Uncle Monday’s Flying Bicycle

If you ever visit our town, Ede in Osun State, ask about the strangest person to ever live there, everybody will point to the same man who is called Uncle Monday, the man who believed his bicycle could fly. He wasn’t really anyone’s uncle but everyone called him that out of respect and fear. Uncle Monday was tall, dark and always wore the same green overalls with patches all over. His shoes never matched it's usually a bathroom slipper on one leg and a black boot on the other leg but funny enough, that wasn’t the oddest thing about him, what made him the talk of the town was his bicycle.  [Image Source](https://pixabay.com/photos/man-bicycle-travel-cyclist-3704749/) Omoo, that bicycle was a regular old Raleigh bicycle when he first brought it out but over time, he started adding things to it. One week, he attached small plastic fans to the wheels then next, he tied feathers to the handles before long, it looked like something from a children’s cartoon because it had springs, wires, empty milo tins and even a radio antenna sticking out. He painted it bright yellow and wrote “SKY PATROLLER 3000” on the frame in red nail polish. People laughed. Children followed him around chanting, “Fly na, Uncle Monday! Fly!” but he didn’t mind. He would push the bicycle up the steep hill near St. Peter’s Church every morning and shout “Today, we break the sky!”, then he would ride down, flapping his arms wildly and making airplane sounds with his mouth “Woooooosh! Phiaaaam! Kapow!” but of course, he never left the ground. People called him mad but I was fascinated with his display. As a teenager I once asked him “Uncle Monday do you really think the bike will fly?”, he looked at me with bright eyes and said, “Of course it will, the problem is not the bicycle it’s the world. The world is too heavy with doubt but one day, when the wind is just right and nobody is watching too hard, it will fly". There was something in his voice, something like belief mixed with magic. People in the town said different things. Some claimed he was once a mechanical engineer who lost his mind after a plane crash killed his only son while others said he smoked something strange one night and never returned to normal. My grandma once told me “That man is carrying pain not madness there is a difference” One rainy Sunday afternoon, something happened that no one could forget. A group of schoolboys had dared him, shouting from across the football field. They said “Fly the bicycle or stop pretending, old man!!!”. Uncle Monday didn’t get angry instead, he adjusted his crooked helmet made from a cracked cooking pot and pedaled hard up the church hill. The rain was falling but everyone gathered to watch, some with phones ready to record. He reached the top, stood on the pedals and screamed “Sky Patroller, engage engines!”, he pushed off. We couldn't believe our eyes when the bike flew like an airplane. No, it didn’t but somehow, that day the wind lifted him just enough that the bike seemed to hover maybe for a second or two. It was probably just a jump off a rock, but that image stayed with us, for those few seconds, every mouth was open and every heart paused. When he landed with a crash and rolled into a puddle, everybody laughed from the mixture of relief and shock but nobody teased him that day, some people even clapped for him. Then he stood up, dripping wet, lifted his hands like a champion and said “I told you!!! just a little more wind next time”  [Image source](https://pixabay.com/photos/man-smile-happy-portrait-4333898/) Years passed and Uncle Monday grew older. His bike became rusty and the feathers stopped flapping but he never stopped trying, he still climbed the hill with the help from some of us. However, one morning we woke to the news: Uncle Monday had died in his sleep, the whole town felt quiet that day. At his burial, people came out in numbers even the schoolboys who once laughed now carried the rusted “Sky Patroller 3000” like pallbearers. The pastor said “This man may not have flown to the sky, but he lifted our hearts with hope, laughter and wonder.” After the burial, I walked up to the hill near the church and looked down. The breeze was soft, warm. I closed my eyes and imagined Uncle Monday, flapping through the clouds waving his helmet-pot, and shouting “Wooooosh! Phiaaaam! Kapow!” Although, some say he was mad but I believe he was just nutty in the best way, that kind of nut that adds flavor to life, like groundnut in ogbono soup. Even today, when life feels too serious and heavy, I remember Uncle Monday’s flying bicycle and I smile.