I hate going to the office on Saturdays. That’s not surprising, considering the fact that I don’t really like going to the office at all, even during the week. Every day I grumpily wake up by 5 a.m to the shrill sound of my alarm, wondering why in the world Adam had to eat that cursed fruit and get booted out of Eden. Shebi if he hadn’t eaten it, we all for dey nonstop groove inside that beautiful garden by now, naked, and not having a care as to how food will climb the table. Needs however dictate must, so I make the effort to at least hustle for the basics. I don’t like work, true, but I like hunger far less.

This particular Saturday, I had to be in the office to tidy up some leftover work in a bid to prevent a logjam during the next week. After two hours of some serious paper pushing without any distractions, I was pretty much done and ready to head back home. Then I decided to take a quick toilet break before hitting the road.

Now the toilet in my office is not too shabby as toilets go; consisting of a row of eight closets on one side and six urinals on the opposite wall. Usually busy during working hours, on that Saturday it was empty as expected and I chose the last closet on the far side to do my business in.

I’d barely taken a seat on the throne when I started hearing muffled voices coming from one of the other stalls.

Voice 1: “How far, o ti yo jade” (How far, have you brought it out?)
Voice 2: “Beeni, mo ti yo.” (Yes I have)

A slight pause.

Voice 1: “Kini ti mo n wo yi ti to bi ju, se o sure pe o maa wole sha?”(This thing I’m looking at is too big, are you sure it will enter?)
Voice 2: “O maa wole, eeyan kan maa rora kibo ni.” (It will enter, one will just have to insert it carefully)

Instantly my ears pricked up, the business I had originally come to do was totally forgotten. Warrisdis? Inside the toilet? Impossible!!!

Now fully attentive, I pressed my ears to the wooden partition, straining to pick up every tiny sound.

Voice 1: “To o ba so bee. Duro na, bawo lo se gun to?” (If you say so. Wait, how long is it?)
Voice 2: “Six inches pere ni, mo ti won tele.” (It’s only six inches, I measured it earlier).
Voice 1: “Okay,joo rora sha o. Ko dee maa wo omo mi.” (Okay, please do be careful. And watch my hand)
By this time I could no longer stand the distance and suspense or the different crazy scenarios that kept popping up in my head. So I quickly left the cubicle, careful enough not to make any noise, and walked closer to the stall where the conversation seemed to be coming from.

A shuffling sound was next, and some grunting. I just stood there almost on tiptoe, waiting to hear what would happen next.

Voice 1: “O ti se tan?” (Are you done?)
Voice 2: “Beeni moti se tan.” (Yes I am)
Voice 1: “Oya fi aso yi nu egbin to o se s’ile yen ka jade. A a mo boya eeyan le wa nta to fe lo bi.” (Now use this rag to wipe the mess you made off the floor and let’s leave here. Who knows if somebody is outside waiting to use this place)

More shuffling and movement, then finally the door opened.

Out came two plumbers.

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