omenana.com: a winter in lagos
About this book
The sky closed its eyes on Lagos at two in the afternoon, and in the cloudiness the wind howled fervently from Ikeja Market to Somolu, from Mafoluku to Isolo, from Bourdillon to Ibeju. Street hawkers ran to wherever it is they run to when it rains – rickety barbershop shacks, deserted buildings, under bare roofing sheets that covered roadside canteens. Reckless drivers tore their way down pothole-ridden streets, competing with the motorcycle taxis to get to their offices, their shops, their homes. Anywhere, as long as it was not on the street. Business-owners and bankers watched the darkening day behind glass windows, sipping from hot cups of tea and hoping the sky would clear up before they had to go home. Hairdressers looked through the windows of their salons and sighed, knowing not to expect too many customers if the weather kept up. Market women reluctantly cleared tables of items displayed outside their stalls. Owners of small roadside boutiques took their mannequins inside. But there was no rain. Not a single drop.