Chapter 1: Collision at Oshodi Junction

Lagos night breeze no dey cool, but the street light glare fit blind person eye. As the traffic light switched to yellow, I pressed my brakes sharp-sharp—next thing, the car behind just jam me from back.

My heart skipped a beat. The whole junction echoed with that heavy 'gbim'—Nigerian wahala no dey ever far. I reach for my chest, then hiss under my breath. Inside my head, I dey pray make e no be one of those stubborn Lagos drivers. The way people dey drive for this city ehn, na only God dey protect person.

I come down go check the wahala. The car wey hit me na Porsche.

Na there my mind skip again. Porsche dey shine for Oshodi junction by 2am? E get as e be. I adjust my shirt, dey brace myself. Everybody for junction dey look, some people already dey bring out phone dey peep. Keke riders dey adjust face mask, okada boys dey balance for seat, dey watch like free Nollywood show. Na so story dey start for WhatsApp group o.

Na so the Porsche madam jump out, zobo for hand, big sunglasses, high heels dey make kpa-kpa for ground. She waka come my side, finger dey wag for my nose like say she dey count my sin, shout, "You dey craze? You no sabi say when yellow light show, na to press am go fast?"

Even before she reach me, the smell of her heavy perfume and the red colour for her cup choke me. Her zobo dey spill for the cup as her hand dey shake. High heels dey click like she dey on runway, but na junction we dey. I shift back small so her spit no go touch my body.

I just answer her, "Yellow light mean make person stop."

I talk am calmly, no even look her eye. I no wan give her any reason to escalate matter. For my mind, I dey remember wetin my papa always talk: no dey argue with person wey no dey reason for public.

Before I fit talk again, she throw her zobo for my face.

The thing soak my shirt, zobo stain just dey spread. I hear small gasp from some keke riders wey park for corner. One agbero shout, "Ah! Madam, e never reach like that now!" But she no send anybody.

She scream, "If you no sabi drive, abeg park for house! See as you spoil my car. Go tell your mama say she born mumu. Yellow light dey show, you dey slow down? You dey craze! You wan kill person for road!"

Her voice loud reach heaven. People for other side of the road dey look, some dey whisper. Me sef, my hand dey shake but I dey try package. I no wan disgrace myself. I just dey wonder who born this kain wahala woman.

I wipe the zobo commot my face, my body dey shake with vex. My mind dey boil—see as I just take bath zobo for public. Small pikin go dey pass, dey point: "Uncle, why you dey wear zobo for shirt?" Shame wan finish me. Na only God hold my hand make I no slap her.

Everybody know the law: if you never cross stop line and yellow light show, na to stop.

Na true talk. Na road safety officer teach us for driving school. I remember when FRSC dey lecture: "Yellow no mean speed, e mean prepare to stop." But for Nigeria, people dey interpret am as 'step on am!' My spirit just dey vex for the ignorance.

People suppose slow down for junction, but dem go dey speed anytime dem see yellow light.

Dem no dey even send. One day, person go learn by force. Na so accident dey happen anyhow, as everybody dey rush like say dem dey pursue night bus.

This Porsche woman see say yellow go soon turn red, she press am, no expect say I go brake. Na so she jam me.

Her own be say, if you no move, she go press horn dey curse you. The sense of entitlement full everywhere. Na the type wey go dey use one hand hold steering, the other dey form Snapchat video.

Normally, I dey see this kind thing for news—person wait for yellow light, car for back go dey curse am. I bin think say na only for TV rude people dey, but today, I jam one live.

E shock me, because e no dey ever cross my mind say na me go experience am one day. Na so Nigeria don turn, wahala dey everywhere—even for traffic wey suppose get order.

The Porsche madam look her car like say she wan cry, teeth dey grind, she dey rain insult: "I for like peel your skin! You dey drive this yeye car wey no reach five million naira, poor man with no home training."

She dey size me up, dey measure my shirt, my shoe—like say na me dey bring bad luck come. Some okada boys dey look her, dey shake head. One small boy near corner dey mimic her voice: "Yeye car!" I swallow the insult, but my jaw dey tight.

I tell am, "I no go argue with you. I dey call police."

As I dey talk am, my hand steady pass as my mind dey go. For this Lagos, sometimes na only police fit settle matter, even if dem go demand recharge card.

As I carry phone, the woman craze. She rush me, collect my phone, break am for ground: "Police go fire you!"

The screen burst scatter, I just hear "kpraaa!" for ground. People gasp again. Her madness level don increase, no respect for law, no fear for crowd. She eye dey red like say she don take something before she come out.

She dey shout: "Na my car you jam, you still get mind call police? If you no sabi behave, no drive! See as road empty for 2am, you still jam brake!"

My mind flash—if police show, who dem go believe? Rich madam or ordinary guy like me? Even me, I begin dey doubt myself. Why I no just press am go like other people? But my head remind me, na better to dey alive than to rush go early grave. My hand dey tremble, but I no talk.

I shock.

My mouth open, words no come out. Na so person dey see madness live and direct for Lagos road. I just dey pray make I no see her type again.

I no believe say she fit reach fight level.

I dey look her—fine woman, Porsche driver, but wahala pass area boy for Ojuelegba. My mind dey flash, this life no balance at all. Person wey suppose dey gentle fit get hidden fire wey fit burn village. Dem dey talk say, na quiet pot dey boil pass for fire.

I no wan fight. Make dem no talk say man beat woman, na wahala be that.

Because for Naija, na so story dey twist. Tomorrow headline go read: "Man brutalizes woman on highway!" Who go hear my own version? I lock my fists inside pocket, dey beg God for patience.

I push her comot small, try enter my car back.

I use elbow block her as I sidestep. I dey avoid make her spit touch my face again. I dey wish make I just disappear, but na Lagos, no escape from drama.

But as she dey high heel, she no stand well, I mistakenly push am fall.

Na so she land for ground, wig shift, one of her shoe fly commot leg. The agberos for bus stop shout, "Chai! Madam fall o!" I wan go help am up, but my spirit tell me make I no touch her again.

She get up, hair scatter, face red, run come again, begin hammer my window with all her power.

She don turn tiger. Her slap dey land for glass, ring like drum for church. Her makeup don smear, zobo still dey drip for her dress. I dey pity the glass—hope e no go break.

She dey shout: "Come out! You fit hit person but you no fit come out?"

Her voice pierce like siren. Even LASTMA officers for other street fit hear am. Me I just dey press my horn small-small, dey pray say somebody go come help.

I just dey look. When I take hit her? Na she dey hit me since.

I dey talk inside my mind, "God, na only you dey see this thing. She go turn story tomorrow." The injustice dey pain me pass the bruise wey my head dey collect from all the drama.

I wan call police, but my phone don scatter. I no understand wetin dey vex her like this.

My phone pieces for road, sim card scatter. I dey search my pocket, nothing. I dey look her with wonder—how person fit get this kind anger for night?

For accident, no be to call police and insurance remain?

For here, insurance na story—people go rather trust God or family before dem trust paper. That one na normal road sense. You no fit dey settle big accident for junction. E get why dem dey call insurance and police—to write statement, draw diagram, do investigation. Na Naija we dey, but law still dey.

She still dey beat my window, dey scream: "You sabi how much my car go cost to repair?"

The way she dey talk, you go think say na her life savings dey inside that bumper. She dey shake phone for air, dey call person, dey record.

That moment, cold catch me.

I look round, feel small breeze for my skin. Wetin if na cultist she call? Or na police for her pocket? This Lagos ehn, anything fit happen.

See as she dey para—maybe she no get comprehensive insurance.

For her eye, na do or die. Insurance wey fit pay, she no get. Now, na to find scapegoat—me. I dey reason say rich people too dey cut corner, dem no like dey pay for insurance like dem suppose.

If na so, na she go pay heavy money to fix Porsche by herself.

The wahala na her own, but she wan pour am for my head. Na Naija we dey—if you no wise, dem go use you do mumu.

For this country, near half people no dey buy comprehensive insurance. Dem go dey reason say e no worth am; if dem dey careful, accident go always be another person fault.

True talk. Na our mentality—'God go protect me, abeg.' But God no dey drive car, na we dey behind steering. When gbege land, na to dey find who go carry blame.

E make sense—if you dey careful. But this woman na wahala.

Na wahala plus extra. Person wey dey drive Porsche, dey drink zobo by 2am, dey curse for road—her own fit pass ordinary wahala. My mind dey tell me, this one fit pull any stunt.

As she dey knock my window, she carry phone begin record me.

Na so her Snapchat dey roll, IG story dey load. She dey shout: "See this poor fool! See what he did to my car!" Social media people dey hungry for drama, she dey supply content.

Her face—makeup full everywhere, eye red—remind me that Porsche woman for Abuja wey break window for camera, dey talk, "Haha, to finish you na just two million."

Nigerians never forget that viral video. E be like every rich madam for this country get one script dem dey follow. Na so dem go use English and ego oppress person wey just dey hustle.

See as I dey fear, my body dey cold, hand dey shake, like person wey dey see ghost for broad daylight.

I small open my window, beg am, "Abeg, make we just call police, settle am. Na you jam me. Make police talk."

I dey talk am with low voice, dey try calm her down. My leg dey shake, sweat dey run for my forehead despite AC dey blow inside car. I dey calculate exit route with eye.

She spit: "Light still remain three seconds before e turn red, you jam brake? Your mama no give you liver when she born you? Na people like you dey kill for road!"

Her spit touch my cheek—bitter, hot. I wan vex, but I dey swallow anger. She dey bring family inside, dey talk like say na only she get right for road.

I hold myself, dey remind my mind: no touch woman.

For Naija, na man dey guilty till proven innocent when wahala reach woman. I dey chant for my mind: hold body, hold body. Even my village people for Enugu dey whisper for my head, "Ikenna, calm down."

Yellow light na for brake. Na so person dey learn safe driving. If you dey drive anyhow, na so accident go meet you one day.

I dey talk inside, dey remind myself why I no join dem for rush. Life na one, car fit repair, but person no fit buy another head. My mama always say, "No dey rush, na life you dey protect."

I ask, "This country get law. You wan dey beat person for road?"

I dey look her straight now, my voice don strong small. I dey try remind her say na Nigeria we still dey, law fit catch anybody if e like.

She hiss: "If I finish you nko? I fit repair my Porsche, I fit pay if I kill you."

Na so she dey talk as if life na transaction. The confidence for her voice dey shake me. I dey look the pride, the arrogance—na money dey ginger her.

I tell am, "Your car no even reach plenty money, why you dey make mouth?"

I say am with small laugh, dey try reduce her fire. My voice low, but e get small sting inside. I dey hope she go calm down.

Her face change.

From proud to wicked. Her brow tight, lips dey tremble. E be like I don touch nerve. She dey look me like say I be cockroach wey enter her kitchen.

Next thing, she craze, begin hammer my window again.

Her rage no get boundary again. Her ring dey scratch my glass, sound like thunder. If person dey pass, dem go think say na thief I be.

She dey shout: "Who tell you say my car na small money? Come down, open your yeye eyes! This one no be 718 o, na 911! To repair am fit pay person to wipe your whole family!"

I dey wonder how car wey suppose just be car get all this plenty ranking. For her mouth, car na status pass human life. Na so some people dey attach pride to material thing.

Me I no know difference between 718 and 911. No be every guy dey craze for car. Wetin concern me with Porsche I no fit buy?

All this grammar, I no send. I just dey look her, dey reason wetin dey make people value car pass person.

I no know say that small talk go pain her like that.

I dey think say na just small talk, but e touch her pride. Money pride dey cut deep for some people.

So, even Porsche get seniority.

Na now I learn. As dem dey say for street: everything get level, even for rich people world.

I dey look her like mad person. I wan drive commot, but I no fit.

I dey press start button, e no answer. My mind dey jump—wetin I go do now? Wahala just dey pile up.

My car dey start with phone, I no carry key come out.

Na new technology wahala be this. If na old model, na to use key waka go. Now, my phone na my key, and the phone don die for road.

As accident happen, I off engine for safety.

For my mind, na sense I use. You no dey leave car on after accident. But I no know say I dey lock myself inside wahala.

Now, car don time out. To start am again, na phone I need—but she don scatter am.

I dey look her with one eye, dey pray for miracle. I dey wish say God go just send traffic warden pass here.

That time, she change face, begin act like say she suffer pass. She carry phone, dey cry: "Honey, where you dey now? Come quick, dem dey beat me o! If you no come now, dem go finish me!"

Her voice don soft, tears don start, na Oscar performance. She dey sob like say dem just rob her. Crowd dey pity her now, some dey look me with side eye. I dey try talk, but voice no come out.

I nearly craze.

Anger dey choke me, but I no fit shout. I dey reason say, "Na so dem dey set person up for this country." Her acting na world-class, e go even move Nollywood directors.

Na she dey beat me, but as she call her husband, she twist story.

Na so dem dey do. She go use tears make her man turn lion, make me be the beast for her own movie. I dey look around, no ally, no helper.

That moment, I understand wetin elders dey talk: bad wife fit spoil three generations.

My grandma always dey talk am: "If you marry bad woman, your life fit scatter, your pikin own too." This one go fit destroy dynasty. I dey pity her husband for house.

Some kind women dey this world—go cause accident, curse police, threaten teacher, dey show off for WhatsApp, dey claim her husband na oga, last-last na she go destroy her family.

Dem no dey see am for beginning. Na when e don late, man go dey chop breakfast. All these ones wey dey find trouble anyhow, dem get home drama wey no dey reach outside eye.

This one na that type—real wahala.

Na wahala dem born her with, e dey her blood. If you jam her for day, better cross to the other side.

She slap my window, dey curse: "Come out! I go show you say na 911 I dey drive! Come out! So na me you dey call poor ghost wey dey drive 718? Nobody don insult me like this before. Business tycoon dey your front, you no fit recognize am!"

Her chest dey rise, voice dey thunder. She dey talk like say na president wife. I dey look her shadow for ground, dey pray make rapture happen.

I beg, "Abeg, I no sabi. Just leave me, I no go call police. Make I just dey go."

My voice don weak, I dey tired. I dey plead, no pride for my voice again. Just make wahala finish, make I go rest for house.

She scream: "Come down now, kneel down beg!"

People dey gather, dey point torchlight. She dey drag the matter. Na so Lagos night dey turn to theatre. If I kneel now, my own don spoil.

As she dey shout, her spit dey touch my face, I come realize—na alcohol dey her breath.

The scent strong—mix of zobo and something strong. No wonder her eyes dey red, voice dey crack. She no dey reason straight.

No wonder she dey behave anyhow.

Drunk for wheel—na crime, na danger. My own trouble increase, because person wey high fit do anything.

Drunk driving mean insurance no go pay, and person no dey reason well when e high.

E mean wahala go long. Even if she be Dangote pikin, insurance people go waka. Na me go dey bear the madness now.

I no gree come down. If drunk woman attack me and I fight back, police fit talk say na mutual fight. My life go spoil.

I dey calculate my moves, dey measure her madness. For Naija, once wahala reach this level, na to avoid am or run. But my car no gree start.

Just then, Land Rover park for next lane.