Thursday, March 19, 2015

Travel | Boda Tales

This one imagined I was some random West African and decided to speak to me in English. I played along, just so I could gauge his grasp of the Queen's language.

As is the norm with many a boda-boda rider, we ended up talking many things. They never seem to shut up, these amiable fellows. He  will tell you all the interns your boss has slept with, and which one of them is his favorite. He knows who owns every building in town, and how much they make in a month. 

My boda guy said his name was Nicky. Short for Nicholas. Nicky speaks English with an accent. A boda-boda guy with an accent (Haha). That was a first. Nicky was neat, too. Well tucked-in shirt and polished shoes. Like the ones in that Kiwi advert by David Rudisha. He rivals Fred, my erstwhile go-to boda guy at a former workplace (in neatness, not English).

The two remind me of Sly, my Lagos cab guy. Probably the most bullish man in the world after Zlatan Ibrahimovic and Brig. Kasirye Gwanga. He bore an eternally upturned collar, Eric Cantona style, and was my right-hand guide during my short stay in Lagos.

Throughout our interaction, Sly initially remained cagey on his actual details - full name et al. When he finally opened up, he pronounced his name with an air of importance (of sorts). Sly stood for Sylvester, he said. Sylvester Makari. The only Sylvester Makari you'll find on facebook, he signed off.

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