Fully dressed with my school bag, I headed to the Park.
At the Park, I entered an empty bus heading to my destination. After a while, I noticed the smaller vehicles heading the same way. I put my life skills into use and approached a drink-seller closest to my prey (the small vehicle) and requested a bottle of ‘Fresh Yo,’ I pretended to not notice the bloodshot eyes of the driver/conductor of the bus I had sat in minutes ago.
Having heard stories of Lagos’ traffic, I only cared about the fastest route; *I belong to no one and everyone* (winks)
Of course, the cost of a smaller vehicle was always higher than a bus, I had no worries. Moreover, it was a sponsored trip. Still, I preferred smaller vehicles to buses when traveling. Something in me believed that the smaller the vehicle, the more control the driver has, and the lower the risk of whatever.
Actually, I am calmer with the feeling that accompanies the speeding of a smaller vehicle than a bus… In short, a smaller car is closer to the ground than a bus. (Do not look at me anyhow, *covers face* )
The journey to Alausa which housed the Secretariat commenced within minutes of settling in my new vehicle. I had been ushered to my favorite seat in a car, the front seat beside the driver. What made it more fabulous was the fact that it was a single compartment with arm rests.
Whatever spirit bearing ‘traffic jam/gridlock/stand-still,’ I was sure, slept throughout my trip to the Secretariat. It was a free and fair ride. Not that there was no traffic hiccup, but it was minimal.
If there was one thing I would never try again, it would be relying solely on addresses of government agencies as given online. Above all, I thanked God for the soles of my feet and the provision of resources to purchase good shoes. I will go no further to explain…
I have a habit I recently developed, it is that, whenever I find myself in an unfamiliar environment, or where I need directions, my first stop would always be at the security post. It could be a uniformed personnel or informally dressed, but once I perceive anyone to be a security officer, that would be my first stop.
Why? I just feel that by virtue of their position, they should be more aware of their surroundings, and be able to render valuable assistance to a lost soul.
On getting to a juncture in my legwork to the Department of choice, I approached the men in uniform at the gate nearest to me. Although they appeared intolerant, I got my desired answer.
Moving forward, I entered the entrance to another section of the vast Secretariat. This part had handsome young males in uniform at the gate. *winks*
Moving a bit further, I sighted the Ministry of Justice. It was a moment of glee for my hungry stomach. At least, one out of two tasks for the day would be accomplished, and I would have time to feed the grumbling creature.
Little did I know that my journey was just beginning. I was not afforded the privilege of resting my buttocks upon entry. I was directed to scrub off my hands for Corona virus and apply my nose mask.
I was informed that the Department I sought had moved and relocated to Surulere.
At that moment, my brain did a recap of all my troubles:
*Lagos newcomer a.k.a JJC
*How do I get to Surulere/Stadium from Alausa/Secretariat? 😭