Rainy days are the worst in Lagos, characterized by constant gridlocks, reckless drivers, edgy commuters, flooded roads and drainages and a splash of brown water splashing all over.
I always pity those who have interview on rainy days in Lagos more, especially if you had no idea it would rain that day. Imagine being stuck in traffic when you have an interview to attend, getting soaked by rain, your well pressed outfit stained from splashes of dirty water by impatient drivers and your shoes soaked.
You get to the venue and God help you, the receptionist is a witch. She asks you to stand outside so you don’t wet the floor. What if you get lucky and the receptionist asks you to enter but then the AC in the reception is blasting on full speed. How do you not shake like a wet chick in your soaked cloth.
Seriously, a miracle is all you need to ace such an interview.
Anyway, I’m here to share my experience in Lagos this morning.
I woke up and the first thing on my mind was cooking rice and beans for breakfast. I went to the kitchen only to realize there was no water because there has been no light to pump.
I went back into the room to pick out the cloth to wear. There was this faded blue crazy jeans I wore to a birthday party on Sunday hanging on the wardrobe door. It is one of those you can only wear once and wash afterwards. Luckily, it looked as though I could still wear it one more time. I decided to settle for a simple look as I’ve been dressing like a Gipsy all week long.
On getting to the bathroom, I realized it was raining. Wait what?! How am I to get to work without getting soaked? Sure, I had to find a different outfit to wear.
I asked Mr. K for an umbrella. He said he didn’t have except the one in his car. I asked if I could borrow it. He said no. I picked my thick pink scarf to cover myself as I headed out to work.
I left the house early enough to avoid heavy traffic; so the first bus ride was smooth.
The second ride was however terrible. The road was bad, our driver was absolutely impatient and my spot on the bus was the worst. I was sitting at the corner of this tight bus. It was a 22-passenger bus that should have been 18-seaters. His rough driving made my entire body ache. My boobs were flying everywhere and I was scared they would fly off.
At some point, I grabbed my things in my hands. From the corner of my eyes, I could see the guy seated next stifling a smile. What’s my own, shebi na me get boobs, na me sabi as the thing dey do me.
All our complaints for the driver to slow down fell on deaf ears. At a point, he stopped the vehicle and turned off the engine. I don’t know what he got down to do but it was enough time for me to rest my head against the side of the bus in gratitude for the short period of calm – something I would not do on a normal day for fear of germs.
This time, the guy sitting beside me couldn’t help grinning as I massaged my twins, apologizing to them for the driver’s insensitivity.
The rain started again as I got on a bike with another passenger from the bus stop to my office. I offered to share my pink scarf with the man as it was large enough to cover us both.
Less than two minutes into the ride, I felt him nudging me from behind. I turned slightly to find out what was going on, only to see the light from his phone from under the scarf. He was asking me to give him my contact.
Honestly, I thought about collecting the phone from him and deliberately dropping it, claiming it was an accident. But I went out with my church mind today. Contact ko, lens ni.
Oh, did I mention that I still cooked the rice and beans? Yes I did, I used the water in the drum in front of the bathroom.
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Cheers to you lovelies!