Papi in the yard with yardists.

Good day yardists, to the average Nigerian there's really nothing good about the day and I'm a Nigerian, the Nigerian, in fact I am the average Nigerian. Anyway, as you all know, my name is Papi & no it's not a nickname, that's my name, see, let's not fuss over my name except say na you born me or na you name me or you dey there when them born me. In my previous epistle, I talked about the yard and it's occupants, briefly I'll talk about my Uncle, his battalion and how we all had to squeeze ourselves in just two rooms. Before I came to Lagos, each time my Uncle came to the village, he always created the impression that Lagos was like London and he bragged about his very many "properties", yes properties in quotes because the only properties I knew he owned were his "okada", a pregnant wife and eight children- you sef open mouth abi, na so ooo, now imagine all of us occupying just two rooms, na real suffer, but all of them seemed happy and used to it, but me- no way, that was when I appreciated the fact that my father was indeed a big man- a village big man, I had a room to myself in the village furnished with a mat, reading table and chair. Anyway, my Uncle and his battalion were verified yardists, all the yardist attributes could be found in his family, one good thing about my Uncle was that he made sure food was surplus and he also made sure that his family dressed well and looked like "aje butter", when asked why he had so many children, he quoted a verse from the Bible, I don't know the book or the whole verse, but I remember part "....blessed is the man who has his quivers full of them." Case closed!!!. I heard my Uncle was the Chairman of the okada riders association, didn't know how true that was, all I know is he went out early in the morning and got back late at night and he was always spending, while his wife sold akara, fried yam and peppered ponmo (if that's not the spelling of ponmo, drop your rants here \_____/) from morning till night too and I loved assisting her- yes I was that nice, because I loved seeing the faces of her customers abi, abeg na the chopping wey dey involved jare.
Bathing and using the toilet were parts of the yard I didn't find funny at all especially using the toilets, most especially using the shalanga, using the shalanga required a scientific approach, you had to position your shitty bumbum such that your smelly shit dropped into the hole- bullseye without messing the pit's surrounding up, God help you if your stool was watery and without control- enough of the shitty shit house. wait!!! There was another scientific wonder about the pit house, once the pit looked like it was getting full, salt was poured in, and shit reduced- marvelous. The bathroom was another ordeal to deal with, you had to queue to get a bath, some people knew how to expedite bathing that you'd wonder if they just did "rub and shine", if you asked them if they bathe at all, you would hear something like "why I go waste time for bafroom, when no be say I sleep inside soakaway", while some others wasted so much time that you would wonder if their sins were so much that they were washing away.
The other part about the yard that was not fun was sleeping at night, you see, sleeping in a room with eight other people required skill, like special skill, all your senses had to shut down completely to enjoy your sleep, especially sense of smell, hearing, and feeling. Let me explain, there was the smell of generator fumes, dried sweat, unwashed armpits and farts, then you also had to deal with the sound of the "I pass my neighbor" generator, snores, loud farts, sleep-talkers, mosquitoes, flying cockroaches (so annoying) & rats running about. Lastly, if you had annoyingly extreme sensitive skins, then you'll have issues with body heat, punches, kicks, sweat, rats/ants/cockroaches crawling over your body and of course the infamous mosquitoes. Sound sleep in the yard was something I never enjoyed, nine people in a room meant you had to take up a suitable position early, before everyone settled in or you would sleep in a position that would leave you in pains when you woke the next day.
For my Uncle and his family, the yard was heaven, for me, the akara, ponmo and plenty food was the only attraction that made me not pack my bag and run back to the village, cause each night I nursed the idea of going back, but the thought of the food I was getting kept me. In my father's house, there was comfort but food wasn't this much, In my Uncle's apartment, apparently I was the only one that wasn't comfortable, but I always had more than enough to eat, so I could cope, I mean, what was comfort without a good stomach structure? Scratch that, man must wack biko.

You people keep asking me questions about "Yardism" see that thing is a broad course on it's own, I cannot categorically elucidate, so I'll refer you to the pioneering fathers of the subject "Yardism" Prof. Tony Akaralafe @tonypox and his assistant Prof. Chi Bambino @chivaneze. Coincidentally Prof. Tony Akaralafe wrote a book titled "Yardism", (see the picture) published by Famuyide Olawale Publishers @famuyideolawale . Visit a bookstore near your yard.