A Few Good Men

Image: Livguard

I had barely left my street heading to church one Sunday when my car started to act up. Sparking sounds emanated from the engine; an issue my auto electrician had just assured me was resolved only the day before. It didn’t take long for me to decide that it would be safer to park and investigate the issue further.

On the opposite side of the road from where I stopped was a truck driver backing his long container truck into an available parking spot there. Now, this fault is something that had damaged the brain box of my car in the past, (or at least that’s what I was told was responsible) and so I was not willing to take any chances.

The day being a Sunday, I wasn’t likely to get a mechanic easily and so I approached the truck guy parked on the other side of the road for some help. Thinking about it now, I’m wondering why I felt he could help; I guess I felt driving a truck implied that he was more technical than the average driver. 

As I approached him, speaking in Yoruba, erroneously assuming that he was a Yoruba man, he responded saying he didn’t understand me as he didn’t speak the language. I switched to English and then enlisted his help. He promptly offered to come have a look. 

Looking at it together we had a good idea what the problem was, we however didn’t know what to do about it. My concern was that the sparks emanating from the wires hooked up to the plugs would damage other components, the least of all not being the brain box.  Now, I was surprised at two things. First was how committed this guy was to helping me find a solution to the problem; and second was the number of really good ideas he came up with to remedy the situation.

The road was just adjacent to his loading point and so quite a number of people knew him and greeted him. Two men later came to join us after noticing him, they almost intuitively just joined him and started helping out as they conversed freely in Igbo amongst themselves. A third guy would later join in and pitch in without being asked as well.

He tried hack after hack, modifying along the way and eventually came up with a plan that could eliminate or drastically reduce the crackling from the engine coil pack. The rather simple hack would involve super glue and some sand to seal off a couple of spots that he observed were the sparking was most obvious. He went to a nearby shop to look for the glue without any luck. The nearest available place was quite some distance and just as he was about to set out, the two men that had first joined us insisted that he let them go and help him get it. Reluctantly he acceded to their request and gave them the money, completely ignoring my request to allow me provide the funds for them to go get it.

I had been thinking of how much I would have to part with as compensation for all his troubles, his sheer dedication to helping me out and now that his buddies were involved, perhaps something that would go round for all four of them. No one in their right mind would sweat under the sun for close to an hour working on a car that wasn’t theirs, not knowing the owner from Adam and not expect something reasonable in return. This is Lagos after all, no one came to count bridges. 

Deciding to be proactive and creative in settling the other guys, I asked him if I could get them all some drinks for their time, effort and work in this hot weather. My thinking was that the other guys would have been sufficiently appeased so as not to ask for their own ‘something’ when I was appreciating him with the 500 bucks I was planning on giving him after they were done. So while the other guys were away, I asked him if he wouldn’t mind some drinks, an offer he immediately refused. I however told him I was getting it for the other guys as well and that he shouldn’t deny them that and hurriedly went off to get the drinks before he had a chance to insist on me not going.

The guys were able to get the super glue and they kept at it until after a few tries they were able to minimize the sparking. It was agreed that with the fix, I should be able to get home in one piece. There was a sense of fulfillment in their achievement, they felt accomplished at being able to sort the issue out. I handed them the drinks I had gotten for them and they were full of praises for the gesture.   

As I entered the car to leave, I dipped my hand into my pocket and made to give him something for his trouble and he very firmly rebuffed the idea, urging me instead to just forget about it and hurry home. The other guys joined in and told me not to bother and that I had done exceedingly well already by getting them drinks.

To be honest I marveled at their attitude of simplicity, generosity and solidarity. The first thing that came to my mind was that things would have turned out quite differently if the guys were Yoruba and that they’d probably either give me a bill before commencing to help out or expect or demand for compensation after they helped out. I however quickly realized that this was faulty thinking and that I was guilty of stereotyping. Yoruba, Efik or Ibibio men could all be capable of such benevolence as they were not bound to certain behaviour because of where they came from. Good men are good men, irrespective of where they come from and there are still a few of them out there.