LFB: Entry 17 [Tiide: End of part One]

Tiide Olufola-Carson
Lagos  (Ozumba Mbadiwe)


I had been stuck in traffic for close to forty-five minutes, but anyone who lives in Lagos would agree, forty-five minutes does not even begin to scratch the surface.  I lifted my CD storage compartment  and brought out the first two CDs I touched. This traffic could use some help from heaven but for now, music would have to suffice to soothe my nerves.  I looked down at the CDs; it was either my "Naija" mix compiled by some DJ called Freddie or the highlife mix that Dara bought one day while we were stuck in traffic. 
Highlife had never really been my thing. It reminded me of photos of my parents from the 70's, which I couldn't quite relate to. Dad in his shiny lace agbadas, a gold chain around his neck (always) and his wide playful smile. People were happy back then, the photos were like frozen memories of  a time when there were more things to smile about; they seemed to show a general state of contentment.There must have been less drama, more innocence, no Ugo's. No Ugo's. That thought consoled me and sealed my decision on the CD selection. I slid in the highlife mix into my disc player and in less than ten seconds, Sir Victor Uwaifo began to sing. Joromi. Yeah, they definitely were happier then.

 I looked outside my wound up window, as I tapped my steering wheel to the beat. The taxi driver next to me was hollering at another driver, sweating profusely, swinging his face towel in anger. I'm sure the taxi drivers of the 70's weren't cranky. I made a mental note to ask my Dad.

It had been three weeks since I spoke to Ugo, two since I spoke to Adira. He barely responded to my messages. He did try calling the day after the disastrous Adira conversation. I missed the call while I was in a meeting. He, however, did send me a voice note saying not to call his phone anymore. He said he'd do all the calling from now on. 

I wasn't sure what to make of that but I felt like I had just been placed on a clearance rack at an extremely reduced price.  I shouldn't  call him anymore? Why? Of course, I called him anyway, but he wouldn't answer my calls. I was livid. Two days later, a bouquet of white roses arrived for me. The girls at work had grown bored with my flower-scapades. I was no longer in the spotlight since Tina in the drilling department  got promoted suddenly. The word on the corridors was that she's sleeping with someone high up. That was fine by me, attention diversion was welcome.   

The traffic etched forward negligibly. Facing traffic on Ozumba Mbadiwe on Friday afternoon , though illogical, beat getting up before dawn on an environmental sanitation morning to go pick up my dress from my tailor. My dress for yet another wedding . I rolled my eyes at the thought of enduring another stream of wedding songs, photo booths and bouquet flung at my head. I picked up my phone from my cup  holder, hit the Instagram widget and for the next ten minutes I got lost in updates, wedding engagements, TGIF posts, pouts, weaves and quotes. One or two "And she said Yes" photos too. Another ten minutes, exploring and diving into followers of my contacts.
 Then I saw it.
 A picture of Ugo and Adira put up by some "sjmalik" person.
 Ugo had on a blue dress jacket and a pair of jeans. His eyes laughing and his smile huge, rippling almost to his ears. His scalp well-groomed and  glistening. He was holding Adira's left hand looking straight at the lenses. Adira's gaze was elsewhere. On her left hand. On her fingers. On a ring.  

...................

So Ugo had proposed. That day, trapped on Ozumba Mbadiwe  I spent a long time looking at the photo, at the ring, at the hashtags. My favorites --- #ugoadirafrenchconnection #ugoadirafcuk #yeahisaiditfcuk . They had witty friends and she had her stupid hair and her herbs and Ugo.

He had proposed. He said he was going to leave her. I didn't know what to feel. I turned the air-conditioning knob up to two. 

But he said he'd leave her! He said it had always been me. Horns began to blare around me as I sat there. I didn't know how long I sat there. There was a sudden rasp on my window. "Move your car, sister!" A sweaty man yelled above Rex Lawson's cool voice. The cars had began moving.  I put my car in drive and  hit the accelerator. Rex Lawson's Sawale was playing. I had no idea what he was saying but every time he said Asawo, I flinched.

End of Part One
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