Chapter 1: Sacked Like Old Donkey

The company just use me like that donkey dem kill after e finish grinding their grain—dem no even give am small rest or leftover chaff—just use am finish, troway. Once I finish the project, dem just throw me away anyhow.

Sometimes, when I remember the way they took and discarded me, e be like say person carry me go Okada junction and drop me there—no thank you, nothing, just dey look me like say na pure water sachet wey dem don tear. My mind dey vex, but wetin man go do? Such is Lagos life, you fit dey important for morning, by night you fit be story. My body still dey ache from all the pressure, but the insult pain pass the tiredness. Na so them dey use people run their race, then dump them for road like empty Gala wrapper.

Management reason say e go cheaper to bring one small pikin to do maintenance work.

You know how e be—anytime dem see person wey dey hungry for job, dem go talk say, "Ah, this one go take half salary." Na so dem dey do for this country. Young boys and girls, just finish NYSC, dem go rush am with small pay and load all the work for their head. Management believe say once dem fit find person wey go accept am, e go settle. As if to say na small boy fit carry the kind wahala wey don dey for the system.

But dem no know say, after all those wahala and last-minute requirement changes, the code don turn to pure nonsense—patch patch everywhere, like old okada seat wey tailor don try sew tire, not just anybody fit handle am.

See ehn, make I no lie, after all the confusion and patch-patch dem force me run for that project, the whole thing don be like road for Ajegunle after rainy season—pot-hole everywhere, some places sef you fit sink if you no look well. Na only person wey sabi the map fit waka pass. The gbese wey full ground no be here; even my ancestors go run if dem see am. Anybody wey try maintain am go just dey cry inside toilet dey ask God why.

True to form, as I waka commot, wahala burst like shit wey jam fan.

Omo, na so everywhere scatter. I just dey reason am for my mind—shebi I talk? E no reach two days, dem begin dey run up and down, system dey hang, bugs dey show face like masquerade for festival. As for me, I just dey enjoy small zobo for house, dey watch the drama from afar. Sometimes, wahala dey sweet pass movie.

Now, just few days later, this same backbone dem don break am throway. Na so backbone turn to broomstick—snap, troway, nobody look back.