It's day four and the honeymoon is wearing off. I actually stepped out of my Sheraton Palace to see reality. My driver to CTL helped me see reality by explaining my surroundings a bit. Reality means dozens upon dozens of poor men and women walking the streets because they have no where to go. Reality means a man pulling down his pants on the side of the road and a stream of urine following. Reality means a car accident with 20 people in distinctly different tribal clothing surrounding both cars in the middle of the road... yelling and fighting. "Why don't the police come?" I ask. My driver Odunsi laughs, "well.... the police... no one trust them. They don't help." Then there were the crowded clumps of dirt designated as a "market place" with a random bonfire in the middle, food hanging from ropes, dirt, dirt, dirt, people, people, people. And the daring men running across the streets, or even walking. Never looking, full on deer in headlights sprinting. Reality is a woman with her baby wrapped on her back, a four year old at her side, and carrying something on her head, trying to get somewhere. My life juxtaposed. Reality is skinny, sickly dozens of cows being herded. A family in a tent on the side of the road. Another in a tin home. As big as my closet. People everywhere. I asked why, what are they doing? Odunsi told me they have no where to go. No jobs, not a good home. So they stand around on the streets. This was all in the 20 minutes commuting to my work. No thanks. I have children to live for. I am getting a driver. Odunsi even agreed. This world. Nigeria. Is a hot mess. I can't even begin. I went back to SPF desserts where we sat down and ate whatever the H we wanted. I went back to two privieledged children and an educated husband. I went back to a mansion of a hotel room, fresh sheets and ten towels. I went home to Italian food, everyone calling me Miss and Madame and holding doors for me.
What is this life? I'm scared tomorrow. Not of what I will see or what they will do to me. But of how I will feel.
