Knock-Knock

When my children were in secondary school, I never missed a visiting or Interhouse Sports Day. On the day, I’d wake up as early as 3/4am to cook and prep everything I was taking for the visit. Yes, I would get pizza, sometimes KFC, but my daughter particularly loved my signature roast Irish potatoes with Peppered chicken and sauce, and Jollof Spaghetti. What’s a mummy to do🤷🏽?

I’d pack so much food/drinks/snacks, not only so they’d have their fill, but also for their friends whose parents couldn’t make it. By the time we hit the road, I’d be running on nervous energy and “red-eye syndrome,” yet the adrenaline and excitement always kept me from napping on the way there.

In those days, the roads to Agbara were terrible, the traffic legendary. We’d leave home extra-early to get to the school ahead of time. Just 20 mins difference in departure time could easily mean 2 hours of extra traffic in Lagos. On one particular trip, I was so exhausted that I recruited my brother to drive.

On our way back, we hit the “mother of all traffic”. It was a stand-still. For hours, nobody moved.

I found myself sitting in my bedroom gisting and cackling away with my husband. Then someone started knocking on the pillow. I blinked, turned my face and saw a little crowd standing by the car tapping on the window. In confusion I looked ahead and saw the traffic had advanced far ahead of us. I looked to my left, and there my brother was, just waking up himself and staring at me with his own bloodshot eyes.

While all this was taking place, the men outside had started laughing, “Them two don sleep go…”, as they returned to their cars behind us in relief.