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The Attorney General of The Planet (1)


By: Abidoye Ayobami



The journey has started. People are ready and alert to learn about the "Attorney General of the Planet.” I take a bow and extend my unreserved recognition to the source and the elders. The journey will be filled with drama and will awaken your conscience with truth. The bomb is going to explode while the judges prepare the case file. The iconic scenario is now set to unveil 'oga patapata,' meaning the main act of the show.

It’s a public disgrace to grow without a career, ambitions, focus, mission, and dreams. I ask you, "Why do you live?” When the words "Advanced World" hit me, I will begin to cry like an eight-month-old child looking for breast milk. Perhaps that will heal my emotions at this point in time.

Lo and behold! It was just a stressful night for me, dancing like a happy antelope "eworo.” The opportunity to explore the biggest city has arrived. I think Lagos is not part of the zoo where we reside today. "Enu mi ago" means my mouth dares not speak ill. Permit me to translate my words as they suit my drama. I dare not go against the will of the Oracle and speak ill of the land. With just a few minutes left to catch my flight, "Oko elero merindinlogun" means an eighteen-passenger bus going from Ejigbo to Lagos. You might wonder why I call this bus a flight. "Oko ya ju ese lo" means the car is faster than a flight (not legs this time around; the liberty to choose meaning to my expression is mine today).

The journey begins as I approach a bus with tinted windows. It felt like people were expecting me as the last person to fill the vacant seat. I drop my locally made bag (a rice sack) where my clothes are packed. As the bus moves, I begin to measure my happiness with a thermometer. It reached a level where the temperature read 99° out of 100°. "Bi e ba gun esin ninu mi, e le kose," meaning if you climb a horse in my stomach, you can't get injured.

Five hours later, from every side, I could see we had reached Lagos. Oh my God, this place looks like the USA—very beautiful with different flower gardens. The woman beside me laughed. I thought I was talking to myself silently. How did this woman notice what I was saying? "Suberu, where do you want to drop?" another voice asked. Since my name is not "Suberu," I just kept silent and looked like someone who knows the way.

Almost everyone had alighted before we reached the final car park. Unnoticed, someone had whisked away my rice sack (I will not expose myself again to tell you the meaning). The contact number of the person I was going to meet was written on a paper inside that bag. Now I understand why they call me 'suberu,' meaning someone who does not perceive what is happening around him or her at the right time. I wept bitterly.

To be continued...

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