Life, they say, is all about experiences. Depending on how intense it is, some experiences will fade from memory within a short period of time, while others will stick with you for a long time.
It was a Christmas morning in Lagos, and as expected, there was a lot of festivity and funfair around. The only thing that was odd about that day was that the usual harmattan that settles on the city in December was absent. Unlike most Christmas seasons in the past, it was sunny, bright and a little windy. Of course, nobody really paid that much attention.
After watching a movie and eating, I left my house to visit my parents. The family has a ritual of gathering every Christmas, so my other siblings and their kids were there too. Mama didn’t disappoint with the food. There was a lot of Jollof, fried rice, pounded yam, and other assorted dishes. I didn’t even wait for five minutes before I started eating. God, I had missed the woman’s cooking.
Later in the evening, we all bade dad and mum goodbye and left together. Since my sisters stay in the same area of Lagos, I decided to do a quick stopover before heading back to my own house.
It was finally time to leave. I flagged down a bike man, hopped on and we started the journey. The distance between my sister’s house and mine is not so far, maybe about 15 to 20 minutes. I was so filled up with food and drinks that, all I wanted at that moment was my cosy bed. The bike man was riding at a good pace, unlike most others, so I didn’t really bother about controlling him.
As we progressed, I was already feeling a bit drowsy from tiredness, but I knew I needed to keep my eyes open if I was to get home in one piece. Most bike men are reckless. They ride as if they have no value for their own life. As for me, I still have a lot of unfulfilled potentials, so I can’t let them put my life on the line. My thoughts drifted to all the lofty plans I had for the following year and that brought a smile to my face.
Just as I was getting lost in my thoughts, I was jolted back to reality by my bike man’s voice.
“Yeeeeeee!”
That was the last thing I heard. Next thing, I found myself on the road. I wasn’t sure but I knew there had been an accident and I was somehow involved. Feeling a bit dazed and light-headed from what looked like a collision, I managed to stand up. Still unsure if I was involved in the accident (I was still disoriented), I decided I should make a call to somebody. Anybody. I felt my pocket for my phone but it wasn’t there. What? Did someone take my phone while I was on the floor? I scanned the road and luckily, my phone was on the floor, right in from of me. I quickly picked it up and moved away from the road to the sidewalk.
Already, the whole place was getting crowded with onlookers who looked more interested in taking pictures and videos than actually help people. That was when I realized what really happened. My head was a bit clearer and I began to process the scene around me. I saw my bike man on the road, covered in blood and writhing in pain. From what witnesses described, another bike from the opposite side of the road ran into us while trying to overtake a car. I don’t know what happened to the other guy.
It was at that point that it occurred to me to check if I was injured. Upon inspection, I couldn’t see any blood, so I was like “thank God oo”. By this time, the place was already buzzing with so many people, some telling me “sorry Oga”, while others kept shaking their heads in pity.
“Tunde, you need to leave this place because anything can happen,” I told myself. Last time I checked, I was unscathed so there was nothing stopping me from leaving. As I stood up and tried to walk, I felt a sharp pain in my right knee. I thought it was nothing, so I tried to take another step. The pain got even more excruciating. Ha God, am I hurt?!
It was at that moment that I realized all was not well. My knee had taken a terrible hit. It finally sunk in. The full import of incident hit my consciousness like a tsunami and sent shock waves through my body. Before I knew it, my body started shaking uncontrollably. I could see my bus stop ahead, but I knew going home would be suicidal because there was nobody there to attend to me.
Quickly, I dialled my sister’s number. As I explained what just happened, I couldn’t steady my voice because my body was still in shock. I couldn’t even tell her where I was. All I managed to say was that I had an accident and I was coming back to her house. A good samaritan helped me get a cab that took me back to her place. As a doctor, she knew exactly what to do. She administered some drugs that put me to sleep within minutes.
Even though my knee has healed up, I will always remember that Christmas as the day I got the “shock” of my life.
What’s the most memorable experience you’ve had?
Feel free to share in the comment section.
