If you have ever lived in a Nigerian compound, you know that the most dangerous words in the English language are not “We need to talk.” They are: “Landlord says all tenants should come downstairs by 7 p.m.”
That message landed on our compound WhatsApp group on Tuesday evening, with three exclamation marks and a voice note from Baba Landlord himself. The voice note was mostly background noise of a radio, but we managed to hear the words “emergency,” “water,” and “nobody should be absent.”
The Gathering of the Tenants
By 7:15 p.m., every tenant in the building had come downstairs carrying their own plastic chair, because Baba Landlord’s chairs are reserved for “important visitors.” We arranged ourselves in a circle like a village square meeting.
There was Mr. Okon from Flat 2, who always comes to meetings with a notebook and never writes anything. There was Madam Joy from Flat 4, who sells pure water and somehow brought a full bag to sell during the meeting. There was the young couple in Flat 6 who always look like they are planning to move out. And there was me, in my slippers, praying it would be short.
It was not short.
Agenda Item One: The Water Tank
Baba Landlord stood up, adjusted his cap, cleared his throat for a full minute, and began. “I have called this meeting because of the water tank.”
We nodded seriously. The tank had been leaking for two weeks, and the pumping machine made a sound like a goat with a cold.
“But before we talk about the water tank,” he continued, “let me talk about the gate.”
And just like that, we left the water tank. We would not see it again for the rest of the evening.
The Gate Debate
According to Baba Landlord, somebody had been leaving the gate open after 10 p.m. Everybody immediately looked at the young couple in Flat 6. The young couple looked at each other. Then the husband looked at the sky, like he was expecting a helicopter to rescue him.
Mr. Okon opened his notebook, looked at it, and closed it again. Madam Joy sold two sachets of water to the gate man.
How the Meeting Travelled the World
From the gate, we moved to the issue of people spreading clothes on the balcony “like a market.” From the clothes, we moved to the generator noise from Flat 3. From the generator, we somehow moved to the price of tomatoes, then to whose child kicked the football into Baba Landlord’s window in 2019.
At one point, Baba Landlord spent fifteen minutes telling us how he built the house with his own money, “one block at a time,” while we all nodded like students in a lecture we had heard many times before.
Madam Joy had sold her whole bag of water by then. She was the only person who made a profit from the meeting.
The Contribution Surprise
Then came the part every tenant fears. Baba Landlord brought out a small paper and announced that each flat would contribute money for “maintenance.” Mr. Okon finally wrote something in his notebook. It was the amount. He underlined it twice and sighed.
The Grand Ending
At 9:20 p.m., two hours and five minutes after we started, Baba Landlord said, “Okay, I think we have covered everything. Meeting adjourned.”
Somebody at the back whispered, “But what about the water tank?”
Baba Landlord paused. He looked at the tank on the roof. The tank looked back at him and dripped quietly.
“We will discuss it at the next meeting,” he said, and walked inside.
We all carried our plastic chairs back upstairs in silence, like soldiers returning from a long battle. As I climbed the stairs, the pumping machine started its goat noise again. Na so life be for compound.
What We Learned
- An “emergency meeting” can last longer than a Nollywood trilogy.
- Always bring your own chair, and maybe a snack.
- The agenda is just a suggestion.
- If you sell pure water, every meeting is a business opportunity.
What is the funniest thing your landlord has ever said at a tenants’ meeting? Share this with your compound group chat and drop your landlord stories in the comments!
Featured image: Photo: “Central Park Lake” by guillenperez, CC BY-ND 2.0, via Openverse — source
