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okada | Zikoko!
  • #NairaLife: The Okada Rider Raising Two Families on ₦4k/Day

    #NairaLife: The Okada Rider Raising Two Families on ₦4k/Day

    Every week, Zikoko seeks to understand how people move the Naira in and out of their lives. Some stories will be struggle-ish, others will be bougie. All the time, it’ll be revealing.


    Nairalife #280 bio

    What was your first “I have to make this money” moment?

    It was after one small nail killed my younger sister in 2000. We were playing outside when she stepped on it. The people we lived with just put bandages on her leg and left her like that. A week later, she started jerking like someone who had convulsions. 

    They called my father, and he took her to elewe omo (herbal medical practitioners). Those ones asked him to buy something, and he started pursuing some of his debtors to get money. To cut the story short, my sister died. 

    I was 13 years old, and she was 10. If there was money, she’d have been treated faster. We wouldn’t even have had to live with other people in the first place.

    I’m so sorry. Which people were you living with?

    I don’t know how to describe the relationship. They were probably distant relatives. But I called the man and his wife Mummy and Daddy.

    My parents had seven children — apart from the other children from my dad’s two other wives — and they sent us to live with different family members when it became tough to raise us. My father earned little from his carpenter income, and my mother also made small change as a hairdresser. That’s why my sister and I were sent to live with those people. We’d only stayed a year when the incident happened.

    Did you continue living with them?

    I didn’t have a choice, even though I was angry. I’m sure they wouldn’t have left their own children like that, but you can’t tell someone who’s feeding you that the meat in your food has too much bone. Also, the man was the one paying my school fees.  The only thing I could do was to make some money, so I wouldn’t have to wait for anybody to do something again.

    What was the first thing you ever did for money?

    I sold empty soft drink bottles in SS 1. This was around 2001-2002. One woman sold soft drinks to my school’s teachers and rich students. She was always at the school’s gate, but I didn’t have money to buy from her. I noticed she always came inside the school to look for empty bottles to exchange with her soft drinks suppliers. 

    We had plenty of those bottles at home because Mummy also sold them. So, I approached the woman and told her I’d sell them to her. I can’t remember how much we agreed on for each bottle, but she paid me ₦5 weekly for the bottles. I sneaked bottles from the house in my big school bag for six months.

    Mummy eventually caught me with the bottles one day. She’d noticed the missing bottles, but there were always plenty of people in the house, so I could say it wasn’t me. The beating I got when they caught me ehn? Ah. it was serious gan. I still carry the scar on my back. After the beating, they called my father to come and take me.

    Was that the end of living with them?

    Yes. It was also the end of school. My father said, “Since you’ve decided to become a thief, you better start looking for money.” 

    First, I did labourer work at a construction site near our street. My job was to pack the blocks from where they were spread to dry to the place where the bricklayers used them. At one point, I was also pushing a wheelbarrow filled with stones. For all of this, I got paid ₦50/day.

    I only worked there for three weeks because the oga stopped paying after the first week. He was always talking story.

    What did you do next?

    I started helping a market woman sell poly bags. She’d give me five bags, and I’d walk around the market to sell them to women who were buying things. I think each poly bag was like ₦5. If I sold ten, she gave me ₦1.

    The money was too small, so I decided to buy my own poly bags to resell. The profit didn’t make sense so I abandoned it too.

    After that, I became a sales boy at a poultry. The owner paid me ₦500/month to stay in the shop and sell eggs. They pursued me after three months because I almost stole all their eggs.

    Ah

    They beat me and reported me to my father. After he also beat me, he told me I was going to learn carpenter work under him so I’d stop disgracing him up and down.

    How long did you learn carpentry?

    I’m not sure how long it took me to learn, but I worked with my father from 2003 to 2014. He didn’t pay me, so I made money by adding small small change to the price of materials whenever he sent me to buy them. That’s what I used to hold body. 

    From 2010, I was the one who did the work for his customers because he started having health issues. Whenever that happened, he allowed me to take the payment. It was a good arrangement. I didn’t have to pay for shop rent and was making money — sometimes ₦10k for a one-week job, sometimes ₦50k.

    I even thought I was going to inherit the shop, but I had to run away in 2014 after an issue with a cult group in my area.

    What happened?

    Woman matter o. I was dating one girl who didn’t tell me she was dating a cultist. When the cultist and his friends came to warn me, I was forming strong man. I said they should let the woman make her own choice. 

    I realised they were serious when I found a human finger in front of my father’s shop. On the same day, they went to see my mother and told her to warn me to disappear if she didn’t want to bury me. I left Lagos and went to live with an uncle in another state.

    What was that like?

    Hm. There is broke, and there is — what do you people call it? Sapa, abi? I was deep inside sapa. My uncle had a fish pond, and I started helping him for free.

    But unlike the previous places I’d worked where I managed to remove small change, I couldn’t do anything like that because my uncle was always around. If he wasn’t at the shop, his wife and children were there. I was so annoyed. They were feeding me o, but as a man, you should have small money in your hand.

    I managed for a year before I convinced my uncle to let me go and learn mechanic work.

    Why mechanic?

    I didn’t want to learn any work jare. I just wanted to find a way to leave his house without causing a fight. I told him that one of my friends in another state knew a mechanic who didn’t charge a lot of money. He agreed and allowed me to go. He even gave me ₦20k. That’s how I returned to Lagos in 2015.

    What about the cultists?

    I didn’t go back to my family house. Instead, I went to squat with a friend who lived far from our house. I concluded that Lagos is big, and it’ll be hard for them to find me. Also, one year had already passed. Didn’t they have other people to fight?

    Anyway, the friend I stayed with was a yahoo boy and I also wanted to learn the work. I think I have bad luck because police raided my friend’s house and arrested all of us just one week after I started living there.

    Ah. They knew he was a yahoo boy?

    They suspected. It was one of his neighbours who gave a hint to the police. You know when boys have big generators, sound systems and POP ceilings, everyone begins to suspect them.

    My friend settled the case with the police and was released, but I spent four months in prison — they wanted me to bribe them, but I kept saying I didn’t have money. In the end, I had to call my father to look for ₦80k so they’d release me. That was how he even knew I was back in Lagos. Looking for the money took another two weeks.

    I was sick for several months after my release. Prison is not a good place. It’s just God that said I won’t die.

    Phew. Sorry you went through that

    At this point, I was just ready to calm down in one place, make small money and live peacefully. I returned to stay with my uncle in 2016, and he allowed me to use a small space in front of his house to work as a carpenter.

    Small small, I started getting clients. The first time I made big money was in 2018. Someone was building a new school and called me to make 250 chairs and tables for her. I made ₦200k in profit. I could’ve made more, but the woman can price ehn. I just took the work because it was my first big job.

    I used the money to rent a ₦100k/year apartment and used the balance for my wedding. I also got married that year.

    Nice

    That was my first and only big job. But I was still doing quite well and making small money — at least ₦40k – ₦50k monthly. 

    2020 was a bad year because of the lockdown and everything becoming more expensive. But I was still surviving small small. 

    Towards the end of 2022, I started considering finding something else to do.

    Why?

    The market became somehow. One time, I charged a customer ₦60k for a dining table, thinking I’d use like ₦40k to buy wood and other materials. By the time I reached the market, everything I needed cost ₦55k, and I couldn’t go back to tell the customer that I wanted to increase the money. 

    I had to buy less quality materials to deliver, but even that caused problems because the customer kept complaining. I started telling customers to buy the materials themselves, but I had to stop when they started trying to make me collect ₦10k-₦20k for workmanship. 

    I’d also moved from using my uncle’s space to my own shop back in 2019, and paying the ₦80k/year rent became difficult. 

    I shared my troubles with one of the alhajis in my local mosque, and he asked me to think about a business I could do and get back to him. I decided on okada. It seemed profitable.

    Everyone in my town uses okada, and I won’t have to think about looking for money to pay shop rent or buy goods. I told the alhaji and he bought me an okada in 2023.

    Has this been more profitable?

    It was profitable at first. I made up to ₦6k/day after removing ₦1500 for fuel and ₦300 for tickets. I gave my shop to my wife, and she turned it into a salon. Things were going fine, and I was happy.

    But Tinubu came and removed fuel subsidy in May 2023. I first parked my bike at home for one week because fuel became scarce. There’s a filling station near my house, but as early as 5 a.m., you’d see plenty of okadas already lining up. Being first in the queue didn’t even mean you’d see fuel to buy because the filling station people could come at 8 a.m. and say they didn’t have fuel.

    I can relate like mad

    Even when I finally found fuel, finding customers was another thing. Like other okada men, I had to increase the amount I charged because of the fuel matter. But people were more interested in trekking than paying ₦500 for a journey that usually costs ₦100.

    I’ve been riding okada for just about a year, and I’m already regretting it. If not that someone gave me this okada, I would’ve sold it. I’ve just been moving from one wahala to the other. If fuel is not scarce, it’s expensive or even fake. 

    My okada started having issues late last year because of one fuel I bought from the black market. The mechanic said they mixed the fuel with something. I used about ₦30k to fix the engine when the problem started. Since then, I return to the mechanic to fix another problem at least once every month. That usually takes between ₦10k – ₦15k. 

    What pains me about this thing is that the alhaji bought the okada new. I should’ve still enjoyed it for a long time before having to repair it every time.

    How much do you make these days?

    Now, I struggle to make ₦4k daily. Most times, it’s ₦3k — after removing fuel and ticket money. I can’t go long distances because my okada can just start misbehaving. It’s tough, but I’m just trying my best.

    I’m considering restarting my carpenter work on the side so I can earn extra cash. I need another income now, especially since I’m marrying a second wife soon.

    A second wife?

    Yes. She’s pregnant, and I can’t let my child be born as a bastard when my religion allows me to marry more than one wife. I didn’t intend to remarry so soon, but God has a way of doing things.

    I hope to sort out the wedding plans within the next three months — I’m spending more money because she’s not living with me. I have to send her own feeding allowance separately. There’s also money for antenatal and medicine. I had to pay half of her ₦80k house rent in January. When we get married, those costs will be reduced.

    I’m curious. What are your expenses like right now with your current home?

    God is helping us because I don’t really calculate how much I spend. I just spend. But I give my wife ₦3k every two days to cook. We have one child who just started nursery school last term, and I paid ₦14k for his school fees and uniform. 

    I mentioned my wife has a salon, so she helps to pay for small things in the house like water and the NEPA bill. I pay the ₦150k rent for our two-bedroom house. I thank God for ajo. I make a ₦3k weekly ajo contribution, and it’s what I use to save for rent.

    Why do you think carpentry would work now when it wasn’t profitable a few years ago?

    Someone advised me to go into making bed frames. I heard it’s easier to make more money on them. Before, I focused on just tables and chairs. If I see ₦100k now, I’ll just make like two or three bed frames and display them in my wife’s salon. I’m sure customers will come.

    Have you considered what would happen if they don’t come?

    Ah. Are you wishing me bad? I just have to hope because if I can’t hope, I’d better just sit down at home. But if the business picks up, I may consider selling my okada and investing more in it. Let me just get my wedding out of the way first.

    Let’s rate your financial happiness on a scale of 1-10

    5. I’m not happy with my finances at all, but there’s hope.


    If you’re interested in talking about your Naira Life story, this is a good place to start.

    Find all the past Naira Life stories here.

    Subscribe to the newsletter here.

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  • “Why Won’t We Speed All The Time?” — A Week In The Life Of An Okada Man

    “Why Won’t We Speed All The Time?” — A Week In The Life Of An Okada Man

    A Week In The Life” is a weekly Zikoko series that explores the working-class struggles of Nigerians. It captures the very spirit of what it means to hustle in Nigeria and puts you in the shoes of the subject for a week.


    Riding an okada for a living in Lagos is almost like being in a badly written movie. With villains like agberos, taskforce and police, on the road, any day without an incident is nothing short of a miracle. Have you ever wondered what makes a person ride okada for a living? And why okada riders are always in a hurry? Today’s “A Week In The Life” shows just why.

    MONDAY:

    My alarm wakes me up by 5:30 a.m. The first thing I do after standing up is to perform ablution. Next, I take a five-minute walk to the mosque. At the mosque, in between sermons, and just before solat, I find myself battling with sleep. It takes all my power to not fall asleep. Thankfully, as I start to lose the battle, the imam starts the prayer. 

    We’re done around 6:05 a.m., and I return home. “Home” is a compound where 27 other people and I, mostly non-Lagosians, pay money to sleep in every night. ₦200 per night for a human being and ₦200 per night for our okadas. What benefits do we get? A small room with no windows and a bathroom without running water.

    So, when I get back from the mosque — every morning — I have to ride my bike to the nearest public tap three streets away to have my bath along with my okada brothers. At around 6:35 a.m., I go back home to dress up, and I’m ready to hit the road by 6:50 a.m.

    Before I even make any money, I’m already behind by ₦1,400 every day.  First, I buy a ticket from the agberos for N700. This is minus the ₦50 here and there that I have to pay agberos at every junction in my vicinity, which cost around another ₦700 in total. This is minus the ₦1,200 that I deliver to the owner of the okada at the end of each day. 

    So, you have ₦1,400 + ₦1,200 + ₦200 to sleep + ₦200 to park my bike = ₦3,000 before my day even starts — I haven’t even factored in money for fuel or food during the day. 

    The worst parts? There are more okada riders than people willing to pay for okada. Also, I can’t work late into the night. Once it’s 6:30/7:00 p.m., I have to close for the day because if police catch me, my money na ₦11,000. If Lagos Taskforce catch me, my money na ₦22,000. 

    After doing calculations, you realise that ₦4,000 – ₦5,000 is the most an okada rider can make in a day. So, tell me: why won’t okada riders speed all time? 

    Anyway, it is well though. The main thing now is that work has started and for the next 12 hours I have to out-earn my expenses. I’m hoping for nothing short of miracles.  

    TUESDAY:

    Walahi, today I didn’t make any money for myself. Na only ₦2,550 I don make all day before Task Force came to arrest our okadas. If you see the way we ran for our lives. Me that I collected okada from someone, how will I explain if they seize it? 

    It’s so annoying because there are some people who disguise themselves like Task Force to steal our bikes. Then, they’ll now go and resell it at a cheaper price. So, we also have to be on the lookout for those ones too. Sometimes, because you’re not sure who is who, you’ll end up dragging with the real Task Force who will beat you like a thief because they think you’re dragging power with them. Just last year, this thing still happened to my brother. They beat him, collected his bike and we still had to pay to bail him. 

    But walahi, the woman who gave him the okada is so nice. She told him not to worry and even bought him a smaller bike to be using while repaying her small small for the old bike. Alhamdulilah because he just finished paying her last month. 

    Me, I don’t want that to ever happen to me, and that’s why I’m going home after running from Task Force. By the time I remove ₦1,200 for the bike owner, ₦400 for sleeping and parking, ₦500 for fuel, I have only ₦450 left. And I still have to buy a ₦700 ticket tomorrow morning because agbero won’t hear any story. 

    When I get home, my plan is to go around begging my other brothers for money. ₦200 or ₦300 here and there can help with food this night and a ticket tomorrow. 

    WEDNESDAY:

    I have noticed that sometimes when I’m riding okada, my mind is not there. In this job, you’re constantly thinking about tomorrow because even if you say Alhamdullilah today, you don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Most times, there’s no hope for tomorrow.  

    I can’t help thinking about my past. I came from Mokwa town — in Niger state — to hustle in Lagos because my helper died. Before before, I used to do business. One Igbo man in Lagos used to send me money to help him buy rice, beans, corn, in large quantities from Mokwa and send down to him. My profit on each bag was like ₦200/₦300 and I would get around ₦50,000 from each deal. On top of that, the man still dashed me money at intervals, so I was okay. It was out of this money I used to marry and rent a house in Niger state. 

    Everything was going sweet until I got a call one day that my business partner was dead. How? Road accident. His business and family went just like that. I didn’t even know how to respond because I was sad about his death but also worried about my future after his death. It’s funny that it wasn’t until I started feeling the effect of not doing that business again that I even remembered that my business partner was owing me ₦166,000 before his death. 

    It has been more than one year since the accident happened. Except on days when I’m thinking about my life, I don’t like to think about him because remembering my old life is painful. Nevertheless, I still carry around the biggest reminder from that era — the Android phone my business partner bought for me when the going was still good. 

    Last last, this life just get as e be. 

    THURSDAY:

    The only thing that’s keeping me going today is the thought of the sleep I’ll sleep on Sunday because I’m so tired. Because I’m not the owner of the bike, I’m always working come rain or sunshine. The only off day I get is on Sunday and that’s because the owner, who’s Christian, told me who’s Muslim, not to ride the bike on Sunday. I was initially not happy with her decision and now, I look forward to resting on Sunday. 

    The work is not easy at all, but at least you make something however small. I remember 10 years ago where bike men could make as much as ₦5,000 – ₦6,000 in a day. That time tickets were still ₦200 and a lot of Northern people hadn’t migrated to Lagos. At the end of each working day, after removing every other person’s money, bike riders were guaranteed at least ₦2,500 profit. This used to be money then. 

    My only saving grace money-wise is the contribution I make with my brothers. Every day, 10 of us contribute ₦1,000 into a pot, and at the end of five days someone takes the bulk money. On and on we go until we go round and then go again. It’s part of this money that I send to my people at home to use to hold body small. 

    After leaving my home in search of greener pastures, I refuse to believe that this is it. I’m just 31 or 32 years old, but why do I feel so hopeless? 

    I don’t know how but I must find the strength and hope to see Friday and Saturday through. The job is not the greatest, but at least it’s an honest way to earn a living. 


    Check back every Tuesday by 9 am for more “A Week In The Life ” goodness, and if you would like to be featured or you know anyone who fits the profile, fill this form.

  • How Has The Okada Ban Affected Your Life? – We Asked 7 People

    How Has The Okada Ban Affected Your Life? – We Asked 7 People
    Okada ban

    If you live in Lagos, then you already know about the Okada ban. This is not only because it’s on the news but because you have skin in the game of the stress it has caused. We don trek bastard, please.

    On Saturday, there was a peaceful protest over the ban but we are yet to see any significant response from the Government. Are we truly on our own?

    To better understand the far-reaching effects of this ill-advised policy, we asked both car owners and leggedez benz owners in Lagos to share with us their experience in the past week. In addition, we got an Okada man to tell us his story.

    Here’s what they had to say:

    Olamide:

    “Before, I’d park my car and take bikes when I wanted to avoid traffic. Even in Lagos, it’s not everywhere you can drive to. Now, it’s everywhere I must drive to. It’s really shitty. It takes longer and it’s more stressful.”

    Anne:

    It hasn’t affected me though because buses ply my route to and fro work. However, I constantly say these words when I remember that my co-workers trek to work every day: “Sango, Amadioha, Ogun will punish all of them in their jeeps.”

    Coachito:

    Fam. I saw terrible things. I have had to trek long distances to work in the past few days that I never imagined I could complete. To worsen things, they have increased the price of buses so bye-bye to budgeting. I had already planned my spending for this month: remove money for valentine gift, save and manage what’s left. Everything has scattered.

    Nunu:

    “I see kids walking to school. It’s sad. I’d pick them up but I can’t help everyone. Also, crowd control. I don’t want to encourage them getting into anybody’s car. I could be a kidnapper.”

    Sisi:

    It hasn’t affected me as much as I thought it would. I suddenly realized that my house is not far from Ikeja underbridge and it is very trekkable 🙂.

    Ayo:

    Traffic!!!!!! O porrrrrrrr. The traffic is worse and I hate driving which makes it worse. Regardless, I never used bikes so it hasn’t affected me. The tricycles on the other hand…They helped when I didn’t want to drive in traffic, which is a lot of times. But the route I pass now, I either use the car or a bus so I don’t really have a need for bikes or tricycles.

    Maxwell:

    “As I dey like this, na house I dey. I no even know wetin I go do. Na Okada I don dey ride all these years. I no know which work I go do. If to say I never marry, I for no too worry, I even get pikin.”

  • 12 Types Of Okada Riders In Nigeria

    12 Types Of Okada Riders In Nigeria

    1) The quiet ones:

    They mind their business and the only time you interact with them is from bargaining fare to eventual payment. 5 stars, Okada edition.

    2) Chatterboxes:

    Sir, I can’t hear you over the sound of my heart beating fast because I am holding on for dear life. Stop talking sir.

    3) Daredevils:

    Swerve between tankers, fight trucks for the right of way, speed at 200km/h – Check, check, check. Their motto is usually “no fear”. I am afraid sir. Very. Emabinu.

    4) Greeters:

    Nothing worse than a bike man that the whole street knows. Turn right, hailings. You’ll now hear a name like scorpion baba. That’s when you will start praying to God to deliver you safely to your destination.

    5) Clueless:

    They have no idea where you are going to. Their favorite word is “you no sabi the place?” But sir you said you know the place. They are the worst set.

    A way to spot them is that they wear this kind of “helmet”.

    6) Music lovers:

    It’s 5 pm after a stressful Lagos day, the sun is dipping at the right angle, the road is free. The air is suspiciously clean and life seems good. Mid reverie, you hear “oteselebo yahoo ni babalawo”, your bike man has disturbed your perfect escape with his loud music. These set of bikemen are probably failed DJ’s because they keep skipping from track to track with no direction.

    The instrument of peace disturbance.

    7) Pressers of horn:

    You just know they didn’t have toys as children. At the slightest provocation, they are horn trigger happy. It’s like a siren that brings attention to you as you are trying to safely get to your destination.

    8) The ones trying to avoid police:

    Once the bike man asks if you have change or for you to pay up before you reach the destination, you know they are running from the police.

    9) The ones trying to avoid touts:

    As soon as you hear “I no go reach the bus stop ohhh” you know they are running from the insane tax collectors called the area boys.

    10) Fighters:

    They alternate between either trying to beat you or beat another road user. There is no in-between for this set of people. They are ready to pick a fight for the smallest of offenses. Beware, if you scream too loudly, they just may beat you too. Just pray till you arrive at your destination.

    11) The pleasant ones:

    Some of these riders are so lovely that after the ride you start to ask if you possibly imagined it. They are so courteous, have change, are helpful, and they even seal it off with a small prayer for your day. These ones make a heavy day lighter.

    12) Advisors:

    Once they see something on the road they don’t agree with, they start to advise you. Talking about “Sir, you look respectful, don’t be like these ones on the road.” Sir, I am like them too, is it because I am wearing a starched shirt?

  • Four Things to Expect From Okada Riders

    Four Things to Expect From Okada Riders

    Okada’s have been helping lives since their appearance on Lagos roads. Dealing with the menace of their existence is sometimes compensated by the fact that they help us stay sane and get to our destination faster than any other transportation. Especially, during gridlock traffic hours.

    Despite these, the riders can be frustrating to deal with sometimes. Here are four things to expect from okada riders in Lagos:

    They are daredevils

    They seem to have a death wish, and a desire to take their passengers along with them to Hades. They get so close to trailers, ignore traffic rules, ride against traffic, and basically wing riding a motorcycle.

    They will gist you

    Want to just board, mind your business, get to your destination with no chitchat? Sorry, that’s not gonna happen. Most okada riders are just full of stories they’d love to share, regardless of whether you care or not. They will even struggle with the howl of the wind, shouting to get their voice heard.

    They don’t know the destination

    If you don’t know where you are going, it’s best you check Google Maps or ask someone else for directions instead of okada riders. They will always nod yes to your repeated “do you know the place?” even if they don’t and end up taking you miles away from your destination.

    And here’s a bit of bonus advice; look face before you take a ride

    Don’t board the bike of the too young bike- men – those ones that scratch leg on the ground while riding; and don’t take the too old, they are slow riders even pushcarts are faster than them. Na dem they fear road.

  • All The Different Okada Problems You Could Possibly Experience

    All The Different Okada Problems You Could Possibly Experience

    1. When your only option is okada because buses and kekes don’t enter a particular area.

    2. When the driver hands you one terrible looking, smelly helmet.

    3. When the road is full of potholes.

    4. When the okada man enters a deep puddle and now your clothes are soaked.

    5. When a bus splashes dirty water from a puddle on you.

    6. When your clothes tear while you’re climbing the okada.

    7. When it starts raining while you’re on okada.

    8. When you fall off the okada, you and the okada man are like:

    9. When drivers of cars and buses are insulting you like it’s your fault Nigeria is stressful.

  • 12 Pictures You’ll Understand If You’ve Ever Taken An Okada

    12 Pictures You’ll Understand If You’ve Ever Taken An Okada

    1. When the bikeman is smelling and the breeze decides to blow the body odour into your face.

    Hay God!

    2. Having to pull up your pencil skirt every time.

    Ugh!

    3. When the bike suddenly enters a pothole and you painfully land on your balls.

    *Sheds painful tears*

    4. Getting seriously scammed simply because it’s your first time in the area.

    Baba, fear God na!

    5. When the Okada man swears he knows where you’re going but after 3 trips through the whole of Lagos, he says…

    But you did not forget to scam me oh.

    6. Being unable to pick your phone calls.

    What if it’s my Onigbese that’s calling nko?

    7. Having to hold on to an Okada man’s sweaty waist because you don’t have liver.

    Who liver don epp?

    8. Seeing your crush overtake you with their car in traffic.

    What’s all this now?

    9. When you and bae have to squeeze on one Okada.

    All na romance abeg.

    10. Saying your last prayer everytime you want to ride an Okada in case the rider gets you killed.

    Baba God, abeg!

    11. Seeing an okada accident and swearing never to ride one again.

    Hay God forbid bad thing!

    12. But you still go back because you’d rather not waste away in traffic.