Dating : A CASUAL DAY IN LAGOS…

A CASUAL DAY IN LAGOS…

Tukum. Tukum. Tukum. The sound of the unending raindrops from my leaking roof keep me awake all night. Baba Shola and his failing promises to repair the leaking roof. But what do I expect from a sweet mouthed Lagos landlord? Upon getting the apartment, I had complained about the roof after I noticed a small patch caused by frequent raindrops. He said it was nothing and promised that it would be repaired from my rent. On moving in, Baba Shola had sworn his carpenter was busy with other clients and he couldn’t trust another with his apartment. I had no choice but to believe him. I mean, what other choice do I have? As a student who couldn’t get a space in the school hostel, and other hostels around the school. I had jumped at the opportunity when it presented itself, especially after I’ve seen how many students were interested in the apartment. Oh, I digress.

My misery doubles as I hear the familiar voices of Baba Shola and his wife. “ Watch your mouth, woman!” he whisper-yells. I hear anyway because they live right next door to me. “No, you watch how you treat me! These small small girls are not showing me respect because of you” she responds. “Stop talking nonsense! How is that my fault? They don’t respect you because you make trouble with them!” he claps back. “Whose fault is that? Why won’t you leave them alone? Why will you be chasing after girls young enough to be your daughters?” “ Should I go after the ones around your age?” “But that is not the point! All I’m saying is….”, they go back and forth. At this point, I lose interest in what the matter is about. I am patiently waiting for dawn, so I will visit Oluchi and have her assist me with my project work.

Finally, the morning comes. I quickly clean my room, have a hurried bath and dash out of the room. Oluchi isn’t expecting me this early but she will not mind having me around.

The hustle and bustle of the everyday Lagos begin. People rushing to their various places of work, others buying and selling, bus conductors calling for their passengers, beggars looking for clients, the thugs looking for their next victims, everyone going about their day.

Iyana Ipaja buses are taking longer than usual today. It’s been 5 minutes since I got here. I wait a little more. Few metres away from me, I sight two men standing and casually talking, although one of them keeps smiling like he is forced to. He looks pretty uncomfortable.

However, my attention is caught by a boy about 10, running towards me. He hides behind me and I see his mother heading in my direction with a short broom. I pause. The boy still clings to me, holding my legs as if asking for help. Now, the mother is in front of me. She asks me to move away and release the boy to her. Again, I freeze. The cries from the boy jolt me back. I ask her what he has done this early to deserve a beating. The poor mother responds, “He keeps begging everyone who passes by for food. He has just eaten. I gave him food even before displaying my wares”.

I look from the mother to the crying child. “Did you explain the reasons why he shouldn’t be begging?”, I ask. “I’ve warned him severally not to beg or accept gifts from strangers”, she says, barely containing her frustration. I smiled warmly at her “It is not enough that you warn him about these things. You should explain the dangers and teach him that contentment is key. Providing explanations for instructions given, make them stick better. Threats only last a while”. Then I pull the boy from behind me, smile at him and say, “Your mother loves and cares for you. When you want something, ask her and not other people. Do not accept gifts from strangers without permission. It is good to be okay with whatever she gives to you. Do you understand?”. He whispers his yes. I hand him over to his mother and watch them go.

From my side-eye, I see one of the earlier men (the smiling man), standing alone, with his hand stretch out, as if in a handshake, staring into space. An oncoming wheelbarrow hits him from behind, jolting him awake. The pusher angrily mutters some curses in the Hausa language.

Now back to his senses, the man yells, catching the attention of the other passersby, “My phone, my money… he has taken everything!” I rush to his side, then ask “Is everything okay… did something happen?”. “That man! He has taken everything. I’ve just been robbed in daylight!”, he wails. The passersby look at each other “What man?” an elderly looking man, ask. “He was here just now, he just left” he replies. I remember the man. “Oh, I thought you were acquaintances. I saw you casually talking earlier”.

Dear Lord! He pales. “Oh, no, we’re not! I haven’t met him before. He said I look familiar. Then asks me to pretend like we were friends after showing me a gun at his waist. He asked for my money and phone and advised me not to struggle. He then shook my hand when he was done as if he was saying goodbye”. My mouth is agape. I am in shock. I can’t believe this happened in broad daylight. This early at that.

Some kind-hearted listeners assist with some money while others walk away with their “Eeyah… sorry o”, typical of Lagos residents. Everyone continue going about their daily activities.

I’ve had enough shock for the day. I call Oluchi to say I can’t make it today. I walk back to the house, tired. My greatest shock awaits me at home. I see Baba Shola and his wife hugging. I never see them hug. They never hug. Too exhausted from the many dramas of the day, I go back to sleep.