If you grew up in a neighbourhood like mine, you probably had street kids. The kids who come to your house to play ball. The kids who always had banger during Christmas.
They were somehow always around. I don’t recall ever bringing out my ball to play and no one coming to keep or play one-touch with me.
It’s so cool how easy it was to make friends back then. All you needed was a ball. Didn’t even have to be a real one.
Paper, bottle, shoes, stones.
Hours spent under the Lagos sun, not caring that it was turning me into the literal black sheep of my family.
Twenty children don’t play for twenty years.
That’s a proverb the chancellor of my alma-mater loves to say. In the movie Tag (which is based off a true life story), a group of men play a game of Tag for 23 years, but the proverb is almost always true.
What happened to them?
My family moved out of my neighbourhood when I got into uni. I haven’t seen any of them since then. I’m one of the twenty children that moved away, and I barely thought about any of them after I left.
My country isn’t a land ripe with opportunity. Things are harder than they should be, and because of that the common man can’t afford a lot of stuff, good education being one of them.
In a country where getting a good job mostly means being a university graduate, it’s a difficult thing for a street kid to accomplish. I can’t even imagine a lot of them have dreams to go to university and spend four more years struggling to pay fees.
Spending time jumping bus in Lagos and seeing how toll collectors (agberos) rush to collect money like they have 9 lives, I wonder sometimes where my street kid friends are now.
A couple of things are possible. Considering the ones I knew were male, most of the scenarios are gonna lean in that direction.
Let’s call our sample street kid, Tunde, and imagine some of the things I think could’ve happened to him.
Agbero
If you live in Lagos, chances are very high that you know who an Agbero is. They are usually on the express chasing after danfo buses to collect tolls, usually 50–100 Naira, and risking their lives daily to do so.
They usually have battle scars and an almost defining rough voice that I’m pretty sure they have to practice at home every morning. If a bus conductor doesn’t pay a toll, the usual course of action is to remove something from the bus. The wiper, petrol tank cover etc. This usually leads to a harsh exchange that sometimes ends in blows.
All of this happens while you’re in the bus, looking on. They’d probably be very lucky to make it into their 40s whole.
Tunde could’ve easily become an agbero. He’d have joined a street gang and risen up the ranks by being an all-out bad guy of some form. Supplying loud, winning fights, doing well with women and other agbero shenanigans.
Considering agberos collect tolls for different areas like Onipanu, Fadeyi etc, he needs to earn enough trust to become the guy that collects for his area.
I don’t know how these things are decided but let’s just imagine he had to eat a chicken raw and not vomit/fall sick over the next three days to attain this post.
From then on he starts his new role, and terrorises conductors daily. Hopefully he breaks a few windscreens and pulls out some wipers on a good day.
After a few years, if he isn’t killed on the road, in a fight, by a madman, or by poor governance, he becomes one of the people the money goes up to. He’s married now with a wife and kids and can put food on the table.
Some women on a bus I was in one day were even lamenting that the wives of agberos are the ones that have the most money to buy foodstuff and live lavish. That kind of banter has to be true, right?
In a few years (if he’s still alive) he’s so high up the ranks he doesn’t really have to do much anymore.
Tunde is living his Nigerian dream.
LASTMA Official
If you’ve been in Lagos, it’s very likely you have seen a LASTMA official before. They are usually on the roads performing some of their duties, trying to bring order into the chaos, and comically causing more chaos a lot of the time.
I was going to look up the meaning of LASTMA and start with that. But then I didn’t. Then whilst searching for how to become one, I came across the full meaning. It’s Lagos State Traffic Management Authority. You should’ve skipped this paragraph.
The officials I see daily often look nice in their uniforms and mostly well-fed. They sometimes move in squads and love to catch people (especially danfo buses) violating traffic laws because there are usually fines involved.
I’ve heard of some of them hiding behind trees/poles just to catch people (traffic bandits?), but that one is for you to imagine.
Instead of being on the bad side of the law most of the time, Tunde could’ve applied to become a LASTMA official and somehow succeeded. From there it’s the small matter of trying not to die daily on the roads, and catching as many traffic bandits as possible.
Mo’ fines, mo’ money, new uniform, new promotion, standing ovation.
After a couple of years (if he’s still alive) of crime-fighting in the Traffic Squad, he earns enough promotions to not have to go on the roads anymore. He has paid his dues.
In a few years (if he’s still alive) he’s so high up the ranks he doesn’t really have to do much anymore.
Tunde is living his Nigerian dream.
There are clearly 1001 possible things Tunde could become. Policeman, Soldier, Market seller, Businessman, Yahoo Boy, Exotic dancer, Pimp, Politician, Local newscaster, Alte prince.
The parameters are not finite. It’s just good to think about these things in case you remember someone that has blown now.
I think that’s what is missing from that quote.
Twenty children don’t play for twenty years, until one of them blows.
What’s important though, is that he is a living happy, fulfilled life and looking for me to share his blessings with if he has elevate (and vice versa of course 🙃).
Shalom.
