I seem to be having a lot of road experiences these days. It’s good though, I am glad that God is making sense out of the mundane things I do daily.
This incidence happened just yesterday, while on my way to work. I flagged down a keke bound for Allen Avenue, sat at the back and soon a lady joined me. The keke man drove only two of us all the way. I began to pity him and even contemplated being conductor for his three-wheeled vehicle. I calculated for a minute how much his interest could be from this short drive with only two passengers. The price (N50 per person) had not changed since the hike in fuel price, so how much could his profit be from the N100 we would pay him?
When we were just a few bus stops from Alade Market, he stretched his right hand backwards, gesturing to collect his pay. Being the gentleman that I (sometimes) am, I let the lady go first. She passed him a N100 note. After settling the balance due her, he steadied both of his hands on the wheel for a while so as to gain concentration and steer the keke properly. I studied him and the road ahead carefully to know when he could be ready to collect my own bill. A few seconds later, a slight twist of his neck was my cue. I quickly stretched a N100 bill to him, hoping to make a quick exchange so he could focus on driving us safely to the last bus stop.
But I guess I was too fast. I let go of the note, when I thought he had grabbed it. I thought wrong. The note slid off both our hands and flew onto the middle of the busy Allen Avenue. This had never happened to me. For a few seconds I was clueless. I couldn’t imagine myself getting in the middle of a busy road like that chasing after an ‘ordinary’ N100 note. I thought to forget about it. But a counter thought told me that would be bad stewardship; he that is faithful in little is faithful also in much. The keke man apparently thought so too, because he parked immediately. I didn’t hesitate to get off, surveyed the area a bit to determine where exactly note had dropped, but I didn’t see it. It seemed to have vanished, rather, a car was obstructing my view.
It was a jeep. It stood right in the middle of the road, and I thought to myself, “If this jeep could just move slightly, I might be able to get a clear view of where the money is.” I raised my head to get the attention of the driver, not knowing that the driver was also trying to get my attention. He waved his hands toward his left. I understood what he meant. He was signalling to me where the money had landed. This man waited in the middle of the road, intentionally creating a traffic so that other vehicles would slow down and I could safely pick up my ‘ordinary’ N100 note. I was amazed at his discretion. I picked the money from behind his rear wheel and tried to walk up to him to say thanks, but he didn’t wait. He drove off, with my thank you message trailing on after him.
As I returned to the keke, I could not stop saying “Wow! Wow! What a man!” I didn’t even realise when I passed the same N100 note to the keke man. I would have loved to keep it in memory of a Lagos driver’s discretion and kindness. That N100 had suddenly increased in value – it could no longer be an ordinary N100 note to me. It is, instead, a testament to the fact that in this present-day Nigeria, a man in a 4WD jeep can stop in Lagos traffic to ensure that a simple passenger from a three-wheeled keke is shown a simple love and care that says, “You’re equally important, regardless what you drive.”
