Ìtòngbòn mí

People often say I’m weird. Not that cool type of weird o. Like Jared Leto is weird. Let’s just take a moment to bask in the awesomeness that is Jared Leto.

See person pikin see as e fine 😭😭😭😭

My ovaries!!! 😭😭😭😭😭

😹😹😹 Totally adorable. I need to focus.

No o. Not that type of weird. I’m talking about weird before it became a synonym for cool. Yeah that weird.

I never agree though. I’m not weird. I’m just like everyone else in that I’m just like no one else. You see, perfectly normal. Come to think of it, Jared Leto has this awesome quote about being weird.

😭😭😭😭😭 I actually can’t. Such a beautiful person

Anyway, I have to admit though the weirdest things always happen to me.

Take for instance, this evening…

I’ve had the longest day. I’m tired. Bone weary. What makes it worse is that it’s not even the good kind of tired. You know the one where you’ve done a great job and even as you are tired you know you can actually rest from this your works. No o. Not that one. The other one. Where the mere thought of how much work is left undone just gets you tired. Yup, that’s it.

So, I’m tired and I just want to go home.

I’m standing on the side of the road and waiting for a ride home. In little to no time, I see the headlights of an okada (motorcycle) approaching. I hail the okada. It’s only as it comes closer that I notice there’s another passenger on it. Yes, it’s apparently a thing to carry two total strangers on an okada as long as they are headed in the same general direction. I waive on getting the okada, actually telling him I’m no longer interested. It might be acceptable these days but I’m loathe to get up that close and personal with a stranger. This would be my first mistake of the day. For, it would be near an hour of walking before I’d see another okada going my way. There’s also a passenger already on the okada. This time though I’m none too concerned about it. The past hour has been enough to rid me of any inhibitions I had about proximity with strangers.

I’m about to get on the okada when I notice the discomfort of the passenger already on it. She’s older than me. Probably in her thirties. If had to guess, she’s a market woman. I am initially surprised by her displeasure. Somehow I don’t expect someone like ‘her’ to be squeamish about sharing an okada with a stranger. I’m ashamed, I should not be thinking of another person this way. So, I tap her and offer to sit in front of her, hoping that would help in some way to  make her feel better. She gladly accepts my offer and off we go.

The initial positive vibe from just doing a good deed is swiftly overwhelmed by the awkward discomfort of being sandwiched between two people. But I’m on my way home, so I’m okay. It’s at this moment that I hear the oddest thing I’ll ever hear on an okada.

This is Nigeria. So it’s not surprising to find a few/lot of potholes on the road but then the okada has just veered into the network of side streets and alleys in my neighborhood. Here you’ll find more potholes than road. The ride unavoidably gets bumpy. The buffer they provide is a weird positive of being sandwiched between two people on an okada. At a particularly bumpy bump, the market woman exclaims,

“Olokoda e rora o. Ìtòngbòn mí” loosely translated “Okada rider please be careful. I’m pressed“.

Language is a beautiful thing. Ìtòngbòn mí literally means urine is causing me to shiver.

Fam! I was like, “Wait! What?! What does being pressed have to do with anything?” 😂😂😂😂

Wallahi. I should not have laughed. And to prove that point to me the okada made a steep descent into what I would sooner call a gutter in the middle of the road than a pothole. In response to this abrupt change in direction my forehead smashed against the back of the okada’s head. Simultaneously, the woman behind me wailed, “Olokoda!”

I’m rubbing my forehead and wondering why she’s shouting. That’s when I felt it.

Warm.

Wet.

Pee.

Apparently, being pressed has everything to do with everything because this woman legit peed on me! I’m still like, “Wait, what is going on here?” 😵😵😵😵

Then she starts sobbing and apologising, repeatedly saying, “Broda, emo binu”.

The okada guy is nonplussed and wondering what is going on. He asks if he should stop the okada and I’m like yes at first. Then no because stopping the okada now won’t leave me less peed on than when I get home.

The rest of the ride is a blur of “broda emo binu” and me trying not to binu till we finally get off. In retrospect, I can empathize with how the woman was probably more embarrassed than I was but in the moment I just wanted to shove her off the bike.

I finally get home and I’m in a hurry to get out of these clothes and burn them (who am I kidding? I was going to wash them). But I’m trembling and my fingers have totally forgotten how to unbuckle my trousers. My roommate comes out and sees me and is like, “Kilonsele?”

I burst into tears and laughter and respond, “Ìtòngbòn mí.”