Photocopies

There I was in the dark.

My eyes widened in unfamiliar darkness. I heard children running around somewhere upstairs.

I ran.

I ran up the stairs as fast as my legs could carry me.

I ran into a strangers house.

I had never been inside one before. By the time I had realised where I was to take the scenery in I had began feeling faint.

I was in a 'face-me-I-face-you'. It looked like it.

Walls blackened from years of stories untold.

"Have you peepo close the door?" She shouted

I didn't respond. I couldn't. I was a mute.

Through the spaces in the walls of the brick stair case, we stared into the street.

A woman in the house went downstairs to lock the door. She struggled with the simple hook at the back of the door

"As if that would provide any form security..." I muttered under my breath.

She came up the stairs and looked at us as she ascended.
"Ejo e ma binu ma..." I said to her in the most genuine yoruba accent I could come up with.
"Ah binu ke? Dont worry, what are we here for if not to help each other."

I did not know her from Adam.

This stranger had offered a lady and I her stairwell as a hideaway.

Was I still in Lagos?

I looked on through the spaces in the brick wall. I saw the streets, they were empty.

The police, civillians, touts, all gone.

How did I get into a face-me-I-face-you in the dark with a total stranger??

The man was suddenly running in my direction when he fell. I thought nothing of it.
I thought nothing of it until he twitched on the ground and a violet-red substance oozed from his body unto the brown earth.

Somebody shot him.

The policeman shot him.

The police was everywhere. Here, there, everywhere. They weilded there guns. Guns with necks as long as those of girraffees.

You see, I knew those were guns. I never realised they actually made use of them. I knew those weapons were not for fancy. But I just never thought I would see its use first hand.

Quiet had returned to the street. The woman who ran into the strangers house with me began crying.

"My pikin oh... she dey road. she just dey come back from school. I'm calling her now her phone number is not available. Chaaaii"

I wondered if her daughter was the second person I heard had been shot. I could just imagine her laying on the ground, school uniform stained. Or was she somewhere hiding just as we were?

I was back to being mute. I could not utter a simple statement to console her.

She asked me where I was headed when the riot broke out. I was still mute.

She must have thought I was rude.
I just could not find words, a first in my life.

All I wanted were photocopies.

As I beheld the man twitching on the ground, there was no thought in my head. None whatsoever.

Now that I think about it no one told me to make my next move.

I ran.

I ran so fast I could feel my heart thumping against my rib cage. There I was with all the important documents I had acquired in my little life. And I was just running.

I didnt care about where I was running towards, whether it was towards greater danger, I had no idea.

It was in the home of that stranger that I realised I still had my documents intact.
Minutes later I remebered why I had left my house. The photocopies.

I sited a small storey building during my survey of the street.

'MAKE YOUR COPIES HIA'

Do I bolt out into the adjacent house?

Guess what?

I thanked one of tenants of the face-me-I-face-you. Unbolted the door, shut my eyes and ran as the crow flies across the street.

Stupid.

But I had to get those copies made.
It was a small room. If I could imagine a prison cell, that was exactly what this looked like. But this cell had about 6 old school computers crammed in it with a copy machine.

A copy machine!

It was hot. It was hot and it smelled.

The room was filled with relatively young men all typing away. Rather copying and pasting the same messages to God knows who on the other side of the globe.

Waiting to get my copies done, I realised if the EFCC walked in there I was dead meat.

I was in the midst of 'yahoo boys'

I was right there with a folder in my hands, wearing pyjama bottoms and an old t-shirt. I fit right in. LOL

No cell phone to even call home with. LoL

Naaaahhhh. Two horrible things couldn't happen to me in one day.

I was finally done. Still stunned, I paid and did not even wait for my change.

I still do not know how I got home.

Back in my bed, pyjamas still on. I mulled over all that had happened in the 'safety' of my house.

I wondered who the man was. I remember seeing his eyes roll back as he bled to the ground. What did he see as he passed away?

Did his life flash before his eyes? Did he live to see me running for the hills?

Would I have opened my doors to total strangers? Strangers who were runing at top speed?

I doubt it.

All I remeber was that my concern was getting home with my photocopies made. Was that sheer madness or determination?

I mean I had one of the greatest deals of my life the next day to prepare for.
Cut me some slack.

Hold on.

Aren't the Nigerian police supposed to protect me? Why were they firing into the crowd towards me?

Why did I perceive this air of normalcy despite the chaotic circumstances? Could it be that people had become used to this kind of irrationality from the Nigerian police?

All I wanted were some damn photocopies.

Today, I realised that admist chaos there is still so much to be grateful for.

There are kind people out there. They live in the most unlikely places that we may look down on.

One never knows who HE would send to be our guardian angel.

On my way out tomorrow I would probably pass by that face-me-I-face-you. I doubt I would even remember what street it was in talk less of the particular house.

But tonight I will pray for that woman and her family. I will pray for the man who passed away. I will aslo pray for the lady who was looking for her child. The yahoo boys, the nigerian police, I will pray for them. For this country I will also pray.

I will pray that my children would not have to see what I saw today.

I will pray that they will not inherit the knowledge that the government and politicians of their fatherland don't give a shit about their lives.

That stray bullet could have hit me.

But it did not.

So I will do the only thing I know how.

Pray.


'DWN