I can't recall how (or when) exactly homie and I met for the first time; for certain it was our first semester and for some reason, even though he was a student in Ekpoma, he was far too often to be found in Unilag hanging out with his old school boy, Mudi. Mudi and I had recently become friends and so in no short time we started to hang out together and the more we talked, the more we exchanged stories and secondary school experiences, the more we found how much alike we were in essence. Madam Tinubu Hall of Residence was a frequent rendezvous point and there he and Dayo connected with the OTT sisters, courtesy of Mudi's matchmaking dexterity.
Even before the move to Adeniyi Jones, 66 Isaac John Street in GRA, was the most convenient hangout for us. Dayo's place was in Ojodu which at the time represented unknown territory; Mudi's house in Opebi was cool, but his dad was home most of the time, which kinda cramped our noisy style, not to mention the fact that his crazy Alsatian Kublai (Khan) had once chased homie and I in a rabid rage around Mudi's downstairs living room; our utter desperation and panic-stricken cries aren't something I'm proud of even as I recall the incident. My man lived in Maryland, the other edge of the spectrum, making my GRA abode the most "central" and convenient meeting spot and ultimately, with parents as liberal as mine, we were usually to be found lounging at my house, planning our next social engagement, some fun escapade or just simply pondering the meaning of life. The move to Adeniyi Jones only strengthened this dynamic as we now had a place of our own with little or no supervision.
Homeboy drove his mom's Subaru, so that gave us the advantage of having a ride. He and Mudi liked music, so did I but I wasn’t in the same league as these guys. With much older brothers, they'd had the opportunity to chance on a musical catalogue much wider than any I'd ever been exposed to. And they had an instant knack for R&B, rap and hip-hop; lyrics seemed to come to them naturally. One time they had planned to do this show at La Parias, the arcade/amusement park at the corner of Mobolaji Bank Anthony Way and Emmanuel Street (these days I believe it's now the landing pad for a helicopter company).
Anyway, they'd been working towards doing this show as a dual act, but for some reason on the eve of the show Mudi had to cancel. My guy was pissed but still needed support, he turned to me and I was happy to support but sadly, there was little else I could offer; rapping, singing, dancing and all the qualities of a hype man just didn't come naturally to me. Even years after he'd moved to London and gotten married, he still had some equipment at home as he continued to hone his art, sadly that's something we haven't spoken about and I haven't heard him revisit that creative part of him in years.
One day he and I were driving on Allen Avenue, there was a private school bus driving alongside with two or three young girls in it. I fail to remember what the reason for the initial disagreement was, but I do remember one of us giving the driver the middle finger as we both tussled for precedence on the road. We were on the opposite side of the road from the Oshopey building and having given him the finger we sped off, or so we thought when this furious driver chased after us.
We soon realised we might as well have been driving in reverse; our car, the poor Subaru just lacked the horsepower to fend off our pursuer, and very soon by the time we were by Alade market, he'd caught up with us, gotten out of the car and come round to "deal" with us.
He was short and stocky; he had a Mike Tyson-esque build. His neck was thick and fat, his forearms looked like small baobab trees. We wound up the windows, pleading for our dear lives; I don’t know if it was the fear written on our faces, our youth, or the girls in the van pleading with him, but for some reason, God touched his heart and he decided to let us go with a warning.
You'd have thought we'd learnt our lesson, and would beat it with our tails firmly tucked between our legs, but, no, we had to poke the tiger in its eye. As we set off again, thinking he would take the roundabout at Allen Avenue towards Adeniyi Jones and Ogba, with us driving towards Oregun road, we once again gave him a not too complimentary sign. We were deceived, we fooled ourselves into believing on this stretch of road even if he gave chase, we stood a much better chance; we were wrong. It might as well have been another episode of the fable of the tortoise and the hare, only this time the hare wasn't trying to maintain his bragging rights, this time he was the predator and his prey didn't stand a chance.
Maybe when he first gave chase, we were shocked and panicky, now we were downright fearful. We tried to put distance between us and him, but our lack of speed meant that was a pipe dream. We tried the strategy of using other cars on the road as a buffer, but again that met with little success, there just weren't that many cars on the road. He caught up with us time and time again on Awolowo road, and each time he'd try to ram into us from behind, or shove us off the road from the side like you see in those chase scenes in the movies.
Eventually he overtook us at Alausa just after the Lagos State Secretariat; he jumped out of the car and this time the girls were egging him on while he pounded the car with his fists like a boxer attacking a defenceless punching bag. We were scared, Homie managed to reverse and created some space while he still attacked us, as we pulled away and started to drive off again, we shoved him into the side of the bus; needless to say, he wasn't pleased at all!
We drove towards Seven-Up, for some silly reason we thought we'd have to just drive onto third mainland bridge and take out chances. Then we stopped speaking and melded into what I can only describe as harmonic convergence. I would gesture slightly, either to the left or the right and he'd take my cues. He was the Pilot, I was the Navigator, and when we got into this mode, there was no better team than us.
We decided to make a left and turned off the road, entering the labyrinth of streets and roads connected to Oregun road. We managed to find our way to Oregun road after making several twists and turns, to be honest I couldn't tell where or when we lost our tail, but what I do recall was driving into this closed off Street, parking the car and slowly and calmly waking away towards this beer joint to sit down and collect our breaths. You know that scene in the movies were the star walks away from an explosion he's responsible for? This was even cooler. We were like Tom Cruise in Jack Reacher as he steps out of the still moving car and just blends in with the crowd to evade the chasing police.
Homie smoked; I drank. We were good, but we probably hung out there for another hour or so just to be certain we were safe. We laughed when we remembered our close call that day and the many others that helped cement our friendship.
I equally recall one of those days when he and Yinka were supposed to meet up with us at the Beach. We’d all planned to come with Food and drink, and I’d shared my secret Punch recipe expecting he and Yinka to make a barrel full and bring some along. We got to the beach earlier than they did and not being able to wait forever, we got stuck in and everyone started drinking, dancing to the music and having a wild old time. Then the Marylanders showed up, late. Some of us were thirsty and wanted a taste of their punch.
My friends proceeded to show us these re-purposed, plastic Coca cola bottles with brown liquid in them and the herbal extract that accounted for the secret sauce in my recipe.
In shocked I asked why their punch looked like this. They explained they hadn’t had time and, in their rush, to meet up with us, they just emptied the still fermenting product undistilled into the Coke bottles. As much as I was a connoisseur of the finer things, my “thirst” pushed me towards this lower grade brew. Every time you took a sip, you had a mix of liquid and herbs in your mouth, so you’d have to strain the herbs and either spit them out or chew for added effect. When we were done, most of us were wasted, and yet I remember us hurtling down the third mainland bridge in three or four cars at breakneck speed heading back home.
We got to Adeniyi Jones and Homie, just walked past me like a zombie, into the house and as soon as he hit the bed, it was “bon nuit!” He slept almost fourteen hours while some of us still went out that evening. Must have been something in the punch.
Time passes and we get older and hopefully wiser. Even when we'd spend years apart and didn't see each other, we'd reconnect like it had only been yesterday. And so for gift of your friendship I want to say,
"Live your life to the fullest, there's still so much left to do and there are many more drives the Lord has ordained for you to embark on!"
Happy birthday J!
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