On the morning of last Wednesday, I was in a hurry to get to the office. I peeped out of my window to do a mini weather forecast since the Island had been overtaken by flood in the last two days. I could see in the distance from where I stood on the terrace that the clouds were gathering, a sign it would be a rainy morning.
I hurriedly carried my handbag and laptop with the hope of beating the coming rain. Alas, I was wrong, before I descended the stairs, it had started drizzling. Defying the trickling rain, I trudged on. I had to get to the office early to wrap up the production for the magazine, Business Life.
On a day like this, taking the car to the office was an option. Driving to the office on a rainy day in Lagos ? Uhn, uhn, tufia-kwa, nba! It’s not a feat I would dare to try! And true to my prediction, a heavy downpour began shortly after I got to Eko Hotel roundabout. The cabs I tried to wave down said emphatic “no” even before I could tell them my destination. For them, Festac was a no-go area because of the rain. And so, my last resort was to get on a danfo.
By the time I got to CMS, the rain was pouring in torrent and the ever busy CMS bridge was deserted, there were only three buses parked on the far right of the bridge. I got on one them heading towards Mile 2, with my umbrella dripping water. Other passengers and I, who were in the bus before me had to wait for the bus to get filled.
The bus driver was shouting at the top of his voice and also making signal with his fingers to the few passengers who walked by in the rain, his destination. His voice, which had become hoarse, was drowned by the sound of the rain. After waiting for some minutes, a young man with ransack fastened on his back was soaked to his pant by the October rain.
He took a seat next to a woman who was not soaked. The uneasiness on the woman’s face was too glaring, as she was trying to avoid getting wet. She moved close to the bus panel in a bid to leave an ample space between herself and the wet man. She was wrong, by the time the fourth person sat down (who was equally drenched), she had to sit shoulder-to-shoulder with the wet man.
As the heat in the bus became unbearable, I could not help but pray the bus moves on time, as the windows were shut. There was no fresh air in spite of the cold weather. Eventually, the engine roared to life as the bus got filled; and we embarked on our journey to Mile 2. After journeying for a few metres, we ran into a traffic gridlock on Apongbon Bridge . There was an accident involving three BRT buses and a car. We were in the traffic for hours.
Such an occurrence is not uncommon whenever it rains in Lagos . As if that was not enough, our bus broke down at the foot of a bridge. As the driver tried to revive the engine after several attempts, the engine came back to life. We have not moved a few yards when it broke down again, right in the middle of the highway. This time, the engine failed to respond and we all became impatient with the man’s fruitless attempts to kick start the bus.
We got off the bus to stand on the sidewalk. Several vehicles sped past, splashing water on us. I held on tight to my umbrella which was at the risk of being blown away by the strong wind. We were all at our wits end, as there was no hope of getting another bus. The rain was pouring heavily and it was unfortunate that it was at this its intensity increased.
Suddenly, an empty bus appeared from nowhere with the conductor shouting its destination, Mile 2. Excitedly, we jumped on board. We were completely overtaken by water as we approached Point Road , and saw several vehicles stuck in the flood. Commuters who could not get on any commercial vehicle made their journey on foot. With their trousers rolled up, they waded through the dirty brownish water. Discarded bottles of water, old shoes, and all kinds of nylon floated in the pool. It was horrible!
The journey for most drivers became the survival of the fittest; vehicles without good engines were nowhere. Apapa was free of traffic, but too flooded. It was pitiable how people had to swim their way out of the huge water unmindful of what was underneath. The potholes were deep. They fell into them and with determination and courage they moved on. As workers have to get to work, it was no joke at all. Any one who passed through Apapa last Wednesday would understand how much Lagosians are suffering.
As I write this, some of my colleagues are just getting to the office at 7.30 p.m. They had been in traffic. It was a horrible day. In unison, we cry for good drainage system, good roads so that when it rains, we all won’t have to suffer as travellers in the rain!
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