The Lives We Lived

1: Traffic problems

Kemi drove past Eric Moore street, Surulere Lagos. She didn't have a minute to lose. At the moment she was fuming. She was almost late to work and the Lagos traffic wasn't helping maters at all. On the good side, Osa didn't bother her about breakfast. She didn't marry him to become his slave. He had to realize that just as he had his own work to attend to, she also had to attend to her own work and life needs.

She kept driving and came out to the road that led to Stadium. She was supposed to pick Ijeoma there. She could only hope that Ijeoma was still there. They would both get to work late today because of her. Suddenly, a woman with a child holding on to her hand ran across the road. Kemi held on to the brake to avoid an accident.

The other woman came to her window just as she turned off her car engine. What was wrong with pedestrians these days? A zebra crossing sign wasn't too far away. The traffic light clearly indicated that cars were to move this way so she wondered why the woman would take such a daring move. She didn't care much about the woman but she certainly worried about the child.

Kemi let her car window down so she could stare at the woman. The woman wore a worn out blouse and tied a wrapper around her waist. Kemi could tell from the wrinkles on the woman's face that the woman was far older than she was; probably approaching her mid-fifties. While other drivers honked behind her and passers-by watched the situation with interest, Kemi only thought of the young child. She had watched the mother speed across the road to avoid being hit. The child's legs couldn't possibly be that fast could it?

"Were! Shey you no see say I dey carry pickin cross road?" The woman asked in pidgin, an unofficial language common to most Nigerians.

*Translation: Mad woman! Can't you see that I am taking a child across the road.*

"Why did you cross the road like that? Do you want to get yourself killed? You should be very careful with that child," Kemi advised the woman. The woman's face twisted with traces of anger.

"Na your papa get the road? Abi na your boyfriend build am. Ashewo like you. You no go go find better husband for yourself and get pickin before you go come dey talk about my own!" The enraged woman replied. Kemi raised a brow at the woman's words.

*Is your father the owner of the road? Or did your boyfriend build the road? Prostitute. You won't go and find a good husband for yourself and bear a child before you start advising me on how to take care of my own child.*

"Excuse me? I'll have you know that I am a married woman!" Kemi said, unable to bear the insult that this woman had just hurled at her.

"Abeg, Madam, just forget it. You are causing hold up," A young man in his mid-twenties spoke with heavily accented Yoruba. Kemi had noticed him leering at her a while ago but she had refused to acknowledge his presence. His appearance was one that could easily be identified with the truants on the streets of Lagos. He wore an old tattered singlet with grease stains that barely fit his slim bony frame. His jean trousers looked like it would be happier as a rag and all the tears on it didn't seem to help matters. His trouser fell underneath his butt and his boxers apparently were struggling to cling to his frame.

"Na truth I dey talk. No be small small girls like this one dey follow alahji up and down. I sure say na one alahji buy this car for am. Na this yeye car she wan come use to kill me. Oloshi," The woman carried her child in her hand and walked away. A shell shocked Kemi watched the woman walk away and wondered how deep the roots of illiteracy ran into the life of such a woman.

*I'm saying the truth. Isn't it young girls like her that follow Alhajis everywhere. I am very sure that an Alhaji bought this car for her. This is the stupid car that she wants to use to kill me, idiot!*

The honks from the other cars jarred her to reality and she turned on her car engine, ignoring the looks the truant shot at her. She continued her drive to her office and on the way she pondered and reflected on the woman's words. She got to Ijeoma's bus stop with the woman's words replaying in her mind.

"Hello, Kemi! Kemi!" It was her friend's voice that pulled her from her thoughts. She looked around to realize that she was already driving past Ijeoma's bus stop. Ijeoma ran after her car, yelling and flagging her hands at the car.

"Good morning, Ijeoma." She reached across her seat and opened the door for Ijeoma to come in. Ijeoma folded her hands and pouted as she stared at Kemi with a frown.

"You're late-" Ijeoma began in the high pitched voice which she was known for. She was an epitome of Igbo beauty with fleshy radiant fair skin and pink full lips. Her figure eight was accentuated by the black pencil skirt and blue chiffon shirt she wore. She closed the door with her long meaty fingers and frowned in Kemi's direction.

"I'm sorry I'm late but I ran into a little incident on the way," Kemi said. She reflected back on the woman words. It wasn't too different from something a past wooer had told her not too long ago.

"At first I thought you weren't going to come. Then, I thought something bad had happened to you but just as I boarded a bus I saw your car approaching. I got off the bus and started yelling as you were going by. I'm sure people outside would think that I'm crazy." Ijeoma said, referring to the other passengers who were awaiting a bus to take them to their various work places. Kemi nodded absentmindedly to Ijeoma's words.

Silence stretched between both friends for some minutes before Ijeoma spoke up. "Kemi, is anything wrong?"

"Why do you ask?" Kemi took the last turn on the road that would lead them to their office.

"You've been very quiet." Ijeoma opened her bag and pulled out her foundation.

"Nothing, it's just that-" Kemi debated within herself whether or not she should tell Ijeoma what had transpired between her and the careless pedestrian. It wasn't that she didn't trust Ijeoma.

Ijeoma paused from her makeup session and faced her friend. She knew Ijeoma would just tell her to forget the silly event but try as she might she couldn't forget it.

"It's nothing, really," Kemi honked at the company's gate. It wasn't a big deal. So what if the woman had accused her of playing mistress to an Alhaji. She knew it wasn't true. She had worked hard to get to her position in her career and she had done it on her own. This car was bought with her own hard earned sweat. She just couldn't understand why people thought that because she was rich and successful she was probably playing 'Sugar baby' to some business-mogul.

She loved her husband and she married him for who he was. She married him when he had nothing. So no nonsense woman could tell her anything. Her heart swelled with admiration for her husband. Her face beamed with a smile that tugged at her lips as she remembered that Osa was hers forever.