The Generator That Has Its Own Bank Account In My Compound

My neighbour's generator has a name. They call it 'Iya Ibadan.' It has its own feeding allowance, its own mechanic on speed dial, and a small exercise book where they record how many hours it runs each day. I am not joking. The generator is more organised than some civil servants I knew in the ministry.

Every evening around 7pm, the whole street knows when Iya Ibadan comes on. You hear the sound from three houses away. Then you hear the children shouting 'light don come!' even though NEPA has not brought any light. It is the generator that has come. But nobody corrects them. We just clap for the generator.

My own small Tiger generator is in the backyard, quiet, humble, no name, no diary. It just works when I pour petrol. And petrol is now the real landlord. At ₦1,360 to one dollar, even the generator is looking at me like 'Baba, are you sure about this life?' I have started switching it off by 9pm sharp, whether there is light or not. The Yoruba say bi oba ti ri ni mo ti n ri. If the king cannot afford it, the chief must manage.