The sight and stench of Apapa

Last week, I promised to conclude this narrative on my grueling trip to Apapa. I hope space will allow me to keep to that promise. Well, as I alighted from the bus, the atmosphere that greeted me was to say the least, very unfriendly. Trailers and trucks carrying containers blocked everywhere. Bike riders (Okada) were in their elements driving back and forth riskily. I would learn later that some of them have been killed by trucks on that road. As I took in the chaos around me, I noticed that everyone on a bike covered their noses to protect their nostrils from fumes emanating from the articulated vehicles and, I guess, the stench from the pile of refuse dumped along the stretch of the road to Apapa. Taking a cue from them, I also covered my nose. Unfortunately, there was no protection from the nauseating mess that littered the road. And one couldn’t afford to shut one’s eyes because one needed to see and know when to dodge being hit on the head or shoulder against the parked trucks as the bike rider meandered inbetween them. On several occasions, I let out a cry when I thought I was going to be hit. To say the ride was rough, would mean understating the obvious…it was more like a war front. Thus, I rode to Apapa in complete disbelief and dismay of what has become of this once glorious neighbourhood. I got to Apapa- all ruffled, dusty and tired. My heart goes out to all those who still live and/or work in Apapa; they truly deserve our sympathy because what they go through on a daily basis is better imagined than experienced. And to think we have a government… I no sabi grammar abeg.