Opinion/ There's Good In The Worst Of Us...

 With Sadiq Sabo

Column Guest. Sadeeq Sabo

There's good in the worst of us and bad in the best of us ~Unknown

It was a Monday morning and the city as it its wont, is bubbling up with activities; people going to work were hastening up while the traders are exchanging pleasantries with their co-market people whilst spreading their wares for sale. Others were moving helter skelter, everyone going to their destinations with high hopes, anticipating favours from what the new week has in store for them.

Fadila is a social worker that interns with various NGOs, volunteers for a couple of INGOs, CSOs--she's got her plate quite full. She was rushing to the office to catch a meeting and hopefully run other errands before the days ends. She stood at the main road for a couple of minutes before she could get a tricycle operator (Keke Napep) to take her to her destination which many operators had declined because it's not lucrative and gainful to ride a single person to such a distance and ride back empty, as well. Luckily for her after what seemed like forever and after being bombarded and inundated with phone calls from the office as the meeting was about to start, she got a tricycle operator who agreed to take her to her destination. Without any hesitations, she hopped on and the operator rode off.

On a second thought, Fadila managed to get a sneak peek of the operator. He was young man in not more than 19 or at best 20. With the dread on, a ragged jeans, loud music blaring out if the tricycle and a demeanor that suggests a reckless young adult out on a hustle. His type are usually referred to as "Marlians" whom have a notorious motto "no manners".

Fadila got slightly worried but did an excellent job of concealing it. She prayed fervently to get to her destination without being harmed and she did. Once at her destination, she paid him his fare and abruptly snapped out of the tricycle. On getting to the hall where the training was taking place, she snaked in and found a place to sit quietly without making a scene since the training had already commenced. After settling, she said hi to her colleagues and discovered something was missing but couldn't place her finger on what it really was.

After a couple of minutes, she suddenly remembered she was supposed to make a phone call; darting through her purse, she couldn't find her phone, she could hear the beating of her heart pounding ceaselessly in increasing rates.  From that moment on, she couldn't understand a thing the facilitator was saying and earnestly hoped for the elapse of his alloted time so as to go out and decide on what to do. After what seemed like a decade, the tea break was called and she hastily went to her colleague to use her phone to call her own phone. She didn't know how to start. When she dialled in her in number, it rang but there was no response from the other end, she dialled again, same old same old, she repeated the action countless numbers yet the answer remains the same--no response. A flick of thought crossed her mind, she called her account officer and instructed him to block her Bank account and all other important things that could be tempered with.

After crying (I don't know for what if you ask me), she almost gave up the wild goose chase when she thought if reaching out for the last time. She did and it was picked up. A young male voice answered at the other end and said he was the tricycle operator that took her to work in the morning. She inquired where he was if she could go meet him to collect the phone and he said he was far away. He was he would be in town by 1:30pm, they should meet at a rendezvous by that time. Out of much eagerness and anxiety, Fadila got to the rendezvous an hour before the time. She kept on calling but there was no answer from the other end. She concluded that he was not going to give her the phone back, after all, he didn't "look" like a responsible fellow who should return what isn't his. Somehow, a ray of hope kept her waiting not entirely positive that she was going to see him again but still stood back.

At exactly 1:30pm, lo and behold, the dreadlocks adorning chap slowly parked, coming out with his ragged jeans and looking carefree. He went straight to where she was sitting and handed over the phone to her. She couldn't believe what she actually encountered. In her disbelief, she asked about his name and he told her Ezekiel with a beaming smile. She searched her purse to get something to reward his honesty, compassion and good values in a world that is devoid of such beautiful virtues. She could only find 1500 Naira which she gladly offered him, not minding not having any money left to take her home. To her greatest surprise, Ezekiel declined and instead, ignited his tricycle and zoomed off.

Fadila felt guilty of being judgemental in the first place because of Ezekiel's appearance. She reached the verdict that he must be a bad person for dressing in a certain way. Granted that, the way you dress that's how you are going to be addressed, it's sometimes a reverse. Indeed, there's a good in the worst of us and there's a bad in the best of us.

This story is inspired by true events.