Thread by @O_jayogunleye, Let me tell you a story. It's a story that reflect the [...]

Let me tell you a story.

It's a story that reflect the life and struggle of a lot of Lagosians. Our struggles may be different but are stories are the same.

I have always set my alarm for 4:00am, but on this particular day, it wasn’t the alarm that woke me up.

It was the clattering, the creaks and movements from my neighbors. Our rooms are so close that when they slam the door, it bangs so loud and pierces every corner of my room. Some other mornings, it was the cries of their kids that did, especially those of the woman next to me.

They are always very unenthusiastic to wake up and take their bath, so their mum would smack them. I don’t blame them, 4am is too early to force little children up from their sleep. I don’t blame the woman either. She’s a single mum.

She must go to work in order to take care of her kids and she has to beat the traffic.

I was out of the house by 4:30am. People were already on the streets walking to the bus stop, some were hanging around, waiting for those who regularly give them ride.

It helps them save some money and it also saves them from the early morning stress. I don’t have such helpful arrangements with any of the car owners around, so I often trek out to the bus stop like most people to join a bus to the garage.

We were like eight at the bus stop. A Bus pulled over just in our front. “garage, enter with your change o” the conductor said. I always prefer to sit near the window, so I was waiting for everyone to enter. A woman too was also taking her time

but I saw in her face that her purpose was different. She was scanning the vehicle and examining the faces inside the bus. She was being careful; she didn’t want to enter one chance.

I guessed the driver noticed too. So he put on the interior light to reveal his face.

“Bro enter now, Mama enter, no wahala” he said. She reluctantly entered, and then I followed to take my position.

We got to garage around 5:05am.

The red buses and Molues were already dragging passengers and spaces, the traffic wardens were hitting the Danfos for obstructing movement. Horns were blaring from all angles and people were rushing to catch up with the buses.

I walked to the BRT bus-stop and join the queue

“Bro I’m here” a guy said, looking at the woman in front of me for confirmation. The woman gave a nod “he took permission, I forgot to tell you”. “Alright” I moved a bit to let him take his space. But then, I know that kind of permission. They first come to keep a space

before going back to get their tickets. It’s a common sense, but I just don’t know if the common sense is right. I do it too sometimes.

I made the second bus, but this time, I didn’t get a sit near the window. It was already 5:35am. I brought out my phone to play songs. .

I plugged my ears and began to imagine how my audition would go. I had mastered my monologue but my only worry was to get there on time. It was an open audition and it was slated for 9am.

I got to Stadium around 7:15am but I didn’t get to the venue until 8:30am.

I didn’t get a bike due to the ban. I had to walk a distance before I could get a vehicle to the place. I knew I was late already based on experience. As I got to the venue, trying to scan for familiar faces, a friend of mine waved to me. “O boy, you don over late o,

I won help you write your name but dem no gree” he said. “Guess my number” he said with a look I’m very familiar with. “Tell me” I said. “375” he exclaimed. I was even thinking it’s higher than that. I had been 500, 645 on some lists before.

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