I was going to be posted to Lagos! I knew it. I dreamt about it. I prepared my temporary accommodation. I picked up Yoruba words. I was psychologically prepared for the hustle. We are talking about “the Lagos”, guys. I didn’t come to this world to play tinko with you people.
The day call-up letters were released, I wasn’t breathing fine. It didn’t help that I could not access the portal. I called the café guy who helped with my registration to check if my letter had come and he was acting all busy. So I showered, put on the first dress I could find and ran out of the house to the nearest café I could find.
Before I got to Rumuokoro junction, I received a text message from the café guy. It had just two words: Edo state. Edo state and life flashed before my eyes. Different thoughts ran through my mind. Thoughts like:
” Edo state?
Do they even have Afang soup in Edo?
What happens there besides witchcraft?”
I felt like I was in a trance. It took alighting from the bus in Bob Izua park, Benin city for me to realise that I wasn’t in Lagos. I looked around me, this red and yellow city shuttle bus was to be my life and for the first time since I received that whatsapp message, I was afraid.
Man proposes. God throws his proposal into the trash can.