Living in Lagos Is Toxic!
Busy Lagos Market.Image: Financial Times I moved to Lagos in January, 2016, to take a certificate course in Film Directing at Royal Arts Academy. This was a big move for me because I had never lived anywhere but the Northern part of the country and I didn’t know if I was going to be able to acclimatize to the culture shock of the new town. Plus, I had heard so many things about Lagos that convinced me that Éko is not for me. Long story short, the stories are true! My first two weeks in Lagos were uneventful as I spent most of my time at my friend’s house. I would go days without seeing the sun and I was quite content with that life. When it was time to finally start school, I knew that my life was about to change. I was tossed into the typical Lagos drama and four months down the road, I think that living in Lagos is toxic! Here is why I have come to this conclusion; 1. LAGOS IS OVER POPULATED! I cannot count how many times I had panic attacks being surrounded by so many people! Like, where the hell were these people coming from?! The worse experience for me was when I went to Balogun Market and was almost swamped! While my chest was heaving in pains, my darling friend – Shade Opeyemi – told me that the market was basically empty at that time and that if I had gone there a little earlier, I wouldn’t have been able to move. Well, thank God yeah? Ain’t nobody got time for that! 2. TRAFFIC IS HELL! As a result of the overpopulation mentioned above, you can imagine the number of vehicles on the road at any given time. School was at Surulere and I lived at Mangoro. I had to go to Ikeja every morning to catch a bus to Ojuelegba. The traffic from Mangoro Junction to Ikeja can get pretty crazy; depending on when you leave the house. The traffic from Palm Groove to Ojuelegba was also another issue! On a good day, it would take me about an hour to get to school. On a bad day, which was about half the time, I would be on the road for 3 hours! The return home was not much different. Bus drivers would pass through Mushin and then Ikeja Along towards Iyana Ipaja. The traffic around Mushin can be hell and worse around Ikeja Along. As a result, I usually leave the house around 7am for my 9am class and would usually get home around 8pm if I leave school at exactly closing time; 4pm. This made me so tired when I finally got home that I was too tired to be productive! 3. TRANSPORT FARE IS JUST WICKED! Until I came to Lagos, I had never paid more than ₦100 bus fare for one trip within the town. Here, I pay ₦200 bus fare from Ikeja to Ojuelegba and ₦150 okada fare from Ojuelegba to Ajao road, Surulere. I pay ₦250 from Ojuelegba to Mangoro when returning home. When there is fuel, that is the standard price. Since the fuel crisis began, I have been paying ₦300 from Ikeja to Ojuelegba and trust me, it burns! The cheapest fare is ₦50 and it is for shortest distance possible. Before coming to Lagos, the highest I had paid for bus transport was ₦300 for a Kaduna to Samaru, Zaria trip and anybody who knows that trip knows that Samaru is quite some distance away. So imagine what it means to pay similar fees for a much shorter distance! 4. EVERYONE IS ONE WORD AWAY FROM A BLOWOUT! Bus drivers or conductors are always ready to fight. Agberos too! Passengers would fight each other or fight conductors at the slightest provocation. Conductors will fight agberos over how much money they should pay to the local government. The conductors will even fight passengers who don’t hop off the bus quickly. One night, I got to a bus and sat sideways. The driver started shouting, ‘If you know say you no wan go, drop for my bus.’ I tried to explain to him that I was not going all the way to Iyana Ipaja so I needed to sit closer to him to let him know where I would alight. He continued shouting until I came down from the bus. I stood by the door so it would fill up and I could take the last seat. Next thing I know, I was surrounded by agberos telling me to either move away or enter the bus. I was scared for my life so I just entered the bus to avoid stories that touch. I kept asking what it was I did wrong until someone in the bus told me not to take it to heart; that they were high. I will tell you more about this experience a little later in the post. 5. THE STREETS STINK! Now Lagosians, this is not an insult. Every town has its smell depending on how open it is, the number of people in it, the activities of its inhabitants and how many vehicles are there. Lagos is a variation of smells! And most times, not so pleasant. This could be a result of the class of each area, the open gutters or moving LAWMA trucks. Ajegunle had a smell that gagged me when I crossed the pond leading to Apapa. When I visited Snake Island (Itu-Agan), the entire water way stank! It didn’t come as a surprise to perceive the smell because I could see waste been flushed into the water and at the Apapa port where we took boats, people could be seen peeing and pooing in the water. Yeah….ewwww! The only places that didn’t have that sharp, nauseating smell were mostly on the Island, parts of Ikeja and Surulere.
The Maryland Bridge Hawker
The Maryland Bridge Hawker.Image: Chibuike Casmir Lagos traffic is horrible! That is a fact. I am sure that anyone who lives or has visited Lagos one time or another can attest to this fact. It is also true that when there is that ugly traffic jam, there is almost nothing you wouldn’t see. It could be a fighting agbero, an impatient driver, the surprising ways people meander through traffic or that hawker that would chase a bus just so he can sell a bottle of fizzy drinks for ₦100. Usually, traffic in Lagos is a bedlam of activities, a combination of awful smells, an absolute drag and a time-wasting event! With all that craziness, there is that time when you get to see a genuine source of inspiration! I did. Let me tell you what happened. I was on my way home with my new friends – Tonia and Chibuike aka Chibyke. It was rush hour and most of the roads were tight. We were chatting, laughing and basically having fun in the car. We had dropped Chidi (another new friend) off a while back so we were goofing around. All the crazy stuff was just our way of coping with the horrible traffic. When we got to Maryland Bridge, we felt like we had hit the worst of the jam. I was right behind Tonia and was looking out of the window on my left. Tonia reduced the volume of the stereo which had Beyonce telling us to ‘Run the World’. She did it so she could ask a question. Chibyke’s response to Tonia’s question made me laugh out loud and turn to them. That was when I noticed him. The hawker showing his wares. He was a hawker who sold socks and handkerchief. It wasn’t the items I noticed; it was his hand…or the lack of it. He balanced the sock rack on the stub where his right hand used to be. In his good hand, he held the handkerchief and other items. He was standing at our car and seemed to be beckoning me; seemed to be willing me to continue staring. I didn’t blink. I didn’t know when I blurted, ‘I need his picture so I can write a story about him.’ Chibyke, being the sharp guy that he is, wound the glass down and called him. He asked me to take pictures as he purchased some items. I picked up Tonia’s phone but my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn’t focus. So many thoughts were going through my head; what if he got mad? What if he asked us to pay him for the pictures? What if he was a lout guised as a hawker? I was so worried…I couldn’t even take one shot! Tonia kept asking if I had taken the shots. I said no. She snatched the phone from me while Chibyke continued hassling. When Chibyke asked if the socks were original, the man said he only sold original and he was on that bridge every day. He went further to say that if we didn’t like the socks, we could come back and he would change them. He was such an effusive marketer that even I was tempted to buy a sock. But all this drama was so Tonia could get good pictures. She would tell Chibyke to bend for a clearer shot and the way he would do it wouldn’t give us away. She took many pictures but they just didn’t have the essence I wanted. Chibyke, seeing my frustration, paid the hawker for the socks he didn’t need and then said, ‘Guy, ehen. Make I tell you something. My friends like you well well as you dey do your work and they want write your story. Abeg, you go fit allow make we take your picture?’ The hawker smiled and said yes. I breathed a much needed sigh of relief. Chibyke took the pictures and just as we were about to ask his name, the traffic jam broke and Tonia had to drive in! Balancing his handkerchiefs so he can sell his socks. I was so inspired by the man. I know everyone hustles in Lagos but I was surprised that a man with disabilities had mastered the art of balance to function as one without. The way he switched the handkerchiefs to his neck, using his shoulder as prop and still managing to interact was wonderful! I am sure many people have seen people with worse disabilities doing better but this was new to me. You see, because I grew up in the Northern part of Nigeria, I am used to seeing people with disabilities begging. They use their disabilities as an excuse to beg…and to sometimes guilt you into giving them money. I hate to see people beg! I am totally abhorred by it. I believe people should work and earn their living; no matter how small it is. There is honor in work and ONLY disrespect in begging. So you can imagine my elation at seeing this man work! He couldn’t be making more than ₦2000 or ₦5000 per day and most times, that would just be to recover his capital. But he told us he was there every day trying to make ends meet. This should be a lesson to all the ‘big boys and girls’ who laze about saying there are no jobs. If a man with disabilities can wake up every day to ensure he is not dependent on anyone, what bloody excuse do you have with your whole body?! I am hoping to find him again and probably get a full interview; when I finally get my nerves straightened out. I want to find out his name, his story, how he lost his hand and what motivates him every day to ignore his disability and go out to make that money. If you ever pass the Maryland Bridge and see him, buy a sock or a handkerchief. Help him to be better! Help him earn his living!
