I’M SMILING EVEN IF I CAN’T REMEMBER – Part 1

Waiting long minutes in an ATM queue under the hot sun on any Monday afternoon in Nigeria is not a thing you want to experience. I’m smiling at my phone while standing in the gallery. I stood there waiting for my turn. Looking at all these people standing in front of me, no doubt that they were definitely up to twenty-five. This Monday afternoon was, however, different for me; it’s the end of the year, and I’m finally getting a break from work and going to travel back home.

I’m fleeing the complex and troublesome life of the city. In no time, I was at the front of the queue; there were four persons before me: an elderly woman dressed in Yoruba iro and buba with her neatly wrapped gele of the same Ankara, a young man, probably a student, judging by his dyed Mohawk haircut, and two other ladies who I couldn’t even describe in my mind. It seemed the network had picked up, and everything was going smoothly now.

Waiting long minutes in an ATM queue under the hot sun on any Monday afternoon in Nigeria is not a thing you want to experience. I’m smiling at my phone while standing in the gallery. I stood there waiting for my turn. Looking at all these people standing in front of me, no doubt that they were definitely up to twenty-five. This Monday afternoon was, however, different for me; it’s the end of the year, and I’m finally getting a break from work and going to travel back home.

I’m fleeing the complex and troublesome life of the city. In no time, I was at the front of the queue; there were four persons before me: an elderly woman dressed in Yoruba iro and buba with her neatly wrapped gele of the same Ankara, a young man, probably a student, telling by his dyed Mohawk haircut, and two other ladies who I couldn’t even describe in my mind. It seemed the network had picked up, and everything was going smoothly now.

Now, I turned around and began to observe the environment. There was a woman who had a baby strapped to her back, smiling as she was buying oranges from a boy of about twelve. I shook my head, wondering why he wasn’t in school. Okada riders were calling out, hoping to get a customer as people thronged by. I spotted my green Toyota Camry LE as it was parked between a Toyota Highlander and a neat, sleek muscle car (probably for a Yahoo guy, as it looked new); my small car – I shrugged and cleared the thought – it’s not that small after all; many people my age couldn’t boast of a tricycle.

All of a sudden, I could hear sounds of complaints, protests and arguments coming from the next ATM stand.

“What are you doing? Why are you wasting our time here?” The young man was visibly frustrated. Who wouldn’t be under this sun?

“If you know you don’t know how to use it and you will ask instead of doing itk“, a woman chipped in.

The man in front of the machine finally spoke, “It does not have the amount I want.”

Turns out, he wanted to withdraw fourteen thousand Naira and had been withdrawing a thousand Naira for the past 3 withdrawals. I smiled, as it was now my turn. I had not gotten into my car before getting a debit alert. “GT Bank”, I muttered and scoffed as I started the car and drove home.

It was now time to prepare for my journey.

My name is Oyewole Folasewa. This journey I’m about to make is going to be very stressful. I turned the TV on as I got home and didn’t even bother to change. Working in a radio station is as hard as it gets. Diamond FM is definitely the hardest…

NEXT PART: I’M SMILING EVEN IF I CAN’T REMEMBER – Part 2

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