My quest to beat the long fuel queues (now a reality in Lagos) was gong awry before my very eyes. Where was my old hose? This wasn’t what I had planned for today.
I had attempted a day earlier to set out “on time” to buy fuel. While driving by, I decided to stop and queue at Texaco filling station Alaka. It was 7.25am and having observed a moderately long line of cars, I reasoned that the line meant that there was petrol at that station. I also believed that the long line would advance rapidly since the station had three pumps with two nozzles each per pump, and large premises for easy movement.

Or so I thought.

Five hours later, the line barely advancing, I began to have second thoughts. A stroll to the station and I saw that fuel was being sold from only one nozzle out of all six! On enquiry, I was told that the [ump was the only point in the station that had any fuel. After observing the “VIP entrance” (with several cars waiting to pay the requisite N200 to gain entry without joining the long queue), the multitudes of “jerry cans” held by black marketers and others, and multitudes of “okada” being carried one by one into the station over the barriers, I decided to abandon my task and spring my trump card by waking up earliest the next day to beat the trap. I hadn’t realized that the problem had gotten this bad.

On waking up the following day by 4.30am to carry out my mission, the car refused to start. The fuel must have been exhausted! What a tonic to start my day.
I took out a 25litre can from the trunk resignedly and set out to look for “black market” fuel in order to at least get my car to a fuel queue early as I had planned.

On getting to Ojuelegba (on Oando station half a mile from my house) at 5.15am, I was surprised to see a long queue of “danfo” (Lagos commercial buses). In spite of that, I wasn’t prepared for what I would shortly come across at the station.

It was fully open and there were total of four vehicles and hundreds of jerry cans with all manner of touts and miscreants collecting money from black marketers and other “area boys”.
“owo e da”? a gangly pockmark faced apparition with two misplaced front teeth and a chewing stick bobbing up and down the side its mouth had appeared, it seemed, from nowhere, kicking away a row of cans queuing at a pump while dealing a heavy blow to a hapless urchin standing nearby. A skirmish ensued with “chewing stick” quickly proving his deadly mettle. The urchin eventually “settled”. Observing this, I quickly begged one who looked a bit authoritative to help me with my can. After initially demanding N3000, my pleas eventually brought the price down to N2000. “but e no go full o”! I agreed, and the nozzle was thrust into the can.

Having bought the fuel, I lugged it back home and began wondering how to safely pour this precious substance into the car without spilling a drop if I could help it. I remembered my trusty old friend the hose. This was an inanimate object which had virtually monopolized contact with my lips during the Abacha/ Abubakar military years. Then, a hose was an unquestionable ubiquity. You needed it to siphon fuel either from or into your car or jerry can (equally ubiquitous) for as many reasons as a fuel scarcity could bring up. Everyone had one then, but I couldn’t seem to find mine now! Having rummaged everywhere with little success, I glanced at my watch.

5.45am! My “Joker” in this game was becoming an ugly joke!

I eventually made do with a substitute and got some fuel into my tank, zooming off to find a place to queue before it became too late. All stations I came across in Surulere were overflowing with long queues, and wasn’t yet six!

I began to think this plan wouldn’t work after all.

I headed out to the island with the famous “NNPC” as my destination. On the way, I branched at the “Oando” station on the Marina close to the Net building. There were only 3 cars. Having confirmed there was fuel, I decided to queue and wait till the station opened to sell.

While regaling the other drivers with tales of the resurgence of the bad old “hose days” and what I had observed this morning, a man strolled over towards our direction.
“Fuel dey for Texaco at Igbosere. No queue. In fact I filled my tank long ago”!

We decided to give the place a try.

Fifteen minutes later, I had filled my tank and was on my way home. I had “settled” a total of N300 for my purchases. Cheap at the price, in my opinion, considering what was going on in other parts of Lagos. I passed by the “Oando” at marina on my way, where a fresh queue had built up, and yelled out through the window “Texaco igbosere. No queue”! Through my rear view mirror, I observed some bolt into their cars to head for the place while others stayed put. That was Lagos for you.

Now to get home and find my old hose in order to siphon some fuel from the tank, for a rainy day . . .

Please look at the blog above i find it deeply interesting and proves that as Nigerians our very worth is divided up into but a few hands,

Abu