I was still looking around, taking in the tough and dirty looking young boys that littered the place. There were young girls too, everywhere, selling stuff and playing around with some of the boys. I just could not place the sight before me to the picture of Lagos we had been shown back in the village.
“See, Rosemary, Lagos is not really the paradise you people back in the village think it is,” Aunty Florence explained. “Although this is not what the whole of Lagos looks like, in fact, most parts of Lagos are much finer than this, especially when you cross to the other side of the lagoon called Lagos Island. But still, I must warn you, Lagos is not a paradise-like people think, it is a jungle city. It is a place where only the strongest and the smartest survive.”
I will never forget what she said, because years after, everything began to resonate in my head. She called Lagos Jungle City, the place where only the strong and the smartest survive. And that was exactly what I found out about Lagos. It was not just the city where the strong and the smartest survive, it’s also a place where the mad and the outrageous can flourish.
We were on our way to the garage to board the bus that would take us to Ojuelegba when something crazy happened. It was like a scene out of a Nigerian movie. I was carrying the bag containing my things and Aunty Florence’s stuff on my head. It was quite heavy. I was also holding a small nylon bag in my left hand. It contained my purse and a few personal items. All the money I had been saving from school was inside the purse. Suddenly, I just felt somebody grab the nylon bag and yanked it off my grip. Terrified, I turned and found it was a haggard-looking guy that took the bag from me. And in a flash, the guy threw the bag to another guy in the crowd of people around us before they both disappeared into thin air. I couldn’t say a word. I was too shocked to speak. It was Aunty Florence that was quick to snap out of the shock and began screaming, thief! Thief! But nothing happened. Nobody stopped them. They just ran past everybody and everyone was looking at them like nothing happened. I had gotten my first taste of the jungle city called Lagos..it was a welcome treatment I will never forget….
Aunty Florence tried to see what she could do get the stolen bag back. She went to meet some men at the garage and told them what happened. They asked her when the incident took place and she told them it was minutes ago. One of them who appeared to be the most senior of the lot was particularly patient with her. His English was awful but at least, he understood what Aunty Florence was saying and she understood him too. He was a tall stoutly built man probably in his late fifties with patches of grey hair on his head. He called some boys and asked them some questions. They communicated in Yoruba, we scarcely understood what they were saying. He asked Aunty Florence to describe the guys who stole from me and she did as best as she could. The man turned to the boys in front of him and, they talked some more before the man turned to us.
“Dey no be one of us,” he said to her. “But we go find them. You fit co0me back tomorrow afternoon to check,” he suggested. But I could see the disappointment on Aunty’s face. She was hoping for instant action to take place and the stolen item returned to us. But it obviously appeared that things would not happen that way. We left the men, telling them we would check back the following day, but I knew that was certainly not on Aunty’s agenda.
By the time we got to Aunty Florence’s home in Surulere, I was too badly shaken and dejected to be excited about the beauty of their house and the environment. The money stolen from me was everything I saved in my life. I no longer had a dime to call my own. But I tried to take my mind off the incident, telling myself I would get over it.
Aunty Florence’s house was a nice place. It was a very quiet and peaceful neighbourhood. There were no crowded houses like the many I’d seen on our way to the place. It was a fenced building painted in sparkling white paint. The gate was as high as the fence. It was a big black gate that on its own must’ve cost quite a fortune to procure. Aunty opened the gate with a key she brought from inside her purse. We stepped inside the compound and I was surprised we didn’t see anyone, neither did anyone come out of their apartment to greet their neighbour who had travelled for a few days. Everyone stayed in their apartments. We could hear their television sets on.
“Aunty, where is everybody? Nobody even came out to greet us welcome,” I asked her.
She smiled as she led me upstairs to their apartment. “My dear, this is Lagos where everybody minds their own business,” she said to me.
When she opened the door to her apartment and we stepped inside, it was like stepping into a mini paradise. It was beautiful. Tastefully furnished. It was like one of those foreign houses I used to see on television back in the village.
“Welcome to my house, Rosemary, hope you like it,” Aunty said to me, a proud smile on her face, knowing a young village girl like me would definitely be awed by the sheer aesthetic of their home.
“It’s beautiful, Aunty,” I’d responded, looking around the magnificent apartment. The set of chairs, curtains, the rug on the floor and electronics, everything had a touch of class.
“Well, it’s now your home now, at least pending till when you return to the village,” she said to me, and it did appear as it came from her heart. She meant every word of it.
“Let me take you to your room first, then you can drop your things and take a look around the house and familiarize yourself with it.
My room was quite big, spacious and lovely. It was the size of our living room back in the village. And the bed was big enough for two teenage girls my age. I even had my own bathroom. I was excited. I couldn’t believe I was going to be in that room all alone by myself and could do whatever I wished with it.
“Thank you so much, Aunty, I love this place. I love everything about it,” I thanked her. “You’re welcome anytime, my dear. Now, make yourself at home. Take off your clothes, freshen up and come join me in the kitchen so we can prepare dinner. My husband will soon return from office,” Aunty said a little smile on her face when she mentioned her husband. And truly, about an hour after, her husband, the man who was to have a major impact in my life, arrived…
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