It was a cool, quiet evening—one of those rare days when the city seemed to exhale. I boarded the bus home from work, grateful for the unusual calm. The vehicle was only half-full, a welcome contrast to the usual chaos of rush hour. The driver was sealed off in his little cubicle up front, and we passengers were scattered like leaves on a still pond. Among them was a man who immediately caught my eye—late 60s, wearing a crisp white cap that read ' Chosen One' in bold black letters. He was flipping through a newspaper with such frantic energy it looked like he was searching for something long lost—or perhaps arguing with the headlines themselves. Opposite him sat another older man, though you wouldn't know it from his clothes. He was dressed like a teenager—like someone clinging to relevance with both hands. Then, out of nowhere, the man in the cap spoke, loud and clear, as if addressing a courtroom rather than a quiet bus. 'Does time determine what's right or wrong...
There’s absolutely no big deal about this lockdown and the coronavirus outbreak. Despite my tentative unemployment and fear of the unknown, the shutdown means nothing. It is like another sixty-day public holiday. The type you get for no reason – like the collision of a few work-free days and some weekends. So that instead of closing on a Friday and resuming work on Monday, you enjoy your bliss from Thursday till Wednesday. Then the churches are closed. All football matches are cancelled. And there is a compulsion to spend this normal public holiday at home with your family. Exactly this is what the lockdown is for me. And there are no lessons to learn anew. No "aha" moments of any kind. Life is the same and there is no newness under the sun. The only exceptions are the things I noticed. One of such is that Zainab (my immediately younger sister) and I do not see issues in the same light. She was a youth corper in Ibadan until the family convinced her to come home, just bef...