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A MIRROR OF HOPE

You forcefully open the double doors to your room to see your reflection in the large spotless mirror staring at you, as you try to avoid the Master. Your image kills the mustard seed of hope you have been trying to nurture – your eyes exhausted from too many tears. Your lips are chapped, and the glory of your skin is in the past - your beautiful skin as your mother would remark. You wonder if it’s because of its fairness or the hairless sight of it, or the chubby feeling when touched. And then you reckon the eyes of your mother are not yours. Your beauty lies in your freedom, you think to yourself. You affirm that you don’t belong here, not in this castle with grey walls, lofty ceilings, and heavy brown curtains. Not viewing ancient paintings of wars. Not on a bed for a crowd and certainly not wearing these expensive clothes too pure to smear. You recall the first day of your arrival at your new home. You were greeted by a servant who avoided your eyes as he bowed his head and sai...
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THE TAKSI THAT TALKS!

 

THE TAKSI THAT TALKS!

If you are A TAXI driver, please do not talk too much. It is not every passenger that is interested in chit-chatting. It is even worse when you have body odour and spit out, leaving long lines of liquid on your car window. Please stop it!

Oluwafemi was his name. He picks me up from Berger; we head for Yaba. It is at about 7:00 p.m, the roads are not so free. I am seated in the passenger seat, a decision I regret. I should have been at the back with my eyes glued to my phone. Unfortunately, we all make wrong choices sometimes.

 “Sister abeg you get USB cord for there? This my phone go soon die.” I replied with a NO and he asked; “why you no go get na? You no carry phone comot for house? And I need this thing badly today o as the one wen I buy for traffic na wash. For that guy mind now e don gba me. Na why I deyhope say one rider (like Me) go dash me cord.”

A call comes in to save me from the beginning of what was yet to come. I am on the phone for another 5 minutes with my friend and while we talk about work, his brain resets. I drop the call and suddenly I am no longer sister but auntie.

“Auntie which day you go travel go village na, Christmas don reach finish o.”

“I no dey travel because my people dey here.” “Ah that one good o, na im be say na Lagos here your future husband go pay your bride price no be that one wey pesin go dey travel go here and there sake of say e wan marry. You get luck well well!” He spits out of his window and continues to talk loud while he scans to get a radio station of his choice. I decided to call anyone at this point to shut him off. I call my tailor to find out if my dress for an upcoming wedding was ready. We are on the phone for another five minutes. As the call drops, Oluwafemi resumes his duty! “Auntie, pesin gaz be careful this season because things just dey happen o. People dey obtain from people like say na war we dey fight. Na wetin vex me for one of my guys wey I don drive far away before im primitive way of thinking go con dey affect me. This guy na taxi driver like me, e dey live for one room, e get four children but e carry almost 300k do naming ceremony for im last born. If you see that day eh! Dem cook four different food, kill one big cow: you know how much be cow now! Im and the wife con change cloth three times, for naming ceremony o when no be traditional marriage. When I born my first pikin, na inside my parlour na im pastor pray for my pikin and I share egg roll and soft drinks, finish! Even the baby wen dey on the way, na the same thing I go do because I no fit tiff. After that party eh, I just tell my guy make e dey im dey make I dey my own. Pesin dey owe school fees of 75k and e dey do big party. My wife even tell me say my guy dey sleep  for chair put leg for wall while the wife and four children go sleep for bed. Inside this house wen hot like oven wen dem fit use bake bread, the wife sister dey live with them; na ground she dey sleep. No be overdo be that?

He spits out the window again and I nod in agreement to his tales in traffic. We are at Onikpan. I am eager to get off the cab and save my ears from early deafness. And then another story erupts. “This period tough na. I remember one day wen I no get money to buy my pikin drugs, omo na so I download one loan app wen give me 3k sharp sharp. I send am give my wife and after I payback, I delete am straight before e go turn my hobby. I mistakenly comment about the little traffic just before Yaba and he jumps on this, calling Lagos the home ground for witches who do not want others to prosper, causing traffic to make people miss their interviews and cause unnecessary accidents that claim innocent lives.

I took a swift glance at this man once we arrived at my drop off. It dawned on me that he was one of those frustrated with his life. His way of diluting was to talk it all out. His last phrase was “God give me strength as only the strong can survive.” If I asked him what challenges he faced, I bet the journey would never end. I am sure Buhari would be a part of the explanation. I advised that he changed his means of livelihood. He did not get the point but spits again.  I walk into my compound with an echo in my ears as if all along, the taksi also talked!

Don’t Forget to Be Honest!




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