The metallic grind of car brakes, the sudden halt, so you do not plow into the car in front of you and the dead set countenances on the faces of drivers and pedestrians alike, this is the spirit of Lagos in the morning.
It is the traders, employees, school children and professionals who own, mornings in Lagos, as you can taste their sense of urgency in the air. Have you ever paid attention and asked yourself, what is their story? There is so much you can glean, by paying close attention, to the man hurriedly swerving in traffic or the woman who multi-tasks, by applying her make up while she drives; or the pedestrians who are in such a hurry, they ignore pedestrian bridges and daringly attempt to cross the busy Lagos road as if daring hasty commuters, to run them over; let’s not forget the horde of school children, walking in groups, their faces glistening with the Vaseline their mothers had slathered them in – School bags and lunch boxes tightly clutched.
I am curious to know their story, what intrigue lies beneath the chaotic bustle of the mornings?
Who amongst us had a good night’s sleep? Who couldn’t sleep, because they spent half the night, placating a vexed lover? Is it the house wife looking glum and subdued as she drives her ebullient children to school? What employee would rather not be in the office, but duty and his salary forces his step in that direction? What child is reluctant to go to school, because in his school bag, is a homework that hadn’t been attended to?
I see the driver dancing vigorously to the music in his car, that we cannot hear, so we think ” this one don mad”; I notice the look of malice upon the faces of ladies when a better looking car, with a driver of their own sex cruises by; Same way I notice them strike a very attractive pose for the owner of the Benz, right beside them in traffic.
The ‘bad belle’ of other road users, is palpable when a driver in their way has a beautiful woman installed in the front seat, thus the green eyed monster takes effect as they wickedly honk our car horns, as if to shatter the air of romance that envelopes the lovers.
The young lady scantily dressed, half walking, half running must get home before dawn breaks completely, she owns the night and the day isn’t her domain.
These fragmented pieces of human emotions and mannerisms, is the spirit of Lagos in the morning.