03 — Fabulola
03 — Fabulola
Change is always hard.
It is even harder when you didn’t plan, or didn’t want the change.
Almost a year in Lagos, and…I still don’t feel settled. Yet.
Or do I?
Or maybe I am just..resisting?
Another day in Lagos, be prepared for another struggle.
Or, a repeat of all the past struggles if you are lucky.
The gateman Jimmy runs up and insists ‘anything for your boy?’ Yet when he saw me struggling to carry my water dispenser bottle from my car outside two days ago, he just was just shining his teeth.
He saw me cleaning my car earlier this week, and did not think to offer to help.
Now he shines his teeth again, with an entitled look on his face asking ‘anything for ya boy?’
No, Jimmy. Nothing. Not. A. Thing.
I try to cross the road to the supermarket and an okada zooms past, against traffic, on the wrong side of the road, missing me by a few hairs.
It is all I can do to mutter ‘Well shit.’ One second earlier and I would have had a huge gash on my arm. And do you know what the reckless-driving-against-traffic-okada man say?
‘Why you no look where you dey go?’
Well shit.
I make it across the street alive and not deaf, dodging reckless okadas, and pleading with speeding range rovers blaring their horns to please, PLEASE slow down.
Pick up my items and get to the till at the supermarket, ready to pay and ‘Aunty, no change o’.
So fuck what?
I am about to let out all the frustrations that this brilliant Lagos day has released on me, when a Good Samaritan offers to pay with change.
With a smile I say thank you, and give the cashier a death stare.
If this cashier knew that I was about to release the annoyance from Jimmy, and the okada man, and the fuel attendant asking for weekend on him? He might have dug a little deeper for the change.
Sadly, I will be back in a few days and still ‘Aunty, no change o’ will be the chorus.
It is only a few hours into my day, and already I am severely distressed.
All over again.
I could go on and on and lament about the amount of money it now costs to fill my tank, or about NEPA tariffs that have gone up, all on my income that hasn’t moved a kobo.
I could, but if I did that everyday, how would I survive in Lagos?
The weight of my lamentations would literally kill me.
So no.
Today I will not.
I will get a cup of coffee, then go and find Amala in Surulere.
Yes, that is what I shall do.
I will not let Lagos weigh me down.
Will you?
—
Fabulo-la is an engineer, working as a business consultant, hoping to become a poet before Lagos eats her up. :)