A City Cries—Yaba Is Lonely
The clouds began to gather. The weather changed, rain threatened. The bus arrived at the BRT stop and we all alighted, only few passengers; the worst of CoVID. I crossed the road to the other side; close to the psychiatric hospital and the Infectious Disease Hospital (IDH) and sat on the only pavement I could find facing the main road. I came all the way for a reason; To SEE.
To see Men, women. The young, the old. To see the poor, the rich. To see the happy, the sad. To see the busy road, the traffic building up pretty fast….
To see pedestrians. Well suited men struggling to catch a bus home in the evening, Unilag girls searching frantically for clothes with the cheapest price tag. Razor mouthed men carrying dressed mannequins and calling out their prices, while some either pull, grab, or run after any lady in sight. Hooligans wrestling bus conductors for supposed bus-stop charges; Threatening to smash the bus’ side mirrors if their dues aren’t paid….While some would work tirelessly, others would effortlessly rob them of their gains. You would hear a scream; Apparently someone’s bag or phone has been snatched.
But that’s all gone. Dead. Lonely Yaba
Breathe life into it again
In the midst of the quietness, one place gathered the noise, the attention, the chaos, the worry, and it’s sudden existence bothers the peace of the city; The IDH. It’s has always been there, but no one cared, only few knew. No one cared. A city that holds history and diverse tales on every corner….Now quiet; A sad lonely place.
We all have to concentrate on life and it’s essence so it doesn’t pass us by. Days would roll into months, months into years, and we would fade away; only our legacies would remain.
Stay home, Stay safe. This too shall pass