The Lord of Airbag

Friday morning was the day after Eid. Breakfast food is usually scarce during Sallah. Everyone is around so there is a rush for eating. You have to be up early or else you can go on empty stomach till lunch.  

I wasn’t up early that day. I missed the soccer game that our area friends organized though it was largely out of laziness. I woke up and bathed, donned my Sallah clothing and went and bought gurasa. I proceeded to my neighbor’s, my go-to woman for tea, certain that she kept some for me. Her tea was finished. People not originally on her list materialized.

I went round the neighborhood to get tea. I returned without, because I am choosey with my tea taste. My tea has na’ana’a flavor and uses strictly sugar, not saccharin, which some tea-sellers use.  

Tea and gurasa form a solid foundation for me to begin the day with. But the logistic of undertaking making tea at that hour in our home was impossibly daunting. I ruled out that and phoned my friend to know if they had tea in their home. I normally do that whenever I couldn’t find tea in my side.

The tea at my friend’s too had finished, but he would ask his mother to brew some for us, which was what I secretly hoped for. Indulgent and pampered, not an early riser himself on holidays, my guy hadn’t yet eaten breakfast and I knew his mama wouldn’t let her kids down.

I arrived the house with my gurasa and small change in my pocket. Before going there, my mother asked me to pay her the money I owed her. My life would depend on this change for the next two days. So I told her no money.  

My friend was still in bed, albeit not asleep, phone in hand and chatting on social media. He received a phone call; what I gathered it was his woman. She knew me by name. He was telling her my arrival. He had informed her about my coming after the first call.

As old buddies, we delved into the usual talk that would never end. The tea arrived shortly. We gulped down the thing through the talk. When it was time for me to go, I left him preparing to go bathe for market.

I was back at home, face-to-face with my mother, who asked me again to give her her money. This time I changed my mind. She was determined for the constitutional amendment to say that her monies are no longer freebies.

I slipped a hand into my pocket. I checked again and again, to no avail. I had lost the money somewhere between visiting my friend. The woman who took me to the court sympathized with me. She prayed for me and uttered some encouraging words. What did Hausa people say when you lose your camel? I checked my pocket again even as I was certain the money wasn’t there!

I was so sad and angry. The money I had been trying to maintain through two days disappeared in a blink.  God why me of all people?

Sorrowful and despondent, I called my friend and asked him to please check his room for me. He was out already, on his way to the market, but promised to check when he was back later tonight.

The money loss carried a chair and sat in my mind. I tried to forget it and focus on the next engagement. The POS guy at Bakin Ƙofa our sitting joint had an accident a week ago. Three of us who didn’t visit him would proceed to do so from the mosque after Jumaat prayer.

The emergency room was a gory scene of people with various degrees of injuries and severities that immediately made me grateful for the gift of health.  

A man was lying on the bed next to our POS guy’s. His right leg was removed. The man’s condition was so pitiable our POS guy forgot his own and launched into telling story of the man. The severity of this man’s condition made his own a child’s play. As if that was not enough, the second leg would be amputated later that Friday evening.

Tears brimmed in my eyes. I turned my head sideway cleverly and dubbed my eyes. I pitied the POS guy. The POS guy pitied his neighbor. These were men that would give all they have to be like me. All the while my mind was thinking of mercy-killing. Nothing left in that man’s condition except wailing and gnashing of teeth.

But he was resilient and beginning to learn to live with his new condition. He had seen it all and survived. His boss, the driver of their truck, died instantly at the accident scene. That seemed to explain what made him seemed grateful and resilient.

What I consider a misfortune against me was actually nothing. I was downhearted and humbled.

But that was not the end of it. Real misfortune nearly caught up with me two days later.  I would prefer losing all the material things I ever have to remain what I am.

Our family has a tradition of holding family meeting two days after every Eid day. The day for this meeting was Sunday. Out of the crowd of kids in my family I picked only two to go with. Hassana, my sister, and Ummi, my little niece, who was here along with her siblings for Sallah celebration.

I went to Ƴankura to get a bus. Cars quickly get filled there as a major station for travelers to surrounding towns and suburbs. We arrived Ƴankura, just as we crossed the road and entered the makeshift motor park under the bridge, we met one of our female relatives going to Ɓagwai with her kids. You can hardly go there for the trip around this time without meeting a relative or someone you know. 

The car got full after a while. We set out towards the outskirt of the city, maneuvering our way through Kurna traffic up until through the end. At Dawanau town, a little past Kwanar Dawaki, a Toyota Corolla suddenly halted in front of us. We were speeding. We saw it coming, an Adai-diata Sahu rider brushed the car’s side. The Toyota driver stopped to check the damage. In the middle of the highway.  The next thing we knew was a hit. We hit the car from behind. Clouds of dust filled the inside of our car. Chaos ensued. Pandemonium followed. The door to my side wouldn’t open. I didn’t lose a complete presence of mind but I was not calm. I struggled with the knob until I pushed open the door.

Crowd gathered immediately. A policeman on duty shuffled on.

Hassana was on my lap, directly in front of me, Ummi by my side, in the middle between the driver and me. Both the girls were asleep when the accident happened. Hassana was the most affected. Her head hit the dashboard. Dear God, our future architect had been severely damaged. How would she live in the future?

I removed the girls from the car and guided them to one side. Ummi was crying. Hassana was not. She was disoriented and was struggling to make sense of the situation. I checked her body to find out the damage. No visible injury, but for someone asleep, she was rudely physically and emotionally shaken.

She hadn’t noticed that blood was coming from her mouth until I brought sachet water and asked her to open her mouth. She noticed the blood and started crying. Shaken from the impact, I expected all of her teeth would come down.

I quickly felt her teeth. They were intact thankfully; just the tremor from the impact had caused the bleeding.

We crossed to a safer side. My elder sister entered into a shop’s pavilion and sat down. She assessed her body and found a swelling in her shin.

I moved back and forth across the accident scene, hearing comments flying around. The Toyota driver was claiming damage. Our driver was unruffled. Police were on their way from the station. But as a Nigerian you can tell police will put their mouth where money is.

It was taking longer for the police to arrive. No reconciliation in sight. I flagged a bus to take us for the onward journey.

While driving in the next bus I began to contemplate how we survived. We should have hit the windshield and shot out of the car headlong. The airbag pushed us back. I looked at its busted compartment. Our lives were saved by this piece of technology. Who invented it? What is its history? How does it work? I went to Google and searched.

Air bag inflates and deflates to push the vehicle’s occupants back during a crash. The vehicle’s crash sensors provide crucial information to the airbag control unit. On receiving the information, the airbag ECU will determine if the crash meets the criteria for deployment and triggers various firing circuits to deploy airbag module, all of which happens in less than 30 milliseconds. I was marveled at the working of Air Cushion Restraint System. I was thankful to the Lord of Airbag and the Lord of Heaven!

Ps

Few days later news came of the death of the POS guy’s sister from childbirth in the hospital. The grief is very huge for the family. They’re in “Why me God?” position rightly. May her soul rest in peace!