Getting off the bed, I strode to the window to let in the 3:00am soft harmattan breeze. Seeing fog dancing under the security lights made my lungs bob in excitement. They opened up like someone confessing, excited to get a whiff of that crisp oxygen which soothes one’s air ways like menthol.
The first thing I noticed when the windows flung open was a cacophony of coughs. It was like a coughing choir: There was a chandelier rattling, baritone cough coming from the neighbor in the compound behind, followed by an ear-piercing soprano screech from the adjacent compound. When I took a lung full of the oxygen, I didn’t know when I also coughed, adding tenor to the mix.

It was that moment I understood why different types of cough syrups adorned the dining table like provisions. What do you tell your kids are the dangers of smoking when the very oxygen they breathe daily is busy painting their lungs black? Gas masks will soon replace face masks in this once beautiful City. Everything, and everywhere now looks ashy. How did the Garden City turn to Coal City?
No wonder when I told a friend I was going to Port Harcourt he said, “SOOT yourself!”