I stood by my car waiting for a friend who was finishing up at a saloon and watched 4 little boys play with a ball they had made by stuffing pieces of cloth wrapped around little stones into an old deflated football.
I was intrigued by the raw intelligence the refurbished ball presented but wondered about how easy it was to kick against a ball that probably weighed almost half as much as the smallest of the boys.
They seemed happy and content in their little game and my friend was taking her precious time so I watched. I could have gone into the saloon but the last time I was there I had a little falling out with the hair dresser who made me look more like I was going for a ritual ceremony and not the wedding I had planned. So I swore never to set foot in that saloon again and waiting under the blistering sun was me proving my point.
The boys had stopped playing and were looking intently in anticipation as one of them ran towards a lady who had just alighted from a motorbike. He bent towards her bag of groceries and she snapped at him. I couldn’t hear what she said but I could feel her anxiety at having a 10 year old tattered looking boy touch her bag. I strained to hear their conversation but I was too far away so I tried to read their lips but all I see from the boy was “please. . . .” and after a pause the lady nodded and he carried the grocery bag and followed behind her into the gate of an estate right behind them.
A few minutes later, my “boys” and I were still craning our necks in anticipation for the boys’ return when he ran out of the estates gate in full speed waving a 50naira note. They all jumped around in circles and chatted excitedly, pointing in the direction of “Mallam Biscuits” stand.
I smiled as I remembered myself so many years ago excited at any currency given to me by uncles and aunties who came to visit.
I had entered my car and turned on the AC, the heat outside had become unbearable and I had decided to leave my friend behind, after all she was an adult and could find her way home easily. And well, I wasn’t paid to turn 2 shades darker for being her chauffer.
As I simmered, a lady walked by my car and caught my attention because she was wearing exactly the same top I had bought a few days ago and I smiled to myself and shrugged, “London shoppers in Lagos malls”. She was rummaging furiously through her bag like I did when I couldn’t find my keys and a 200naira note fell out right in front of my boy who carried the grocery bag.
He immediately picked it up and ran after her calling out and handed it to her as she turned around. She stared at his hand, then his face and smiled then she bent slightly, said something to him just as his friends got to where they were standing and turned away waving.
What?! Had she just given a 200naira note to my boy? Oh my! What a day this boy had had.
As if on cue, all 4 boys jumped and screamed and this time I could hear them distinctly as they ran towards “Mallam Biscuit”. I laughed despite myself and wished someone else would come and maybe throw a good life at them, changing their clothes, giving them a home and a possible future.
My heart felt heavy and my eyes teared up as I wondered if spending 5 more minutes playing a rugged football will bring more goodness to the already happy boys.
As they half-ran, half-walked chatting excitedly and eating the combos or biscuits, wafers, sweets and sharing a bottle of a drink that looked like Viju milk, I decided my waiting time was up and started my car.
As I pushed the gear into drive, from the corner of my eye I saw my friend running hysterically towards my car, waving both hands and bags. She looked angry and I could see why, the hairdresser had transformed her into a lion with locks. I smiled and she said, “I don’t want to hear it”
It had been an eventful 20minutes with a grand finish!
I drove away with a sense of fulfilment.
