Dapo dazzled his dad as a first child. He doubly dazzled his mum as a dashing, handsome and never-a dull-moment honcho who knew how to master the labyrinthine lane of Lagos life.
By Taju Tijani
What a life! Family and friends had gathered at the Murtala Muhammed International Airport to receive Dapo back to the country he left with fanfare thirty years ago. They wore sombre looks. There was the look of disbelief and sadness all around the milling crowd. Two loyal friends from his Igbobi College days were there. An old flame he met at the University of Lagos was part of the crew to reintroduce Dapo back to the reality of life in Nigeria. He had vowed never to return to Nigeria the moment he tasted the apples of London.
In the 80’s Dapo had everything going swimmingly for him. Dad was a lawyer. Mum trained as a teacher in London. He went to a posh primary school at Surulere. He had a roaring time at Igbobi College and ended his tertiary grind at the University of Lagos. He studied mechanical engineering which he hated with passion. His consuming interest was in Pharmacy, but fate had another plan for his young ambition. Tall, debonair, sartorially sharp, intelligent, suave, considerate, and flirtatious. In the 80’s he lived on the fast lane and traversed the rough edges of Lagos city limits. He had access to all the club joints from Allen Avenue to Ojuelegba.
He lived the life of a hedonist and would have preferred a permanent life in the mythic region of Nirvana. He articulated the spirit of the 80’s – in his grooming. The baggy trouser and platform shoes. The bushy Afro. The Black Power salutes. The freedom to roam free and wide. The parties and its orgies. Dapo was a bundle of fun, fantasy, and radical energy – at play, at work and on the streets. It was impossible to suppress his hunger for the good life and his consistency to devour life like a carnivorous animal.
In the 80’s the world was too ready to tolerate the excesses of a spoilt brat from middle class region of Surulere. He exhibited the normative paradigm of a cultured, polished, pretentious, and well-bred man. Dapo dazzled his dad as a first child. He doubly dazzled his mum as a dashing, handsome and never-a dull-moment honcho who knew how to master the labyrinthine lane of Lagos life. Dapo was audacious. He was a master weaver who could charm the naira out of a miser. He had a knack for derring-do. His short stint as an engineer with Costain West Africa Limited ended in scandal.
Costain, so the chilling story went, had organised an end of year party for all the staff at Shell Club in Eric Moore in Surulere. Dapo came in his dad’s Mercedes Benz – a flaming, gleaming, bang-up black colour. He wore a white shirt, tuxedo jacket and a black trouser. He looked magisterial and smelled like Otedola – oozing millions of dollars. As a fine charmer, it was reported that such social skill had the side chick of his boss in mesmerised awe. Chief Bode Dehinde, the high priest of the party was Dapo’s boss. He was in high spirit as the party got into a full swing.
Bimbo Bamgbose was the true bimbo of the party. Chief Dehinde was truly besotted by this bomb of a side chick. Dapo was expected to subvert his high sense of macho at the sight of his boss’ girlfriend. He exhibited no oblique hint of concern that he may destroy his career with Costain. His street cred was at stake, and he dare not disappoint. Chief Dehinde called Dapo and introduced him to Bimbo. Immediately, there was a rush of adrenaline in both young, lustful lovers.
“Look after Dapo at the party. He is one of my best workers,” Chief Dehinde cooed into Bimbo’s ear. That night Bimbo ended up in Dapo’s hideout in Surulere. That was the end of his career at Costain. The badge of Casanova fitted him well throughout the 80s. Until… Yes, until the dad shipped him off to the UK to further his studies, gather work experience and possibly raise a family. He flew into UK in late 80s. He stayed with Bankole aka Bobo Banky who happened to be a local fixer. Peckham in the 80s, 90s and early 2000 was the heartland of cultural melting pot for Nigerians. Nija bars, barbers, brothels, restaurants, grocery shops and weed joints dotted the streets.
Dapo absorbed the high, low, conceit and humility of Peckham with studied calm. He could see stories of resilience and toughness on the faces of Nigerian hustlers who had left home for the UK for better life. But Dapo had led a life of a top dog. Therefore, he could not harbour any patrician sympathy for life on the slow lane – life of the underdog. The low lifers. The crawlers. He craved for the life on the fast lane. The Yuppie syndrome had gotten us in its mindless wave in the late 80s London.
Dapo Doherty could not divorce himself from the hedonism he exported from Nigeria. He got consumed under the parade of light, glamour, wealth, drug, and opulence of London. The matriarchal nature of London had Dapo in a bog of cultural confusion. Peckham introduced him to marijuana.
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He made some money. He bought a gleaming Beamer, Saville Rowe suits and expensive watches. He fell in love with an Ethiopian woman called Obse Wase. Obse was fair, hairy, pretty and a junkie. She was born, bred, beaten and disvirgined in East London. She spoke perfect Queen’s English but beneath the gloss she was a troublemaker. Obse brought the disturbance that will redirect the course of Dapo’s life. Obse was part of Dapo’s County line drug business. The Police had been watching the couple for some time.
Then a breakthrough. A female mule used by Obse grassed when cheated out of her percentage. She alerted the Police, and the rest became the talk of the town for a while. At around 03.00am the Metropolitan Police swooped on Dapo’s residence somewhere in Essex. The Police found consignment of weed, cocaine, and skunk. Stolen credit cards. And a loaded handgun. The presiding magistrate ordered deportation after Dapo’s sentence. Dapo did not betray any emotion. After 15 years at Pentonville Prison and a shattered reputation, darkness truly enveloped Dapo.
At the Murtala Muhammed International airport, they could barely recognise him. He had grown a bushy grey beard. The sass, glamour and verve for life had given way to missed opportunity and despair. He stared hard into the motley crew who had come to receive him and gritted his teeth at seeing his old flame. Dapo who travelled out a young man full of vigour and vitality was returned home a broken, older man into the chasm of darkness called Nigeria. What a life!!!
