He walked faster and faster by the second and I was almost out of breath trying to keep up and then he tried to break into a run but unfortunately for him, a car veered out of nowhere and narrowly missed hitting him. My God was indeed alive, you see I had been paired with this guy for change, he had a 500hundred naira note which consisted of my 400hundred and his 100 hundred naira. Now you know why he wanted to run away. As he stopped, I held him by the belt, this was no time for too much English, "Oga, abeg gimme the money. I wan buy card." He looked at me sheepishly and handed the money.
This and many other experiences, all of which I cannot share at once, has made up my story. I haven't been to many states in this country but I have lived in Lagos for about 14years the greater part of which I always at school, boarding that is, or inside the house which later earned me the name, "Omo get inside", a term in the south western part of Nigeria used to describe children who are always inside their houses.
So starting the 8-5 working plan as an intern was quite a horrible eye opener. On a normal day in a normal city, it was a 45minutes drive to where I worked but in Lagos about an hour thirty minutes or more. I'm not surprised Lagos has been recently tagged one of the most stressful cities to live in.
Unless you have a private jet, you get your own share of traffic cake as
private car owners as well as the dare devils aka 'Danfo drivers' struggle to make it to their destination in good time. This is after jostling to get a seat space even when the fare becomes twice the usual price. Exhaust pipes gladly unleash their fumes as you painfully feel your perfume scent evaporate.
But all this is not as annoying as getting to where the traffic breaks out only to find nothing as the cause, although most times, its potholes or spoilt tankers. You see, we don't avoid potholes, we chose the one to enter.
Then we have those people my mom call 'government pikin', they're usually at every bus stop collecting fees from bus drivers that I cannot understand what for. Refuse to pay and your wiper or side mirror is gone. How can I forget the warriors of the day, the conductor whose job ranges from collecting money from passengers to fighting the agberos. Most times, they never have change so do yourself a favor and get change before you enter else you get paired like I did as I mentioned earlier.
Okay so I make it to work in good time, and because I was in a hurry and couldn't get breakfast I head straight to Iya Michael's stand {go watch the wedding party if you don't know Iya Michael}. Her kind is spread across the city in different styles and shops, and just like they say, they make pepper and put small rice instead. I battle with catarrh and sweat that separates my Mary from the Kay because of this delicious but peppery delicacies. I must confess it's worth it though even without the plantain.
And now the day is over and I have to head back home, another upheaval task to deal with. At the bus stop/garage, I meet the same guy I helped twice already begging for transport just as before. He's well dressed and it makes me wonder. Heard its a kind of job, one am not willing to be its cashier.
By late afternoon or evening, the offices pour us back into the road as I see people walking some slowly some on a fast pace, the roadside gradually encroaching into the road and calling out their wares, cars, buses and trailers blaring their horns, it's a complete chaos. And then its time for the struggle again for a bus seat, this time the fare tripled and back into the traffic we go.
And after all these, one woman somewhere goes to report to my mom that I didn't greet her while passing just because in Lagos we greet for anything and everything, morning, afternoon, evening and night.
As I slump into bed, am calculating my escape from the 8-5 plan first and then from Lagos.
There's much more to Lagos than stated here but it is better experienced than told. This is just my very own Lagos story.
This and many other experiences, all of which I cannot share at once, has made up my story. I haven't been to many states in this country but I have lived in Lagos for about 14years the greater part of which I always at school, boarding that is, or inside the house which later earned me the name, "Omo get inside", a term in the south western part of Nigeria used to describe children who are always inside their houses.
So starting the 8-5 working plan as an intern was quite a horrible eye opener. On a normal day in a normal city, it was a 45minutes drive to where I worked but in Lagos about an hour thirty minutes or more. I'm not surprised Lagos has been recently tagged one of the most stressful cities to live in.
Unless you have a private jet, you get your own share of traffic cake as
private car owners as well as the dare devils aka 'Danfo drivers' struggle to make it to their destination in good time. This is after jostling to get a seat space even when the fare becomes twice the usual price. Exhaust pipes gladly unleash their fumes as you painfully feel your perfume scent evaporate.
But all this is not as annoying as getting to where the traffic breaks out only to find nothing as the cause, although most times, its potholes or spoilt tankers. You see, we don't avoid potholes, we chose the one to enter.
Then we have those people my mom call 'government pikin', they're usually at every bus stop collecting fees from bus drivers that I cannot understand what for. Refuse to pay and your wiper or side mirror is gone. How can I forget the warriors of the day, the conductor whose job ranges from collecting money from passengers to fighting the agberos. Most times, they never have change so do yourself a favor and get change before you enter else you get paired like I did as I mentioned earlier.
Okay so I make it to work in good time, and because I was in a hurry and couldn't get breakfast I head straight to Iya Michael's stand {go watch the wedding party if you don't know Iya Michael}. Her kind is spread across the city in different styles and shops, and just like they say, they make pepper and put small rice instead. I battle with catarrh and sweat that separates my Mary from the Kay because of this delicious but peppery delicacies. I must confess it's worth it though even without the plantain.
And now the day is over and I have to head back home, another upheaval task to deal with. At the bus stop/garage, I meet the same guy I helped twice already begging for transport just as before. He's well dressed and it makes me wonder. Heard its a kind of job, one am not willing to be its cashier.
By late afternoon or evening, the offices pour us back into the road as I see people walking some slowly some on a fast pace, the roadside gradually encroaching into the road and calling out their wares, cars, buses and trailers blaring their horns, it's a complete chaos. And then its time for the struggle again for a bus seat, this time the fare tripled and back into the traffic we go.
And after all these, one woman somewhere goes to report to my mom that I didn't greet her while passing just because in Lagos we greet for anything and everything, morning, afternoon, evening and night.
As I slump into bed, am calculating my escape from the 8-5 plan first and then from Lagos.
There's much more to Lagos than stated here but it is better experienced than told. This is just my very own Lagos story.
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