Austin "Jay-Jay" Okocha, the legendary Nigerian footballer, was known for his dazzling skills on the pitch. But one sunny afternoon in Lagos, he became the center of a different kind of spectacle.
This is the funny tale of how Austin Okocha ended up in a local restaurant, causing a commotion that no one would ever forget.
It was a typical hot afternoon in Lagos, and the busy streets of Ikeja were filled with the usual hustle and bustle. Mama Nkechi's Buka, a popular local restaurant, was packed with customers enjoying their lunch.
The air was filled with the mouth-watering aroma of jollof rice, fried plantains, and pepper soup.
Amid the crowd, Austin Okocha strolled in, wearing a casual outfit and a cap pulled low over his eyes. He hoped to enjoy a quiet meal, but in Lagos, where everyone recognized him, that was a tall order. As soon as he walked in, the room went silent for a moment before erupting into excited whispers.
“Ah! No be Jay-Jay be that?” a young man exclaimed, nudging his friend.
“Na him o! Wetin him dey do for here?” his friend replied, eyes wide with surprise.
Austin found a corner table and sat down, trying to keep a low profile. Mama Nkechi herself came over, beaming with pride. “Okocha! Wetin you go chop today?” she asked, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Ah, Mama Nkechi, make I get one plate of rice and stew with dodo,” Austin replied with a smile.
As she hurried to prepare his meal, the whispers grew louder. People began to sneak glances and take pictures with their phones. A group of young boys, clearly football fans, gathered the courage to approach his table.
“Okocha! Abeg, you fit sign my shirt?” one of them asked, holding out a worn-out football jersey.
Austin chuckled and took the shirt. “No wahala,” he said, signing it with a flourish. The boys grinned from ear to ear, showing off their autographed shirts to anyone who would look.
Mama Nkechi returned with a steaming plate of rice, stew, and plantains. “Here you go, my pikin. Enjoy your food,” she said, setting the plate in front of him.
As Austin began to eat, the door swung open and in walked a loud, boisterous man named Chidi, known for his dramatic entrances.
“Kai! Wetin dey happen for here?” Chidi shouted, noticing the crowd around Okocha. “Jay-Jay, na you dey here dey chop rice like common man?”
Austin laughed. “Chidi, leave matter. Rice na rice, whether na local or big restaurant.”
Chidi pulled up a chair and sat down. “Mama Nkechi, bring me the usual!” he bellowed. Then, turning to Austin, he said, “Bros, you no fit believe the kind wahala wey I face today. Dem go lock my car tire because I park for wrong place.”
Austin shook his head, still smiling. “Lagos na wah. Dem no dey joke with parking matter.”
Meanwhile, more customers had gathered, all eager to catch a glimpse of the football star. A woman carrying a baby approached. “Okocha, abeg make my pikin touch you small. I believe say him go be big footballer like you.”
Austin gently touched the baby’s hand. “This one go be superstar. No worry.”
Chidi, never one to miss an opportunity, pulled out his phone. “Okocha, abeg make we do selfie,” he said, leaning in. Austin obliged, and they took several photos, much to the delight of everyone watching.
As Austin continued eating, Chidi regaled him with stories of his daily escapades. “Yesterday, I go buy suya for junction. As I dey chop, one dog just come waka near me. Before I know, the dog don chop half my suya!”
The whole restaurant erupted in laughter. “Chidi, you no dey serious,” Austin said, shaking his head.
“Na true talk o!” Chidi insisted. “The dog sef get good taste, na my favorite suya spot e go.”
The lively atmosphere in Mama Nkechi’s Buka was infectious. Even those who initially came just to eat found themselves drawn into the fun.
Austin’s presence had turned an ordinary afternoon into an unforgettable experience.
As he finished his meal, Austin stood up to leave. The crowd surged forward, eager to shake his hand or get one last photo. “Make una calm down,” Austin said, laughing. “I go come back another day.”
Mama Nkechi beamed as she escorted him to the door. “Okocha, you be our hero. Thank you for coming.”
“Na me thank you, Mama Nkechi. Your food sweet well well,” Austin replied.
As he walked out, the buzz in the restaurant continued. “Na today we go remember for long,” one customer said, shaking his head in amazement.