This evening, the rain was torrential. We all crowded at the juntion of Akpakpava Road, Oba Ovaramen Square, Benin.

We waited - second after second - for the vehicles to stop so we could continue our brisk walk to the nearest bus top.

Bright and ptyregium-ridden eyeballs flanked in despair as the cars kept speeding by, keeping us further under the whips of the ran.

Then one Kia Rio was the only one speeding towards us now. We felt the tyres would screech to the halting command of the brake pads, but no.

I think we all got angry at the same time.

We all rushed into the road, and instead of crossing, stayed.

The car came to a stop just about five meters from us. As though we practiced, we joined our hands, and formed a rainbow line on the road.

We were determined not to let him pass; to teach him a lesson; we were already drenched, so we had nothing to lose, but he was going nowhere.

Akusibe!

For some minutes, time paused. We were not going to break our ranks.

We could see him faintly through his water-dripping windscreen looking discomfited.

But our minds were made up.

He stepped out, and begged us to leave the road.

Insults were hurled at him. We told him all we've ever wanted to say. How heartless they were not to allow us cross.

"My daughter is dying. I'm rushing her to the hospital", he said.

Our fingers weakened, and we slowly dissolved, but I think it was too late.

When I saw the crack his fist made on the windscreen and the cacophonous shout he made, I knew the daughter was already cold.

I had never felt so much heat.

I don't think I ever will.

The End.