You Thought You Were Smart

This is a Facebook update I shared about a recent experience. Quite surprising that many people relate with it. The comments on Facebook are interesting too. 

You want to send money abroad. You went to a random bureau de change corner to buy dollars. Somewhere in Allen. You haggle on the exchange rate. They agree. You notice some random permutations by the sellers. You change your mind about buying from them. They had confirmed the amount you gave them, though. Accurate. You collect your money. You drive to Ogba. You find a new seller. Time to exchange nairas for dollars. You collect the dollars. You count the nairas. You pause. You recount again. You pause. Your brain travels back to Allen. Your hunch was right. The permutation. THAT permutation. But your eyes were opened. CCTV open. A sleight of hands. No - a classic sleight of hands. Who the fuck is Dynamo? You've been duped. You're N36, 000 short. You wonder how the wads of N500 notes still look intact; still look stocky in their wraps. Your Lagos experience is updated. Your Lagos existence must always be up-to-date. The last iteration was in front of a gun. On Mobolaji Bank Anthony Way. 2010. Then you were in your stubborn mode. The criminal screamed 3 times. Bring your laptop! Your laptop! I said bring your bag! You, you won't even flinch. You like to dare. The criminal flees. With his gun. But he left you forever wondering you could be dead if he shot. You've been told your daredevilry might land you in trouble. But now, it all feels surreal. Your mind allows a wayward guess: the gunman of 2010 returned in 2014 as bureau de criminal. But shut the fuck up, go home and cry. The rest of November, you'll live on Garri, Sugar & Pure-water. Your neighbour will notice your guttural gen is on vacation. You'll throw tantrums at your siblings, at anyone that dare ask you for money, at the mosquitoes that notice a disappearance of Baygon in your house, at clients that want meetings in Jupiter. God forbid any girl or ajebota friend say, let's meet at Rhapsody, at Coldstone, at Oohlaalaa, at Spurs. If they ain't into boli and epa, they can go to hell. You'll ration the last pack of Indomie. You'll stroll instead of taking that car. DSTV must not finish. Internet must not finish. You're Chris Ogunlowo. You thought you were smart.