Saturday, April 6, 2013


On Sundays in Lagos, where do you go to when you need to go? I have been all over the mega city today. I had the common sense not to get too much to drink while on the spree. I was on water therapy, and I knew it could be hectic when I needed to pee. I was at Canaanland where I witnessed a most inspiring impartation service, presided over by the Bishop. I have been pressed to pee from the beginning of the service, but I held on till the end. In the Canaanland church, they have a working convenience, the “Gents” separated from the “Ladies” of course. I must say, I had the most rapturous moment of my time there while letting go. The process was an experience for me. You will get my drift if you can be inspired by clean toilets. I like to use clean toilets when one can be found, otherwise, like most Lagosians, I rather ease myself into the nearest bush, gutter, or up against a wall.

I wouldn’t have been so pressed to turn on my faucet against a wall today if I wasn’t so full of water. There is a particular brand of Lager Beer that turns me into a leaky faucet when I have too much of it to drink. But I have not been doing beer. It was Palm Sunday; I wasn’t even doing palm wine. I was in teetotal mode. I have been gurzling water all day. I guess my gut isn’t used to the non-volatile liquid, so my kidneys were working overtime draining away the excess insipid fluid. At a time, I thought my kidneys went on a break, when my bladder was getting filled up as soon as I took a gulp of water. The pee was coming so often that I am sure the waters were by-passing my kidneys and pouring straight into my bladder.
Between, Sango-Ota and Oshodi, I had alighted from the bus to take a leak twice- I have been held up in an unnecessary go-slow at Mangoro due to a auto-crash that had occurred near Ikeja Along Bus Stop on that route. The collided vehicles were blocking the road causing more than a mile-long go-slow. And I wasted a substantial amount of my precious time in the traffic. I had alighted from the bus at Oshodi to use the pay DMT Mobile toilet under the bridge, where the buses going to Obalende were loading. I had paid 20 Naira to use the plastic contraption, but I was compelled to use the gutter instead because the occupier of the toilet cubicle, at that time, seemed to have gone into protracted labour. The grunts and heaving sound- the huffing and puffin that were emanating from the inside of the toilet was a telling sign. Whoever was inside was taking all the time in the world to get his or her relieving done. I would have been disadvantaged to wait for my turn, as I was ready to go, and I was running late. So the gutter was it. I done paid the price already. So I was at liberty to go.
My destination was Ikoyi, the venue for a writers’ meet and I got there without pissing my pants. Before Ikoyi, I had wanted to go again when I got to Obalende. But the usual corners- under the bridge- where one can take a leak, have been given facelifts. The formerly vehicular-exhaust soot-blackened underbelly of the bridge has been colourfuly painted over; the patches of bush where one could take a water hose to without a passer-by batting an eye-lid or a law enforcement agent giving two hoots about one, has been cleared away, and ornamental shrubs and flowers planted in their places. The whole Obalende bus stop that used to reek strongly of urine and shit, was looking so decent that you wouldn’t even think to spit on the newly-tiled grounds. I was so appreciative of the beatific changes to Obalende that I had held back my pressing need to go, and proceeded on to Ikoyi. I was late for my meeting, at any rate.
I was still gurzling water like I would wither away in a moment if I didn’t. During the 3-hour meeting, I had used the very clean toilet of my host 5 times. I held back the 6th one since nature chose to call me again just as the meeting was being wrapped up. So I left the venue with a near-bursting bladder filled with water to be pissed out or risk bursting open. By the time I got to CMS, my bladder was so heat up I virtually felt the liquid inside it boil. I made a brief stop at Race Course; there was no public toilet in sight neither was any public building open, being Sunday. So I proceeded on to CMS with my bowel fit to burst apart. I could have stopped over at Freedom Park, at least I am sure they have the one of the best set of hygienically-maintained public toilets and urinary systems in Lagos. But I passed. I wasn’t going to take a chance in case the place wasn’t open. It would be bad, really bad to go in the fountain, or against the old prison walls. It will be demeaning and disgraceful. So I told the Keke to go on to CMS.
Watch out for the concluding part tomorrow


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