This is no toy, dude! And I am not playing! I am up on my business!
Chei! This my Blackberry no go kill me o!
Like LMFAO dey sing, “Every day I am pinging-ing.”
That’s how one day I nearly died. No joke! I dey waka dey ping my thing dey go as usual, earphones in my ear, bopping to ‘Young the Giant’. Sameer Gadhia, the Indian-American front man of the group is screaming in my ears, “I got buriiiieeeed!!!” when this young man moves up from behind me and grabs my right arm, pulling me backwards.
I turned, ready to read him the riot act on sexual harassment but the Holy Spirit asked me to stop instead and listen to the words coming out of his mouth.
“Aunty, see as motto almost crush you,” he practically screamed in my face in genuine concern.
Seriously, I had just been a hair-breadth away from getting a broken leg or worse, head trauma from smacking my head against the tarred road. This dude in a Toyota Corolla was backing out from a parking area without bothering to check if there was a clueless person coming up behind his car. Even then knowing that he almost hit me, the stupid dude just backed out completely and drove off without showing the minutest sign of concern.
After all he was probably thinking, “na me say make she no look where she dey go.”
Shaken by the incident but unbroken, I thanked my knight in a cotton blue shirt, fitted my earphones back in my ear and continued on my way- still pinging, lesson unlearned.
In my defense, I don’t use my Blackberry as a toy. I do not use it just to communicate with my friends, I also communicate with the world. I check my emails, get my daily dose of crowd-sourced info from Twitter, share my opinion with the world via Facebook, visit blogs and news websites for the latest gossip, and there is no losing an argument when I have Google and Wikipedia literally at my finger-tips. This is no toy, dude! And I am not playing! I am up on my business!
… in the back of a taxi on my way back from an event.
Na God say make Mr. Taxi Driver no kidnap me as I dey ping kpaka kpaka for back seat. From Lagos Island, over Third Mainland Bridge to Ikeja, na so my head dey down as I dey type like say I dey competition for fastest finger first.
Once again, in my humble defense, I was working – and laughing to myself at all the crazy things I was reading over Twitter. And then, there were my friends’ status updates on BBM and then one or two yeye broadcasts. What other way did I have to pass the time during what seemed like an intermittent journey besieged by heavy traffic? Next thing I knew, we were in Ikeja and Oga taxi driver had passed the direct turning into my estate. If not for the Hoy Spirit that asked me to look up; we for don reach Ogba. Luckily, there was another turning just ahead but the taxi driver was not having it.
“This was not where you told me you were going to. You have to pay extra.”
Una see me see Blackberry. Na only God say make I keep my cool. I finally managed to cajole and convince Baba to take the original amount we had agreed on.
At least, I got away with that one. The next time- and na this one pain me pass– I was coming from the Island again but this time in a bus; destination- Maryland. Trust me na, ‘Mrs. Never-A-Dull-Moment-In-Traffic’; I was up to my usual pinging ways, me and my bad sef, when the next thing wey I hear na, “All passenger! Last bus stop!”
Ewo e! We don reach Ikeja bus stop o!
“Conductor! Abi I tell you say I dey go Maryland na?!” I grumbled.
“Madam, where you dey when I dey call bus stop?” the irreverent ignoramus retorted.
“No mind am!” one aproko replied from behind me. “Na so she dey for back there they type kpaka kpaka for her phone! That thing no dey leave una hand?”
I hissed roundly at all of them as I got down, reciting choice insults and curses in my head.
It was around 10pm. I had to pay double the amount I had paid for the bus fare from Obalende to get an Okada to take me back to Maryland.
Chei Blackberry, God go punish you o!
About the author: Onyinye Muomah loves to explore her imagination for the most quirky scenarios.
She has many talents but making up stories is the one she truly swears by. Oh, and she is a writer, journalist, etc, etc …
Editor’s note: Op-ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija.