These distinguished guys have really tried for us, think of all those (ehrm) crunch-time moments that okadas have been lifesavers.

There is a league of special (not necessarily) “gentlemen” that are typically known on Nigerian streets. After the Nigerian Police Force, they are most probably the most insulted. Oh wait I think PHCN should take second slot.

Anyways. Each time I see them I am overwhelmed by their number. They are the Association of Commercial Motorcycle Riders, popularly known as okada men and the sight of them is usually accompanied by a quick onset of migraine. Lining up at the front row at any traffic light, smoke belching from their exhausts, they constantly rev their engines as if in preparation for a rally. They always look to me like they are completely oblivious of other cars or people on the road. They must think it’s their world. They are often seen in multi-hued rubber slippers and it is rather odd that many of them wear gloves despite the frightening Nigerian heat. I once asked why and the man I asked was quick to say he had no idea why others wore gloves but that he wore them to protect his palm from the friction that occurs between his bike handle and his palm. Genius, but still, hot.

All manner of things are said about okadas especially in cities like Lagos and Ibadan. The most typical would be, “Oloshi ni awon olokada yen,” (bikers are never-do-wells). They are speed demons, competing with heavy duty trailers on the high way with stupefying bravado. They swerve dangerously in between cars and then deliver lectures to car drivers on road usage. Too many okada moment tales have been told—from getting tossed off the bike, to getting burned by the silencers, these bike riders cause a decent fraction of the accidents that happen on our roads.

Problems notwithstanding, they do have their days o. Have you ever been late for an appointment or for any other reason at all? I tell you, these “oloshi’s” you’ve asked to be returned to their villages are your best bet. You may have been driving now for 15 years but you can’t beat what these guys do on the road. They beat any GPS system hands down. I was once in traffic with a lady and we both had a flight to catch. In frustration she got a bike, strapped her luggage behind her and zoom… the bike went off. 45 minutes later when I arrived (thank God flights almost always get delayed) she was checked in, calm, and chewing heartily at her biscuit, while I was sweating profusely from racing to the airport.

What about those Monday mornings? These guys know all the shortest routes. You need description to a certain address? It’s okada to the rescue. There’s hardly a corner they don’t know and it seems they all know each other on first name basis. How strange is that? They even make small talk at traffic stop. You’ve gotta give it to these gentlemen, their solidarity is amazing. Like soldiers on wheels they organise themselves in no time. You dare not hit one of them. An “okada mob” will surround you in a split second. Even if you drive a Porsche, on that day they will not hesitate to put you in your place.

These distinguished guys have really tried for us, think of all those (ehrm) crunch-time moments that okadas have been lifesavers.