Oworonsoki bus stop robbers get bolder

The boys who rob at Oworo on the Third Mainland Bridge every morning and evening have graduated to smashing motorists' windows.

Before now, they were considerate and would simply tell you what they could do and command you to wind down before robbing you. On September 25, 2014, I witnessed a lady in Rav4 being robbed. There were two scruffy boys. They were leaning on the car stuck in traffic. They shouted on the lady and her driver to wind down.

I was directly behind them, but couldn't see if they were holding a gun. The driver wound down and they collected the lady's hand bag and walked away. A few cars behind us, they attacked another motorist. But they never smashed windows.

 Today, they have become bolder. They smash in your window and proceed to rob. A colleague's friend was hurt when his window was smashed at the same location on Wednesday morning about 5:30am.

When will the police act on those bad boys at Oworo? Or is it when they graduate to killing hapless people going to their offices?

This is how compassion is dying in the world

This is how come compassion is dying in our midst.

Everyone who still believes in showing compassion should spare a moment to pray for this gentleman:

He headed an interview panel. One applicant in the course of the interview broke down in tears, narrating how he was an orphan with children to feed but no job for a long time. How life has been utterly unbearable, unfair and not worth living, etc.
 
Panel nonetheless went ahead to assess all applicants on merit. The crying applicant came third.
Head of panel was however so moved by his plight that he felt he deserved the job more than the others.
 
The snag however is, he only had one vote. He had to convince other panel members. They refused, but told him if he felt so strongly about it, he should write a motivation to the board stating why he felt the person who came third should be given the job. He wrote a strong motivation and the crying candidate got the job. That was about a year ago.

A few months into assumption of duties, it became apparent that the crying candidate was a poor fit for the job. He was lazy and completely irresponsible. After several warnings, his manager, who fought for him to come in, recommended that his appointment should not be confirmed after the one year probationary period which expires in a few days. Now, all hell is let loose.

The crying candidate has turned a tiger, and has shown his manager hell on earth. The poor man has gone from one crisis to another. The crying candidate has instigated hostilities and written petitions against his manager.

Thankfully, the manager has survived them all so far, but really fears for his life now, as at least one attempt has been made on his life.

This is exactly how come compassion is dying in our world. But, then, should we really stop showing compassion?

911 emergency number active in Lagos?

 

I’m cheered this morning by the experience of a colleague yesterday in Lagos. Area boys seeking to collect ‘rent’ (owo ile) from the owner of a 20 feet container unleashed terror on their Ketu neighbourhood, maiming people and vandalising parked vehicles.

In the heat of the mayhem, he couldn’t remember any emergency number other than the 911 ingrained in his brain from watching American films, and he dialled it just for the sheer hell of it.

Surprisingly, a dispatcher picked it, got the particulars of the area, including the nearest bus stop, promised that the nearest police station would be contacted immediately and, wait for this, thanked him for remembering to dial 911. About an hour later, the police stepped in to rein in the miscreants and restore order.

Forget that it took roughly an hour for the police to arrive, enough time for many lives to have been lost; but the interesting thing to me is he dialled 911 and anybody picked it at all here in Nigeria.

That number has not been listed anywhere in Nigeria as an emergency number to the best of my knowledge. I was in so much disbelief that I asked him to show me his call log, and there it was.

I know of 767 and 112 for Lagos and recall that another colleague experienced a fire incident years ago and dialled 112 and nothing happened. The call was picked but there was no emergency response. Even though the Alausa Fire Station was just about four minutes away to their residence, they very wisely continued to battle the fire themselves till they triumphed.  

Another interesting part of this 911 story is that the call was not billed. My colleague said he checked his balance after the roughly five minutes’ call and it remained the same. Is that cool or what?

I’m keen to know who is behind this 911 number thingy. Is it the much awaited national emergency number project that has gulped billions is yet to fly or is this the baby of Lagos State government?

Kudos to whoever is behind this. At least we are getting somewhere.

Security is the job of everybody, not the armed forces alone. The major hindrance to the war against terror in Nigeria is that the government thinks the armed forces alone can win it. Nowhere in the world is such a war won without the collaboration of the public.

When people are able to give information instantaneously, conveniently and without worrying about depletion of their phone airtime, we will begin to record giant strides against all forms of criminality in Nigeria. 

Additional info

Readers on Facebook and other platforms have confirmed that this 911 is actually working in Lagos. You may wish to save it and put it on speed-dial on your phone. You may never know when you will need it.

I may post some of the feedback from the other platforms later.

Related Stories

Where is our emergency number?
National Emergency Number 112 Not Ready 7 Years Later  

Where is our emergency number?

The Goodluck Jonathan government has stayed long enough to roll out a uniform, nationally known emergency number that people can call to provide hints to security operatives about potential security risks or report a crime.

I’ve said this on my Facebook wall many times before. Where the police and other security operatives achieve wonders, it is not juju they are using. They are tapping into the power of information. It is a collaboration of the public with the forces. The public in these countries are able to effortlessly provide information to the police by dialling a short-code that is known even by kids.

 If you hear a strange shooting or you sight a band of suspicious-looking people in your neighbourhood, you can easily call the number and a police man on patrol nearby is despatched to check things out. It may turn out to be nothing, or it may be serious. Where is our own short code for emergency? Where is the communication equipment for the police? How are the forces sharing information? Is there a central system for warehousing information on terrorism that is accessible online to the operatives of all the forces deployed to fight terrorism? These are issues that the govt should focus on. It is not enough to threaten to fish out terrorists. What are we doing to make that possible aside from barricading the streets?

Robot Househelp comes to life

Dominik Brumm of the Artificial Lab of the University of Zuerich checks humanoid robot ROBOY during a media presentation in Zurich February 27, 2013. A project team, composed of scholars and industry representatives, has been working on ROBOY since June 2012. The team combines the latest discoveries from university research with the invaluable expertise of the industry sector to come up with the most state-of-the-art robotics technology.

Credit: Yahoo!

 

Related: Roboy, robot househelp to be 'born' in March 2013

Roboy, robot househelp to be 'born' in March 2013

An artist impression of Roboy Images and story
from Daily Mail

Engineers behind roboy

Scientists have revealed an ambitious plan to create a humanoid helper robot with artificial muscles - in just nine months.

Engineers at the University of Zurich's Artificial Intelligence Lab hope that 1.2m tall Roboy, designed to look like a child, will eventually help the sick and elderly by acting as a mechanical helper.

To help the robot move, the team are developing radical artificial 'tendons'.

Roboy will have a skeleton similar to a human's and will be operated via special artificial tendons that flex like our own muscles.

The team has already signed up 15 project partners and over 40 engineers, and hope to fund the project using a combination of commercial partners and crowdfunding.

'Financing the project through sponsorship and crowd funding enables us to implement an extremely ambitious project in an academic environment", said Professor Rolf Pfeifer, who is leading the project.

The team hope Roboy will become a blueprint for 'service robots' that work alongside humans.

 'Service robots are machines that are, to a certain extent, able to execute services independently for the convenience of human beings,' the researchers say.

'Since they share their 'living space' with people, userfriendliness and safety are of great importance'.

'Thanks to his construction as a tendon-driven robot modelled on human beings ('normal' robots have their motors in their joints), Roboy moves almost as elegantly as a human,' the team claim.

'Our aging population is making it necessary to keep older people as autonomous as possible for as long as possible, which means caring for aged people is likely to be an important area for the deployment of service robots.

'We can very safely assume that service robots will become part of our environment in the future, as is already the case today for technologies such as smartphones and laptops.'

The team is already developing parts of the Roboy, such as its skeleton like chest which houses spring-like artificial tendons.

Work has also begun on Roboy's hands, which will be covered with a soft 'skin' to make it comfortable to the touch.

'Creating humanoid robots presents researchers with great challenges,' the researchers say.

'Elements such as quick, smooth movements or robust, flexible yet soft skin are difficult to recreate.
'Fundamental new findings are needed for this purpose.

It is precisely through projects like Roboy that innovation is possible.'

Roboy is expected to be 'born' in March 2013, when it will be unveiled at the Robots on Tour event in Zurich.

The lab is seeking donations to fund the work,and is offering to put a logo on the machine for £34,000 ($55,000).

Mosquitoes which die of their own volition!

This is for the scientists and the science-inclined in the house. Each evening when I get back home from the office, I find dozens of mosquitoes dead on the floor in my bathroom and bedroom.

 
I started taking note about four days ago. I hadn't sprayed the room with insecticide for over a week.

 
When you sweep them off, you can be certain you are going to find more dead on the floor, in the tub, in the toilet, in the wash hand basin, in fact, everywhere, by the following day when you return.

 
To the best of my knowledge the window net is not insecticide-treated. I spray insecticide roughly once a week for mosquitoes and cockroaches. The instructions on the insecticide can do not say that it works for a whole week.

 
In my experience using the same insecticide, its effectiveness is for a few hours, and is limited to the mosquitoes already inside the room, not those outside, or those that will be seeking entry days later.

 
One thing though, when I apply the insecticide, I spray on the windows for any mosquitoes trapped between the window and the net. I air the rooms afterwards.

 
Why are these mosquitoes dying voluntarily? Make no mistake. I’m happy they are dying in their dozens without me lifting a finger. But why is that?

 
I know the problems of Nigeria are enormous, but why are they choosing my bathroom and bedroom to die?

 
Is it possible that the net retains some of the insecticide, which continues to work for days? And if this is so, why did it not work like that in our previous residence?


Or is it simply my MFM-style prayer of ‘all my enemies fall down and die’ that is finally working literally?

 
Anyone with any insight?

Boys, your laptop can render you infertile

Reed on his laptop

 

Gentlemen, if you consistently expose your Googles to heat, such as is generated by a laptop, you may be damaging your sperm and be unable to father a child, according to doctors who recently helped an infertile man solve his problem.

Computer buff Scott Reed and wife Laura tried in vain to start a family before doctors told him the laptop he always rested on his knees was to blame.

 

They said the PC was generating so much heat around his Googles that his sperm was being damaged.

 

Scott, 30, immediately switched to using the laptop on a table – and three months later Laura, also 30, became pregnant with daughter Taryn.

Now, 10 months after her birth, the couple, from Clanfield, Hants, still can’t quite believe the answer was so simple.

Laura, a pathologist, said: “I’ve never heard of this happening before. It was a real shock.

“Scott would use his laptop in the evenings for a couple of hours on and off while we were watching television.

“He used it for work and general things like Facebook. We had absolutely no idea the damage it was causing him.”

Electrician Scott and Laura were considering IVF when their GP sent them for tests at Queen Alexandra hospital in Portsmouth.

Scott said: “Apparently the problem is common in chefs because they work in a hot environment.

But I’d never have dreamt it could be caused by a laptop computer.”

Biomedical expert Sue Kenworthy confirmed: “Men should place the laptop on a table rather than their lap.”

Fashola to tackle Omo Onile next

The gale of laws to sanitize Lagos will next sweep all ‘omo-oniles’ off the face of the earth (sorry, I got carried away there, insert Lagos). This will be one very popular law when it comes into effect.

In case you don’t know, ‘omo-oniles’ (children of the land owners) are members of the families who sell land in Yoruba land.  There is a long held tradition that requires anyone who buys land from a family to pay the ‘omo-oniles’ a token when laying foundation or otherwise commencing construction work on the land.

In essence, after you have successfully bought the land off the family owning it, the children of the family will emerge when you are laying foundation and demand to be paid a token before you commence any work. In the past what was demanded was so small that people complied without any qualms.

Over the years, this tradition has been bastardised by the ‘omo-oniles’, who have largely become lazy, fraudulent and violent. They have progressively increased the token to a sizeable percentage of the land purchase price. In addition, they show up not only when you are laying foundation, but also when decking, when roofing or carrying out any renovation on your property.

The amount collected from hapless land buyers for laying foundation range from N50,000 to N500,000 depending on the location and size of the land.

Apart from the money they collect from the new land owner, they also collect money from the artisans such as bricklayers and carpenters employed to work on the property. The working implements of those who refuse to yield are seized and some workers are beaten.

Many people have lost their lives in the hands of ‘omo-oniles’ in Lagos and environs. Many others have been forcefully dispossessed of their pieces of land or forcefully relocated to less desirable areas after the ‘omo-oniles’ have collected higher money from another land buyer.

If Fashola can effectively regulate this aspect of Lagos life, as hinted by the Chairman, Lagos State Taskforce on and Special Offences enforcement Unit, Mr. Bayo Sulaiman, recently, many people will applaud him.

It may also be a major step in boosting accommodation in Lagos.

Related:  Govt to auction bullion van seized in traffic

 

Women beware! That slimming pill can kill you

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Devastated: Michelle Rumsay is only expected to live for another 10 years after she took an over-the-counter cold and flu remedy consistently to help her control her weight

It is always better to opt for natural means of losing weight: regular exercise or working out and watching what is eaten. I’m sceptical of any drug that purportedly helps people to slim down. They always come with a price not stated on the box.

A woman in the UK has just been told she has only 10 years to live after a consistent use of slimming pills for four years negatively affected her heart.

Like most women, Michelle Rumsey thought that dropping a dress size would give her confidence a much-needed boost. At 5ft 5in tall and weighing 9st 6lb, she was hardly overweight, but hated the extra fat she had put on around her middle.

In search of a quick-fix one evening, she came across an internet forum on slimming pills where dieters talked about using a drug called Ephedrine to speed up their metabolism and help them lose weight.

Michelle, now 46, placed an order for the drug online — a decision that was to have tragic consequences. She developed a four-year dependence on the pills, causing a heart condition that has left her with a life expectancy of just ten years.

‘I’m angry and depressed that I have effectively been handed a death sentence,’ she says. ‘It never occurred to me that these pills could be so dangerous.’

Ephedrine is legal in the UK and available without prescription. Marketed as a cold and flu remedy, internet chatrooms are awash with women waxing lyrical about its weight-loss properties.

It is one of several ‘diet’ drugs being used by increasing numbers of women desperate for a short-cut to weight loss.
Until she reached her late 30s, Michelle, from Saxmundham, Suffolk, was the epitome of good health. At 8st 7lb and a size ten, she ran a horse yard and enjoyed running, cycling and climbing.

In November 2005, she met Michael Harrowven, a steel constructor, then 28. Michelle relaxed into her new romance, letting her healthy eating habits slip and swapping salads for Michael’s favourite fast foods. By the following May, she’d put on 13lb.

Michelle says: ‘Michael said I looked beautiful but I was 39 and 11 years his senior. I wanted to look like his girlfriend, not his mother.’

She researched slimming pills online, and on one forum, users recommended Ephedrine.

A naturally occurring substance with amphetamine-like properties, it is not prescribed as a slimming aid, but is available as an over-the-counter cold remedy.

It can increase blood pressure, however, leading to heart disease, anxiety and insomnia. Its dangers have not gone unnoticed by the medical profession.

‘There is a move to make it prescription-only,’ says Dr Campbell.

Michelle didn’t realise Ephedrine was available in Britain, so she ordered 50 tablets for £12 from a manufacturer in Canada, which was marketing it as a nasal decongestant.

She bought two packets of 50 tablets every month and admits she should have known better.
‘I actually thought it was illegal, but didn’t see how it could be dangerous. Michael was against the idea, but I was determined to lose weight,’ she says.

She started taking two tablets a day, cut down on what she was eating, and was delighted when she lost 7lb in three weeks. By August 2006, she weighed 8st and was a size eight.

‘I skipped breakfast and dinner and had a baked potato with a small amount of cheese mid-afternoon,’ she says.

‘Michael said I was too skinny, but I liked the way I looked. The pills kept my appetite down and I was convinced that if I stopped taking them, the weight would pile back on.’

In February 2008 she and Michael broke up, but her addiction to the pills continued. Two years later, she started suffering side-effects after she’d taken her pill one morning.

‘I felt light-headed. The room was blurred and my heart was racing. After ten minutes, my heart rate went back to normal, but I was terrified. I was sure the pills were to blame and threw them in the bin.’
Despite her decision to stop taking the tablets, Michelle didn’t put on any weight. ‘I’d been spending £12 a month for nothing,’ she says.

In September 2010, Michelle met Mark Malster, 39, a mechanic, and they started seeing each other. They were out on a bike ride together that month when she suddenly developed chest pains.

She says: ‘Over the next few weeks, I became more out of breath, and within a month I found it hard to walk up half a flight of stairs without gasping for air.’

In January 2011, Michelle’s GP referred her to the specialist heart and lung hospital, Papworth, in Cambridgeshire. She had scans and tests, and in September 2011 was diagnosed with pulmonary hypertension — high blood pressure in the arteries of the lungs which causes heart failure.

Ephedrine had constricted the vessels in Michelle’s lungs, and the doctor said her heart was under so much pressure it wouldn’t be able to cope for much longer.

It is illegal for shopkeepers and chemists to sell it in large quantities because it is dangerous if taken for long periods of time or in large volumes. But the drug is sold over-the-counter because it is intended for short-term use as a nasal decongestant.

Michelle was prescribed a cocktail of seven drugs to keep her blood vessels open, her blood thin and the muscles in her lungs working.

When they fail — and doctors can’t predict when — she will have to have a tube inserted into her heart to infuse drugs to keep it pumping. Her life expectancy is now just ten years.

‘I couldn’t stop crying when the doctor told me what was wrong,’ she says.‘I thought about all the experiences I’ll miss and the horrible death I’ll have, bed-ridden and breathless. Mark is supportive, but we are both devastated.’

Michelle no longer works at the horse yard, and even a simple walk leaves her exhausted.

‘I’m so angry with myself,’ she says. ‘Nobody forced me to take them.’


Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2205700/Michelle-thought-diet-pills-help-drop-dress-size-Now-shes-got-just-years-live.html#ixzz26zV11en4

Nigerian ladies go man-baiting

Nigerian ladies go man-baitingSome Nigerian ladies leverage on technology to advance the old art of flirting, reports JOHN AWE.

"Quand je dis i,aime cest de tout mon coveur. Hey stop gettg confused. It's just d French way of sayg I just thought of u with all my heart. LUV U WIT ALL MY HEART."

This text will extract the same set of feelings and reactions from any man, whatever his background, race or creed- broad smiles and general feelings of accomplishment and appreciation. Except of course, if the text is from a source he does not know, in which case the next sure thing the recipient wants to do is to call the sender and clarify things.

Welcome to the world of man-baiting. Once you make the call, you are already in a game contrived by a lonely female in search of a romantic liaison. Lonely female? Well, not every time. Sometimes it is a female who is bored or broke, or both.

The sole purpose of the game is to pick up men without manifestly appearing to be doing so. It is mostly being resorted to by young women in tertiary institutions who are finding it tough keeping up with the financial demands of their rich life styles.

The targets are rich men who can afford to spend a few thousands on strangers of the opposite sex. But hitting these targets take a little time, wiles, and patience. All these the players have.
The numbers of those to try this game on is randomly chosen. A set of numbers that appear exotic however seem to be more picked upon than the others. Some numbers do point to the wealth, connections and power of their owners. Owners of such numbers, for example, one ending with 1234, do get preyed upon by man-baiters very often.

As a rule man-baiting texts look as innocuous as possible and are wired to excite curiosity. They look every inch like the senders know the receivers like Adam knew Eve. They have no fixed format, and come in different tones, tempo and character lengths.

There was one that simply stated: “C u tmrw”. For the benefits of those not versed in text language, that means “See you tomorrow”. Another variety of this that someone shared with Infosystems asks a question: “Are we seeing tomorrow?”

Those who receive these texts naturally spend the next few minutes trying to recollect what appointment they fixed but that they have forgotten. But if with their best efforts they cannot seem to recall who has the number from which the text originated, they will naturally reach for their phones to call. And when they do, the sender of the text is waiting with her sexiest voice.
And once this conversation starts, it takes a man who is able to resist the charms of a skilful temptress not to fall prey.

“Hello” you say as the phone is picked.
“Hello” a sexy female voice answers.
“You just sent a text now to this number. Are you sure you didn’t get the number wrong?” you ask the sexy voice.
“Oh I’m sorry; I meant to send it to a friend. This is so embarrassing. I hope your wife didn’t see it first?” she says giggling. Now, this is where she gets to know if she has landed a willing player or not. The answer, whatever words you choose can be categorized into two.
First: “No, lucky me. It is ok then. Bye.” That is the likely answer from any married man who has ears only for his wife’s voice.

Two: “I don’t have one yet. By the way, this is a very lovely voice”. This is the likely answer from a typical man not done with playing the field, married or not. And he is the one the lady is looking for. How technology solves the problem of two people in need!
In a few minutes, what they will be talking about next is where each party is located. A few calls later, they will be talking about where to meet.

As Infosystems investigation reveals, it is not every time the initiator of the game is interested in romantic escapades. Sometimes, all she wants is the next credit to continue her frequent calls to friends and lovers.

In this instance, after a few calls from the victim, the man-baiter requests for recharge voucher. If the victim plays along and sends it, she asks for more until the victim is annoyed and signs off permanently. That fits the description of what can be called advanced fee love fraud.

“What you call man-baiting is not totally new” said Tayo, a technical support staff of a Lagos based Internet Service Provider. “It is simply the domestication of a cyberspace practice. We have ladies going into online chat rooms for the sole purpose of picking up men. Some post their pictures on the web and when men respond they start an online affair”.

Indeed, pictures of Nigerian ladies seeking foreign lovers from cyberspace are numerous. Some genuinely want a man earning foreign currency who will come to rescue them from the grinding poverty in Nigeria.

Others are interested in the collecting some money they can use to set up themselves and their Nigerian lover at the expense of a foreign 'idiot'.

Some Nigerian men also go to online chat rooms to introduce themselves as women with the sole aim of picking up men. When any man falls into their traps, they use every trick in the book to convince him he has landed a pretty, lonely lady who is ready for marriage. After a while they demand for money and when the victim obliges, he begins a fruitless journey where he continues to part with his money till he is fed up and gives up.

Whether it is French-couched love professions sent out to strange mobile phones, or it is lurid pictures sent into cyberspace, the game is the same. And the facilitator is the same- technology.

Amazing world of amphibious Lagosians

First published in the Nigerian Tribune
 

• They throw babies into lagoon to acclimatize
• Organize parties in floating bars/hotels
• Have own hospitals/maternity, cemeteries,’ police’, kings and floating palace on the lagoon.

It is possible for someone to live in Lagos for 100 years and never get to see all of its aquatic splendour, all of its perilous life styles, incredible filth, and all of the diverse kind of people who make it up. But anyone who cares to investigate would be shocked by the sheer difference between life as it is known by a generality of Lagosians and as it is seen by a smaller group of less privileged others who also live in the self-same city.
 

Driving over the third Mainland Bridge, many motorists have wondered at the sight of houses, mostly of planks, bamboo sticks and corrugated sheets erected right in the middle of the sprawling lagoon. There is no access to them except by boats, mostly canoes. Many are wont to wonder who the people are. Do they have children? How do they prevent their little ones from drowning? Are they real human beings or spirits? Given the phobia of most Lagosians for water, they are most likely to conclude that the people on the lagoon are spirits.

But as Saturday Tribune found out last Sunday, they are no spirits. They are human beings carrying on their lives in their little watery community, oblivious of how anyone else is living outside their immediate environment.

Welcome to the world of rustic living in the fishing communities of Sokoro, Migbewe, and Adogbo situated just a little above water level on the lagoon.






Woman frying puff-puff in a canoe

The first major challenge of the expedition was transportation. From Iso pako (saw-mill) in Ebute Meta end of the Third Mainland Bridge to the community of this ‘amphibious’ Lagosians, one needs a boat. But being a Sunday, there was no commercial boat. A friendly machine operator who would like to be identified only as ‘Baba Tee’ at the saw mill advised that such an expedition was better done on a weekday or a Saturday when there would be commercial boats.

But are the people friendly, or would they take exception to a young man poking his camera at their faces on a sweet Sunday evening? Did they have any latent propensity to throw strange, pestering people into the lagoon when nobody is looking?

“Ah ah, they are nice people o! Why would they do that?” Baba Tee asked, laughing. “They are real people like you and me. They just happen to be living on water because of where they come from. If they don’t live here (on water) they will fall sick”. Baba Tee said in Yoruba. He repeated his advice for a return visit on a week day.

Floating 'hospital'

But the community was visible from the saw mill and one could not imagine coming that far without being able to accomplish the rest of the task. One could see many canoes being paddled across the lagoon, but as the saw-miller explained, those were privately owned ones and they would not come to the saw mill from where one could convince them to offer charter service.

A long wait at the saw mill however paid off as a young man came ashore to see a friend at the saw mill. He willingly agreed to be an emergency tourist guide, and in a rustic simplicity eagerly ushered one into his canoe without asking for payment. Or did he harbour a hidden agenda to take the stranger to the deepest part of the lagoon, overturn the contraption and swim to safety? He looked harmless enough and smiled very broadly and genuinely. But he had a tattoo of scorpion on his either shoulder.

He wished to be known simply as Folorunsho. The expedition started. Initial trouble turned out to be how to keep the canoe from shaking as if it was going to empty its two passengers into the lagoon at any moment.

“Is it normal for a canoe to shake like this?” one asked Folorunso. It is not the canoe that is shaking sir. It is you,” he replied, smiling reassuringly. “There is no problem” he assured. One had earlier inquired about life jacket and the question drew laughter. What use would it serve, Folorunsho had asked. There was not a single person in the community who could not swim. Even pregnant women would dive into the lagoon should a favourite spoon drop into the brown water, he added..

The entire community is made up of three small ones that would be no more than streets were it to be on land, namely Sokoro, Migbewe, and Adogbo. They used to be separate communities with different baales (chiefs), but now population expansion has removed the distance or distinction between one community and the other. Individual communities still retain their baales.

Hawkers

As it is on land, so is it in this watery settlement. The ‘streets’ are filled with kids and women roaming about with wares to sell. The difference is that the hawking is done with a canoe. What you can get to buy from them range from fruit such as banana, oranges, pawpaw, mangoes; cooked food such as ewa (beans), pap, bread and butter, fried egg and yam, and fried puff puff, hot and fresh, off a sizzling frying pan in a canoe. It was amazing to see the woman maneuver her canoe expertly in the heavy traffic of other canoes, with the charcoal stove on top of which is balanced a frying pan with hot oil, mixed flour, and water for washing her hands.

Employment

The sort of jobs these people do ensure that they do not have cause to go ashore for a very long time. Folorunsho and another son of the soil (or water, in this instance), Mayowa, explained that there are people who have never gone ashore since they came to the settlement from their original villages in Badagry. They are largely fishermen who leave from the settlement for the high sea and return straight into their homes at the close of work.

Buyers of fish from outside visit them in their homes while their wives and children smoke the rest for later sales. Most women are engaged smoking fish and selling them to buyers who come from outside.

There are also fish net makers, boat- builders, crayfish trap makers, barbers, tailors, shoe makers and at least one GSM call center operator, among others.

Houses

The houses are made of planks, bamboos, corrugated sheets or palm fronds and related materials. But one rich person sank a block house right in the middle of the community. How he managed to do this without the technology of Julius Berger would get many modern construction engineers scratching their heads.

Folorunsho tried to explain the technique, and it turned out not to be dramatically different from the one employed by construction companies in constructing bridge pillars in the water. The only difference is that this local effort did not profit from any technological assistance. It was pure brawn. An area of the lagoon was encircled with very strong planks, closely planted into the base of the lagoon. Then the circle was filled up with sand and concrete till it was elevated above water level. Folorunsho explained that it was very expensive. He personally would have preferred to use money for such a venture to go and buy land in town.

It takes about N15 000 to erect the common plank and bamboo house on the lagoon. It can be erected in a few days and can be very fast when the owner has all the money ready from the onset. 50 percent of the entire community are living in rented houses. An entire house of two rooms and a parlour goes for N600 per month. Rent is paid strictly per month and no landlord is allowed to ask for more than one month at once.

Some of the houses are tastefully furnished. Most of them have black and white television. There is one with a colour Television, Video cassette player and a VCD/CD player. The gentleman even has what qualifies to be called a rug, a two-seater cushion chair, and has his treasured pictures hung on the bamboo wall.

Electricity is tapped from town but no NEPA man has yet been bold enough to visit the community to serve bills or collect money for light consumption. One or two houses also have generators.

With the structure of the house one wondered if they never caught cold especially during the harmattan period. Folorunsho and another community member, wale said on the other hand heat was their biggest problem. According to them, most people sleep on their verandahs to avoid heat.

Community Police

The community has its own arrangements for security. Folorunsho explained that this was necessary since the regular police in Nigeria were reluctant to come into the lagoon to enforce the law.

“Police don’t like to come here to arrest people. The water used to scare them” Folorunsho explained in his imperfect English. Our expedition made a brief stop over in the house of the overall head of the community’s security apparatus. The man looked too young for someone who is the equivalent of Nigeria’s Ehindero on the lagoon. He seemed happy to see our little party. He was okay, except that the repercussion of bleaching was catching up with him in all the wrong places. If the ‘IG’ was this badly bleached what would the criminals in the community look like, one thought.

His job was said to be easier than Nigeria’s IG’s, because there is hardly any theft in the community.

“First nobody can come from outside to steal here. Secondly, everybody knows everybody very well. So you cannot steal from your brother,” Folorunsho explained, adding however that in the event that anybody did, the community police took care of the person in such a way that he would never try it again.

Community damsels

The community was complete with its own damsels. A couple of them were sighted strolling on the hand-made overhead bridge that led to the most popular floating hotel at Sokoro. Elsewhere, you could see young ladies with made up faces in t-shirts and trousers commuting in canoes to destinations within the community.

Then there was the shocking sights of topless ladies smoking fish in many verandahs in the community. There were a couple with nothing on besides panties.

Folorunsho explained that the business of smoking fish was a very difficult one which got the women very uncomfortable.

“It is one of the most difficult jobs here. You know the smoke is entering your eyes and the heat is too much and you are sweating. So some of them just don’t care about clothes”, he explained. But would that not bring all the young men coming in droves to buy fish they have no use for, one asked.

“Ah ah, no. Why? “ Folorunsho answered laughing. “There is no such thing. But may be some people do it. But it is not common. You know the women are not really beautiful at such times. You even pity them. And again they are our sisters.”

Promiscuity level

The community frowns seriously at men who sleep with other people’s wives. All the men and their families are known to each other and bond very well. But as Folorunsho explained, it had been known to happen for a man to have affairs with women they are not married to. When the original husband catches the philandering man, he is free to administer any punishment he deems fit, or he may just call in the community police who takes the offender to the chief. But there is said to be a very strong traditional curse that afflicts women who indulge in extra marital affairs.

“They will begin to bleed and if they fail to confess they will die”, Folorunsho explained. Although he had not seen anyone so afflicted but the belief is overwhelming among the community residents. Many male residents would rather go over to the floating hotel where some call girls are said to reside and pay for sex.

The singles are however free to do what they see fit. Under the cover of the night some of them cross the overhead bridge into the floating hotel to earn some money, pleasuring men.

Throwing babies into lagoon

“But is it true that you people throw your babies into the lagoon to ascertain whether they are bastards or not”, one asked.

“Oh I 've heard people say that. They say if the baby is a bastard he will sink and if not he will float. I don’t know if other community do that. But we do not. You cannot know a bastard like that. What we do is we throw our childrens into the water to become friends with it so that they can never be killed by water again. But the childrens must be well at the time. You must not throw sick childrens into water. Our childrens know how to swim before they can even talk self because when their mother is swimming she throws them into water too,” he explained.

Accidents

On the most popular ‘street’ in the community which qualifies to be the community’s equivalent of Oshodi, the ‘traffic’ was chaotic, even for a Sunday. Canoes bumped into each other and finding where to dip your paddle sometimes was a problem.

“Do you have traffic accidents here?” one asked.

“Yes, but not like the ones on the land. People don’t die in such accidents. Some people may not be looking at where they are going and seriously hit you. You just settle it and go your way. But engine boats can be very dangerous because they sometimes lose control. If there is one coming your way and you see that he has lost control, you just dive into the water before he hits your canoe.”

Folorunsho also explained that for there to be sanity, engine-propelled boats had been banned from hawking in the ‘streets’. Even when they are going to the high sea , they use paddle until they get out of the community.

“Our chief is a tough man. If he catches you, there will be trouble. There are many children using canoe. You cannot just ‘drive’ anyhow.” Folorunsho said.

One Canoe per person

Despite the spirit of communality, canoes are one thing that community members don’t share. A canoe or two is parked outside each house as people park cars outside their homes on land.

“Nobody will borrow you his canoe. Everybody has his own. Some even have five. If you have many childrens you will like to give them their own canoe to move around. And you must keep your paddle very well. If you go out and park your canoe and leave the paddle inside, somebody may just take the canoe away. So you must take the paddle with you or put it somewhere else.

A carved boat is to this community what a Mercedes Benz is to the people on land. A small carved canoe costs N5000 and can last up to 20 years. A carved boat with an outboard engine is to this community what a Pajero Jeep is to the people on land. It is owned by the rich. Apart from carved boats, there are ones built from planks. They cost between N2 000 and N2500 and do not last more than about two years. A huge fishing boat of this type costs N10 000.

Cemetery

There is a common cemetery for burying people who do not wish, or are not rich enough to be taken to their original village. According to Folorunsho, the cemetery is a tiny island further down into the lagoon. But when the water level rises during raining season, the so called cemetery is submerged.

Consequently the lagoon has on occasions returned some dead bodies to their owners before the beer bottles used for the burial ceremonies are parked away.

Filth

The stench that wafts into the nostrils of commuters on the highways (waterways) in this community is incredible. It is a mixture of the murky smell of fresh fish, smoked fish and human waste.

In the densely populated Migbewen, human waste plops up beside your canoe now and again as you navigate the lagoon.

The reason is simple. The toilet system in the houses is the more original form of water closet (WC), whereby you squat on a platform and do the business directly into the water below.

Five minutes of navigation on this brownish water fills your mouth with saliva, but the residents find nothing wrong with it. A child not more than ten was even sighted doing a backstroke in the evil-looking water beside their house while his parents look on.

“How often do people fall sick here?, one asked.

“Oh we are very strong people. We don’t fall sick. But we have many hospitals and clinics. I will take you to the biggest one. But you are only going to find pregnant women there waiting to deliver. People don’t fall sick here” Folorunsho said proudly. But that’s a shock because if normal people were to have a dip in the evil smelling water in the community, they are sure to land on their back in a hospital, being treated for a combination of cholera, stomach disorder and respiratory and urinary tract infections.

Friendly people

Whatever their problem, these amphibious Lagosians are generally friendly and easy-going. They greeted the Saturday Tribune crew with smiles and took no exception to their pictures being taken. Some of the children even shouted that their pictures should be taken. Most of them have not seen the four walls of a school. They speak pidgin and say sorry when they splash you water with their paddles or when their canoes bump into yours. There are only few lucky ones as Folorunsho who went as far as a secondary school before returning to the community to commence fishnet making, shoe cobbling and singing.

“I went to the high sea for fishing once and nearly died in an accident. Since then I’ve been doing other things. My ambition is to be a popular musician. I can rap in English and my dialect. I have a demo ready and hope to find a sponsor someday,” he concluded as he completed his task as a guide, bringing the canoe to a final stop at the saw-mill.

In another few minutes and with an unsolicited tip in his pocket, Folorunsho would happily row back to his community and his usual routine which he must faithfully maintain to keep his head above water until his big dream comes true.

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