Read the daily, non-fictional tales of a young, unmarried Nigerian woman who lives in Lagos at this time.
Saturday is my favourite day. I wake when I please - one of the perks of living alone - I stay in bed till whenever, and when I am finally up and about, or when I think I am, I drag my feet and take my time.
Sometimes, I just lounge in front of the TV and do nothing else the entire day, except brush up something in my tiny kitchen that is edible enough to snack on.
But with the lockdown, there is hardly any difference. Almost every day is Saturday. I am indoors all day anyway.
If I am being truthful, though, a part of my subconscious reminds me that it is Saturday and I wake later than I would on any weekday.
So, as you already guessed, I woke up late today - probably the latest I have woken in a long time. Even when I finally woke up, I stayed in bed a bit, fiddling with my phone, checking on Olumide’s status, until I was sure I had zoomed in on all the pictures he had on his page.
I finally dragged myself out of bed and mustered the courage to go into my empty kitchen. Oh, it was empty alright.
Mama Ope came to mind. Her store in the next street had served me well on many an occasion in the past. But I dreaded the thought of stepping out of the house. Oh, the fear of coronavirus!
What about Mohammed’s kiosk two houses away? That was closer. Much closer. He had been a lifesaver too many times. Should I check to see what was available, even if all I could get was a loaf of his local bread?
Sigh! What was I to do? I wasn’t sure but I had to leave the house or die of hunger.
Then began the long, torturous search for the face masks and gloves I had acquired weeks ago. I had left them somewhere around, I was sure. Yet, they were nowhere to be found.
When I decided that I could go a street or two without a face mask or glove, I thought I might faint from hunger.
I left the house uncertain about where I was headed and it almost cost me two things. I will let you in on it tomorrow.