Ọmọ ọlọ́pẹ́

Over two months ago, I returned to a saner community, which has extremely slow people, but comparing to the craze I'm coming from, it's a breath of fresh air. Spending over ten months in the epicentre of Nigerian madness did a lot to my brain wiring.

Each time I go out into the big hot world, I typically get irritated by the human contact and take social distancing very much personal because imagine getting home and smelling like you know…multiple humans.

That's besides the point today. I spent most of my time in the epicentre, wondering how there are so many young people (XY chromosome carriers mostly), being distastefully threatening outside there. 

There's an MO to the appearance of the group I'm dragging in this post. Typically, we call them omo olope, or more recently omo dangbana choco. They've earned this name by being the face of "drug users" cum irresponsible lot in public. Dropouts, young and full of energy, lounging on the road side and catcalling girls. It really doesn't matter what you're wearing, or whether or not you're pretty, they just seem to derive pleasure from knowing you're scared of them, or putting it in your subconscious that they're watching you.

It would be a lie if I said even males like them aren't scared of them, because of course, they're as menacing as they look.

Here's the gist, they'd rob you in broad daylight and there's nothing you can do about it. So one major lesson you pick up is how to be invisible and mutter a silent prayer under your breath that they ignore you. Best yet, keep your gadgets away from the light of day. I remember a bus driver telling me to put my phone away as we approached a a notorious bus-stop. He said they'd grab it and walk away (not run, BTW) and there's nothing I can do about it. All I could say was "Fascinating".

What does an omo olope look like and where would you find one?

Not to be stereotypical, but it's always the hair. Dirty locks or unnaturally dark and straightened. Combs aren't a part of their lives. The jeans are expectedly dirty and torn (not ripped) and the sneakers are well….not sneaking. It's quite common to find an omo olope with blonde hair mingling with his guys at the NURTW stop and harassing bus conductors.

 Their voices are cracked, hoarse; a product of the unrefined alcohol in sachets that they consume every chance they get. Not all of them smoke, some even take agbo Jedi because health is wealth and who's gonna look after their baby mamas when they're gone. What else to improve their life expectancy than the yellow broth that's being sold to them from a huge pot by Iya Nuru? 

These ones have no regard for "divine feminity" and it's not about some patriarchy versus feminism hassle, they really just operate on the smash-and-go level.

It's also pretty common to find them as proud members of the no-belt gang and Chelsea fans and on nights of champions league final matches, they take knives as their armour of banter.

I saw a female omo olope some weeks back and she was quite interesting. The cheap tatoo running across her cleavage and the red pomo skin that covers her body. She's not a walkover, and she's learnt to own her territory. When she walks in the hood, even the boys know she's not a soft meat.

I watched an exchange by these unruly young men and wondered why there are so many of them, everywhere. Education has failed them, drug addiction has snared them and they have no hope in sight. Someone casually mentioned them meeting sudden death and I realized how short their lives end up being. The lucky ones end up becoming an NURTW chairman in the hood or buys a paragon bus and three Okada that deliver differently to his four wives. 

It's not pity, it's fear. A fear of the future we toy with. If these are the leaders of tomorrow in their constituencies, then maybe tomorrow should never come.

Image credit: Pinterest, Premium times, vibeng