That fateful day, it was sunny and I’d just gotten out from the salon where I went to wash my hair. It was in the evening so everywhere was busy; whether its the cars zooming past on their way home without any thought for traffic rules or the buses in a hurry to make as much turns ( moving passengers from from point A to B and back to A) as possible before the evening rush hour crowd disperses or the kekes wiggling their ways even out of impossible traffic, last but not least, the crazy okada men also in the frenzy to make the most.
I was at a popular junction — a 4-way junction? No, definitely a 5-way junction. Anyway, you know those Nigerian intersections that just came about and were surely not a product of any town planning that leaves you confused on exactly who has the right of way if you are driving.
So I was trying to cross the roads, I’d crossed the first and it remained the second; the problem was the cars never stopped. I’d already stood for about 15 minutes while my colleagues(you know other fellow road-crossers) had been crossing the road with their ninja skills (I must quote Ofili here abeg). So I decided to put my skills to action, I’d been doing that before, I wonder why I was forming ajebo that evening biko.
I was already halfway through when this crazy bike man came out of nowhere speeding directly towards me and there was a moving keke infront I could not run into. At the final moment, he slowed and swerved to the side. And that was when I got the shock of my life: a ‘thwack’ landed on my cheeks before I heard:
“Idiot!! I choo i nwu, i jee nwuoro onwe gi”(if you want to die, die on your own) and he zoomed off. Everything happened so fast (less than a minute) that most passers-by missed it.
And I learnt an important lesson that day:
A book will always be judged by its cover whether we like it or not unless it’s written by someone famous.
I believe if I had looked hot & chic with my full Kylie Jenner perfected pouting lips and peruvian hair, you know like a classical Instagram hot babe, the man would have had some small respect.
Unfortunately, I had on zero makeup with my natural hair combed out, looking like a half homeless person. He probably felt he was doing the parents of this homeless secondary school leaver a favour on roadcrossing training.
Or he just didn’t care at all.
Abeg share your weird road experiences and if you have a LeggedBenz story you would love to share, just buzz me so we can arrange for you to do a guest post