Daytime view of Awolowo Way, Ikeja

By Akin Adeoya

If you wanted a place where you could rub shoulders with a real celebrity in Ikeja while buying yourself a bottle of cold lager in the 90s and 2000s, one of those places had to be Ruby Duby in Ikeja. No frills, no airs and pocket friendly Ruby Duby was located right spat on Obafemi Awolowo way, most of it was nondescript, a sprawling open air bar and restaurant with a piece of it covered. It was one of the fore runners of today’s Q4 open lounge and the now extinct Sidewalk.
A few seats and tables dotted the inner space but I can’t remember sitting there for more than once or twice in all the years we rocked the nights in that place. The real deal was right out there in the open air. You just walked in alone or in company and pick a table to your liking. There were lots of that if you came early.
Remember, the tone and texture or maybe even skin color of celebrities has changed dramatically over the years. I am talking of a time when celebrities were real people that you could relate with and understand. And who realized that they were human beings, despite their wild popularity, and were comfortable relating with regular folks with their real selves. They didn’t need enhanced bodies or enhanced accents. They mingled naturally.
Their instagram of the time were the mingling spots of the day.
I remember there would usually be a boy or two in mufti who provided some sort of service but the real deal were two huge and handsome ladies who really made you feel at home. Their names escape me now. They were really imposing and I used to wonder if their selection was deliberate. Ah yes, there was a third one. The third one was not so regular as the first two but she was too was built like a prize fighter. They all had an uncanny and smart attractiveness around them if you liked them big. Yes but they also look like they could punch a man around if you got naughty! However, they were always very friendly and made you feel at home all the time but I used to wonder what would happen if you really got them upset. These were street wise ladies in their prime who wanted to add some value to their income and network with the right kind of people and not necessarily full time bar attendants. To be sure, I never got to know the details of their engagement with the delicately attractive queen of the manor, Ruby.
Ruby was definitely a half caste with that unblemished oyinbo look sported by kids from some mixed marriages. Nobody ever mentioned it but I somehow got the idea that she was from the Niger delta, most likely Delta state and I could place a small bet that she was itshekiri. The bet has to be small. My primary clue to her origins was the menu of the Ruby Duby establishment. At the heart of it was banga with starch or eba. Even now decades later you can hardly find an eating establishment run by none Delta/Edo people where banga and starch is served. Well, not that many.
The banga would come in an earthen pot with either goat meat or dried fish. At the time the dried fish was my favorite. The fish was crispy dry and well garnished. The banga soup, as it should be, continued to emit heated steam till you were almost done with the meal.
That was when you started paying attention to the bottle of beer sweating away in the night air right in front of you. A night in Ruby Duby was always memorable. One of the highlights of the place was the regular appearance of street bands. There were several of them but there was a particular reggae group that used to thrill us endlessly. While the leader was a skilled guitarist, one of his men had a drum set hanging on his neck while the other had two stick like implements with which he created marvellous musical combinations by knocking them together.
The band looked a bit unkempt, true to the street to which they belonged. The leaders Bob Marley style dreadlocks looked intimidating to the uninitiated in the dark night. Generally there was a mild toughness around them. They had to be. These guys eaked out an existence on the very edge and sought their pennies on foot through every danger of the night. You had to have some steel in you. When these guys arrived, those who didn’t know them would display a mild irritation but for those of us familiar with their form of entertainment, it was joy at every sight.
Whatever misgivings you might have upon their arrival disappeared when they began to belt out those timeless reggae beats again and again. Sometimes they would divert and perform some popular highlife songs. They understood each other and created unforgettable sweet melodies. I always used to wonder why they just could not make their own hits in some studio and why they had to depend on handouts in bars and joints in the dead of night when they had such obvious talent. Well, as they say, talent is not enough.
If you arrived at Ruby Duby at 9pm for a drink or a meal, you will find that you are probably the only one(s) there. So you would assume its not such a popular place. You will most likely psychologically resolve to have a quick one before moving to a more crowded bar where you could feel the vibes of the night. But be patient, sailor of the night. Pitch your tent a little longer and let the magic of the Ruby night happen before your very eyes!
In an hour or two, before your very eyes, patrons are no longer finding it easy to find a seat and arrangements have to be made to bring in seats from the inner recesses of the store. The gathering has transformed into a large handsome crowd. The music is tame, never too loud to discourage decent conversations. By now Ruby the boss is in her element. A true genius of street hospitality, her act is perfected and service is delivered with an accuracy and efficiency that would shame many 5star hotels. You don’t see her running around trying to ensure people get served. No, she sits regally in one of the guest tables perhaps reserved for her(Because I always used to see her there)surrounded by well known patrons and friends and the “beering” will go on to the deep recesses of the night.
Ruby was a consummate drinker. I salute her legendary composure under the influence. I saw her drink many many bottles of beer in that place, enough bottles of beer to drown many men but there she sits unfazed, dazzling everyone with her beautiful smile and leading the endless insightful conversations that made the place tick. Never a drunken slur, never a drowsy second.
It was a perpetual gathering of notable broadcasters, actors, journalists, celebrity photographers, top businessmen, top military men and then the ordinary “rank and file” like yours sincerely. Do you know, one of the highlights of some nights was when a serving General would pump in late in the evening with his bodyguards hanging around and at the height of it all would serenade us with popular highlife songs to the instrumental support of one of the many street bands that used to come by! It was marvellous.
This was in the days when relaxation in a bar or lounge was not about ear splitting music where a decent conversation has become impossible. Because conversations are no longer possible, over indulgence has become the order of the day and reason has gone to the wind. When I occasionally go to a lounge these days, I find it difficult to communicate my order to the waiter because the music is so insanely loud. I am however told that that is what most patrons want and that the younger people will not even stay a moment longer if the music volume is reduced! So the owners of these facilities are torn between the devil and the deep blue sea as they continue to attack the health of everyone’s ear drum(including staff), encourage extreme behaviour and the flight of decent rewarding conversations which can build relationships. Why else would one like to go spend hours in a pub anyway? Just to eat and drink and dance? No chats? I don’t get it anyway.
There were many memorable nights at Ruby Duby and sometimes I dream of going back there to relive the old days. But I have no idea what led to the demise of the place and where Ruby and her husband, a newspaper production man, now reside. But the memories are sweet. The place is a testament to the truism that simplicity trumps all the time!
I have this friend. At the time he was moonlighting with me in my Seriki Aro office. This would be around 1999 or 2000. One evening I noticed how moody he was and I asked him what the matter was. He took one look at me and told me he wouldn’t want to discuss the matter in the office. Ok. Good enough, we agreed to go talk it over at Ruby Duby.
That night I learnt an unbelievable trick about beer consumption. I will share this secret with you but note that I hardly ever take beer again and if I must, I never exceed a bottle. So don’t go and say I thought you a bad habit. All I want to tell you is a good story.
This my friend is still very active in business so I can’t mention his name but he was one of those who started all the hype around infotainment in the 90s with his radio program sponsored then by NDL. If you know that’s fine. By the way he is a jolly good fellow!
We arrived at 9pm. Ordered our first set of bottles and as we were about to start drinking, he counselled that we should have pepper soup. That was ordered, served and consumed. No dramas. Then he started his story. The story was a long, engaging and depressing one. The really big problem with the story was that as much as I tried to apply my creativity and slide experience to it, I could not even get an inch close to a resolution. So we had to continue the beering. At a point, maybe on the third bottle, I noticed he kept dropping something on his palms and down his throat. So I asked him, and he flashes a sachet of Alabukun. I frowned, puzzled. So he had to take time off his very depressing but engaging narrative and to tell me light heartedly about the wonders of alabukun. According to him, many people take alabukun to cure the effects of an excess of alcohol in the system post consumption. This, he says, does not really work. He makes some so called scientific explanation about this. I dont want to tell you those! But the long and short of it is that just dropping tiny portions on your tongue and swallowing is the secret to holding your booze. Just one sachet, he explains is good enough for the night. The logic really is that the alabukun works ahead of the alcohol. This way you can have your conversation from anytime to anytime.
This was serious. More serious than I thought.
DO NOT TRY THIS AS IT IS NOT BACKED BY ANY SCIENTIFIC FINDING
We continued the drinking. He continued the story. The more we drank, the more depressing the story got and the more helpless I felt. Then we would order another set in the hope that the next set of bottles would improve things. But it didn’t and then we would have to order another bottle.
The tiny portions of alabukun continued. The band would pass by and we would take a break to listen and tip them. Then somebody will get up to take a leak. The other person will take a yawn and gulp some more beer. But not for a minute did anyone feel the effect of the alcohol nor any form of drowsiness.
Remember we got to the place well ahead of almost everyone there that night and there we still were as people started taking off one after the other as the night wore on. But the story was not at an end. Lives were involved and I thought its only fair for me to hear it to the end so that I could perhaps come up with some form of solution. And this man too, my friend, was a tireless storyteller. And yes, it was a deeply touching personal story.

The next thing I knew the attendants drew our attention to the fact that we needed to leave the open area and move inside the shop proper as the shop owners who used the space in the daytime were about to open their shops!

It was day!

Given that this happened close to a quarter of a century ago, I think it is pointless trying to recall the number of bottles who faced the firing squad on that fateful night. Lets just say it was the night of broken bottles.

Its time to go home.