It is funny how the more things change, the more they remain the same. You think you have left the past behind, only to find it following you everywhere you go, like a shadow. “Check your phone and wallet!” That was the thought that flashed through my mind as somebody bumped into me in the process of getting off the bus. Pulse racing, my hand flew to my pocket to confirm if it still held its precious cargo. Of…
Wednesday. It wasn’t quite ten minutes after the journey to Berger commenced that I heard sniffing from the back seat. A slight headache from reading till late was why I’d left the radio off, which meant the sound carried quite clearly to my ears, but being at a red light meant I could steal a peek over my shoulders. Something was obviously wrong because the passenger was bent over with his head in his hands, a man who had been…
Thursday. Thursday mornings in Lagos are different, as any observant resident will tell you. Markets in the metropolis have their sanitation exercise on Thursday and most traders leave home much later than they would on normal days. Since trading doesn’t start till 10 a.m. when the sanitation is over, buyers also stay away, and the combination of both factors causes a significant reduction in the volume of road traffic. I left home quite early on Thursday to fully utilize…
Calabar was a trip. For one it was calm and clean, two adjectives that cannot be used to describe Lagos at the moment. Yes, the Cleaner Lagos slogans and billboards are everywhere from Okoko to Oworo, but whatever. We all know better. Also, unlike the unspoken hostility of Lagos, Calabar had her tender arms wide open and welcoming. Watching people amble along Marian Road as if they had no care in the world was a delight to eyes jaded by…
Photo credits Google Death comes calling in my city, With an absurd dedication to duty, Hitching rides on tankers of sorrow, Or in containers of grief, And if the roads get completely blocked, By the many prayers and hadiths, From a billion mosques and churches, It doesn’t give up that easy, The reaper, determined as ever, Simply uses a bridge to enter, Otedola or Ojuelegba.
‘Good afternoon officer.’ The half-smile on my face as I reluctantly handed out the greeting was just for the sake of politeness, and it was for a good reason. Men of the Nigerian Police Force would probably top the list of my least liked people on any given day, and that list has some very despicable people on it. That this one who stopped me was a woman didn’t do anything to positively affect my perspective, nor was her already…
When the chaos of Lagos life gets to you, Sometimes the only remedy is to find a hole to crawl into… Somewhere beneath God’s blue sky, On a lovely stretch of sun-bleached sand, Caught between the Lagos Lagoon and the Atlantic, A hideaway, snug as can be, Somewhere quiet, Where the bustle of traffic is so alien, That the cacophonous voices resident in your head, Are summarily awed into silence, Somewhere serene, Where the sky and the sea jubilantly meet…
Photo Credits – Google. “Pray,” they said. “For every good thing you want from God.” So I did, for the realization of my Lagos dream. That was many years ago. Today is Sunday, the 9th day of July 2017, and I can’t help but smile as I check my score card. I have a fine chick, my own tomato Jos. Baby is captain of team light skinned, with a solid view at the back, a good future in front of…