[center]A MONDAY MORNING EXPERIENCE - SHORT STORY[/center]

It was a very cold Monday morning in the month of April, the rainy season had just begun. It rained during the night and I had to go through the torture of struggling out of bed to get set for the day’s activities. I quickly fell on my knees and committed my day to God, my creator. I observed a warm shower to protect my slim body from the harsh bite of the freezing morning weather. After a soothing bath, I returned to my room to get dressed for work. As I flung open the door of my wardrobe, an awning of dark blood red polished wood; it dawned on me that I had to undergo the rigorous process of selecting a right blend of fabric for the day. I ended up selecting a snowing white long-sleeved shirt and a dark blue tie which I would complement with my newly acquired striped blue Armani suit. With a stint look at the well-groomed image on my wall mirror, I set out for my expedition to my place of work. My office was located on the Island in the Centre of Excellence – Lagos State.

I had always looked forward to my ephemeral travel to the office. Regardless of the frequent chaotic traffic on Lagos roads, I find very fascinating the sea-side environment of Lagos Island – Lekki areas of the state. I cherish the serenity of the sea waves and never seize to marvel at the therapeutic attributes of beach resorts and tourism centers such as La Campaign Tropicana and Lekki Beach; the tranquility of both environments reminds me of the bond that exists between a new born baby and its mother.

The tumbril – state of the public means of transportation in Lagos – I boarded came to an abrupt halt; I discovered that I had been deeply lost in my “aquatic” thoughts. The bus park was unusually filled with a hive of commuters. Had there been any signs of Premium Motor Spirit (PMS) scarcity over the weekend? Were the distributors of PMS planning a strike? Definitely not! – to the best of my knowledge at that point in time. I had no better choice than to wait and hope for a bus to arrive soon. My prayer was fast answered as I heard the harsh voice of a typical Lagos conductor screaming, [i]“Ajah, Ajaaaaaaaaah………” I zoomed off towards the direction of the bus and struggled to gain Visa as I had to contend with more experienced commuters. I eventually succeeded, not without condoning the few violent jabs from commuters at the CMS Embassy. With the aura of a conqueror, I lowered my backside to live the fruit of my recent struggle. However, the feeling was short-lived; the moment I sat on the wooden surface of the passenger’s seat, I discovered that my cash wallet – which I usually tuck into the pocket behind my pair of trousers – had been stolen. 

I never envisaged being a victim to corporate pick pockets who flaunt themselves as responsible working-class individuals at major bus-stops around the Lagos metropolis. Why did this happen to me; on a Monday morning of all days? How do I go through the rigorous process of retrieving my identity cards and Automated Teller Machine (ATM) cards that were lodged in the stolen wallet? My mind was in a state of turmoil and these rhetoric questions only complicated my present predicament. After much self pity, I alighted from the vehicle which was set to hit the road. I previously nursed a notion that the average Nigerian cared little about his fellow Nigerian, this perception changed that unfortunate morning; a young banker who had closely watched the entire scenario offered me a token of Two Hundred Naira N200 to enable me transport myself to work conveniently. Fortunately, I had some extra cash in my brief case. I declined the offer not without saying thank you in appreciation of his kind gesture.

I was at that time a Youth Corper currently serving my fatherland under the National Youth Service Corps Scheme. I worked as a Training Administrator in a Human Resources Consulting firm. After the sad incident at the bus stop, I summoned courage to report at the office. I narrated my ordeal to my supervisor and sought his permission to work half day to enable me begin the court process of swearing an affidavit on my missing NYSC Identity card. This was urgent because my monthly NYSC clearance was due in about four days time and would not like to have my monthly allowance withheld because I failed to produce my NYSC Identity card.

My permission for early closure from work was granted but I returned to work the following day only to discover that I had been issued a query by my CEO for absenting myself from work the previous day. Despite my prompt response to the query, the Finance Office was asked to deduct a day’s pay from my monthly remuneration on the grounds of absenteeism. As I embarked on my journey home after close of business that evening, I reminisced on my experiences within the last two days; it became obvious that life can sometimes be unpredictable and I learnt that experience is a practical teacher. The chilling atmosphere of that particular Monday morning, my missing wallet, and the cost of my absence in the month of April 2007 will remain evergreen in my memory. 

Copyright © 2008 by Chinonso Ikeh

Hi ikechno, i'm not a literary expert but i think that it was interesting story, had a nice flow, good grammer, can i offer some constructive criticim?,
i think, there's a little contradiction in your story, your character wears an armani suit to work, (indicative of someone in the upper class in society/ or someone with expensive taste), yet he commutes in a bus to work? and yet depends on his monthly NYSC 'alawi'?

Hi Lammy 2,

I really appreciate your sincere critics. Will put that into close consideration in subsequent write-ups.

Tk.