The many pleasures of Lagos ….. ii

“What does this caller mean?” She thought. “What station could he be referring to?”

She dismissed the call with a wave of her hand and got back to updating her Job descriptions (JD) memo. The update had to be concluded today else her line manager, Walter, would have her head. He had made it clear that all updates had to be concluded today.

Her phone rang again and this time, she let it ring without answering it. The caller called back again and then she picked up

“Hello ma”

“Hello” she replied with as much sternness as she could relay. “Can I help you?”

“Yes ma’am. I called earlier requesting your attention at our station.”

“What is this about?” She wondered. Raila had run away and even though she had been told to report it, she did not because she had no photographs of Raila. It was no use embarrassing herself by letting some rookie cops drill her endlessly.

On a second thought, she asked “what station are you calling from?”

“The Police station on Montgomery road ma’am. Please ask to speak with me, Officer Lanre when u get here” the male officer replied politely. He obviously had given no thoughts to her ‘cold’ tone, she thought to herself.

“Okay, I will be there before close of business today. Have a good day and thank you for your call”

As soon as Officer Lanre dropped the call, she thought out loud ‘what could the police need me for?’. She reached to hold her head in her palms but Atolani’s firm face warning her not to ‘spoil’ her makeover came back and she stopped herself.

‘Motola haphazardly completed her JD and rushed off to inform Walter that she had left it in his queue for his approval. As soon as he confirmed that it had been signed off, ‘Motola jumped into her car and drove to the police station. Thankfully, her certified bodyguard, ‘madam’ Atolani was not available to query her rush.

As she drove out of her office on Olaoluwa crescent towards Montgomery, ‘Motola wondered what the issue could have been. “Why does the police want to see me?” Olumide was not in the country. He left for Accra after his meeting on Sunday and was not due back until the weekend so it could not be about him. Their kids, Beverly and Banji are weekly boarding students so it should not be about them either.

“Good afternoon, I would like to speak with Officer Lanre” she said nicely to the pretty officer at the counter.

“Please fill this visitor’s form and I would let him know you are here” she said.

After a few minutes, ‘Motola was ushered into a corner office, close to the end of the building. As she walked in, she could not help noticing the touch of class in the interior decor of the office. The blinds were a dark shade of brown and they complemented the light cream colour of the walls. The office also had some shelves which stacked several books. As she made her way to the only table in the office, a smiling Officer Lanre welcomed her and offered her a seat.

Motola stopped short in her stride, “You’ve got to be kidding me” she said, “you are officer Lanre? Lanre Olatunji. What are you doing here?” she asked as she settled into the seat she was initially offered.

Lanre was a childhood friend who had worked with Olumide for a short while before leaving for his masters degree in Germany.

“It’s good to see you again ‘Motola. How are you?” He asked with his signature smile. “I am glad I didn’t give myself away, I honestly expected you to know who it was when I said ‘Officer Lanre’.”.

‘Motola laughed out loud. He still had his R-factor or “french roll” as his friends had always called it.

“Its good to see you too. I can’t believe my eyes. How did you end up here? Why the police force? Did you not complete your Masters degree programme? Why come in here to waste away?” She asked very hurriedly and with apparent concern.

“Hmmm, ‘Motola, I am tired of explaining it to everyone” he said with a sigh. “I did complete my Masters programme and, yes, I came back hoping to make a difference which is what I am doing.” He added. “It made no sense for me to go back to construction after my studies. I saw what obtains in Germany and I do want to replicate it here” he continued.

“Wow, that’s a major career change though. How has it been?” She asked.

“Good, actually.” He answered. “I’m enjoying it. You know I lost my phone when I was mugged in Frankfurt. Fortunately, I ran into your maid, Raila, a few days ago and she gave me your number.”

“Raila? Where did you see her? I have been looking for her.” ‘Motola said,panicking and almost close to tears.
“I’ve looked everywhere for her”

Lanre stared in utter disbelief. “Really? Oh my goodness. What did she steal? No wonder she said she was in a hurry because you had asked her to buy some food stuff. I even asked her to lead me to your new place you know?” He said.

‘Motola went on to tell the surreal story of how Raila had made away with her jewellery and some money while they were out on family timeout at the beach


The many pleasures of Lagos

lagos - xquisitetouch   ‘Motola Buckley sat at her desk on a Wednesday morning. It had been a long and busy weekend coupled with some training she was forced to go on. Her husband had hosted the Gentle Businessmen annual meeting on Sunday and as the hostess, she had to up the standard so her husband would not be ridiculed. She clearly overdid it and that left her exhausted. Her hair was unkempt, her nails were chipped and she even forgot to wear her earrings. Simply put, she was a hot mess that needed a good makeover.

She probably would have managed through the day but Atolani, her prim and proper busy-body colleague made sure she didn’t have the last of it. ‘Were u robbed? Why do u look like you rushed out with all u had left in your hands?’ she asked with genuine concern. Atolani rushed over to her bag, grabbed her make-up bag and dragged a phlegmatic Omotola to the convenience.

As her emergency makeover was being done, Omotola wondered about her depleted store, her hair that had to be fixed, her pending laundry and several other errands that had to be run.

‘ ….so what do you think?’ asked Atolani who had obviously been conversing with an absent-minded Motola. ‘About what?’ She queried. “What’s wrong Motola? I’ve been asking about your need for a housemaid. I intend asking Olori to send me a maid. Would you want one as well?”. Motola smiled and turned down the offer. A househelp was the last thing on her mind considering that Raila had only recently robbed her of jewellery worth close to 2 million naira. She was a maid brought from the village by a colleague’s mother and to ask Olori, Atolani’s mother was like relieving the sad memory.

“The maids are palace maids Motola. I could easily get you one and she dares not misbehave because she knows her family will pay dearly for it. I can assure you of that” she insisted. “Hmm, you won’t budge right? Okay then, I will think about it and discuss with Olumide as well. You know how it is now, he has to sign off before a new maid comes in after the Raila saga.”

As ‘Motola made her way back to her desk, she brought out her grocery list and got online to make some purchases from the online supermarket that had been her ally since Raila disappeared. She placed her order and mused to herself about how she would have to go round the market to pick her long list of items if she were in another town. As she said a prayer of gratitude for the little pleasures of Lagos, her phone rang.

“hello, are you Mrs Omotola Buckley?”

“Yes Please”

” we would like you to come over to our station. we need you to …….. ”

the line disconnected ….