When the cassette tape played, I was seldom interested in the lyrics—how likely was a 6-year-old to care? Yet I could feel sorrow, compassion, and sadness in the singer’s voice. I imagined someone hurting her. Was she hit, betrayed, lonely? Her voice held a mystery I wanted to uncover, but she was miles away from me. Since I could not unravel the enigma, I let the thought go. As I grew older, my mother did not grow tired of playing the cassette tape. I could not hide from hearing it either, unless I could afford a roof over my head. One evening, during the holiday and with no homework to attend to, I had to ask her. ‘Mum, who’s this person always sad when they’re singing?’ ‘You mean all this time, you don’t know it’s Dolly Parton? And who told you she’s sad? When you truly express how you feel, it is not always a sad tale, my girl. Do you even know what this song playing is about?’ ‘Yes, ma. It’s her coat of many colours, just like the one Joseph had, right?’ ‘Eh en. Only hers was give...
Her voice jarred in my ears like an un-snooze-able alarm as she narrated to her colleagues how her sex partner could not satisfy her the previous night. I stood at the bus stop that day for over an hour waiting to get a bus. It had not been easy for car-less residents of Lagos since the Okada and Keke ban. You either struggled or wobbled to get yourself home. I was usually part of the wobblers . That day had a vibe on its own that could send the devil himself to hell unwillingly. The sun refused to set way after past 6, the air was at attention, and car owners were very unfriendly... would you blame them? When this bus rolled up in front of me, I felt like Angelina Jolie in the Tourist, all I did was stroll in effortlessly. Yes, there are still some of us who think life is that easy. A group of 3 ladies and 3 men followed suit and we all started with this journey that would lead to another, in that Korope (mini bus). There would be wild thoughts and great rea...