“Please, where can I get a mechanic?” I ask when he gives up on pushing.“Lagos mechanics? Don’t trust any Lagosian. I’m a Lagosian. Once they see you’re a stranger, they’ll cheat you or dismember and sell your car piecemeal, no matter how old. Just listen to me.” He pushes the Beetle again. “O.K., let’s see your engine,” he says when we come to a junction. Fearfully, I open the hood. He bends down and disconnects a tube and hands it to me. “Suck this, man. The problem must be the fuel filter.”
Suck? I’ve never fixed anything in a car before. Back at my parish, I have a driver. “I think we should get a mechanic.”
“Damn it, man, you don’t need a fucking mechanic!”
He takes off his sunglasses to reveal small, angry eyes. I grab the tube. Petrol gushes into my throat, and I let go of the tube, coughing. I puke on the front of my blue-and-white buba shirt. The petrol soaks into my clothes, its cold sting reaching the zipper of my jeans. Ignoring my state, he bends down again to study the engine.
I see a pistol bulging in the right pocket of his trousers.
Why didn’t I wear my priestly habit? Why didn’t I borrow one of those church vehicles with “Catholic Archdiocese of Lagos” emblazoned on its sides?
I begin to plead with the Lagosian. “Please, I’m a Roman Catholic priest and . . .”
“So? You Nigerian clerics just want everything free! You flash your status at every chance.” When he talks, the two gold teeth burn in the night, as if he were chewing flames.
Link (here) to read the full story at The New Yorker
Photo of a Lagos street scene.
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She raced down them, not slowing when she reached ways that were unfamiliar to her. But the best fighting they could manage were savage couplings to slake the sexual need. And entirely unwarranted. Arkir grabbed for Lanthan and managed to keep his hold as the smaller man twisted. Only then did she become aware of the attention of the others in the balcony. The smile was still there. Suddenly shy, Eyrhaen stared at the crimson and midnight pattern in the rug. With his second shout, she released both his pleasure and the spell. She loved them as much as she loved her parents. What was that swelling feeling deep inside her chest? Her fingers curled into fists, and she pounded both of them on his chest. He waited until her brain caught up, and she blinked dumbly up at him. Shed convinced herself it was over. Should I take that as a yes? She wiggled, and he stopped. She closed her eyes and yawned. She shrugged, sidestepping to lower herself to the edge of one of two couches. In the time shed had with them, Eyrhaen had been a main point of discussion. She could feel it in her soul. He weighed her breasts with his palms, squeezing gently.
Boots done, he stayed seated, staring at the brightly colored rug beneath his feet. Hyles hand came up to brace on his shoulder, encouraging him to look up again. Stay where you are. His fingers dug into the sand when Arkir pushed off him to find another opponent. His were smiling down at her, pride brimming in the swirling red and black.
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