Experiences

It was a little cold that evening, with just a hint of chill in the weather. The kind of chill Grandma swears means it'll rain but you're not particularly bothered because it'll take about five minutes by keke (tricycle) to get home (ten if there's unexpected traffic) and the weather widget on your phone gives the rain a 20% chance of getting to your area. You're slightly irritated because the conversation about the many failings of Nigeria and how to approach them which wasn't planned meant you didn't finish the work you set out to do which meant reducing your already reduced sleeping time. So when you get to the bus stop, you're hardly in your best mood.

There are two men in the keke, friends who are chatting but as you approach, one gets off and motions for you to get in their middle. And because seating between body odor and mouth odor as they converse across you is not how you intend to finish this day, you shake your head as is 'hell to the no' and refuse to get in. Also because waiting another 15 minutes for another keke heading to your not-so-popular stop is not in your plans, you absolutely refuse to let the man have his way. Eventually, you compromise and let him have the chair and claim the front seat for yourself. It's more solitary anyway, which suits your mood just fine.

Three minutes later, another young man approaches and the other man does nothing. You watch as the men greet each other with guttural nods and seat like nothing  has happened. The keke takes off and the men make a comment to each other about women knowing their place. You turn around and tell the men that a woman's place is any damn place she wants it to be, in this particular case, far above anything they could ever aspire to reach in this life and probably the next. An awkward silence fills the rest of the ride, but you don't mind because some days enough is enough and at least you aren't being attacked from all corners by odors you didn't even know existed.

                                                                                       ***

You're a writer? Ehen? What else do you do? In this our clime you cannot be doing only one thing especially not if you have bills to pay. After all, you did not come to Lagos to climb bridge and take selfie. See ehn, all I'm saying is that any idiot with a computer can write. You don't even need a computer these days, just a phone. You should consider acting, you have the looks for it. Why do you look so surprised? Is this the first time you're hearing it? Look you're a fine geh... it doesn't matter if you can't act. I know people who know people. You like Genevieve? I know her very well, I can help you. Why are you moving away when I touch your arm? Is it not a man like me that will marry you? All these young gehs of nowadays, I don't even understand your training. You're all very entitled, you think you can get anything without giving anything?

Sigh. Deep sigh. Count one to ten slowly in your head. Sing let it go in your head or Moana, whichever comes first. Remind yourself. Then turn around and walk away because no one should deal with such BS and homicide is (probably) an over reaction. Probably.

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