The Mad Men By Dum Syl Aminikpo

By Ikenga Chronicles October 21, 2016

The Mad Men By Dum Syl Aminikpo

At Stadium Road junction (the road sign read: “Ken Saro Wiwa Road”. But Port Harcourt people have –like some ancestral covenant from which they must never deviate or risk losing their sanity at a Sunday church service– stuck to Stadium road), the traffic is at a standstill.

Two well-dressed, well-fed, expensive-looking men, in their expensive cars, aware, and filled with their knowledge of personal importance have decided that one of them allowing the other to pass first would be an expression of weakness. So traffic came to a standstill while the two gods fought their petty battle of wits.

Behind them, several cars had queued up, each blaring its horn with reckless abandon. The cars behind them had different constitutions; some taxis that seem to have been picked from some mechanic dumpsites, some of the taxis had bodies that seemed to have developed all immunity against paint. There were other cars too–expensive-looking in their own rights–with their owners looking well-fed, well-dressed, expensive-looking like the two warring gods whose pettiness had suddenly placed all forward movements on hold. With horns blazing, and many cursing, everybody waited for the gods to either find a way of climbing over the other to pass, or somehow get their expensive cars transformed to flying cars.

Somehow, none has happened, and the cars remained, not moving, while our two ogas hurled all sorts of curses towards each other.

By the road, there is a garden, where a mad man, regularly clothed in Adam’s attire befall the fall made his residence. He is almost always attired like Adam, save for an occasional piece of clothing that covers a part of his huge testicles—testicles big enough to give Sadiq’s head a competition.

As the king of that spot, he is the custodian of the junction. He loves the place, and when people drive by and throw dirt and other items like unfinished food from their cars, he picks them up, eats what he can eat, keeps what he can in one corner, and takes the rest to a refuse disposal point at the junction.

The king, seeing this mayhem, decided to step forward, and moved to the centre of the junction, beside the point built for traffic controllers who, as usual, have abandoned their duty posts because of a slight drizzle.

First, he looked at our ogas, well-fed, expensively-dressed, and in their expensive cars;

“Madman, you no go move that side?” he shouted as he waved one to the left.

God number one obeyed and moved his car as directed by the madman.

Then the madman signalled to the second god to move to another side. The second god, after a bit of hesitation, moved as directed.

A few seconds later, the road was free.
“All these mad men, how dem dey use drive sef” the madman muttered as he munched away at a piece of bread from the previous day.


  • Mr. Aminikpo is on Twitter as @dumsyl


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