The sun was already at its highest when Ibrahim parked his old taxi in front of a buka at Ojuelegba. He yawned and stretched himself inside his car. He wiped sweat off his face with the back of his hand. He smiled at a joke a man standing beside him cracked. The noise from a church loudspeaker nearby continued to blast gospel songs. He nodded and hummed softly to it. It was his daughter's favourite song at the moment. She sang it almost every time at home.
Ibrahim was a man too kind and too soft for a city like Lagos. People said he smiled too much for a driver, that his kindness to strangers, especially his passengers, was a waste of time, as none of them would remember his name after he had dropped them. But Ibrahim didn't care what people said. He always believed the,
“One shouldn't lose his goodness because the world is wicked. It only meant losing everything.”
Earlier that day, he had dropped a woman who looked and smelled like wealth at Ikeja. Just when he had driven off, he noticed the woman had left a brown leather bag on the back seat. He opened it slightly to confirm what was inside, only to see neat bundles of cash, smelling new, too heavy for ordinary people. The kind of cash he hadn't seen in a single day all his life.
Fear gripped him at first. But then his conscience reminded him that the money wasn't his and he needed to return it.
Now he was back at the same spot where he had dropped the woman.
He sighed. “Ibrahim no worry, one day e go better,” he whispered to himself. Then opened his door and got out.
Before him was one of those tall glass buildings where you have to press the intercom before they let you in. The kind of building you need to dress like you are going to see the president before you enter. To worsen it all, the security men had looked at him so suspiciously as he approached the gate. But he had told them that he came to return something a passenger had forgotten in his taxi. He described the woman to them and they had called her
Soon, the woman came walking gracefully to the gate, looking surprised. Ibrahim held out the bag with both hands, as if he were handing her a baby.
“You forgot this in my taxi, madam,” he said, handing over the envelope.
The woman's eyes widened for a second, then she laughed strangely.
“I was almost going crazy. I never knew I left it in your car,” she said slowly, her words a mix of gratitude. She took the bag from him and opened it up. Her countenance suddenly changed as she asked,
“Where’s the rest of it?”
"What rest?” Ibrahim blinked, asking in confusion. “I didn't touch anything, madam. That's how I found it.”
But the woman wasn't taking it. Her face suddenly hardened. “Are you telling me I don’t know how much was left in my own bag?”
He froze. Eyes widened.
Slowly, the two guards began stepping closer. One quickly grabbed Ibrahim's shirt.
“Ah! Madam, I swear by Allah, I didn’t touch your money”
But all his pleas fell on deaf ears. As they were already calling the police. “You drivers are all the same. And I will make sure I teach you a lesson."
The security guards made sure to search his car before the police arrived. Although they found nothing, the lady kept shouting accusations, humiliating Ibrahim. By the time they let him go, the sun had fallen and his spirit with it. They made him leave his house address and phone number in case he was needed again for questioning.
For the first time in years, Ibrahim drove home without smiling at his next passengers.
The next morning, he woke up to a knock at his door. He opened the door to see the same woman from yesterday, but this time she was dressed so casually.
"Ah madam, again? I swear I don't have your money." Ibrahim cried.
"No, I'm just here to apologise." The woman said with a soft voice. "It turned out that my husband didn't give me the complete amount I asked of him for a business transfer. He told me as I narrated the story to him. I’m sorry,” she said softly. “You were honest. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
Ibrahim nodded, too tired to be angry. Happy to be vindicated. She tried to hand him an envelope as an appreciation but Ibrahim refused.
“I won't take that from you." He said.
Surprised, the woman asked. "But why?"
"Because, if I take that, it will only spoil the lesson for you.”
She stood there, shame written all over her face. Softly, she said, “The world needs people like you.”
He smiled faintly and shook his head. “Too sad the world doesn't treat people like me nicely.”
Quietly, the woman thanked him again and left. Ibrahim let the tears stream down his cheeks then he looked at his taxi one more time before walking back into his house, happy that the truth was finally out.
