Michael Ace: Diary of a Nigerian hustler 2

by Micheal Ace

They say in Nigeria, if you want to walk fast, take a bike; if you want to walk far, walk with your earpiece.

It was a sunny Monday afternoon. The only thing special about that Monday was the less busy road. I didn’t need to jack someone off or squeeze my body through the crowd before I had my way. I was coming from a job interview in one big IT firm around Iwo road, Ibadan when I felt the need to use the ATM. The two thousand in my account would last me the whole week if I spent judiciously: no forming big brother and no miscellaneous spending.

I walked to a nearby bank and Immediately I saw there was no queue on the ATM stand, I knew it was either not dispensing or ‘service
unavailable’ so I moved up a bit to the next bank and to the next bank and to the next before I finally found one. The queue was long and horrible but I decided to wait. After about two hours standing, it got to my turn. I slotted in my card only to read on the screen ‘Hardware Error’. I tried two more times and later called the attention of a security guard. He said it might be that my card chip has damaged and advised me to visit my bank to make a complaint. That would be a job for another day, so I plugged in my earpiece and embarked on the long journey home.

On my way home, I passed through an estate and did actually saw heaven on earth: beautiful set of houses and flowers, well tarred and clean road, silent atmosphere and a very cool environment. I was busy seeing this when a gate opened and I peeped inside. I saw a very young man I supposed would be in his late 20s climbed up a very new and sparkling Lexus. I saw his face so happy and relaxed with a gentle smile labelled on his lips. I saw his skin so smooth and stretched like the surface of a still water. I saw his shoes, clothes and the wrist chain he wore which was definitely much more expensive than everything I put on. His neck chain was pure gold and I would say his wrist watch was one of those new expensive Rolex.

After the gate was closed, I thought about my life for a bit and then continued my journey. I would not let depression throw me into a roadside river. Even if one will die by water, the mainland bridge is more fitting. I plugged back in my earpiece and on it went…

“I believe I can fly, I believe I can touch the sky. I dream about it every night and day, spread my wings and fly away. I believe I can soar…”

Op–ed pieces and contributions are the opinions of the writers only and do not represent the opinions of Y!/YNaija

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