My aunt and I took different okada, hers was at the front and mine behind.
The huge Ghana must go bag that contained the lot of my clothes, separated me from the bulky man riding the bike.
I looked around my village where I've stayed my whole life one last time. The village was slightly awake as people were about to start their day.
Two children stood naked bathing each other and laughing. An old woman sat on a small apoti , a chewing stick in her mouth as she addressed a younger woman, a red wrapper tied around her tummy leaving long,flat breasts exposed.
I smiled, things like these were heart warming to me. I was going to miss this place a lot. My smile was replaced by a groan when we were slightly attacked my a bump on the road. I wasn't going to miss the very annoying red road.
The government refused to fix the road and it continuously gave each and every member of the community one problem or the other.
When the garage came to view, we alighted the bike and walked towards the garage after paying the t- fare. I strenuously carried my Ghanamustgo bag as we walked to get tickets.
The whole garage was crowded with a lot of people trying to take a bus to different parts of the country.
After a couple of minutes and a fight ..yes a fight, a woman couldn't find her bag and when she saw a younger boy, about my age, holding the exact look a like of the bag, she rushed to him and slapped him accusing him of stealing the bag.
The boy was startled and immediately he started screaming on how it wasn't her bag before we knew it men from no where began to circle him, slapping him for no reason. It wasn't until a slim, young man with grey hair intervened asking them if they had searched the bag to find out who owns it.
They did,lo and behold, the bag belonged to the boy. It was then that the woman remembered that she had forgot the bag outside as she was about to pay her ride.
If not for the intervention of the man, only the lord knows what would have happened to the boy.
We entered a white coaster bus with V-connect boldly written on it. My heart raced, this was it, I was finally in a bus to lagos.
I sat next to the window and my aunt next to me, she complained about how she wanted to seat next to the window. She acted like a child most times, you wouldn't believe she was the mother of two children, who were exactly my age.
My cousins were a sight, Adunni and Tobi. My aunt named the girl adunni because my late elder sister was adunni.
The bus had started moving and I was a bit calm now as I watched my aunt press her phone. She just tapped on it for several minutes not sparing the world a glance.
I slept and my whole body began to ache. A few hours ago, we had stopped at a place called ore to have food so people like me won't fall and die.
My aunt laughed at me as I rushed the white rice and stew with gusto. I turned my neck and tried to strech when the bus stopped, there was traffic and my aunt was smiling weirdly at me. That wasn't even what caught my attention.
No, the hustling and bustling, the honking of the cars and the many road hawkers did. My heart began to race as I turned around, watching my environment.
“pure water,bottle water” the hawkers screamed and people began to call at them buying a thing or two.
“wetin be dis,lagos don't start o” the bus driver screamed and I almost did too.
Did he just say lagos?. I turned to my aunt who was laughing hard, my face must have made her to.
“stop looking like that jor, yes, we're in lagos” she said, her chocolate skin shining like she had poured ororo (groundnut oil) on it.
My smile widened as I watch my environment. Yellow and black danfo buses mixed with different brand of cars.
“buy your gala” a hawker yelled and my aunt turned to me asking me if I wanted one and when I said yes, she bought two, one for her and the other for me. Then about a minute later she bought a bottle of fanta for me. A great combo.
The road began to clear and our bus was moving. That was when I saw them, beautifully made graffiti on the walls. I've never seen anything so beautiful with so many colours“Wow, where is this” I asked my aunt, who first turned to look at where I was staring at before replying.
“Ojodu berger”.
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When we had alighted, we walked to a pedestrian bridge when a man came to us asking my aunt if she was folashade. My aunt said yes and he told her he was her uber driver. I seemed startled, uber?.
Then i later found out it was a way of transportation, it was just like a taxi but a more lagosical one.
The man told us of how he had asked almost every woman if she was folashade. I sat in the black car enjoying the ac.
‘Life in lagos is chill’ I murmured to myself.
I slept again but was woken by my aunt who said “ this girl you like sleep o, we're there” she said putting her phone in her bag.
I put the braids that had fallen off the rubber band and rubbed my eyes.
I came down from the car, carried my bag and stared at the big black gate in front of me. I turned around and saw other beautiful houses and a not red tiled road.
My aunt was still talking to the uber driver, before she was done the door opened and a slightly old man with space teeth and a white and blue uniform opened the door smiling.
He must be the gate man , I wondered “you should be asake” he said with a small frown and I nodded, slightly kneeling to greet him.
“baba” my aunt greeted and the man gave her a smile before grabbing my bag “ welcome o” he said.
We walked inside the slightly big, tiled mansion and we were about to open the door when my cousins ran out, smiling and screaming.
Adunni grabbed my bag and tobi yelled trying to carry me up. My aunt laughed and walked inside.
“hope there's food” she asked and tobi dropped me, he had grown much taller and built since I saw him. He was wearing a purple singlet and black joggers. “ your daughter prepared one yeye beans like that” he said and I burst into laughter.
“you must be stupid, like you can cook anything” adunni replied rolling her eyes. She wore a short and a black big shirt, her grey braids almost touching the ground.
I stared at the interior of the house that felt like glass. Almost everything in the huge sitting room was white and brown. With large crystal chandeliers hanging on the ceiling. A big plasma TV hung on the wall facing several brown Sofas.
“who's stupid in my house?” my aunt asked.
I stood there watching, staring. It felt like I was in another world, in another dimension.
I was in lagos?
I was in lagos!.
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Stop jungle justice.We need good roads.
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Asàké
JugendliteraturA trip to lagos. The journey that will change her life forever. Asake a sixteen year old teenager finds more than just what she expects. She finds pain, want ,struggle, love and self discovery. ON HOLD!! This book is currently on hold and would go...