Titilayo Matiku
Danfo
Perhaps you are a wanderer and
find yourself in the suburbs of this
megacity—Lasgidi. Lag. Or just
simply Lagos. You should enter a
danfo—at least once in your lifetime.
Everyone swears by this urban
horse: how it weaves between
streets and highways like a giant
yellow and black bumblebee on
wheels, spreading smoky tidings
from its metallic anus. A commuter
of jam-packed passengers, narrow
wooden bench, raucous conductor
and an irate driver. If you sit at the
front, right beside the driver, you will
be saved from many inconveniences
but you might be pulled into a lighthearted
banter against your will. If you sit on the
rows, one or two passengers will tell
you to shift. Do this willingly else you
be the victim of someone else’s tantrums.
If you sit at the entrance, and it’s your
lucky day, perhaps you might be saved
the odour of the conductor’s armpit. On
other days, you will hold your breath for
a very long time. If you sit at the back, you
can only hope that it’s close to a window—
can’t be cramped and air-starved at the
same time. If you sit anywhere else, enjoy
the bumpy ride because even life itself
is filled with so many potholes.
Ode to a Scaly Skin
Mango pushed out his head from within the cluster of flowers and watched me approach with a mixture of curiosity and slight mischief. His eyes gleamed softly against his grey scaly skin.
I stopped briefly and smiled at him as always. He stood still, carefully observing my movements, and bobbed his head slowly as though to acknowledge my greetings. I continued my walk down the garden and glanced at the raw grains of rice I had poured in the flowers earlier in the morning. It was still untouched.
Doesn’t Mango like rice? I have not seen any roach lately so he needs to eat whatever is available.
I shrugged and entered into the house through the side door.
Mother was in the kitchen stirring a pot of hot soup. She turned at the sound of approaching footsteps and reached out to pick a napkin from the hanger.
“I saw two rats in the flowers. I don’t know how they entered the compound.”
I raised up my eyebrows and shook my head incredulously.
“I have to pour some rat poison under the flowers at night so they can eat it.”
“Yes. Pour it there,” I answered a little too excitedly, while munching away on some biscuits. I grabbed a bottle of water and the thought of Mango tumbled into my mind like an avalanche. What if he eats the poison?
“When I am done with this soup, I will cut a little meat and put poison in it. I am sure the rats will eat it,” Mother laid out her strategy, confident that the rats were going to meet their doom that night.
“Err… you know what? I think you should not put the poisoned meat in the flowers. Maybe you should put it behind the trash bin in front of the house.”
“Why? For what? It’s better under the flowers. That was where I saw them.”
“But the lizards will eat them.”
“The lizards? What is my concern with the lizards?”
“But it’s the rats you want to kill and not the lizards. The lizards did not do anything to you.”
“And the rats? Did they do anything to me?”
“The rats are destructive.”
“Are the lizards constructive?”
“But the lizards just hatched. They have little ones.”
Mother’s eyes softened in sympathy.
I turned to hide a smile knowing that I had succeeded in appealing to her empathetic side. I took a glass cup from the rack and slowly emptied the bottle of water into it while she contemplated my suggestion.
“Okay then. I won’t put the poisoned meat under the flowers because of the little lizards.”
My eyes twinkled in amusement over the rim of the glass cup. I sighed in relief and nodded slowly.
Titilayo Matiku is a lover of nature and music. She enjoys simple little things like walking in the rain, listening to music, watching cartoons and painting her toe nails. However, her greatest pleasure comes from creating a world where she is the literal Adam giving names to her characters and designing their fate with the tip of her pen. Her work has been featured in several publications. Twitter: @titilayodm Instagram: @tdarmie
Featured photo: A male rock agama sitting on a rock in Naboisho Conservancy, Kenya by Zammerman (Wikimedia Commons)
