Landing in Lagos on a Monday afternoon was stressful, and she hated it. It was a smooth flight and landing, plus a much-needed ‘me time’ in her cubicle on the plane, with no noise, no music, and no movies, so descending from the plane felt like she had just been eased into a big pot of boiling water, so big that wherever she turned, there was no escape. She felt the heat the tarmac emitted and mirrored it with the time of Noah when water was said to go from the ground up to the sky as rain. The heat scorched her feet in the Nike kicks she wore, and as she struggled to move along the queue that went into the arrival lounge, her hair stuck to her neck. She had begun to sweat. That was how she knew she was in Lagos. Home, not so cool home. As usual, she was welcomed by immigration officials who, by sight or by sign, wanted something from her, another signal that she had not missed her way. She was undoubtedly in Lagos. On a very good day, she would have considered stashing some thous...
stories, lifestyle, and intriguing content