I woke up that morning to the balcony of my house, a five storey building, to view the light of the day and said, “Good Morning Lagos, I pay homage to thee. In the hollow of the hands of His Excellency ‘Jide Sanwo-olu, thou art.”
It was a Monday morning. The day of the week when traffic was inevitable. Lagos could be very busy on this day, Lagos could be very busy in the day and still does not sleep at night. It was only in Lagos that people didn’t mind their business. People could pick up fights for another person, making it somewhat difficult to know who was actually in the inaugurator of the fight.
As I stood there in my balcony, admiring the present nature has brought me that morning, I saw men and women, rushing to wherever they were heading to. Some were in T-shirts, some were in suits. However, I scarcely saw men in buba or native attires as Lagos workers dresses according to the day of the week.
With a helicopter eye view, I could see the impatient motorcyclists pacing through the slight traffic to get to their destinations, blaring their horns tirelessly. As they blared, tricyclists and motorists, including pedestrians got pissed off with it and soon got angry, but these impatient motorcyclists ne’er cared. Everyone seemed so busy, I mean everything.
I soon saw children, jacking and struggling with their bags and launch boxes as they jugged to school for fear of their teachers’ cane. I soon got carried away by the heavy traffic that had began to build up. I forgot myself and began to admire Lagos. I could see other environments too. I could see the mainland bridge and the serenity of the seas and oceans. I admired the civic tower and how well the roads were constructed. That morning, I accompanied nature in thanking the government that developed those things.
Just then, boom! A motorist had hit a tricycle whose cyclist had marched his break unprofessionally. They both soon came out of their vehicles to argue. Before one could utter the word ‘Accident’, a large congregation had formed. That was Lagos for you, no ironies. The congregation was large enough to be called a church.
The motorist alighted his car and the tricyclist came out of this crooked thing too. They starred at themselves for about ten to fifteen seconds, then, they both checked their vehicles for damages without uttering any word to themselves, but just as he was returning to his tricycle, he insulted,
I think the motorist didn’t hear him well, but since he could depict he was trying to insult him, he walked towards him, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and threatened him to repeat his words. Since the other man couldn’t repeat his words, the motorist left him, but before going, he delivered a portion of saliva to his face and boom, the match began, they soon launched punches and rented their clothes apart.
Motorcyclists soon parked to watch the fight. Pedestrians who stood to view the match, increased further in their number. Lorries and motor vehicles move slowly to view the scene too. Heavy traffic soon began to build up.
Then, I saw a woman who had wrapper around her waist, adjusting her wrapper to her chest level to cover the transparency of her breast, coming out of the gate of her house. She didn’t even know the full story, but I saw her soon forming her own congregation to explain the tori to whom it concerned. The passengers of the tricyclist soon alighted to help themselves to their destinations. When the tricyclist saw this, it energised his anger to fight to finish. They fought, argued and misunderstood for about fifteen to twenty minutes and was separated. Then, one after the other, the congregation dismissed, muttering words alien to morals and shrugging their shoulders in amazement.
It was also in Lagos that one couldn’t drive for about ten to fifteen kilometers without seeing reasons to insult drivers or pedestrians. Nonetheless, Lagos is my pride and I’m proud to be a Lagosian.
Lagos is beautiful, educative, naturalistic, wealthy, noisily peaceful and full of pride. She is almost everything good you could call her. However, she has her excesses, of which every vicinity has.
When you hear the word ‘Lagos’, picture the busyness of the anthills and the eerieness of the savannahs.