Long story short, I found a place selling actual sewing machine oil. Don't know how replicable the process may be.
There is, you see, a remarkably seedy street in this burg that serves as a lengthy shortcut from the bright lights of Walmart to what used to be the premiere computer market and various bus stops back to the school. I'd searched the supermarket for various goods and even found the corner where they kept the motor oil and fuel injector cleaners, but didn't find lubricants of the right kind. I'd wandered through the many, many hard and soft ware places in the tradesman's market behind Walmart. I'd found locksmiths, safety goods, and a range and variety of motor oils and axle greases, but in the end I was tired and I wanted to go home. Rather than catch a taxi, I thought I'd walk this last shortcut and catch a bus, (a) to be cheap, but (b) to have a last look at storefronts.
Now, walking this street and asking people for "lubricating oil" would be a tricky because being so close to the train and bus station, it has long been a shifty-eyed combination of repair shops, pawn shops, and knocking shops. I could end up with a very different product entirely and possibly some too personal services.
Anyway, this one shop, I stopped in front and stared for a while. It has staffed by a man. No beds, no sofas, and it was relatively brightly lit. And it had shelves and shelves of... product. You know, cans and sprays and bottles. I thought what the hell, I'd better try, so I stepped inside and lo and behold, the fellow brought out a cardboard box of about twenty of these hard plastic rectangles with long thin spouts. They're even embossed with a sewing machine...
I have upended about a quarter of a rectangle into the putative oil hole on top of the ceiling fan and left it running. By now it would usually be ticking so loud I'd hear it in the other room. But I don't.
Mission Accomplished.