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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Another Day To Fear Women

24/1/2023

By Victor Kwame Sampong

I shouldn't have gone out on Monday night, because it did not make sense to me that midway through January we were still battling with fuel issues in Port Harcourt.

However, this time, almost all the filling stations were selling, but had different prices on offer.

I was almost out of fuel as my fuel gauge had shown. The last thick black line before going into the danger zones on the gauge... that's where it was when I checked in the morning. So the plan was to use it at night. While rounding up, head to my usual filling station, Nepal, to queue up by midnight, fill the tank up by morning and return home.

So, I waited till night, after football training, I had a bath, dinner, rested a bit, before hitting the road by 9pm.

My first ride took me to Iwofe. As I was about to end the trip, another one came in from Aker Road. I called the number and the man on the other end asked me to come to the NNS Pathfinder Junction. When I got there, he wasn't anywhere around. I called again and this time, he asked me to take the route leading to the oil firm, Saipem.

I immediately declined and told him point blank that I don't ply such routes at night. He pleaded some more and told me he's one of the soldiers stationed there, but there's an emergency he needed to take care of. We discussed terms offline which he agreed to. Well, money is a great source of motivation, I guess. Besides, there's a Navy base just around the corner, so what then could possibly go wrong? Na wetin gimme mind to march down. {That's what gave me the boldness to go that way}

I got to the Saipem gate and this time, he was already waiting for me.

He said we're headed to Choba, the University of Port Harcourt, precisely. He explained that he had been calling his girlfriend but she wasn't responding. He was worried and wanted to go and check if all was well. I asked him if she had someone living with her. He replied in the affirmative, but she too didn't pick up, which was quite unusual.

So, that's how we set course for Choba. He told me her lodge was along that Maryland Hostel Road. I explained to him that the road is bad (rough) and is a no-go area for cab guys like me. He promised to make an upward review of our already agreed sum. Who am I to say no to a soldier man at night?!

We got to the girl's lodge, knocked and her roomie came out, with shock stamped all over her face upon seeing my client. Oga asked about his girl and the room mate was stunned. She kept muttering what we couldn't make any meaning of. Na so Army man just shoved her aside and went in, only to find an empty room, kitchen and bathroom...hehehehe! His girl friend was not in the room.

He closed the door and brought out his 'koboko', threatening to flog the room mate if she doesn't reveal the whereabouts of his woman! Me sef don begin fear. I would have gone outside, but who I be to open door wey Army man don use him own hands lock?! Who I be na? {I can't open a door that was closed by a soldier}

Well, the girl begin cry sha,.knelt down and told us the babe had gone to Casablanca (a red light district) in the Government Reserved Area, GRA to 'hustle'. Her phone was low so she left it behind to charge.

My guy man's face changed upon hearing the news. His resolve was broken. With the little patience left in him, he asked that we leave immediately before he does something dangerous. Na so I rush open door as the order was given. We went back into the car and the silence was deafening thereafter. I was afraid to ask him where next.

He looked up and said,"Boy, let's go to Casablanca".

At that point, I regretted coming out that night. I for just dey house play PS (PlayStation with Obi my neighbor).

Well, who am I to refuse the orders of a depressed soldier man?!

We got to Casablanca, but didn't know where to start the search from. I told him I'll just park and watch over my car, while he can patrol around to look for his (lost) lover. So, I parked just by the Casablanca Junction, observing the array of pretty ladies on parade and taking in the beautiful scenery that they bring. Girls of different shapes and sizes, young and old, displaying their wares for interested clients. Some were lucky to get picked up, others strolled up and down in order to get noticed. A few others just enjoyed the music from the clubs around the vicinity, shaking some of their assets in enticing manner.

One of the pretty girls caught my eye though. She wasn't dressed in a skimpy attire, but her beauty was radiating. She was in a white palazzo trousers and pink crop top, very young too.

One black Lexus jeep parked across and a young man walked up to where she was standing with her friends/colleagues and asked them to follow him. He got back into the front seat, passengers side and both occupants of the car engaged the girls in a conversation. Of course, I couldn't hear them, but I knew what they were up to.

Two of the girls were dismissed while my 'favourite girl' got into the back seat. She was laughing while talking with them. The inner light was on briefly while I observed proceedings from my vantage point. All of a sudden, my soldier client appeared from nowhere. No joy on his face. He didn't find the girl despite combing everywhere.

He brought out his phone to show me the babe that's putting him through all this, also explaining how he's paying her school fees, accommodation and general upkeep because he plans to make her his wife right after school. I asked him why he didn't do it before now, he said she's seventeen years old and still a virgin, so he was keen on waiting till she reached adulthood, getting a degree before marriage. How can a seventeen year old 'Virgin' be a part time Ashawo? ({Prostitute} I felt sorry for the soldier who thought he was waiting for his girl before marriage, but the whole Port Harcourt was having a taste of her. It couldn't have been for money too, because he just said he took care of her needs from school fees to books and general upkeep.

I took a second look at the pictures this time and noticed the same clothes I saw on my 'favourite girl' moments ago. I zoomed in and I knew my eyes weren't playing tricks on me. Even he queried me why. I told him the girl he's looking for might be inside the black Lexus (pointing at it) across the road. Me and my big mouth, but I could not help it.

Almost immediately, my 'favourite girl' alighted from the car (my guess was negotiations broke down or she was going to bid farewell to her friends/colleagues and to inform them of their destination) and walking towards her previous spot when my guy charged at her. The girl was so shocked she could neither run nor shout. Like, she saw a ghost. I ran after him and restrained him, while speaking some wise words into his ears as I leaned on him. I must commend him too for the courage shown by not acting based on his impulse at the time.

We got back into the car and he requested we head to a suya joint. I was baffled as I couldn't fathom out the correlation between a suya joint and a heartbreak. But then again, who I be to refuse an officer of the Federal Republic of Nigeria?

So, I drove faraway to a Rumuomasi Suya Joint where we sat down, consumed suya worth about five thousand naira and washed it down with some Hollandia Yoghurt.

I took him back to his base, got rewarded handsomely for my services and we said our goodbyes. I guess his military trainings prepared him for shit storms like this, because, how he took this to the chin beats me.

I smiled and got sad a bit as I tried to replay every moment in my head. I didn't need to work again, but drove straight to Nepal at about 2am to join the queue as the 13th car. Maybe when I wake, I'll call my new found friend to see how's doing. Perhaps, another trip to the Suya joint again, with bills on me. No?

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Black days, good money and some dark business

17/1/2023

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

The fuel scarcity in Port Harcourt continued unabated into the new year, as petrol stations hiked their prices to as high as N500 per litre.

Our fellow citizens sold this premium product on the black market for between N700-800 per litre, and it was difficult to do business, though some of us still managed to keep our heads above water anyway.

I knew I couldn't risk paying such astronomical sums to fuel my car. I go just sick if I try am. {I'll fall ill if I try it} Instead, I chose to go to stations that sell at the official pump rate or slightly above it, since I don't do well with queues.

So, I go to these select stations from about 2am and stay there till around 10am when they'll open for business. Once they open, in a few minutes, I'll fill up my tank, go home and sleep, then resume at night. So, all through this dark period in Port Harcourt, I chose to work only at night, so as to conserve the fuel for more days.

I was not even the only one using this format. By the time I get there by 2am, I'll still meet a couple of cars there. Then in an hour's time, the line would start taking shape. By dawn, the place would be buzzing. When it's morning proper, it's a frenzy out there.

We usually form little groups here and there, holding small discussions about a wide range of issues till some of us wear out and retire into our cars to take a short nap. By the time you wake up, the setting would have completely changed with cars everywhere.

As a result of the fuel situation, I tend to also select the kind of rides I accept. Anyone that doesn't suit me financially gets cancelled or ignored.

On Sunday night, I had just finished dropping off a nice young man at Agip Estate when another order came in. It seemed close so I accepted it. When I called, the girl was on Douglas Road (the Chinda link road that leads to Rumuolumeni).

I tried to go pick her up, but the direct link road from Road 24 to Chinda Road was locked because it was almost midnight. When I called to tell her I have to cancel, she begged me not to because she won't get another ride. She had been rejected 4 times already. I wouldn't budge, not until she told me she even knew me because my number was saved on her phone. But what moved me was when she promised to double whatever cost is displayed on the app. Sweet deal.

I manoeuvred my way to get to where she said she would be, but she wasn't there. I called again and she was still inside her compound, trying to get out. She said her landlord didn't take her calls (as he must either be sleeping or just plainly ignored them) and her only option was to jump over the fence and my help would be needed to effect her escape from the house.

She pleaded further that it was an 'emergency pass' that just came and it was so lucrative otherwise, she wouldn't go through this in other to meet up. Another Two thousand naira was promised on top of the already agreed sum if I play my part to help her outside.

I positioned the back side of my car at the fence where she was, climbed on the boot, then onto the fence, reached out for her hands and pulled her onto it as well. We both climbed down to the boot and entered the vehicle. Yeah, quite risky, but hey...the end justifies the means.

Oh well, I recognized her so well the moment she got into the car. About three months back, I had picked up some people who arrived in Port Harcourt very late at night from Lagos. Their bus stopped at Nkpolu-Rumuigbo Junction, just around midnight. She begged to join the ride separately, so I can drop her off after finishing the ride with the original person who booked. That's how we exchanged contacts and kept in touch for a few weeks before falling off.

We picked up her friend and colleague in the business at Royal Highness Road just close by and made our way to Old GRA...The Crib.

The app displayed Three Thousand Naira, which she promised to double, making it Six Thousand Naira, plus the escape fee of Two Thousand Naira for a total sum of Eight Thousand Naira. She paid me Nine Thousand Naira cash upon getting there.

From their conversations during the ride, the person they were billed to see seemed to be a top priority level client and it was a threesome they were going for. Also, they both might have formed some kind of tag team on such missions, because they recounted some of their previous rodeos and things they needed to do to improve on their performances and client satisfaction.

That would make for another week's episode entirely.

After payment, we bade each other farewell and I wished them good luck and a fruitful mission. After all, like House of Rep Member and aspirant would always say on his campaign posters: You Win, I Win.

And in this case: They Win, I Win!

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Another Day, another Story

10/1/2023

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

I didn't plan to go out on Saturday. At least, not until evening, but a very important client woke me up from sleep saying it was urgent I got to his house right away.

I quickly dashed to the bathroom, had a quick bath and got dressed, then left for his place. In no time, he came out with one of his boys and his young pretty niece living with him. As I sighted them, I knew instantly that something was up.

Uduak narrated the reason why I was summoned that early in the morning. His niece had gone out the previous day to work, but failed to return home. She came back home the following day with the excuse that there was too much to do at work and her phone was down, hence the reason why she couldn't inform him of her inability to return, as it was already too late to do so.

The niece was a nurse, and Uduak didn't buy her story, so he decided to take her to her place of work for verification.

According to her, she was at the house of a patient that needed extra care. They had called me to drive them to the house of this patient.

Based on her directions, we drove to the house. But fortunately for her, the building was empty as it seem the occupants had all gone out for their daily businesses. My client was disappointed and asked that we return home. We dropped the girl back at home, while we headed for his office. It was on the road he asked for my opinion.

“What do you think of this whole thing,” He asked me.
“Do you really think she was at work or she went somewhere else?”

I told him point blank sey the girl go knack, but she didn't know how to tell him. Her story did not add up. She was a thick chic, with curves at the right places, that would make any man's head turn. {I told him point blank that she went to have sex}

His boy behind added salt to injury by saying the boyfriend might be going to the village and so needed one last dance for the road.

Uduak don begin para with the postulations from us. He asked me to turn back make him go buy cane to flog the girl. {He immediately got angry and wanted us to turn back so he can buy some whips to flog the girl}

I refused and advised him against taking such action, but to call the girl and talk to her like his sibling, make her trust him because beating her might end up strengthening her resolve, and that would be counter productive.

We got to his office, I got paid and bade him farewell!

THINGS WE DO FOR FUEL

As the year wound to a close, the fuel scarcity hit us harder. Filling stations were capitalizing on the situation to milk everyone with prices soaring as high as N350 per litre within Port Harcourt. The NNPC outlets that tried to sell at lower rates had queues as long as the Mississippi.

I already had a full tank from the one I managed to buy at N280 per litre from one of the NNPC points around Mercyland Junction at East West Road. But by night fall, it was going down faster than the Naira and I needed to refill. But I couldn't stand the queues, plus I could not bring myself to buy at N300 or more per litre.

In one of our groups, a driver dropped a hint; he just saw a fuel tanker driving into Matrix Fuel Station, just by the Rupuokwu Market Square Junction. But upon enquiries, they said they would sell from the next day. As a result, he's going to queue up there from midnight till when they open by 8am. Fuel there goes for N210 per litre. Sounds like a nice plan, considering the difference in prices elsewhere.

Many of us in the group signed up. By midnight, people started dropping updates of their presence there. I was monitoring the group for updates, while still working that night. The surge on January 1st was the highest I'd witnessed thus far. It went as high as 2.4, which made it difficult for me to stop work.

It was around 3am I decided to draw the curtains on work that day, from about 6pm that I hit the road. I went back home to get a few items I might need to make my stay outside more comfortable. A loaf of bread with butter, plate of pepper soup, and asked a colleague to get me Coca cola and bottled water on his way there. By the time I got there at about 3:30am, I was the 23rd person on the queue.

The line kept increasing gradually as we kept watch by having small discussions here and there. I went into my car at 5am to rest a bit, only to wake up at 7:45am to a very crowded place. Worse of it, two cars had driven in front of me, due to the space created as a result of the cars moving forward a bit to get closer to the gate. See fuck up na.

Anyway, the station started dispensing fuel at after 9am. When it got to my turn, that's when I heard that they sell just 30 litres to cars. But if you want more or to fill up your tank, a fee of N500 must be paid for the extra services. Very ridiculous. But others were complying. Ghanaman won't be the odd one out; not after spending the cold night in my car outside. I paid, got filled up and went back home to sleep for the rest of the day, waiting for the surge to return at night for me to cash out!

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Night of so many beauties

2/1/2023

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

The December period was very productive for me, but entering its final week seemed to be an exception as surge periods were no longer constant features for most parts of the day.

Then came the issue of fuel scarcity as well. Drivers struggled to get petrol to operate; and when we did, the prices were usually too high. It kept increasing daily, from N210 per litre to as high as N320 currently.

After struggling to get fuel at such an astronomical price, frustration sets in when the prices on the Bolt app doesn't usually reflect the rides done. So, most drivers were seen on different platforms hustling for offline jobs, so as to meet up.

I was still in bed on Tuesday morning when a colleague called me about a job to Owerri and back. He was given the job, but due to a late change in date from the client, he could no longer make it, but graciously passed it on to me. I wasn't surprised though. James was the one I linked up with an airport pick up two weeks earlier that paid him handsomely. I guess he was trying to return the favour.

We discussed terms and he immediately sent the client's number to me. I reached out to her to get her pick up point for the trip. I got there and (un)surprisingly waited for close to two hours before she and her girls (three) stepped out. They had an assignment in Owerri to make up a bride and her bridal train on Tuesday (Bridal Shower) and Wednesday (wedding).

The journey to Owerri was smooth and we arrived safely and on time too. They quickly got into gear, tending to the beauty needs of their own clients. I just sat there, admiring the ten pretty ladies around me. Trust me, they were pretty and came in different shapes and sizes. I was the only male in the midst of almost twenty females. They did their hair, after which we moved to a hotel for their facials.

Madam Faith and her girls really made those girls very pretty. They took pictures and all the razzmatazz associated with all that. I was there each step of the way, playing, laughing, teasing, taunting and generally, having a good time with all of them. We finished late in the night and headed to the hotel reserved for us by the bride. Na here wahala been wan start. {This was where the problem would have started}

Madam Faith said the person who linked me up with her usually sleeps in the car when he takes her for jobs outside Port Harcourt. I told her I won't reduce myself to that level. As for me, it's either the client gets a suitable accommodation for me himself, or pays for it or we sleep together wherever he or she sleeps. I told her point blank that we're all sharing the hotel room...four ladies and me. I no send anybody. {It was none of my business} After much argument, she agreed.

I told her I'll give her and the girls one hour to go in freshen up and dress up,.then I'll come in and do same. They ladies went up and did as expected, while I remained in the hotel bar to drink a few bottles. It was around 2:30am or thereabouts that I walked upstairs to the room. I knocked and one of the girls opened it. I made my way to the bathroom, took my bath and got dressed in my night wear, took out my wrapper to spread on the floor, used some clothes as pillow and crashed shortly after. The ladies were surprised at my sheer audacity to spend the night with them in the same room, but they could do nothing to prevent it too.

We finished up the next day and returned to Port Harcourt later in the evening.

The second part of the week turned out to be sour for me; no thanks to my mechanic.

My front shocks were on their last legs and I had wanted to change them for a while now, so, I hit Joe up to carry out the works the next day as soon as I returned from Owerri.

Instead of Joe to change the shocks like I paid for, he went to Ikoku to try to fix them. Believing they were okay, he fixed them back for me. I picked up my car and hadn't even gone out of the gate, before I noticed the same irritating noise. It was already late, so I told him I'll return it to him first thing the next morning.

The next day, I insisted we both go to Ikoku together. We got there and luckily, the person who did the work is someone I've known for a long time. It was Azunda that revealed the elaborate plan Joe brought to him, despite his professional advise that the shocks might be truly bad, so he should 'pieces' it to check the true nature of the fault before 'working' it. Joe refused and forced his hand to do the hachet job.

I had to pay extra to get the new ones I had already paid for, gave them to Joe to go fix it, while I stay back for a few minutes to get a few bottles from Azunda...the ones he promised me when his wife gave birth a year earlier.

I went back to Joe's shop to pick up my car and noticed it was on. I asked why the car was on and he said he was just steaming it. I didn't think it through; something I would later come to regret that night.

The car was moving perfectly now and i resumed work that night. It was around 10pm Joe called me that the battery in the car wasn't mine. He gave mine out to another guy and wanted me to charge the person's own while driving around. I was so furious and screamed at him to retrieve my battery before I drop my client at Ogbogoro.

The client urged me to go get my battery immediately. Something I bought for Forty Thousand Naira barely two weeks earlier. Immediately I dropped him off, I made my way to Market Junction on Ikwerre Road and made sure I waited for Joe to bring back my battery. I made it clear to him, that it was the last time he'll set hands on my car for any reason. What audacity!

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Pimping on the job

20/12/2022

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

After two days of inactivity due to my ordeal at the hands of the 'Dragon Squad' officers of the Anti-Cultism Unit of the Nigerian Police Force, I resumed work on Sunday with an out of state trip.

In fact, the movement was supposed to be on Friday, but my client asked that I take a few days rest to nurse my injuries and get some sort of fitness back and he'll wait till I'm ready.

That's how we found ourselves in the Cross Rivers State capital, Calabar. We arrived on time and he proceeded immediately to the assignment that brought him there. We spent the night in Calabar and shifted camp to Odukpani the next day for the second phase of his work.

It was on Monday that I responded to a message from a colleague for an interview on his radio programme on Wave 91.7 FM, Port Harcourt, via telephone. The reception and support shown by the listener was massive. I spoke to the Police Public Relations Officer (PPRO) right after and she requested that I make a formal complaint at the Human Rights Department at the Force Headquarters, Moscow Road. I told her I was at out of town, but would make that move upon my return.

Then another interview was scheduled for me on 92.3 Nigeria Info for Wednesday morning. My client released me on Tuesday evening because the job would take longer than earlier envisaged. However, when he's done, I'd have to return to take bring him back to Port Harcourt.

Interview on Nigeria Info had its impact as well, with much more support coming my way. Almost immediately, I spoke with the Deputy Police Public Relations Officer (DPPRO) and he asked me to come in as well. We fixed an appointment for the next day.

Friends and colleagues advised that I shouldn't go alone, but should get a lawyer as well if possible.

One of my clients who is a lawyer volunteered to go with me. I went to pick him up at his office and we started discussing the matter on our way back. As it turned out, he was already familiar with the man (DPPRO) who we were going to see.

We got there and the pleasantries were that of old buddies. The officer cut across as a fine gentleman who really wanted to be in the service to make a difference. I narrated my side of the story, but he needed me to put it into writing with some specific details like names and all that. I told him I'll come back for that the next day because I would need to make some calls to find out the identity of one of the officers I knew personally from our football training days at the Captain Elechi Amadi Polytechnic pitch. While leaving the Force Headquarters, I made some calls which bore fruits. The guy's name and phone number were sent to me and I duly forwarded it to the DPPRO.

I couldn't return to give my statement in writing the next day because I had to take another client to Umuahia High Court for a case and onwards movement to Enugu right after. I returned to Port Harcourt same Thursday and shutdown once I got home.

Throughout the week, I got calls from unregistered numbers interceding for the police officers and asking me to drop the matter and 'forgive them'. Some even went as far as using their families as bargaining tools, for me to consider the impact it might have on them, if their supposed bread winners were indicted and perhaps punished severely.

Well, the back and forth with the police was proving to be time consuming too. So, I didn't bother going back there on Friday. I just let it slide; at least, they did feel the heat for a full week and know they were this close to getting payback for their crimes against humanity.

Low budget pimp

The weekend was proving to be very fruitful due to the abundance of surge rides everywhere. Drivers in the city were cashing out fully.

I joined the party on Sunday, but as usual, my private clients won't let me enjoy the high surge rates of the weekend.

One guy from Ogbogoro, Junior, had called me on Saturday with a unique problem. He explained that he needed a girl for the night. And he believed I could help set him up with one because in his words,"You be guy man".

He wasn't too far from the truth though. I've had girls telling me to save their numbers and call them up when things like this come up. I deal with all kinds of people and I've learned how to appeal to their desires if and when possible.

So, I called up two of such girls without any response. I dropped messages on Whatsapp for them. A few hours later, they both replied at different times. Using the 'first come, first serve' policy, I set my client up with Amaka on Saturday.

While going about my Sunday activities, I received the scorecard of how the match played on Saturday went, from both teams involved in the contest.

Junior called me to complain about how the girl didn't deliver on her mandate. She refused to 'open her legs' well enough for him to 'dive in and dig deeper'. Plus, she was questioning every maneuvering move he made, including asking him why he hasn't arrived his destination despite being on top for a reasonable number of minutes. Due to his disappointment, he paid half the agreed price the next morning. I apologized and promised to get back to him after hearing from Amaka.

Amaka had already dropped a message that night telling me she'll update me later when she's free. It was on Sunday she too sent her own voice notes. She said Junior was packing heavily down there. The 'Cassava' was jumbo size. But her grouse was that, he didn't know how to use it and what to do with it, thereby inflicting pains and causing damage to her main working tool. She was begging him to be done with it fast, but that infuriated him.

That's how they both slept off, even though she was uncomfortable a bit afterwards and wished it would be dawn very fast so she could leave. She confirmed he paid half the agreed sum as a result. I also apologized on his behalf, while promising both sides to present better deals next time

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: I thought #ENDSARS ended SARS?

13/12/2022

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

Friday started a bit late for me due to some stuff I had to take care of at home, but, once I hit the road, I was optimistic it was going to be productive. Weekends are not to be toyed with as a cab guy.

My first ride of the day was fair. It took me to the Government Reserved Area, GRA, so I used the opportunity to grab some much needed breakfast at my usual joint along the Amaechi Drive, in preparation for the task ahead.

As soon as I got done with that, I switched both my Uber and Bolt apps on. I was lucky, that they both beeped almost simultaneously. A Bolt rider was heading to Iwofe, whereas pick up for the Uber was off Iwofe Road; talk about killing two birds with one stone.

My Bolt rider was around the corner (Prof. Abowei Street), so I picked her up and we headed for Rumuolumeni. I also called the Uber client to buy time, using traffic as an excuse. I even explained to my Bolt client and we just laughed and vibed along that line till I dropped her off, with a N300 (her change) tip as well. I turned around to go get Cliff from Palmgrove Apartments.

It wasn't long until he came out, so the trip started. As it is common with guys like him, he immediately connected to the Bluetooth device in my car. As soon as he did that the conversation started flowing as the jams started playing.

My guy was a poor DJ or so I thought. All his Naira Marley and Zlatan tracks were spoiling the fun. So, I asked to see his tracklist. He obliged and I switched to Omah Lay, Ajebo Hustlers and the groove was back, albeit short-lived.

A tactical unit of the Nigerian Police Force was up ahead and one of them flagged us down. I stopped brought, down the windows as he ordered us to park and come down for routine stop and search.

We obeyed, and my client was the first to be thoroughly searched with nothing found on him. Then it came to my turn and there was nothing found on me too.

The officer spotted the phone in my right palm and asked me to unlock it. It was at that point I even realized I didn't come down with my phone, so I told him it wasn't mine, but I could get mine from inside the car.

As I tried to reach out to get my phone from where I dropped it, the man pulled me by the collar backwards and landed a resounding slap on me. I knew virtue left me immediately that slap landed. I was stunned, but still managed to ask him why the unwarranted attack. That provoked him again to return a second one. I tried to block it but it seemed this particular officer's hands moved faster than Mohammed Ali's. It hit the target anyways.

Again, I enquired to know my crime. My tormentor charged at me asking why I should be holding someone's phone when I'm not related or connected to the person, other than the fact that he's an Uber passenger.

I explained the circumstances that led to the phone being in my possession at the time, plus, bringing the phone down with me was just an involuntary action, I wasn't even aware it was still with me, until he asked.

The one wey come make am vex pass na when I come ask am, how is it a crime for holding someone's phone who's in the same car with me? {The one that made him angry the most was when I asked when it became a crime to hold someone’s phone who’s in the same car with me}

The guy dragged me to their van and cuffed me with my client, while threatening fire and brimstone.

One of them saw the 'PRESS' sticker on my car, so came over to ask "Who's the pressman? I raised my other hand, then he reached out to unlock the cuff from my wrist, but asked that I still remain in the van.

My tormentor went back to the road, along with his crew, randomly stopping and searching. We were there for close to an hour and only decided to go when they 'caught' what seemed to be a 'big fish'.

They entered their vehicle and I was told to sit down at the back with my client, Cliff and the 'big fish'. I asked one of the police guy close to us where they're us to, and the man gave a chilling reply: we dey carry una go SARs office, where dem dey kill people... accompanied by a cheeky smile.”{We are taking you to the office of the Special Anti Robbery Squad, SARS, where we kill people}

As we sat in their car and they zoomed off, I noticed one of them was driving my car behind us.

I sought to find out from my companion beside me what his offense was. He said they found seeds of left over 'weed' in his side bag hung around his neck. I just talk for my mind sey this one don enter. Na why dem close work. {I just thought to myself that he was in real trouble. No wonder they closed for the day}

Well, we got to the SARs office at Rumukpokwu and we were ordered to come down. The Uber ride was still on, so the map must have been giving directions all through our ride to the dreaded police station. That was why my chief persecutor brought my phone to me saying I should end the ride and hand over the phone to him. So, while he was distracted, I quickly sent a text message to the saved number on my call logs, name was Mama Carlos and the text read: Call China, SARs carry me SOS. {Call Mr. China Acheru, I’ve been abducted by SARS. SOS}

I had to be fast and do it unnoticed. No time to think anything through or cherry pick who to send to. But I knew if she saw the message she'll reach out to him because they both know each other.

I handed the phone back to my tormentor. We were marched into an uncompleted building, just beside the main entrance. They then told us to sit on the rough floor, which we did without complaints. The other officer who told me earlier that we were headed to a slaughter ground then called Cliff to take his statement, while my tormentor started with the 'weed guy'.

A few minutes later, a POS (Point Of Sales) machine operator who identified himself as Emmanuel came in to give my Tormentor some cash, from what seemed like a previous successful transaction.

After taking the weed guy’s statement, he asked him a straight up question.

“What do you want the police to do for you? You want us to charge you to court or settle here with you?”

The guy chose to settle and negotiations began from a hundred thousand naira or so. I think they later settled for a huge sum and one of them with scary beards, someone I knew for years, because we trained together (football) at the Captain Elechi Amadi Polytechnic Pitch back then, later gave him a bank account number to conclude the negotiations and transactions.

I switched my focus to Cliff's end. He maintained his earlier stand that he wasn't a yahoo boy (Internet fraudster) and the driver (me) wasn't covering anything for him. He gave me his phone willingly to change songs and that was it. His response infuriated my chief persecutor and he charged at him with a green pipe (like the narrow underground water pipes), flogged him 3 times on his back. The fellow immediately broke into tears, yet refused to recant his statement.

He was about to hit him a fourth time when I stood up and asked him why the violence? Big mistake, but I did it.

I asked, “What exactly do you want him to say? We have been saying the same thing since you accosted us, because that was how it happened. Now, the phone has been unlocked and searched.

“There is nothing incriminating on it, so why this torture?” I asked.

Maybe, I should have kept quiet. But as we say in local parlance, I don buy market {I was now in deep doodle}

The officer, who I later got to know is an inspector, came at me, raging like a mad bull, with punches and slaps. He then took me down, MMA style, using my slippers as a weapon. Then he stood up to get his pipe, hit me with it a couple of times while I tried to block the ones I could from getting to my head or face. I guess being an ardent boxing fan helped, plus I've watched many 'action films' so, I tried to dodge some of his punches too. Lol!

He got tired and went out fuming. He was screaming and shouting, asking why I should question him. Then the line I've always expected from them: do I want to teach him his job? He promised to deal with me and lock me up till Christmas. If na for night, he would have shot me and discarded my corpse. {saying, If it was night, he would have shot me and discarded my corpse}

He came back a few minutes later and asked me to take off my clothes. Before I could react, my white shirt was being forcefully removed. After they had done that, he got to my belt and pulled it so hard that the leather broke. My trousers had already gone down my waist, but with my feet still stuck, he resorted to pulling them off anyways. It was tight at the ankle, so while he was pulling, I was being dragged around the room with my bare back scrubbing the rough floor.

I could count about five policemen in the same room but none did anything. They enjoyed every bit of it. Some even consoled me by saying "this one sef small. Na when una reach inside the main cell una go see something”. {This one is even light. When you enter the main cell, you will get the main dose of our brutality}

Soon enough, it was my turn to write my statement. The one who took Cliff's was the same person assigned to me. I could barely hold the pen due to the pains in my hands, they were shaky. The officer noticed and asked me to take some time off to calm down. I was still in my underwear, with nothing else on me.

I managed to get a hold of myself and proceeded to write the statement, with the officer acting as my guide intermittently. Barely halfway through, the fair one who had earlier removed the cuffs from my wrist walked in and from the looks on his face, he wasn't pleased with my appearance. He asked what happened and I explained with the marks and sore on my body.

He took a second look at my ID card and sought audience with his colleagues.

Soon after, the one who was taking my statement called me into another room to tell me their oga has looked into my case and I could be on my way out of there immediately I finish my statement.

When I came in, my tormentor was also taking another hard look at my Press ID, turning it back and front. He asked me to get dressed and come sit by him, which I did. He then tried to apologize for his earlier actions, telling me how nice a person he is. The man even offered to buy me a new belt or give me the money to get a new one. Wow! Such quick turnaround? I declined his offer anyways.

They gave me back my personal effects and released Cliff as well. We both stepped out, stood for a few minutes to make sense of what we've just gone through. Nothing made sense. We promised to keep in touch and bade each other goodbye.

I got into my car, and made my way home. I could barely hold the steering nor clench a full grip or fist as the back of my hands were swollen, with pains on the left side of my body and a few bruises on my right elbow.

I stopped by a pharmacy, bought some painkillers, took them right after I had my bath and slept off. I woke up and it seemed the pains tripled. I called someone to help massage my arm, took some more painkillers and slept some more. This was the routine for the entire weekend. When I look back at the events of Friday, I realized I could have easily been killed, my corpse buried behind their building and no one would ever know what happened.

I thought ENDSARS ended SARS?

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: A friend in need…

7/12/2022

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

The day was already getting boring for me. I had gotten just a couple of short rides that don't give joy to any driver.

One of such rides took me to Bende Street in Rumuomasi and I got another from a small hotel (more like a chalet) heading to Psychiatric Road, but I was contemplating on whether to cancel or proceed, due to the heavy traffic on that route in the morning.

I got to the gate and indicated that I had arrived. The lady asked me to drive in. I sounded my horn but it seemed that there was no one manning the gate at the time.

So, I called back to inform her so she could just walk out to the gate to board the vehicle. The lady blatantly refused and told me point blank that if I won't drive in, then she wasn’t going in my ride. How does the small girl want me to step down, open the gate, then drive in, before she enters the car? Omo! The kind insult person dey receive for this work sometimes sha...e be as e get. {The kinds of insults we get on this job at times is mind boggling}

I just used whatever home training left in me to cancel the ride and drove off, but on getting to Shell gate, the same person booked again and I accepted. This time, a male voice responded, apologizing for the behavior of the girl earlier on, begging me to come back, since I might not have gone far. I reluctantly went back. I sounded my car horn at the gate and there was no one to open it. I called the number repeatedly and no one answered the phone. I've let these guys use me twice. I just cancelled the ride again, then went offline so as not to have a repeat.

I left that axis with Waterlines in mind, hoping to get a good ride there. As I turned onto the Rumu-kalagbor Road, the phone beeped, with a recognizable name displaying on my screen.

About six weeks ago, I had picked Judith from Woji Road late in the night. She was looking distraught, unhappy and a bit sad. So, I engaged her in a conversation and she was eager to respond. Judith was caught in a love triangle and it was weighing her down. She had affection for Mr. A, who didn’t feel a thing for her; whereas Mr. B wants to be with her, despite her not having feelings for him. Once again, a client needed my sound piece of advice. By then, we had gotten to her gate, where we spent close to forty minutes on the matter and others.

Imagine a pretty thick chic, with an attractive height and sexy body, self-employed and by all looks of it, doing well for herself, crying over a man who might not even be half as handsome as I am? This world no balance las las! {Eventually, life is not fair}

We promised each other to keep in touch as friends. She was supposed to travel for two weeks to clear her head and take care of a few pressing family issues.

I kept in touch with her a couple of times, but it seemed at the time like I was forcing the friendship, so I had to lean back a bit.

Fast forward to present day, as I saw the name and the location, I knew it was my Judith. Truly, when I reached for her number from the app, her name popped up. I smiled and dialed with my second line, the one I knew she wouldn't recognize.

As is common with many riders, she just asked politely where I was. I told her that she shouldn't worry because I was coming straight to her house to pick her up. My friend was surprised and she probed further, and I told her, I'm almost there. In fact, the dinner she promised me, she can as well turn it into breakfast for me.

I got to her gate, she came out almost immediately and was shocked to see me. Judith was full of apologies and I heartily accepted. Like, who I be sef to dey vex for that kind fine girl? I no fit try am, even if I wanted to. {Who was I to get angry with a pretty girl? I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to}

She said she wanted to go to Kilimanjaro at GRA Junction to get breakfast, return home before heading out to work. We got to Kilimanjaro, she got breakfast for two and some other nice edibles and we left for her house. She insisted I come in so we could devour our meals together inside. The second time I'll be 'RELUCTANTLY' doing something that same day. Kai!

We ate and she brought some small chops she made for some clients (she's a caterer), plus some nice drinks from her mini bar.

Then she went in to freshen up, came back and we helped ourselves to 'The Woman King' on her giant screen. I think we couldn't finish the film because we both slept off due to the nature of the drinks we had.

I woke up a few hours later, she had already served lunch... Atama Soup with nicely wrapped balls of eba, filled with assorted meat. I went in to have my bath as well, so as to look fresh, returned to the dining table for lunch. After which, we finished our movie, and we both headed out.

I dropped her off at work at about 2pm or thereabout. She thanked me for my 'wonderful company' while hoping we could have a repeat some other time. I assured her that she can always rely on me.

I didn't have the strength to work again that day, no thanks to the eba and Atama Soup that was already making me lazy. I just went home and slept through the whole day, woke up by 4:30pm, went to play football and that's how my day ended, with Judith playing a huge role!

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Beauty and the thief

29/11/2022

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My notion about Tuesdays have really changed over the past two months. It's no longer as boring as most of my colleagues have come to know and accept. I hope my testimonies don't jinx it soon. However, it's remarkable how I was able to turn the corner on this particular day.

The first day of November happened to be a Tuesday and it was very busy for me. One ride stood out that day and perhaps for the entire week.

I got an order while at Rumuokoro to pick up someone inside Nkpolu-Rumuigbo. I got there and the girl made me wait for more than ten minutes. When I called for the 17th time to notify her of my arrival, she told me "something just came up" so she won't be going out anymore? So make I cancel am? Just imagine the girl na!

I ended the call and sent her a message to express my displeasure over the unfair treatment. As I clicked on her number on my call logs to 'send message', an old message from May of 2021 popped up and it was me thanking her for being so kind and generous to me that particular day. I tried so hard to remember the incident, but couldn't. I smiled all the same and went my way. It would have been nice seeing her again and showing her the message. Perhaps, she would have had a better memory.

As I was leaving her street, I got another order, but a bit faraway. I decided to accept it anyway. That's how I headed to SARS Road to pick up Mandy.

She got in with her boyfriend, who later dropped off along the way in one of the estates over there.

One thing led to another and we both (or should I say just Mandy) started having a conversation. More like, she was just chatting on. I wasn't paying any serious heed to all her rambling. It was mostly about how she doesn't get the desired respect from men in general and the few ones in particular she's been with. She wasn't making any sense with her rants anyways.

As my car changed gear while on the Rumuokoro flyover, Mandy did same and switched topics too. She got into her kind of job and how she's made her money over the years. And that's what actually caught my interest.

Mandy is a staff of one of the popular popular posh bars in GRA. She serves guests and makes Sisha too. My heavily endowed client, on further probing from me, started giving me insight into her underhand dealings with guests of her establishment.

She told me how she inflates their bills in such a way that she rakes in between seventy to a hundred thousand naira weekly, and this is according to her estimates.

The few clients that almost found her out were usually swayed by her beautiful appearance and maybe, the fact that they would already be tipsy at the time. She told me that she spends loads of money on herself by getting the best of clothes, footwear, watches (she wears an apple watch), perfumes too… all of which give her a psychological edge and imposing presence when facing those clients.

Many of the customers at the bar are taken aback by her stunning appearance and even go on to add more tips so as to get her contact details. She knows how to use her feminine charms to get what she wants, I guess.

There was actually a down side of her chosen vocation and it was the fact that she made shisha as a side hustle.

Despite the gains, she was going through some health challenges which she claimed was killing her slowly, due to her constant exposure to the fumes and ingredients while preparing the much sought-after craving in most clubs and bars these days.

She recalled two incidents where she became dizzy, lost consciousness and eventually fell down the staircase at work. She twisted her ankle badly and she's still recovering from that incident.

The second one even forced the hand of her current boyfriend to give her a timeframe to quit her job, while he takes care of her bills fulltime. A proposition she threw at me for advice as she made her exit from my car.

I did not give an answer by the time we arrived at her destination. I guess you cannot win them all.

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Double wahala for ritualist and druggie

22/11/2022

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

I went to bed on Friday night with plans of heading to Buguma first thing on Saturday morning. I had already finalized plans with a client to take him there the next morning.

When my phone rang to wake me up, I thought it was him, but it wasn't Egbon Tunde who called. Dubem was on the other end of the phone, asking me to get to his house immediately. I enquired to know why and he said his kid sister was getting married that day and I had to take him to Imo State right away. I said okay.

I waited for Egbon Tunde's call for signal to head to Buguma, but none came. I preferred the Buguma trip because it was a shorter ride, even for a round trip. I'll be back in no time to attend to other clients, but unfortunately, I had to settle for Dubem's movement, after dragging my feet for an hour or thereabouts.

I got to his house, picked him up and off we went. The journey was smooth all through, up until we got to around Okehi Junction in Etche. We were flagged down by a tactical unit of one of the security agencies.

After a thorough search of our bodies, they proceeded to search the car. And that's when our ordeal started. They found a wig in the backseat and almost immediately, tagged us as ritualists. They said we're either on our way to use the wig for rituals or we are on our way back from the act. Omo! Na there I tear better laugh. I laugh wetin no good. {I just started laughing uncontrollably}

I approached one of them, and explained to him who I was and showed him my press card. I also told him what I did in Port Harcourt. I told him the wig belonged to my client's sister, who hurriedly forgot it in my car when I took her to get some stuff earlier in the day. The man would have none of it.

Before we knew it, we were directed to drive back to their station in Port Harcourt for further investigations. Two of them got into my car, while the rest joined their vehicle as they drive closely behind us.

We were allowed to make calls while making our way back to Port Harcourt. We got to the station and waited for the true owners to come identify their property using accurate verbal description and visual confirmation from their phone.

Despite all said and done, my client still had to drop something for the boys before they let us go.

But hey, that's not how my day ended.

We got to his house in Port Harcourt again and this time, another drama was unfolding inside.

One of Dubem's sister was on top of their eldest brother, dishing him some clean slaps in a bid to revive the young man. Kenneth was lying on the floor having some kind of seizure, while Adaobi was busy pouring water on him and slapping him intermittently.

She succeeded in ensuring that her brother didn’t join his ancestors that early in life.

Dubem asked those present to explain the sight that met us on arrival and one of his boys narrated the circumstances that led to Kenneth's convulsions.

They were out on an errand and on their way back, Kenneth picked up what looked like a small rolled up blunt on the ground, a left over. Man took it home and lit it. Upon dragging it 3 consecutive times, it almost fried his brains. His eyes rolled backwards and he fell down with the seizures taking over immediately.

It was Adaobi who came to his timely rescue otherwise, he might have been a goner.

My client picked the stuff up, examined it and gave a damning verdict on this particular substance. He said this very one that almost knocked his brother to the great beyond couldn’t be taken by just one person. It's usually a groupie thing and nobody drags it more than once at a stretch. It must go round 4-5 persons and after the second drag, the thing is put off and kept safely until those involved must have recovered from the effects. He further explained that this particular brand can't be finished in a day by 5 people.

Surprisingly, my client doesn't smoke. How he came about this in-depth knowledge and subsequent analysis of this substance surprised me though.

Well, Kenneth got back to his feet and within the next few hours I spent there, I saw him rolling something else at the backyard. No be me go tell am sey fowl no dey piss.

Our elders say that the tree that doesn't know how to dance, will soon be taught so by the wind.

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Fear and death at Satan’s door step

15/11/2022

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

Weekends are usually fun, but hectic for us in this E- Hailing business. They are extremely productive for both conventional cab drivers and E-hailing drivers. All of us dey cash out. {We all make loads of money}

A regular client woke me up Saturday morning saying we urgently had to get to his village in Ngor Okpala LGA, Imo State because 'dem wan pay for him sister head' that morning. {Prospective suitors were coming in to start the marriage process}

I got up, washed the car and headed for his place. I picked the bride to be and two of her elder sisters. They also grabbed a few items they'll need and fired straight down to their village. I returned to Port Harcourt at about 3pm and went back to my unfinished business (sleep) immediately. Both my body and vehicle needed adequate rest after such a long and tedious journey to and from Imo State.

I got back on the road at about 9pm and the orders kept coming in back to back.

Around 11pm, I got a ride from Udi Street in Diobu. I responded and headed to the pick up spot. I saw five young men approaching the car in front of me. My windows were already up and the doors firmly locked. Two of them then approached me that I should take one of them who is a printer to Alakahia, near Choba. I agreed, but the issue was that the guy had only N2000 for the ride, even though it was displaying N3,000. They pleaded and pleaded and pleaded some more. Oh well, I agreed, but on the premise that it should be done offline. And that's how I took the printer to his destination.

On my way back, while approaching Wazobia FM, the phone beeped again. I parked and immediately, the call came through. A sign that the client was in a hurry. It was about a quarter to midnight.

The caller identified himself as a doctor, stating that we would need to pick up a patient at a health centre, then proceed to his own hospital.

I immediately agreed.

“Oya, where we dey pick the person up from?” I asked. {Okay, where is the pick up point?

The Doctor said Aluu Boundary area. Omo! My ear stand, my heart skipped a bit. I checked the time again, and it was almost midnight.

“Where's the drop-off point?” I asked again, and he said Ogbogoro! Heheheeh!

Both locations were frightening, based on the time on the clock. He tried frantically to convince me, saying the patient was a pregnant woman in labour and needed urgent attention.

I told him I'll go, but he should come out with a form of identification and I'll be at the junction of Wazobia FM along the East/ West road waiting for him. He agreed to this.

A few minutes later, I saw a young guy approach from the passengers side. He knocked on the window while trying in vain to open the door. I just took down the glass a bit and asked him to identify himself. He opened his wallet and brought out a complimentary card instead. The name on the card didn't match the one I saw on the app. And there was no photograph too. I had to be careful. First, it was very late at night. Second, the pick up location and drop off point were suspect. And finally, there had been repeated cases of Bolt drivers getting robbed and sometimes killed too. I really had to be careful.

I shared my concerns with him, explaining that the complimentary card did not belong to him and as such, I was already suspicious. He wasn't even carrying a stethoscope or any medical equipment to make me believe he was the doctor he claimed to be.

My guy asked that I call the number on the card, because truly the card was not his, but to his boss, who's the owner of the hospital. He was assigned to pick up the patient and bring her to the hospital at Ogbogoro due to the urgency of the situation.

After some back and forth, I called the number and a more mature voice answered and explained that indeed the person with me was his assistant. I inquired why the guy did not have an ID on him.

“Because if we pick up the woman and she's unconscious during transit, we could run into security operatives, so how do we explain ourselves at such an ungodly hour?”

He too started his own round of trying to convince me. At that point, I've had heard enough. I let him in and we set our destination for Aluu. While driving, I was very observant too because he was fiddling with both of his phones. So many thoughts ran through my head, my heart racing a bit at intervals.

I reached for my phone with one hand and typed the name of the hospital on Google map. However, what I saw made me ask my passenger if their hospital have other branches and where are they located. He said it's only the Port Harcourt branches he's aware of. I still wasn't convinced, so I called his boss and posed the same questions to him. He said the same thing. I told him Google search on his establishment is showing me the exact same names in Onitsha and Umuahia, so how come he isn't aware of these.

He said he is, but I'd have to add his name to the hospital's name before I might probably find it online. Na wah! We were almost close to the Aluu Boundary junction at the time, so the one with me pointed that I take my left, as if I'm going to the Uniport axis. Everywhere was just dark and quiet.

But, in less than 5 poles from the Boundary Junction, just beside the police post there, he said I should enter the health centre on my right. My blood pressure reduced a lot when the policemen outside flashed their torchlight in our direction. Honestly, I never thought I'd be so happy and pleased to see the men in black. I looked around and noticed the signpost of the health centre too. I was relieved now.

We drove in and the woman was brought out by her husband and a two nurses. She was already bleeding. We placed a mat on the backseat for her to lie down. The husband drove behind us as we proceeded to Ogbogoro, passing a few OSPAC {Local Vigilante} checkpoints and explaining to them our mission.

We got to the hospital in Ogbogoro and the nurses on duty helped her inside. The doctor paid me and I went my way. Did one more ride and called it a night.

The next morning, it was the good doctor who interrupted my sleep with a sad news...the patient lost the baby. He said the baby was already dead by the time they got to the hospital.

It was indeed such a telling way to kick off the day's activities.

I could not focus on my driving for the day. Was it my fault? I know I delayed, asking loads of questions because of my fear. Maybe, if I had set off for Aluu immediately, the baby would have been saved, I thought to myself.

I parked my car to call the doctor.

“Hello Doc, it’s me again,” he greeted me and I wasted no time to ask.

“Doc, I bin dey think of wetin happen yesterday. I mean with the baby and all the time I delayed, asking those questions. Could it be that we could have saved the baby if we had gotten there, say, thirty minutes earlier?”

I asked, waiting to hear that it was my fault, but I did no hear that.

“Bro, that baby was long dead. It had nothing to do with the delay on your side. The baby was long dead."

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Payback is a bitch, but what do women want?

8/11/2022

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

In terms of least productive days on this job, majority of my colleagues would pick Thursdays right behind Tuesdays. However, for the past couple of weeks, it seemed Thursday was changing to Tuesday as the least productive day on the job.

And so, it seemed Thursday might just top the charts if it puts in more efforts to be less productive to us. The mornings are usually dry due to the mandatory sanitation exercise for business owners in the city. So shops are usually locked till 10am. And when they're open afterwards, you still can't find clients anywhere. Everywhere go just dry.

This past Thursday was already looking gloomy. I was even getting bored and sleepy due to the inactivity. So most times when I don't get rides for a long period of time, I just drive straight to the Town and Borikiri axis.

On or before I get there, my phone MUST beep. It's a ‘tried and trusted’ model for me. I decided to engage my old tricks and by the time I got to Waterlines, I got a ride. Unfortunately, I had stupidly climbed the flyover. So, I had to go turn at Garrison in order to get to my client in one of the parks at Waterlines. Thankfully, he didn't even notice the long detour and I got there in good time too, since the roads were still free.

Mr. George boarded and we turned to face the Government Reservation Area, GRA en route to Eagle Island. He looked confused and troubled. And he was mumbling things to himself.

Then all of a sudden, he turned to me and asked, “young man, what do women really want?”

I won't lie...I been wan laff die! {I wanted to laugh out loud, probably laugh him to scorn} It seems my new client wasn't informed too! That his question will go unanswered till we both pass away. Because we all know that nobody, not anywhere, knows what women want. Even the women do not know, and I challenge them to tell us what they want.

Anyways, I told him me sef still dey follow find the same thing wey women want, but it seems after today, I'll stop seeking. {I told him that I am also seeking to know what women want, but that after today, I will stop my quest}

My spontaneous response lit his face a little. We were close to Casablanca at this point and he said we should stop for a drink and possibly breakfast. Omo! This is every driver's delight. Na so I rush enter one popular fast food at the junction of Abacha Road there...no time Oo. {I rushed into a popular eatery at the junction of Sani Abacha road}

We got food and drinks, sat down to eat and that's how Mr. George narrated to me, the genesis of his question.

He's married with children, but like most men, he's got a very hot side chic. Yeah, she's hot. I know this because he showed me her pictures. He funds and maintains her adequately.

Now, she's supposed to be his escort to business trips outside the state, but she has missed the past two outings, with this current trip being the third.

So, while away in Enugu, he sent someone to check up on her. The news and evidence the person brought back were not palatable at all. She has a boyfriend that comes to sleep in the one bedroom apartment he rented for her at Alakahia, around the University of Port Harcourt area.

Now, my man wants to exact his pound of flesh. After examining a variety of ways to do it, we settled for what we both thought at the time to be the most painful option.

First of all, I took him home. He insisted that I stayed with him till 4pm. Why? His girlfriend would be at choir practice by then because she won't miss it for anything in the world, thereby making our plan easier. You want to know what our plan was?

I called my man who owns a nice truck at Mile 3 Park. We all set out in a convoy of vehicles, heading to Alakahia. We got to the girl's building, (Un)fortunately and true to his projections, the babe wasn't even around at the time. So, Mr. George used his own key to gain access into the apartment. I was wowed. Tastefully furnished at the expense of my client like he explained earlier.

To cut short, this long story, we wiped the place clean, leaving it empty for the next tenant (if possible).

Then we drove to his mother's house in Town. My man told his bewildered mom that he brought those items to furnish one of the guest rooms in her house. Very funny. Well, it was safe to say that the items fit perfectly in the room there.

Chido, my truck man got paid and Mr. George saw to it that I got paid a full two days' wages for my efforts and support during one of the most trying times in his life.

I saw him again today three days later as he called me to take him to the airport as he left for a business meeting in Abuja. Like the past three occasions, Mr. George is going on a trip without his regular handbag.

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Weapon of Mass Destruction

1/11/2022

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

A popular adage from back in the day was , ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,’ even though I do not know about now and whether it's still being used on a regular basis like it was during my days.

Well, my clients last Sunday clearly had the above phrase in mind before deciding to leave their army barracks for the Government Reservation Area, GRA to have a good time.

Their pick-up location was and still is, the most popular building at GRA which is always overflowing with our revered 'ladies of easy virtues'. Not even the ban, once, of their activities could send the place and its clients into oblivion.

By the time I got to the pick-up point, both men were already outside, ready to go and so they just jumped in and the journey started. I already knew where they were headed, so I didn't bother asking for confirmation this time.

One of them, Nduka, obviously from the East was making a call initially, while Saliu, his colleague was of Northern extraction. Immediately after the call, Nduka blurted out in frustration, "O boy, that girl na idiot o. Na very stupid girl. See as she just make us spend money and nothing come out.” {That girl is stupid. She just made us spend our money needlessly}

At this time, my ears popped. These were the kinds of stories I loved to hear. I stayed focused on my driving, but I was paying full attention.

“Na very stupid girl. Na this small thing she dey run upandan?” Saliu said in angry frustration. {She’s very stupid. Running away because of this small thing}

“Chai! Na wetin make I like North fa. This kind thing no dey cause trouble.” {That’s why I like Northern Nigeria. Things like these are nothing}

Nduka chuckled loudly, obviously at his friend, Saliu, then he said words I was not expecting.

“But you sef, which kind thing you dey carry waka sef? I don warn you before.” Nduka asked, almost tongue in cheek {But why do you carry such heavy artillery with you?}

The exchanges continued back and forth until Saliu decided to give detailed narration of what earlier transpired.

At this point, all the antennas in me stood up, in anticipation for something exciting.

From Saliu's explanation, Amaka was their friend and after a series of chats and phone calls, she agreed to have sex with both of them that day. That was how these two fine gentlemen left their military base to GRA to service the rifle between their legs.

But after Amaka had 'enjoyed herself ' with plates of pepper soup and some bottles of drinks to put her in action mode, she and Saliu made their way upstairs to the room, while Nduka stayed back a bit to sort out a few things, including the bills and to finish up his drinks,

So, while in the room, she went into the bathroom to freshen up. Saliu had already gone full 'Adam mode', waiting on the bed. But, what she saw on her way out of the bathroom almost knocked her out.

Saliu's weapon of mass destruction (WMD) was the biggest she's seen in her career. She shouted, according to Saliu, and immediately started to dress up again.

Well, if she agrees to take this in, there might be no more career to go back to.

All pleas by Saliu to her fell on deaf ears. Not even the promise of doubling their agreed sum could sway her. Nduka had joined them by then, but he too was helpless to prevent her from leaving.

They didn't want to cause a scene, due to their status in society, so they just let her be. That's how, after cocking their rifles, in anticipation of shooting a few shots and rounds, they left the place disappointed with everything still intact. I could imagine how heavy and blue their balls would be at that point, due to the inability to empty its contents.

But, out of curiosity, I asked Nduka if truly his friend was truly packing heavy artillery between his leg. He replied in the affirmative saying that's how Saliu got his nickname: Missile.

If not for home training, I almost requested for visual confirmation and on the spot assessment and further verification. Of course, I couldn’t have done that, but it was funny that a woman whose job was to take in artillery, saw one and ran off. It must have really been a weapon of mass destruction.

But I did ask him how he came about such goods hanging loosely between his thighs. He said they usually took things and things (concoctions) up North for various purposes.

I queried further, I asked if those northerners we call 'Aboki' hawking substances for all kinds of issues including sexually related ones, are for real, and he said yes, they were. He added that I could get roots for jumbo size if I so desire. I know better than to underestimate them henceforth.

Well, as we approached GRA, the conversation switched gear and we found ourselves talking about the state of the nation. Another round of frustration set in.

Saliu and Frank were clearly not happy with how life has been made so difficult for Nigerians by those in power. I then teased them by reminding them of the reported salary increment and improved service conditions announced and approved by their Commander In Chief last Christmas, a claim both men vehemently debunked, claiming it was all 'audio promises', as nothing ever materialized.

They weren't the first people to make this assertion though. Numerous times on the roads and highway, I've always teased the policemen with this and they all say the same thing that nothing was given to them. So, I wasn't surprised to hear it again.

They said the last time military personnel enjoyed such upward review of their emoluments was during the administration of the late Yar Adua and Goodluck Jonathan. It was at this point that I chipped in the fact that their present Commander in Chief was one of them meant that they should be enjoying better welfare packages. They just shrugged it off saying that isn't the case.

One of my big ogas {bosses} usually reminds me of this saying: It's not the sex that bothers him. But the efforts exerted looking for it.

Despite their botched 'happy hour' moment at GRA, Saliu and Nduka were determined not to give up. Perhaps they might have drawn some sort of inspiration from their various battlegrounds or so, where in the face of defeat, they were able to turn the tide against their foes.

And so, while on the Ada George Road, they both remembered a pretty damsel that works close to a fuel station. So, they made contact on phone and a green light was given. I was directed to the place and that was where our trip ended, instead of their barracks. They paid, saved my number, and promised to call me for future movements. They're still JJCs in town and would like someone to show them a few hot joints when they are in possession of some 'Conference Materials'.

I readily agreed, but mainly due to the fact that I'll now have some military men in my corner to call upon whenever push comes to shove. Hmmmn!

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Two faces of the ASUU strike

25/10/2022

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

After a protracted dispute between ASUU and the Federal Government that lasted for about eight months or thereabout, Nigerian students have been asked to return to the classroom for academic activities to resume once again.

In fact, it took the judiciary to force the hands of the aggrieved University lecturers to abandon their industrial action.

This particular scenario has been like a reoccurring decimal in the annals of the Nigerian education system. In some ways, we are used it and have to accept it, and maybe, even expect it to happen during the tenure of one administration or the other.

Students returning to schools have opened our eyes to the fact that a lot of things will happen in the next few weeks.

First, more then eighty percent of the returning students are not readt to be back to schools. Second, exams, especially for the first year students was fixed for a week after resumption. So, they want students who have been home for eight months to suddenly be ready for exams?

I have oft said it that there will be four possible outcomes of the examinations.
1. the students will have to study hard to pass their exams
2. Cheat on it, copy, carry Nje {Hidden materials that will help} and all, just to pass.
3. Save money to pay the lecturers for a good grade
4. For the girls, be ready to trade sex for marks.

But this is a story for another day.

In a tiny community where I come from, it is said that, when two elephants fight, it is the grass that suffers.

The Nigerian students have continually borne the brunt when these two bodies go head to head against one another in their battle for supremacy. Some students come off worse than their other counterparts as a result, while some very few wise ones make very good use of the situation to improve themselves.

Victoria finds herself in the latter group, whereas Gift is the leader of the former and I'll tell you why because both ladies were my clients at some point in time.

I got a call one fateful day from this sweet voice. She was very nice and friendly. She told me a mutual friend gave her my number as someone she could trust with her deliveries. My face beamed with smiles for such glowing commendations. One of the hallmarks of a very good business person.

She wanted me to pick her up at her lodge in Alakahia, then proceed to the airport together to pick up her goods that just landed, then straight to her shop somewhere along Ada George road. We bargained to a very reasonable fee for my services and I immediately set out to pick up my new client. While on my way, I called the lady friend who linked us and thanked her for her kind gesture.

I got there in time to pick up Victoria and we moved straight to the airport. Her goods had arrived and we loaded them into the boot and back seat of the car. Bales of clothes well packaged and delivered by flight. I was impressed with how such a young girl could afford the transportation by air.

We got talking during our ride down to her shop on Ada George road. Victoria is a final year student of the University of Port Harcourt, but due to the strike, she has been stuck at that level for almost a year. Instead of sulking and staying at home idle, she took up entrepreneurship and in less than a year, she's doing very well.

We got there and I helped her unload her goods into her shop. She sells female 'Okrika clothes' in her boutique at very affordable rates and she says business has been very good. I recently saw her post where she was even unhappy that school has resumed because she's now making it in her chosen like of business. I teased her a bit and we laughed over it.

A few weeks after I met Victoria, I crossed path with Gift. Gift and her friend booked a ride from Choba heading to one of the popular joints in GRA. They were going to groove with some guys that invited them. Both skimpily clad ladies were at the backseat retelling their adventures since the beginning of the strike.

Then Gift cut in when the first issue of resumption came up during their discussion. She became a bit sad. She told her friend that few days after the strike started, she had already collected about Eight Hundred and Seventy Thousand Naira (N870,000) from her father to cover her school fees and accommodation. And as it stands now, she has squandered every Kobo of that money. I nearly stepped on the breaks in the middle of the road. Her friend screamed with shock stamped all over her face.

Oya, wetin you carry the money do na? The friend asked. Gift had nothing tangible to say. Clothes, smokes, and flexing were all I could make out from the flimsy excuses she tried to conjure up.

Okay, how you go do now if school open again? Her friend quizzed further. There was a minute silence held in the car as we all waited to hear her response. Again, nothing tangible came forth.

Luckily, I had gotten to GRA and made way for their destination. I quickly swiped to end the trip, got paid and zoomed off to a nice spot, observing and feeding my eyes with the sights of the other ladies of the night lined up along the streets of Woji Road, while also processing all I just heard in the car.

Now that academic activities have resumed, I thought about Gift and wondered how she intends to dig herself out of this hole she put herself in.

On the other hand is Victoria, who now has a thriving business and a degree in waiting too. Smart woman!

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Meet the husband snatcher

18/10/2022

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

When older people say things like, “It is the current generation that will end the world” I laugh, because I do not believe there is anything happening now that has not happened before.

However, since I started driving a Bolt, I have seen a lot of things happen that makes me believe Gen Z will be the end of this world. Again, not that these things have not happened before, but the frequency with which I encounter them and the brazenness, is another story entirely. This is the story for this week.

I'm usually not a fan of African movies, whether Ghanaian, Nigerian or Congolese, I rarely watch any. Maybe, in times past, I did, on a regular basis, but these new breed of actors and their 'Asaba movies' are not for me. Maybe because dem dey 'overdo' the storylines and all that.

However, an incident occurred this past week that made me agree with some of the things I see in Nigerian movies of the Asaba stock. And I kind of began to agree that the story lines of these movies are a reflection of our larger society.

Now, usually, the incident I'm about to share with you tends to be on the screens a lot, so, maybe, if I hadn't heard this tale myself, I might have shrugged it off as a mere figment of any producer's imagination.

I got an order inside one of the Universities in Port Harcourt. This was as news began to filter that the Academic Staff Union of Universities, ASUU had called off their eight months strike. The students were from a Faculty touted to have the most beautiful girls in any university and they had probably gone to check up on their project supervisors, or whatever.

Four beautiful ladies graced me with their presence as they boarded my car, but two soon alighted at the main gate. As soon as these two got down from my car, the main gist started. Let me add that these ladies were really pretty. I had to notice.

Janet looked worried and visibly disturbed. Obviously, she trusted Benita more than the other two, and that's why she waited for them to exit the car before sharing her problem. Or, maybe, it was also due to the weight of the matter at hand. By the time she started to speak to her friend in the car, even the matter weighed me down.

Note that all four of them were best of friends, from the same department at the University.

Well, Janet has a male bestie that is married to her friend. According to the gist, I gathered it she who made the introduction and hooked both her friends up the first time. John, Janet’s bestie married her friend a year later, but the marriage wasn’t working as expected. The couple kept on having issues.

Janet, is a Christian, the kind you will call ‘Born Again’. So, when John, her bestie who was married to her friend came to her to share his marital issues, she invited him over to her church and kept bringing him along to prayer meetings, day and night. The idea, according to her, was to help her bestie find a spiritual solution to his marital squabbles.

It was after one of such prayer sessions/ outings that the unthinkable happened.

“We closed very late,” Janet told her friend in the car.

I stretched to reduce the volume on the radio a notch or two. I had to hear the gist well, and I didn’t want them to notice I was reducing the volume on the radio, so I did it slowly.

And Janet’s story continued.

“We closed late and John could not go back home that night because of the cult clashes that happened in the area the previous day.

“He actually wanted to go, but I advised him not to take the risk and nothing was more important than his life.

“Those boys were reckless and deadly, so I advised him to come and sleep at my place that night then go home in the morning,” Janet sounded like she was either crying or holding back the tears as she was speaking, so I imagined immediately that they did the do that night. But I continued to listen as I drove on.

Na there wey kasala burst. According to her, one thing led to another, and there was a genitalia meet and greet session. In fact, several ones that night and even one for the road in the morning.

Now Big John, having tasted another coochie different from his wife's, probably vowed that this was not going to be his last foray into Janet's honeypot. He went on to institute divorce proceedings against his wife. In fact, he now feels he needs a godly wifey perhaps. You remember that Janet is of the born again stock.

But what broke Benita was when Janet revealed to her that the embattled wife in the story she just told was Amara, one of the two girls that alighted at the school gate from my car. One of their best friends. They were a quartet.

Benita was angry and asked me to stop the car immediately. I could imagine how she felt. One from their circle of friends has been crying out to the other three for a while that her marriage is on the brink of collapse as her husband has another woman. Now, she finds out that the other woman is one of them. A member of the quartet, who made the hook up, was chief organizer of the wedding and has been part of the other three girls who has been advising their friend in distress?

As Benita got out of the car and slammed the door, Janet couldn't hold back her tears and it started flowing freely. She had tried to stop Benita from leaving the car, but failed.

It was a mixed bag of emotions filing me up as well. It was one of those things you hear and you just stop and look into space, wondering what the world had turned into. It was also one of the most absurd things I had heard in my short lifespan on earth so far.

When we got to Rumuola road, I looked through my rear view mirror at Janet. Our eyes met and hers were red. Maybe she truly regretted her actions, or it could have just been crocodile tears too.

She then asked me, amid sobs, “Do you think I am a bad person? Please advise me on what to do?”

I told her that I would need some time to digest the story before having an opinion.

She duly accepted my terms and I promised to reach out to her in a few days’ time.

So guys, this week's episode is all about analyzing Janet's problem and thinking up a solution, if any. It was all too much for me.

I rest my case!

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: The coconut debacle

11/10/2022

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By Victor Kwame Sampong

I have always held this particular pastor in high regards. He commands a very large following in Rivers State and Port Harcourt in particular.

He goes with fancy slogans, a unique motto and an impressive array of philanthropy that are easily the hallmarks of his ministry.

He has traffic wardens and dancing security guards going abroad, rehabilated ladies of the night getting trained in one skill or the other, mass weddings of older people are some of his highlight reels.

Others include provision of shelter for widows and the homeless, free restaurants, boutique, schools and the one that brought me here... a free hospital scheme.

It was Tuesday and as expected, it was supposed to be a bad day in terms of returns, but I made a post on WhatsApp at the start of work: Tuesday, bring me good tidings, and maybe, it did.

The words, like magic started turning out well. There were long rides which brought in something 'hooge' and at some point, I checked my phone's calendar to be sure if the day was still Tuesday or not.

One ride took me to Alcon Road in Woji. Turning into Nvuigwe, my phone beeped to receive my next order, despite still being on one. I clicked to accept anyway, because I was almost at the drop-off point.

I quickly dashed to my next client's location after I was done with the previous ride. Got there and met two men. The one who booked asked me to take his friend and his sick wife to the church of our highly respected pastor...or so I heard. But first, we needed to go get the wife from the house.

I drove into the compound, waited while the man led his two young daughters to the car. His wife was too weak to even stand. The man had to lift her, like you do your wife on your wedding day, into the front seat. She was very sick, no jokes here.

I kept wondering why they were going to a church, instead of a hospital. Well, it was when we got to the entrance of the church, as I tried to cross to the other lane, that's when the husband told me it's the free hospital in Aluu that we're supposed to go to.

I looked at the phone again and told him what I saw there was the church. But no wahala, let's continue. Both man and wife were members of the ministry, with the wife a chorister.

None of us knew where the hospital was located within the Aluu community so we resorted to asking questions on the road. Luckily, we found it and got to the gate. After sounding my horn several times, the security guys came out and asked us why we came? I was taken aback by the question. I had to reply if he was working in a farm or a shipping yard, because the question was unnecessary.

The man approached him to open the gate for us to drive in because his wife was sick and needed attention. They both refused, stating that their hospital policy requires everyone to park outside the premises. One even said that the G.O. walks on foot into place, that's to show how strict the policy is.

They further stated that the woman won't even be allowed in with or without the car, unless she has an appointment or any of the management staff gives the order. At that point, I was visibly pissed. Because, I've never heard any hospital on earth deny anyone entry, much less with such flimsy reasons.

The husband was calm, as he tried to explain to them that they are church members, and his wife's position in the church. Plus, he had spoken to a senior pastor already and one of the admin who directed them to come there.

Unfortunately, both top men were unreachable on phone at the time (maybe due to the fact that they were in the Tuesday service going on at the time, like the wife explained).

All manner of pleading fell on deaf ears. They turned us away.

It was the woman who asked her husband in a very faint voice to get in and let's head back to the church instead. Maybe, they might be lucky to see any of those men there.

We eventually left there, but not without me giving them a piece of my 'bad mouth' due to the anger boiling me. Seeing the woman in pains and her infant daughter also crying too. It broke me.

We got to the church and the man once again, lifted the woman, all by himself into the auditorium. I followed them to double the chairs so the woman can sit properly without falling.

Two female ushers were close by, watching us, but none made a step to either come close to assist the couple or even help with the kids as they were crying. One later came when we don do everything finish. I nearly push am fall for ground sef. {One came after we had finished and I nearly pushed her to the ground}

My first time inside that complex and at the free hospital, but I'm already having mixed feelings about the picture painted about the church and schemes in general.

I hope the man or any of his top generals see this and try to take steps to address it though.

As for me, I took half the intended fare and bade them farewell!

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Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Another Day To Fear Women

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Black days, good money and some dark business

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Another Day, another Story

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Night of so many beauties

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Pimping on the job

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: I thought #ENDSARS ended SARS?

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: A friend in need…

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Beauty and the thief

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Double wahala for ritualist and druggie

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Fear and death at Satan’s door step

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Payback is a bitch, but what do women want?

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Weapon of Mass Destruction

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Two faces of the ASUU strike

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: Meet the husband snatcher

Memoirs of a Bolt Guy: The coconut debacle

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