The dark sky is a coy mistress too shy to indulge herself in the embrace of her lover. I guess its a thing about masculinity,the sun subtly comes from the east without her knowledge and draws her into his embrace. They say two hearts beat as one perhaps that is what happens when we have the ash coloured sky break into an orange coloured sky at dawn.
Earlier, the atmosphere had been quiet with only the coarse voice of the bus conductor searing through the peaceful air
"Hold ya change!"
He repeated it countless times each time, a passenger hopped into the bus like an incantation that a diviner was meant to recite or else he 'd be made mad by his gods.
There is a guy with white earphones stuffed in his ears, he nods his head to the play of his music like he was excited but his face looked worn out like he had worked all through the weekend. This is Lagos, it wears even the strongest out.
I am seated between two men. One is dressed in a black suit and the other in black denim and a floral shirt. I admire the shirt. The guy has good taste.
Then my face curves up in a smile. I remember my friend, Buchi. I know I miss him being around, I think I miss his advice too.
"The moment we live our houses and find ourselves surrounded by unfamiliar face. Know that everyone is a suspect from the guy in suit to the guy in shorts. In this city, every unfamiliar person is a suspect" I smile, clutch my phone and wallet with a more firm grasp.
We arrive at the bus- stop. Everyone alights, everyone is free but till you get to your final destination.
There is a tout yelling at the top of his voice and shoving his fist in the face of a well dressed gentleman. The young man seems unperturbed till the tout unleashes the beast in him.
He grabs his tie, slides it off his neck, roll his sleeves and lock fist with the rough looking man that had been taunting him. I chuckle at the thought of an old coursemate who had once likened knotting a tie each day to daily committing of suicide.
He lifts him up and toss him to the ground in a typical Big Show versus Randy Orton smack down. The only difference is the tout does not spring up like his spine has been broken. Maybe WWE has been feeding us painted scenes.
I walk in brisk step and bump into a smiling face. She holds my hands,a thought says push her away but I stare back with a smile and guile of a short memory blackout. We share pleasantries and walk past.
My mind is still very busy, I remember the well grinded melon seeds, appropriate cup used in measuring it unlike other market women would, the honesty then I remember her. Gladness cups my heart knowing I had been warm despite the initial unfamiliarity.
A tired looking lady sits by the road with a toddler sitted on her laps waiting for God-knows-what with a nylon bag probably containing money loosely held by her. I tap her shoulder and inform her to hold the bag well. She thanks me perhaps she thinks I am kind. The streets have a life of their, I bet this was what Joseph had in mind when he said he loved the streets too much to join the military.
A mad woman is busy flogging the bags of refuse carelessly thrown by the roadside.
There is nothing different about this. They all fall in the same class.
They are all normal abnormalities.