The Okada/Keke ban in Lagos has thrown the people who live there back in time. The streets of Lagos are currently full of people walking insane distances just to get to work. There’s an “Israelites walking to the promised land” joke to be made here but I’m too upset to make it because I, too, had to trek this morning,

Anyways, during my government-enforced workout/my morning commute, I began thinking about the distances other people had to walk. So I asked four people their worst trekking stories. Let’s get into them:

Clifford:

“I always thought that when something like this happened to me, it would be because I’d been robbed or didn’t have money for some reason. But no. Una government decided to enforce an okada/keke ban i.e the only ways I had to get to work. Cab hailing services (I refuse to call names because they know themselves) were moving mad with their fraudulent surges so off I went on a hike I didn’t plan for. “

Gloria:

“This was back in 2016. I used to be a model and was returning from a casting call

. Didn’t get the job and was super depressed, thinking life couldn’t possibly get any worse when I got to Oshodi underbridge and realized that my wallet had been stolen. I still had to get to Iyana Isolo. Could I have found a way to not trek? Maybe. But right then, in my despair, I put my wig in my purse and made the decision to leg it. And I did.”

Ikenna:

“From Yaba bus stop to Lawanson at 11 pm. I had a boss at the time who was so stereotypically evil, she might as well have been a Disney villain. She would keep me late knowing fully well that I depended on public transport. After holding back till 11 pm that day, she offered to give me a lift. This witch actually dropped me at Yaba bus stop in the dead of night and drove off! No bikes. No napeps. My blood pressure went through the roof that day because I thought everyone I came across was going to rob me.”


Lara:

“Ikeja Along to Allen avenue on a hot Saturday afternoon. A guy I like asked me to come to see him. I informed him I only had enough money to get to Ikeja Along. He promised he’d come to pick me up from there. After realizing that he wasn’t coming (an hour later and thirty minutes later), I digested my L and began walking to Allen avenue in my clown shoes. Not to his house, but to a friend’s house to borrow money so I could return home.”

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