Of Public Good

This Piece, hardly fits on this forum but then... take a quickly break from the listicles and enjoy it, if you can.

And I scurried along the crowded downtown street. There were hawkers everywhere and walkers too. In all directions. This was isale eko, where you could literally be stolen without knowing you’ve been stolen.

On and on I walked, making sure my valuables were snug in my jeans pockets, I went past Tinubu Square, where the fountain was now always working, went past all the igbo traders selling all manners of fabrics, and the fat isale eko ladies sitting squarely on short square stools in their expensive-lace-lined stores, counting fat wads of money.

I was now approaching the Central Mosque, scents of all sorts of cheap perfumes sold by the hausa traders wafting in the hot afternoon air, the yoruba traders calling out to you to come buy their 10 yards guinea fabrics, grabbing you even.

Today, I had only one thing on my mind. My scurrying was going to have to get me to Docemo street. I only just recently knew that that was the correct spelling of the name of the popular toy street in isale eko. We grew up calling it Dosunmu, like a Yoruba name. Well, Governor Fashola put up the street sign and it read Docemo.The sun was scorching hot, and the lacasera and cold water hawkers were having a field day. I have walked past the Central Mosque, I’m coming up to the next right turn, don’t remember the name of that street now. The road is much more crowded here. This part of the road used to be bumper to bumper molue buses. Not today.

I weave and duck my way through, and right there in front of the road divide, lay an old man, blinking at the sun. He seemed to be choking. He had a folded umbrella by his side.I probably only paused for about half a second to take it all in. He seemed to have collapsed in the scorching heat only about 10 seconds before I reached that junction. Activity carried on around him like no one lay there. Today, i was not a Samaritan. I walked on like everyone else. I took the turn, bent on getting to Docemo/Dosunmu street quickly and getting out of Lagos Island before the life threatening Lagos Traffic started. I walked, I ducked, waited for the kekes to pass, all the while thinking: Hope someone helps poor baba up o. Hope someone won't use it as an excuse to steal baba’s umbrella and his torchlight Nokia.

Now I’m at Dosunmu. Now to find a quiet nice store to buy what I wanted. All these women traders and the way they size you up and land a price on your head. I certainly was not in the mood for a long price haggling session. I don’t even know how. It all just suddenly looked like a bad idea. I walked around some more, mainly looking at all the new stuff I could buy for my little princess.

Ok, its time to go… Lagos Traffic respects nobody. I walked, I ducked, waited for the kekes, weaved and picked my way through the sea of swarming bodies. I was back on the road that I can’t remember the name, and I’m still hoping that a Samaritan has come by.

I reach where baba lay, and baba was no longer horizontal. Public good had prevailed. Someone had brought cold “pure water” to douse baba’s head and insides with, someone was holding baba’s umbrella, two people were holding baba on either side, someone had donated their keke marwa and they were guiding baba into it. Baba had a faint smile on his face. Undoubtedly of gratitude. The public good had shown up and had given him another day to live. He must have been really thankful, even if somebody eventually made away with his torchligth Nokia.I paused, a full one second. There still was public good in downtown isale eko. I was happy.