While thinking about what to write, my thoughts presented me with the funny and crazy things I did to get my first transistor radio.

How I got my first pocket radio

Salmyking

Just when we returned home from Northern Nigeria, my mother took me to her elder brother, who is an electrician, for an apprenticeship. It was when I was there that I met my first friend in Okeho, Tola. Tola had this antennaless radio, whose reception is heavily reliant on small lengths of wires joined together and attached to the antenna hook. I traded my meal for Tola's radio, just for me to listen to. It was then that I fell in love with OGBC 2, 90.5 FM, and Premier FM, 93.5 FM. I did this several times just to listen to my favourite programs at their scheduled time. Sometimes I used to trade my dinner just for him to let him take the radio home, only to return it the next day.

My uncle noticed that I was getting skinny and he asked me what was wrong. I told him I'd not been feeding well. Then he promised me that he would be giving me ₦100 every week. And he gave me the first one that night.

Tola was happy for me. He was willing to give me his radio free of charge that night to celebrate that feat. Then a thought popped up in my mind. "Tola, have you considered selling your radio? " If so, how much are you selling it for?" I asked teasingly.

"If I see like ₦250, I go sell am" he answered.

I was thinking to myself, why not? If my uncle is consistent in discharging his promise, it will only take me five weeks to pay if I'm paying ₦50 to Tola weekly. I felt inspired. I handed Tola one of the two ₦50 bills my uncle gave me. And he handed the radio over. A week passed, and my uncle gave me another ₦100. I gave Tola ₦50. That means I'm owing him ₦150.

The third week came. Silence was all I heard from my uncle. I explained it to Tola, and he understood. The following week, silence again! Wahala! Tola is not understanding again. I left the shop without bidding him good night that night. And he knew why. I walked as fast as I could. I feared he could be following me, so I did not pass through my normal route. I got home.

The next day, he was like, "Tunde, you didn't even bid me goodnight yesterday." I was like, "I'm sorry, I left hurriedly because I had somewhere I had to be."

I was just six months into my apprenticeship. I barely knew anything. Then a man came and asked for Tola. "Please, is Tola around? I need him to help me look at something in my room. " He's not around, and my mind was pushing me to tell the man that I could stand in his place. Finally, I yielded. "I can help you, sir."

"Are you certain you can?" The man asked, and I nodded in the affirmative.

In the man's room, he was busy explaining to me what he expected me to do for him. While I was pretending to be listening to him, I was busy scheming about how I would handle the embarrassment that would come after he was aware that I wasn't even close to being half-baked but just some ingredients. Lol.

He handed over the appliance to me. I unscrewed it, dusted the dirt I found within the appliance, and there stood the man looking at me condescendingly. I could hear his mind saying, "Is this guy okay?" I switched my focus to what I was doing while praying that it would work. I screwed the appliance back on. And by some magical intervention by some invisible spirits, the damn thing worked. Danburoba! The man gave me ₦350 and I returned to the shop with my mouth sealed. I used ₦50 to buy some "Speedy" biscuits, poured it in my pocket, and then I began reading the novel someone had lent me some days ago. I was at it when Tola appeared, literally rimming the thin air. Remember, I was still owing him ₦150. And I don't want him and my uncle to know that I went for an "outside job," as we used to call it. It's not about the money, but the fact that I'm not fit for it yet. They would be worried that I could cause harm to their well-protected reputation. "So, I locked up." And Tola would even become more suspicious if I had paid him because he knew that the tip from my uncle had been halted. The shop closed for that day. I was walking home majestically, knowing full well that ₦300 was somewhere lying gracefully in my right pocket. Then I heard someone calling my name. Tunde. Tunde. I already knew who it was. I stopped. Yeah, Tola it was. You think I won't know, abi? Oya my cut, then balance me! " That was him talking arrogantly. I didn't even bother asking him how he became aware. I just wasn't interested in that. I was busy doing some mental sums. His cut was ₦150, his balance, ₦150. Haa! My money cannot be spent in this manner. No way! No way!!

Tola, take ₦250 for your cut, and balance. And so we never met again. I handed it over to him with a very strong face. He knew I was vexed, so he offered to accompany me home as if I was some kid. That's how I got my first radio, Sha.

I used to walk around picking up discarded used batteries and sun drying them for re-use. I saw the elderly put their batteries on their window sill and I copied it. Agba koni tan lorile ó! I don't know who taught them that, but it worked. Even though it doesn't last long.

シェア - How I got my first pocket radio