In Nigeria, your mechanic is not just a mechanic. He is a doctor, a counsellor, a detective and occasionally a philosopher. When your car starts making a strange noise, you do not call your best friend. You call “Oga Mechanic.” And when you get to his workshop, the same words come out of your mouth that have come out of millions of Nigerian mouths before you. Here they are.

The Opening Statements

1. “Oga, na small thing abi?”

This is not a question. It is a prayer. You are begging the universe to let the problem be a loose wire or a small screw. The mechanic looks at the engine for one second, sighs deeply, and says, “Make we first check am.” Your heart drops into your shoes.

2. “It was making one kind of sound.”

Then you try to imitate the sound. “It was going krrrr… then kpa kpa kpa… then small whistle.” The mechanic nods like he understands car language perfectly. Meanwhile, the apprentice is trying very hard not to laugh.

3. “It was working fine yesterday.”

Every car in Nigeria was working fine yesterday. The car decided to retire overnight without sending a notice.

The Negotiation Department

4. “How much last?”

The most important question in Nigerian economics. The mechanic gives you a price. You laugh like he told a joke. He laughs too, but his laugh means he is not joking.

5. “Abeg, don’t change anything you don’t need to change.”

You say this with the seriousness of a lawyer. Because you have heard stories. Stories of people who went to fix their headlamp and came back with a new gearbox, new tyres and a new mechanic’s phone.

6. “Make sure you give me the old part.”

You have no idea what you will do with a used brake pad. You will keep it in your boot for two years. But you need proof. Trust, but verify.

The Waiting Room Wisdom

7. “Will it be ready by evening?”

The mechanic says, “By 4 o’clock, it will be ready.” You arrive at 4 o’clock. The car is in the same position, but now the bonnet is open and the engine is outside, sitting on a mat like it is attending a picnic.

8. “I’m just going to branch somewhere, I’m coming back.”

You say this to escape the heat. You go and buy suya, gala, a bottle of water and a phone charger. You return two hours later. The mechanic is eating too. Everyone is at peace.

The Final Words

9. “So what exactly was the problem?”

The mechanic explains with a long technical speech: “Your plug dey misfire because of carburettor balance, and the fan belt don loose small, so the engine dey take too much load.” You nod slowly, understanding nothing, and say, “Oh, okay. I thought so.”

10. “If it does that thing again, I’m bringing it back o!”

You say this as a warning, as you drive away. The car makes the sound again before you even reach the junction. You reverse quietly. The mechanic is already standing there, waiting, with his spanner, like he knew.

A Toast to Our Mechanics

Jokes aside, Nigerian mechanics are some of the most creative engineers in the world. They can fix a car with a cloth, a nylon, a piece of wire and pure confidence. They keep our old cars running long after the manufacturers have given up on them. So the next time you visit your mechanic, buy him a cold drink. You might even get a discount. You won’t, but you might.

What have you said to your mechanic that is not on this list? Share this with that friend whose car is always “at the mechanic,” and add yours in the comments!

Featured image: Photo: “Karavan car mechanic” by MarcinMonko, CC BY 2.0, via Openverse — source

In most parts of the world, “five minutes” means three hundred seconds. In Nigeria, “five minutes” is a spiritual journey. It can stretch from a short walk to a full Nollywood film, and it has stages. After careful research (we waited for our friend Tobi for two hours last Saturday), the Mairago team has identified the eleven official stages of “I’m five minutes away.”

Stage One to Four: The Home Phase

1. Still in bed, scrolling

The person is lying down with one leg hanging off the bed, watching skits. Your call comes in. They answer with a fresh, energetic voice: “I’m almost there!” The blanket is still on them.

2. Looking for what to wear

The bed is now covered with clothes. Three outfits have been tried and rejected. They text you: “Traffic is crazy today.” The only traffic is in their wardrobe.

3. Taking a bath

You call again. They don’t pick up. Twenty minutes later, they reply: “Sorry, I was driving.” They were in the bathroom singing.

4. Searching for the car key

Everything in the house has been turned upside down. The key is eventually found inside yesterday’s trousers. This stage alone can take fifteen minutes and one argument with a younger sibling.

Stage Five to Eight: The Journey Phase

5. Finally leaving the house

They lock the door, walk to the gate, remember they forgot their phone charger, go back inside, find the charger, and leave again. They send you a voice note: “I’m on my way, I’m close.”

6. Stopping to buy fuel or “something small”

There is always a quick stop: fuel, recharge card, a bottle of water, or puff-puff from a roadside seller who refuses to be rushed. This stage is not mentioned to you at all.

7. Real traffic arrives

Now they actually meet traffic, and they send you a picture of it as evidence. “See it! Look at this road!” You are supposed to forget that they told you about traffic one hour ago when they were still in bed.

8. “I’m turning into your street”

This is the most famous lie in Nigerian history. They are not turning into your street. They are turning into a street that might one day lead to your street. Possibly.

Stage Nine to Eleven: The Arrival Phase

9. “Which gate again?”

They call to ask for directions, even though they have visited you seven times before. “Is it the blue gate or the black gate? Is it after the mosque or before the church?” You walk outside to wave at them like a traffic warden.

10. The parking negotiation

They finally arrive, but now they need to park. They reverse, move forward, reverse again, call you to come and guide them, and then decide to park somewhere else entirely.

11. The grand entrance

They walk in smiling, fresh and relaxed, and say the magic words: “Ah, you people have started without me?” You started two hours ago. The food is finished. The event is ending. But they are here, and somehow, everyone is happy to see them.

How to Survive a “Five Minutes Away” Friend

• Always tell them the event starts two hours before it actually starts.
• Ask for a live location, not a promise.
• Bring a snack while you wait. You will need the energy.
• Love them anyway. Every group has one, and if you can’t identify yours, it might be you.

To be fair, Nigerian roads and Lagos traffic do give everybody a genuine excuse sometimes. But we all know the difference between “traffic” and “I just woke up.” Your friend knows it too.

Tag that friend who is always “five minutes away”! Share this list and tell us in the comments: what is the longest you have ever waited for someone?

Featured image: Photo: “Early General Electric Colored Wall Clock” by alexkerhead, CC BY 2.0, via Openverse — source