Morning suprises

It’s already past 8:30, but I’m only now leaving my apartment. I don’t stress about it though—time moves differently in this country. Stepping outside, I’m greeted by my favorite security guard, Jahir. He’s become my most faithful companion, often explaining how things work around here. He also escorts me to my Uber every time I leave, and today is no different.

While we wait, two women approach us with a determined stride, and my internal alarm begins to sound. They’re coming a little too directly toward us, and my instinct urges me to step back. But then Jahir starts chatting with them, and I realize they know each other. The women are delivering something to him—two small plastic bags that sway slightly with a brown liquid inside.

“She makes it!” Jahir exclaims proudly, flashing me his widest grin. I quickly learn it’s his liquor of choice, and he eagerly encourages me to try and buy my own little portion. Before I can think of a polite excuse, one of the women laughs and says, “This isn’t for a white lady’s body.” Relief washes over me. As much as I’d like to support her business, I can’t shake the lessons from my chemistry class about methanol in homemade liquor.

By the time I find my Uber—it sometimes ends up on a different road—I’m already sweating. The humidity is thick this morning. The rainy season may be winding down, but it feels like the rain has just transformed into a heavy, humid blanket. I already feel a bit frazzled with so much happening so early in the day.

As we turn onto my office’s road, I tense up. Tires are laid out across the street, forming a makeshift roadblock with just enough space for a car to squeeze through. I glance to the side and lock eyes with a young man sitting on one of the tires, a rifle resting heavily in his armpit, his dirty sports clothes clinging to him. Before I can fully process what I’m seeing or decide how to react, my driver navigates through the roadblock with ease, like he’s done it several times today already.

We arrive at my office, and I check the time—it’s only half past eight. Just another day in Nigeria, I think. If there’s one thing I’ve learned here, it’s that no matter what you plan, there’s always a surprise waiting for you along the way.

“Good morning, Ma’am!” the security personnel greet me as I step inside. Time to start the day.