Tankers Under the Bridges
Bamidele Adedeji is a cement tanker driver. A highly respected Ogah from the Yoruba people, he hails from a village called Oguro, in Osun State. He has worked with Oyinbos (the Peeled People) for twelve years.
His job is to collect cement from the factories in Shagamu and Ewekoro and deliver it to construction projects across Southwestern Nigeria. That’s why it’s only fair to call Bamidele Chief Tanker. His role carries great responsibility—and even greater danger.
Now, Bamidele Adedeji once told me something curious: under many bridges in Nigeria, you’ll often see the rusted skeletons of old tankers - fuel tankers, water tankers, cement tankers.
I asked him, “Chief, why is that?”
And so, Bamidele Adedeji explained it all to me, step by step - how tankers end their journey not at their destination, but under a bridge or near a culvert.
You see, Nigeria has its own Traditional Traffic Laws. And honestly, given the local reality, they often make more sense than the Oyinbo laws.
One such law is the Rule of Right-of-Way. According to the traditional code, a driver approaching an intersection must first look left, then right, then enter cautiously—but only if no vehicle larger or stronger is doing the same.
“Let me break it down,” said Chief Adedeji.
“A trailer has right-of-way over a private car. A loaded truck outranks an empty truck. But even trailers must bow to military vehicles, especially those carrying armed soldiers.”
And towering above all: the tankers.
Fuel tankers, cement tankers, water tankers—they are the gods of the road. Nobody argues with a tanker. Each is commanded by a Chief Tanker like Bamidele, and supported by two loyal assistants known as Motor Boys.
It is important to understand that the Motor Boys come from the same village as the Chief Tanker. He selects them, and they are usually from the same clan. Relatives of the Chief Tanker.
Bamidele Adedeji's Motor-Boys are from his family, and they admire him for his ability to control the roaring metal beast and make it submit to his will.
They handle the less dignified tasks, like cleaning the tanker every now and then, parking it when required.
And occasionally, during Goslo (traffic jams) they push vehicles to the right and left, to clear the path for Chief Adedeji.
Chief Adedeji wears a traditional Agbada, with wide-sleeved robe, worn by the honorable Ogahs in the Yoruba land. The Agbada makes Bamidele Adedeji looks much bigger than he actually is. At the same time, even without the Agbada, Chief Adedeji is extra-large.
It is important, for very important people, to look bigger than they actually are. Because it suppresses attempts by various people to argue with them about one thing or another or about Owo (money.) Especially about owo (money). The bigger you look, the fewer people question your authority.
His sheer size and his title as Chief Tanker, provide Bamidele Adedeji a special status in the social food chain of the Oguro community and indeed Bamidele Adedeji is highly respected among the residents of the Oguro village and the surrounding villages.
Obviously, Bamidele Adedeji drives on the road without slowing down the tanker, even not as slightly as it might be necessary.
Bamidele Adedeji says that all the other vehicles and drivers on the road respect him. He is proud and pleased, when drivers slow down their vehicles. Some even get off the road when they see him approaching. That's how much they respect him.
It would be disrespectful, not to mention embarrassing, if Chief Bamidele was forced for one reason or another to slow down, just because a smaller car is coming from the opposite direction of the road. Humiliating.
This is the kind of things that Chief Bamidele cannot conceive of. The small vehicles must respect the tanker and especially respect Chief Bamidele Adedeji, the chief tankers from Uguro.
Of course, the simple fact is, that those who drive cars coming from the opposite direction, have no clue who drives the tanker, and have never heard of Chief Bamidele Adedeji from Oguro.
On the other hand, who wants to drive on those narrow roads opposite a big tanker that doesn’t slow down. Better stop, and let Chief Bamidele's tanker pass. Besides, these are the traditional traffic laws in the Yoruba Land.
Chief Bamidele sees every such moment as a badge of honor, a personal triumph, which enhances his prestige in his own eyes. Rest assures that his two Motor Boys will tell the story in the village about the respect he is receiving, and this will boost his prestige in the eyes of the village residents, and maybe even in the eyes of the chief of Oguro himself.
One day, as happened to Chief Bamidele, another massive tanker was driving from the opposite direction in full speed. Just like Chief Bamidele. Both tankers were heading toward a narrow passage, a small bridge.
Now, the traditional right-of-way law does not provide a clear ruling for this situation where two tankers, of the same size, full speed, travel opposite each other and approach a narrow passage such as a bridge.
Chief Bamidele later realized the truth: that the other tanker was also driven by a Chief Tanker, also with two Motor Boys from his village, and that this Chief couldn’t possibly slow down either.
There is no such option, to slow down..., what would the two motor boys say later in the village, if he slows down the tanker? This could be a great embarrassment and a huge humiliation to his family and injury to the status of the chief.
The same thought is going through the mind of the other chief tanker.
So, they drive at full speed, no matter what, just not to lose face in the village.
And so, the two chiefs drive their tankers at breakneck speed, as usual, and they can't afford to slow down. Who knows what goes through their minds. They have a few seconds to make a decision.
Bamidele Adedeji tells me that at the last second, a strange sensation crept over him, fear. He was fearful that maybe the Juju is not around, and he could lose at once both his life and the respect he gets in Oguro sooner than planned.
So, just in front of the bridge, he quickly swerved to the side of the side, to avoid the head-on collision with the coming tanker and with the bridge. The other driver, Chief Adebola Oladayo, from the other tanker, did the same.
Chief Adebola Oladayo had no chance to tell his tale. His tanker was a fuel tanker, and His tanker burst into flames instantly. Clearly, Juju was not around at that moment. Or maybe he was.
Chief Bamidele later told me, “If I had known that was Chief Oladayo coming, I might have slowed down. But then again—why didn’t he slow down?”
And that, my friend, is why under so many Nigerian bridges, you’ll find the remains of tankers.
Because the drivers have no fear.
And Chief Bamidele says: “The more intelligent you are, the more fearful you will be.”
I agreed with him. After all, even Andy Grove, the CEO of Intel, wrote a book titled Only the Paranoid Survive.
So maybe fear isn’t such a bad thing after all.