Errands, Traffic, and a Toaster Turned Helper: A Lagos Monday Adventure

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**Act 1, Scene 2**

**Day:** Monday
**Time:** 10:00 am
**Location:** Lagos, Nigeria. 34°C

Dad has an appointment and will leave the house at 2 pm. Without fail. He needs me to run some errands, but I must be back home on time to meet up with the plumber. I bathe hurriedly. As I dress up, I start sweating, so I sit in front of the fan. Then I start dressing up again.

My legs seem unable to slow down as I walk to the bus stop. My underarms are damp, and sweat trickles down my neck. Ten minutes later, I am on a bus heading to Obalende. I sit by the window as the bus speeds along the Third Mainland Bridge.

The conductor of the second bus I board jumps out, yelling in a scratchy voice, “Tinubu, Tinubu eh, hold your N20 o, no change o!” I rush in and sit down. I am squished between two women, each taking up a fair share of my seat, and they don’t care. I shift uncomfortably. “Abeg come down if you no wan siddon!” the bigger of the two women hisses at me. I stay put. The ride is uneventful and, thankfully, very quick.

I start my trek on the long stretch of Broad Street. Bank No. 1 – I am done in less than ten minutes. Bank No. 2 – the system goes down just as it gets to my turn. I should have gone on to run more errands—something about the way the bank teller was so relaxed, eating his *boli* and *epa*, should have told me it would be a long wait. He probably knows the minimum wait time to get the system back up isn’t as short as the branch manager told us.

The manager changes the TV channel to Africa Magic, and within seconds, everyone is watching *Ukwa* and his sons, Aki and Pawpaw. I am not interested in the movie. Twenty minutes later, I see the tellers shuffling, and I can tell the system is okay. I rush to the front before the manager announces that the system is back up. I go to Mr. Boli with a broad smile and a handful of cheques.

People are murmuring behind me, “That *sisi* de back before dem put TV o.”
“Aunty go back!”
“Hey, small girl, go join line. You think say we come here come play?”

An elderly man shakes his finger at me as I exit the bank. Oh well…

Four copies of *Every Day with Jesus* in my bag from the Christian bookstore, I jog to Dad’s cousin’s store. She sells fabrics. I pick up a package; she is not around. She likes to tell stories, and I don’t mind, but today I’m in a big hurry.

I step into Bank No. 3. It is hot, and the queue is very long. I am beginning to feel light-headed. I’ve noticed people get angry if you leave a queue and come back to it—they expect you to stand in your space. Don’t leave, don’t sit—just stand there. I tell the man behind me, very loudly, “I am coming, I want to buy water outside.” I want people around to hear me. I don’t want to come back to an argument. It’s too hot. Instead, I dash into the electronics store to check the price of deep freezers for Mom. Store flyers in hand, I walk back to the bank. Thankfully, this is my last errand. It eventually gets to my turn; I transact and leave.

**Time check – 12:30 pm**

Two buses later, and I’m heading home. It can’t get any worse than this, and it shouldn’t. The bus makes a turn and… TRRRAAAFFFIIICCC!!!!

I never experrerit!!!

It’s bumper to bumper. It’s hot in the bus, but a little cooler outside. Some people are walking ahead to join their buses up front. I never do that. I always think the bus will drive off and leave me stranded.

The traffic eventually clears, and we are on the move again. I get off at my stop, and by this time, I am a wreck. I am exhausted. I feel shorter—I must have shrunk a few inches from the sun beating down on me.

**Time check – 1:45 pm**

“Hello, beautiful, you look familiar,” says a voice. I turn, looking all defeated. “Is the sun not too hot for what you are doing?” He certainly didn’t see that coming.
“I am sorry, don’t be offended,” he stammers.
“It’s OK, please help me carry this, I’m very tired,” I say.

He looks at me, and in five seconds, he goes from *toaster* to helper. I hand over the package. I try to make small talk in gratitude, but I am breathless. He laughs and says, “It’s ok.” He turns back as we get to my gate. I thank him. He didn’t ask for my name. He is laughing as he walks away.

Dad’s car is not here. There is a note on the dining table from him. The plumber came just as I left home. He will come back tomorrow.

I am fast asleep before my head hits the couch.