How to not walk almost 18km on an empty stomach.

If not that storytelling connects, I wouldn't have put feather to ink. Thank goodness, my father is not anywhere near LinkedIn so I am a bit safe to write.

I will try to make it less provocative as I now understand that it is normal to be abnormal for a slight moment. You can document this under by abnormalities. 

Thanks to the ladies. There are some lots I'd lost hope on, they rejuvenated it, so I tend to believe that some things can still work for me (like having an old school or "gallas" head style on my bald).

The truth today is that if you look at those worst-case scenarios of your life in the past, not all of them make plenty sense as they did then. Meaning time wiped the pains away.

In the last four years, I'd celebrated every one of my beautiful birthdays as a patient helplessly lying on the hospital bed with tiny straws passing fluid into me, plasters on my hands, dangling waterbags accompanying me to the bathroom and people wishing me quick recovery.

I was saved last year for after a while, I celebrated it not as a patient but as a patient soul waiting for life to take a shape. I believed there is no harm in pausing from the hustle, particularly on your birthday. So I paused, and let the world run.

Working hard and walking long on an empty stomach could kill you.

That day, I woke up to check my work schedule. On plotting the coordinates on Google maps, I've been posted to Ayobo, to conduct field research in that low-income community. 

My finance was on zero levels and as an early riser who loves to get to communities fast, engage respondents before the sweet sunny man comes shining, I jumped off the bed not minding my pocket and prepare for the day.

The kitchen was empty. No food. Pocket empty. No money. 

I rushed to the lady who gets my back anytime. She's been an admirer for so long but I was too stupid to respect a peaceful affection. 

I went to her. Unfortunately, the timing was wrong. She had no money too. But she found me a little to clear some kilometers, so I hit the road.

I walked a distance worth of a hundred and fifty naira before taking the first bus. And then the second. Before topping it with a tricycle drop. 

I got to the community late. My first respondent was a man sipping a bottle of beer by the entrance of a dilapidated building. He didn't look drunk so I indulged him. His first response shows he's in his right senses, so I went on with the conversation.

Then the second, third until the seventh. Great. Okay?

Time to go home.

I had called some of my colleagues while walking but we're all in the same situation: financially un-buoyant.

As of when I made the last call. There was no one to help.

That left me with two options.

One: Ask a random stranger for help.

Two: Walk 18.9km back home - (Approximately 3hrs:50 mins walk)

Two was my lucky number. So I began.

Google maps provided me with those hidden short cuts but it didn't last long as battery life bailed on me.

Baruwa. Pako. Hotel. Igando. Chemist. Then First Gate.

Life was almost out of me. Water is the simplest drop to save my soul. I didn't get it. 

My father was scared. I'm supposed to have been home. He called countless times but my phone was in the pouch. I didn't feel the ring.

I got home that day.

I had a cup of water.

Lied down to take a rest and didn't rise until the next day.

On looking at my work schedule, I called in sick. And for another two days, I was at off work. Reminiscing my stupidity.

There is just a simple way to not walk almost 28km on an empty stomach.

Ask for help. From anyone. Even if it's a stranger.

Two days gave me the right-thinking cap.

Should you not know, a stranger is just a friend you're yet to meet.