Okay, so I have a driver and I am his ‘Madam’ – his words, not
mine. He is smart, speaks excellent
English, has a wife and two kids who live an hour and a half away from where I
live and he drives ‘my’ car so he can’t take it home. He seems to know everybody and he is very protective of me. While working he stays in ‘boy’s quarters’
which are in the same accommodation complex as my place but are slightly less . . . . . . spacious, shall we say. He is on call pretty much 24/7.
I think my relationship with Mr Ojo has been the single most difficult
thing to get used to while living in Nigeria.
I simply cannot deal with having someone do things for me; it completely
goes against the grain, both in terms of me being ‘boss’ and somehow losing my
own independence.
I fought against it at first and tried to do things my way. Obviously this resulted in disaster. For example, there was the day I wanted to WALK to the shops and very sternly told Ojo to stay at home.
He translated that into "kerb crawl at two miles an hour behind me as I
walk to the shop". As you can imagine
this drew quite a lot of unwanted attention so I gave up.
There was the time we got stopped by the local police for no apparent reason and I decided to do all the talking and tell them off for wasting my time. That is until I realised the officer was holding a large rusty rifle and smelled like a whisky factory. Again, I quickly shut up and let Ojo deal with him.
Then there was the time I insisted I didn’t need a lift home after a night out. After all it was going to be a late one and my new friends were going to get me home. I insisted that he shouldn't wait around for me. Later, I had to apologise profusely for waking Ojo up when at 4am my friends were still partying and I desperately wanted to go home. After talking to some taxi drivers I decided I would be better off sleeping on the street than entering their cars. Ojo was with me in about three minutes flat so I presumed he ad been hiding around the corner.
Finally there is the time I insisted on visiting a local market on my own. ‘You can just drop me off’ I had said, full of reassurance but within minutes of Ojo stopping the car it was surrounded by about twenty five ‘agents’ trying to persuade me to come to their bosses shop first. I had to take Ojo with me with my tail between my legs.
There was the time we got stopped by the local police for no apparent reason and I decided to do all the talking and tell them off for wasting my time. That is until I realised the officer was holding a large rusty rifle and smelled like a whisky factory. Again, I quickly shut up and let Ojo deal with him.
Then there was the time I insisted I didn’t need a lift home after a night out. After all it was going to be a late one and my new friends were going to get me home. I insisted that he shouldn't wait around for me. Later, I had to apologise profusely for waking Ojo up when at 4am my friends were still partying and I desperately wanted to go home. After talking to some taxi drivers I decided I would be better off sleeping on the street than entering their cars. Ojo was with me in about three minutes flat so I presumed he ad been hiding around the corner.
Finally there is the time I insisted on visiting a local market on my own. ‘You can just drop me off’ I had said, full of reassurance but within minutes of Ojo stopping the car it was surrounded by about twenty five ‘agents’ trying to persuade me to come to their bosses shop first. I had to take Ojo with me with my tail between my legs.
I have officially given up and appreciate having Ojo around. Now when he says ‘Please Ma, listen’ - I
always do.
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