Azeezah’s
POV
It was in the evening
and thirty minutes had passed the closing time. I was so engrossed in my
activity that I didn’t realize that I had spent an extra thirty minutes.
I concluded my task and
shut down my desktop. I arranged my bag and placed the laptop in it. Waving at
the colleagues left in the office, I set forth for the road. I had to get to
the final bus stop on time and buy food provisions for the house.
Standing by the
roadside, I waited for more than five minutes until a rickshaw (keke maruwa)
came to a halt. It was another twenty minutes drive to the park and so, I spent
time reading an e-book from my phone and glancing at the workers that had just
closed from work. The men were mostly dressed in a black suit and trousers
while the women wore a chiffon top with a pencil-mouth skirt.
I glanced at my
ankle-length black shirt with a white shirt as I thought of what to wear the
next day. When we arrived at the bus stop, I walked down the road and crossed
the bridge. I hadn’t stood for minutes that I entered a yellow danfo bus.
It was another two
hours drive to the final bus stop. In the evening, there was always a stream of
heavy traffic and there were times that we spent more than ten minutes in the
same spot. After the ‘long snail-crawling,’ I got to my final destination at
around 7:30 pm.
I stopped by the market
to buy food items…the busy market that could hardly contain the passersby and
buyers that flocked it environs. The market was the definition of a ‘jam-packed
area.’ Traders and their goods were clustered together, and it altered my
stance, making me to rest all my weight on one leg.
‘Leave my corner oo,’ a trader will start to yell when a part of
someone covers her goods.
It was a market I
dreaded spending time at night, but gosh…I had no choice. Walk in a slow pace and the passersby would
almost throw you out of the path. That’s
how bad it is!
‘E fun mi ni twenty naira,’ an old woman begged me for twenty naira.
I ignored her and
walked further, pleased that I had accomplished the task of buying groceries.
The bag-pack was a little bit heavy because of the laptop in it, and I hurried
to where the keke maruwa had lined
up.
I sat at the right-end
corner of the road without pulling my bag away from my back. I looked out of
the opened closure and studied the road. I felt unusually solemn and
expressionless. I couldn’t explain exactly how I felt but my thoughts were
empty.
READ ALSO: Habits Men Must Stop in Lagos!
‘Good evening,’ some
boys greeted as they entered the maruwa.
It was very unusual for
people to greet each other in a bus, or maruwa.
Lagos is a ‘mind your business’ region
and everyone usually keep to themselves.
I replied to their
greetings and kept my face sideways, watching the environs in the cold part of
the night. The wind caressed my skin and the hairs on my arm stood like they
were receiving an award. I was looking forward to getting home, praying, eating
and working on my desktop.
Music rented the air
and the two young men laughed incessantly. I had no idea why they laughed and I
didn’t care to know why. Within minutes, I arrived at my final bus stop and I
paid the fare while alighting from the rickshaw.
“Bye bye,” the boys
greeted again.
READ ALSO: Habits Women Must Stop in Lagos!
That
was also unusual!
When I got down, I had
a sudden feeling of lightness but I still couldn’t understand why (Well, I was feeling too unusual that there
was nothing new to believe that night).
I walked home and was
welcomed by my younger sister. When I entered the living room, my family
members notified me that my bag was wide opened. Whoa! How come I hadn’t noticed before now? How come no one told me
about this while walking on the road?
Immediately, I pulled
the bag away and searched for my phone. It was nowhere to be found.
“My phone isn’t in my
bag,” I yelled, addressing my family members.
“Gosh, let’s search for
it.”
I held a torch and
re-traced my steps with my younger sister. I almost felt hopeless. How would I
find my phone? I never planned on losing it so soon. I had just spent a lot of
money on repairing it.
***
Maryam’s
POV
There I was, hopping
and smiling veraciously, glad that I made it home earlier than other nights. I
couldn’t wait to see the shock on the face of my family members, knowing that I
got home really early.
‘The
road should be this free all the time,’ I murmured to myself
as I opened the gate.
I was walking inside
when I found someone unusually sitting down outside. We never sat outside.
Even
though there was no power supply, we would be inside with the inverter turned
on, conversing or watching a movie. Seeing my dad outside in the dark of the
night, I knew at once that something was wrong.
I greeted him and with
the quietness of his voice, I knew that something was definitely wrong.
“Azeezah lost her phone
oo. She had left with Haneefah to
know if it had fallen on the path while walking home,’ he said.
I asked how it happened
and he told me the story, down to the last of it. It was unbelievable. That tablet with the pink-coloured pouch was
gone just like that???
My two sisters appeared
some minutes later; and Azeezah with a deep frown. I could imagine how she
felt. I could imagine because we used the same type of phone. We, in fact,
bought them on the same day and at the same time.
“Where could this have
happened?” Dad asked.
Sister gave us a full
detail of her movement and we concluded that it had been stolen in the
rickshaw. It had to be the rickshaw!
Someone would have notified her if the bag was opened on the road. Lagos people were that nice. Well, it could
be somewhere else…we couldn’t come to a conclusion…
We accepted our fate
and I imagined the same scenario happening to me. Because of the extra-luggage I
carried from work, I was unable to zip my bag closed. My tablet. purse, books
and other contents were in the open. I had placed my hands over my bag to
prevent anyone from picking an item from it.
I needed to be more
careful next time and always ask God for protection. It wasn’t about how
careful you are.
Listening to the
admonition of accepting a lost item, I likened it to losing something more
precious…a phone was indeed precious.
The phone isn’t just for calling and chatting, it serves various purposes, and for
some people to derive so much benefit from their phone, such loss is usually
very hurtful.
***
Azeezah’s
POV
I decided to accept my
fate of the loss of my phone. I have had from several people as they talk about
their phone loss. Today, you’ll call someone, and the next day, the person’s
number will be unavailable. He/she would call you a few days later to relate
that their phone had been stolen. It wasn’t an absurd incident. A lot of people
had been victims of theft. I was not the first and I wouldn’t be the last.
When I attended my web
development class the following Saturday, my colleagues narrated their theft
story and we all laughed till tears drooled from our eyes.
‘A pastor was preaching
and I had just brought out my phone abruptly to read the bible verse. Suddenly,
someone grabbed my phone from the window and sped off. I couldn’t get hold of
the person. The bus was moving at a fast pace and I wouldn’t meet up with the
thief even if I got down from the bus. That was how I lost my phone,’ one of them
said.
‘My own is very funny oo. I’ll just be walking and someone
will grab my legs suddenly. They want you to be shocked so that they can get
the chance to steal your phone from the pocket. Some would just stop you on the
road and begin to say a story like, ‘Aren’t you Kunle from Junior high school?
No? You guys look so familiar’. That way, they’re distracting you so that they
can give your phone to an accomplice,’’ he said.
‘A friend had just
closed from work. He was walking with some of his friends and receiving a call
from someone. Suddenly, he noticed that his phone was pulled out from his hand.
Thinking it was one of his friends, he grumbled at them, ‘You guys should stop
all these pranks na. You can see that I am answering a call.’ Unknown to him,
it was a thief that had stolen his phone. ‘Bobo, dem don steal your phone oo,”
his friends told him.
I then remembered the
tale my father told me the night of the incident. ‘Someone was just walking on
the road and he received a sudden hot slap. For a minute, he grew very confused
and he couldn’t think properly. That period, they had stolen his phone from
him.’
READ ALSO: The Hopeless Romantic.
He also talked about
the danfo he entered during the day. ‘A man suddenly started to search for his
phone. He searched inevitably but could not find his phone. The driver then
informed him that someone, who was dressing shabbily, had alighted a few
minutes from the start of the journey. It was very strange that way…if only
they knew that his ulterior motive was to steal from someone...’
The tales of theft in
Lagos are endless. I wouldn’t stop writing if I decide to talk about all the experiences
I witnessed from people. Theft is real and there is no proper solution to
solving the issue of theft.
Our episode on theft ends
as I share my Lagos Island Experience of more than five years ago.
(The
Lagos Island Experience)
This
happened when I just visited Lagos. It occurred like five years ago. So I was
going to school for the next semester and my parents decided to buy new
clothes, shoes, bags, and provisions for school (that’s one of the happiest moment of a student’s life).
We
were to go to Lagos Island to buy the provisions. Goods are undoubtedly cheaper
in Lagos Island and you’ll get nicer and more quality things there too. (If you know the right things to shop for).
My
mom and I surfed the market and bought nice clothes, shoes, sandals and other kinds
of stuffs. I even bought novels and crayons. I smiled heartily as I imagined
myself wearing all we’ve bought.
I
hung a red coloured bag on the right/left side of my shoulder (It’s over four years na… I no fit
remember).
The
bag had two sides; a relatively large space and a moderately large space at the
front. The smaller space was wide open with a zip or button to close it up. I
kept my phone and my mom’s at the smaller space, oblivious to the fact that it
can be stolen.
My
mom noticed the phones and warned me to keep them in the bigger space where it
cannot easily be stolen. I ignored her and continued walking with the phones
still kept in the danger zone.’
We
kept walking and shopping around till we bought all we wanted. We were almost
exiting the market and I received one yeye
inspiration and felt my bag. It was then I noticed that the smaller part of the
bag was empty.
(Our phones had been stolen!!!).
My
mom rebuked me, saying she had warned me but I refused to obey her.
(Maryam and her usual disobedient
nature). I kept my innocent look on the face.
We
went to some men sitting on the side of the road and used one of their phones
to dial our numbers. It rung severally and was later switched off. I sat,
hoping that the thief would return the phones, but you know such a baseless
hope in Lagos Island.
We
entered a bus home and I couldn’t help but shed tears. We arrived home and I
remained in the room, bawling my eyes out.
Of
all that happened, I remembered that I didn’t eat before going to the market.
Yeah, I was too excited to get the new things that I kept my breakfast in the
fridge. Oh well, I did get the strength and chance to go to the kitchen, open
the fridge, heat the rice on the electrical cooker and return back to my room
to eat and cry.
A/N:
Do you have any theft experience? Share your stories with mareeam802@gmail.com.
Maryam AbdulWahab, My Life in Lagos Series.
Lol! My theft stories are too numerous to count. These days, I'm very defensive of my belongings when people walk close to me.
ReplyDeleteLol,Same here. Thanks for reading, I really appreciate Meg.
ReplyDeleteOh my heart sweetie
ReplyDeleteWhat a sad story
My theft story self ehn
I won't talk
Maryam and her usual disobedient nature
Smiles
Aww...Taekpoet. You better tell us your own story:)
ReplyDeleteYes...Maryam is stubborn, lol! Thanks for reading:)
I will tell with a poem
ReplyDeleteStory will just be crime
Haha
Yaas! That'll be fun. Inform me when you do so.
ReplyDelete