#Story #NonFiction

I woke up earlier in the day with this urge to share an incident that happened four years ago. Not more than three persons who are very close to me are aware of the details you are about to read.

You see, when they say "The way you are dressed is the way you are addressed", no truth could be farther than this.

Regardless of the occasion or situation, how you dress could be a predictor of your acceptation (mentally, emotionally, physically, even spiritually) by the people in direct contact with you.

Bad as it is, mischievous personalities who are cunning understand this open logic. They exploit its impression as a cryptic element in their art.

I was once a victim.

Let me share my story with you.

Story - story… story!
Once upon a time … time - time!

About four years ago, It happened that one of the institutions I served had just released some funds to me and I decided to deposit the money at the bank the next day. The sum was some thousands shy of a hundred thousand naira.

On the set day, I carefully stashed the cash in my black purse (only God knows where the old purse is now). It was my favorite whenever I am on an outing that demands that I take extra stuff with me.

Left to me, I believed no one could have an inkling that there could be such money in the purse. So, I was a bit carefree with how I handled it.

My people, don't deceive yourself.

I set for the bank. My house is about a kilometer away from the junction. I can remember, just like yesterday, that the time was some minutes before noon as I trekked up my street to the junction with the hope of joining a taxi.

It took a while before I could get a taxi heading my way.

When it arrived, it was an unconventional taxi. One of those private car owners who choose to hustle once in a while. At least, so it appeared to me that day. We've always have many of them in town.

The driver pointed in the direction I was going to call my attention, so I had to flag him down.

With my eagle-specced eye, I scanned through the car to see the kinds of the passengers seated therein. Three young men in the back seat and a lady robbed in hijab for head cover in the front seat.
I was comfortable with their look, so I launched to open the rear door.
This is what I however failed to note: "dresses are masks, they are not always a true portraiture of character and intents".

As I opened the rear door, one of the guys reacted almost immediately. "Driver, I go pay for the remaining one seat,'' he said. Hence, the driver asked me to join the lady in the front seat. "That's okay", I retorted.

Having joined the front seat, I tried to shut the door for a couple of times but it wouldn't just lock.
Then, I realized that the rubber-fitting that enable the door lock is out of place. I pointed out the problem to the driver and he requested that I help him get the fitting in place. The gentleman in me won't resist such request from an elderly person.

"... an elder", that's another intentional mask as you'll soon find out.

The moment I agreed to help out was the point I lost all I had in my purse.

Wait…
Don't be confused…
This was what really happened…

Fitting the rubber in place required the service of my two hands. Obviously, the lady sitting beside me was aware of this fact. She requested that she helps me with my purse.

How could she be so kind?

I turned around, looked at her and reasoned within myself in less than a split-second, "she is well dressed". The hijab covering her head revealed only the area bordering her two eyes down to her lower lip. I assessed and judged her within that same second to be a moralized person.
"Thank you" streamed from my lips to her as I handed over the purse containing my money to her.

Oh… I won't try that again. Never in my life-time!

I tried everything I could to fit the rubber but it kept falling out of place. After two or three trials, the driver asked me not to worry any longer. He suggested that I join another car since neither the rubber fits nor the door closes.
The lady in hijab returned my purse to me and I alighted.

To my surprise, No sooner had I alighted from the car than the lady shut the door and gbaaaam; it locked!

Whaaaat? What just happened?

My mind couldn't comprehend what had just happened but it won't fail to prompt me. "Check your purse right away," he said.

At this time, the car had started its engine and already zooming off. I quickly ran the zip on the purse through its track. It opened its mouth without hesitation. What I saw raised my pulse. It spat fog at me.

My people, all I saw were white papers. My cash was gone.
The lady in hijab had swindled me with her moralized look. I have been deceived by looks.

Like one of my favourite meals, I became weak like "dodo".

I was looking into my purse and at the same time seeing the green car move away with my money. I don't know if to scream, throw stones at the car or run after it. I was transfixed.

It was one of my Pastor-friends who later classified my predicament as a "One chance experience".
Eyin eyan mi, I entered ONE CHANCE!

Enough of this funny event 'cos that's what it sounds like to me each time I recall the event. So I leave you with the possibility of trying to paint a picture of what was going on among the four men and the lady while I was busy battling with the door.

The experience for me was an eye-opener. I received instant sense from the street.

Lessons from the incident has been profound to me in several ways that I may not be able to table here.

However, let me share one of those lessons from that funny incident with you:

"Appearance won't always offer a peep into intents and character, neither is a moment of charm or disorder enough to make valid assessments and judgments"

I was deceived on that occasion and promised not to fall victim by appearance again.
Once beaten, twice shy.

Do you gain value or any lesson from my story? Please share with us.

Omolayo M. Ademimiko is my name.