The determined African sun blazed more than ever from its domain among the cloudless sky and gave off such heat that one would think the earth was being purged of some cold brutality unexplained in the city. The only remaining trees that had been left standing due to the many development projects in the city hardly stirred. The air was hot and stale and the half naked young men hauling diverse goods on make-shift carts were the envy of many a shirt-and-tie wearing man. These men walked freely about and didn't care about clothes in that hot weather. Who cared about fine clothes in that maddening heat anyway?
They moved briskly through the crowd that had invaded the street pavements barking and insulting anyone who stood in their way. Their strong, muscular bodies dripped with sweat as if water had been poured in torrents upon them. They were rude and ruthless. One of them almost run into an old woman with his cart but he did not bother. To him, it was normal; one had to move out of the way or be forced to. The poor and frail old woman stood still for a while; she had missed a near death experience and the realization stopped her in her tracks. She turned and looked at the rogue as he hurried on, shouting and barking as he went. She wanted to say something but what was there to say? He was long gone and anything she said would not matter; he would not hear it. He would not care.
Sadly, she turned and walked away. In the distance, the massive overhead bridge stood like a boiling pot dripping with people on every side. It was overwhelming; it stood an uncomfortable sight and the noise and shrieks from the desperate hawkers who stood on it, crowded the mind like no other. Down below, speeding vehicles moved to and fro missing daring lives by inches as errant men and women gambled with their lives by running back and forth the dual carriage road. They refused to cross over by way of the bridge; they were too lazy for that. Instead, they risked their lives and did not for once acknowledge the one thing that was made to save them.
The whole place was crowded, suffocating and in extreme disarray. There was litter everywhere and the stench that came from the choked gutters along the street was horrible. To compound the situation, some young men were busily pissing into these gutters. They did not look one bit concerned about what they were doing. It was all but a part of their everyday life or so it seemed and they did so with such impudence and audacity as would annoy any well-meaning citizen. At every turn, there were imposing billboards that had been mounted in advertising one product or another. They competed for space in the already crowded city and much as they proved very inconvenient and unsightly, the shade they provided was a shield for many against the blazing sun.
At the side of the road, quite close to the overhead bridge, a young woman stood. From the cold stare that hung on her face, one could tell she was far removed from everything that surrounded her. It was obvious there was a lot on her mind as she stood there; a little child strapped to her back and an old jute bag in one hand. The child looked barely a year old and in the midst of all that was happening, he slept soundly. A large crowd had invaded the place where she stood and once in a while when a trotro pulled up, a massive scuffle would ensue until someone was able to break through and join the bus. Then everything would return to normal only for the scuffle to begin all over again when another trotro pulled up. The struggle for a place on the trotro buses was often a matter of life and death for most of the city dwellers. There were never enough buses to convey the hordes of people that daily commuted to and from the city centre. Everyday was a struggle, this being one of those few places in the city for which any time within the 24-hour day was a rush hour.
Initially, she wanted to join in the struggle but she decided against it. Her baby was still sleeping and the thought of taking the innocent child through all that hustle worried her greatly. She stood there and hoped that somehow, someone would be kind enough to offer her a ride to her destination. But after about an hour and a half, she could not bear it any longer. Nobody offered her a ride and she could not get a place on any trotro. She looked at the crowd; its size remained the same and the struggle continued as before. So, like everyone else, she helplessly joined them ready to compete for a place. She knew she didn’t stand a chance but she was willing to try. She was not the only one in that situation. A few metres from where she stood, two schoolchildren, about seven and nine years, stood quietly. They had been standing there for hours and no one seemed to have noticed them. They were wet with sweat; their hair was dusty and they looked very hungry. There were tears in their eyes; an evidence that the situation had gotten the better part of them. They stood there helpless and once in a while, their eyes followed hawkers who paraded edible wares in the streets with intense desire. They longed for a vehicle to take them home; they wanted something to shield them from the scorching sun. They were hungry and needed their mother.
The traffic jam started building up from the far end and the rapidity with which it grew brought sadness and anxiety to the anxious crowd waiting to board a vehicle home. A few minutes later, a trotro pulled up. The driver’s mate, a tall, lanky fellow hang loosely on the moving vehicle as it approached the teeming crowd and all the time he waved his hand ceaselessly indicating that the vehicle was headed in no particular direction. The reluctant crowd made way for the vehicle to come to a stop. When they became certain that the vehicle was indeed headed nowhere, they reluctantly withdrew from it and hoped that a more purposeful one would show up. They didn’t have to wait for long because just then, to the surprise of everybody, the driver’s mate began to call out names of various destinations on top of his voice. Scarcely had he opened his mouth than a mighty scuffle ensued. Such was the force with which the people charged towards the empty vehicle that he had barely a moment to escape. They fought, screamed and pulled at each other - their sweaty bodies rubbing off themselves in the process. They shoved the driver’s mate violently out of the vehicle as they tried to find space. The door proved too small for them but that did not matter. They all wanted to enter at the same time and for a while, no one succeeded. Three minutes of intense combat finally came to an abrupt end when suddenly; a loud scream broke through the middle of the crowd. It was so loud that within the moment it came, no one heard anything else. It stopped and then returned with the same intensity with which it came. This sent almost everybody scattering in all directions. Not knowing what was happening, they fled from the scene fearing for their lives. As they did so, the screams became milder and milder until they were all a safe distance from the vehicle.
Down on the ground, at the spot where they all once stood scrambling and struggling, the nine-year old schoolboy knelt over his younger brother; clutching his midriff in his tender arms. The younger boy was pale, unconscious and tears were streaming down the face of the nine-year old. He looked up from where he knelt, saw he was alone and started screaming and weeping again. Surprisingly, no one seemed to have noticed him; another bus had pulled up somewhere and they were busy trying to find space on it. There was chaos there too; people pushed, pulled and tore at each other just as they had done earlier. While they were at it, another empty bus pulled up sending another group of people on another invasion. The little boy was still bent over his younger brother, tears streaming down his cheeks; he continued wailing and weeping while his unconscious brother lay still. Slowly, his world began to fade away; one look at his unconscious brother and he felt dizzy. Up there, the sun still shone ever so intently and soon he could hear nothing – nothing at all. Both children had passed out.
It took the cries of a passerby before a taxicab finally pulled up to assist him rush the children to the hospital. The woman with the child strapped to her back, offered to join the taxi to the hospital. It was unbearably hot inside; the smell of smoke filled the near rickety car and the noise that came from the engine compounded the anxiety of the conscious persons who sat in it. The two unconscious boys lay on top of each other at the back seat and the young sweat-soaked man sat close to them. On the front seat sat the woman with the baby. He had just started to cry and he seemed to want to wake the boys up with his incessant cry. His mother tried to calm him but the heat made him so uncomfortable that he couldn’t stop crying. The congestion was unbearable and tried as hard as he could, the taxi driver couldn’t manage a passage through the thick traffic. He resorted to his horn but even that did little to deter the competing motorists on the road. There were vehicles everywhere. Drivers blew their horns and shouted on top of their voices. Other impatient ones slammed car bonnets with their bare fists in a desperate attempt to get other drivers to do the right thing. Still, others just sat in their seats and fumed.
The taxi soon came to a junction and the muddled convergence of vehicles from every side evoked a feeling of extreme desperation in all who sat in the taxi. The woman on the front seat was soaked in sweat as she wriggled her right hand in a fruitless attempt to fan her little son. Once in a while she would turn and look back at the two unconscious boys as they lay at the back seat, their shirts had been unbuttoned and their half naked bodies were soaked in sweat. She wailed and shouted to no one in particular; she was appealing for help but nothing could be done. The young man who sat by the boys could not take his eyes off them. He was stricken with panic as he looked out of the window and saw the chaos on the street. His knees kept knocking each other; he felt helpless. He understood more than anything, the need to get to a nearby hospital quickly. The driver continued to blow his horn. The woman continued shouting and wailing while drivers yelled at each other. Exhaust pipes continued to huff and puff; dust did not stop rising and filling every available space. The situation was getting more and more desperate.
Then it happened all of a sudden! Somebody emerged from nowhere and stood in the midst of the chaos. It happened too quickly before anyone could think. He was a tall bearded man, shabby in appearance and bulky in stature. In his right hand, he held a huge club. He did not talk; he just stood there and stared rather horribly into the faces of all who cared to look. After a while, he started moving in between the vehicles and using his club as an indicator, he motioned some of the drivers to move and others to remain where they were. He repeated the action all around him and within minutes, he had managed to take control of the traffic. Now they moved only at his permission and stopped whenever he raised his club - it was to be the defining image of a city on its way to disaster…
