When he opened his mouth to abuse a commercial motorcyclist popularly called okada who carelessly weaved his bike in his front making him hit the brake albeit fearfully, some smelly water from potholes jumped into his car and hit him all over. The sputum that came out of his mouth was thick as he spat out repeatedly. He shut his mouth and looked at the cause of the offensive in incredulity and anger. It was another driver whose tyre wobbled deep into a medium sized pothole covered by water that had ended up splashing Mike with the human waste smelly water.

It was with great effort he could stop the water from his head from getting into his mouth. His face looked aghast. The offending driver did not notice his misgiving and Mike’s agony. He engaged his car gear and continued on his way. Life in this mega-wanna-be-true city!

When he came out of the potholes and heading towards the Victoria Island, he observed much to his frustrations the repeatedly blinking red light on the dashboard reminding him the fuel level had gone to reserve.

“God!” Escaped his mouth.

He had only spent the last money on him fueling the car. A whopping =N=500 he had spent. Mike could not believe the money he was supposed to have given his wife for dinner was gone when he was yet to see passengers board his aged and battered Jetta saloon 1990 model car.

The sun was yet to rise as time was 7.30 a.m. when sweat broke out on his forehead and under his armpit.

“God please my children have to eat.” He earnestly supplicated.

He persisted, pressing hard on the accelerator until he got to CMS bus stop where workers who were desperately waiting to board any means of transportation to take them through the man-hour eating traffic and save them the villainy of their bosses who have zero tolerance for lateness to work no matter your reason.

He wound down his glass and asked them, “Where are you guys heading to?”

“Victoria Island!” they all chorused.

When the last passenger had disembarked from his four-seater saloon, he realized the sum of =N=300 for he had carried six passengers instead and had charged each of them the sum of =N=50. What exploitation! He thanked God for providing for him as he engaged the reverse gear to go pick more of the traumatized workers. His wife would be going to the market later in the day to pick up food items for his family of five, and his hunger-stricken children will be better off. He smiled wanly knowing that the struggles of an average Nigerian male are endless.