey miss anyhow for Naija? If no be Yahoo boys, na ritual people dey do meeting.

Me, I sure die say dem dey scam this girl.

Omo, as I dey drive, my mind dey calculate. Na so dem take catch one small boy for my area last year—say na one big man invite am for job, before we hear say dem use the boy for jazz. Me, I dey fear for this babe o.

I no fit just siddon dey look make she waka enter lion den like that.

If to say na my pikin, I go don jump enter prayer, call pastor, call police join. Sometimes, people go just dey trust strangers for Lagos like say dem no hear of whattin dey happen.

But as I dey listen, the thing dey fear me more.

The more she dey talk, the more my body cold. For inside car, even AC off, my palm still dey sweat. This kain story, if dem born you well, you go fear. All the street sense wey I gather for years dey warn me—this journey get as e be.