Walking down the road on a Sunday morning as I was coming back from the regular street soccer which was located three streets away and I was about to cut towards the Hill road from the second Street and I saw this bicycle running down the hill but out of control so I quickly maneuver to a safe side and watched the boy ridden it looking as confused as a chameleon in a bag of Skittles and all of a sudden, I heard Gboozz ( a loud bang ) and I saw that he had bashed with a girl hawking eggs in crates. “ Oti je gbese” ( you are in debt ) echoed as the place became crowded, and the girl seized him by the shirt, and this scene called me back to the days of the game called Timeframe, which landed me in a similar scenario.
Many years ago as a kid who lived in a busy area of Lagos, Surulere in particular. Every evening, we went to Adigun rentals, where we rented bicycles, rode them for a specific time limit we paid for, and returned them in due time. Baba Adigun, the owner and time keeper, will always sit in a lounge outside his house, and he never gave the bicycle out to strange faces but to customers like us who he knew our houses. He has a very big wall clock beside him, which we use to check the time together and agree on the return time. The rule was that if you are late, you will pay extra charges for the time used or he will seize your pair of slippers till the day you pay up.
So as usual, we rent the bicycle for ten minutes, then race a bet to an actual destination to see who wins, and we all do this for fun. Tunde, a boy living next to our favorite location, challenged me to a race one day.
“ I am a better racer than you,” he said, pointing at me.
“Who's who?” I replied. “You who has no stamina,” I concluded.
“So you know I am fast? “ he asked.
“Yes, but you can't run ten races straight up,” I answered.
“Let's make it better than that,” he said.
“Next Sunday,” I answered, and I showed him ten fingers to note that we are racing ten times.
“No problem,” he answered. “It will be a flawless victory” he bragged.
“No problem too, we shall know then,” I replied, and we parted ways as days went by, counting.
During the weekdays, I have been saving up for the real day, and it came as planned. We rented the bicycles as usual, and the time keeper, Baba Adigun, looked at the wall clock.
“You are to return the bicycles in an hour,” he said, and we nodded in agreement, knowing that he had given us an extra five minutes. We went in opposite directions as other kids followed. The race referee and the audience as we started. I knew he was a fast runner but just had to push his limit. It was 4-3 as he was already leading and I noticed that he was getting tired. The race that followed, we raced and I ran in full speed leading the race already and all of a sudden as I wanted to take a sharp round turn to maneuver to the second Street, a girl hawking eggs in crates came from nowhere and we collided and before I knew it, six crates of egg were shattered on the ground and she has already grabbed my collar. “Oti je gbese”( you are in debt) echoed everywhere, and I looked back to see that Tunde was riding at top speed opposite my location, and he disappeared within a twinkle of an eye. “Mio ni GBA oo( I won't agree in any way) was what she said while crying and had bruises all over her body, and I was followed home. Getting home with such crowds following me as I kept pushing the bicycle. Mother was outside in her kiosk where she sells bread, butter, and eggs to be fried if needed. She paid my debt and told me to return the bicycle and come back for my punishment. Her statement triggered my mind, knowing that I was already late, and the timeframe that the time keeper gave me had become a timeworn one, and as usual, I went to Baba Adigun's house, and he collected his bicycle and seized my pair of slippers. I walked barefoot home that day, and I couldn't forget the frog jumping that I did that night.
“It is Sunday”, I soliloquized and reasoned, maybe it is a timestamp, a timely scenery that serves as deja vu, looking at the boy with the crowd behind him. I nodded my head and walked away.
Thanks for reading through.