The brown leather bag was standing by itself on a wood bench in Oshodi Bus Terminal.
It was bustling with people. Conductors shouted destinations. Buses came in and out. There was no one around who noticed the bag.
Except Amina.
Amina was a vending water vendor at the terminal after school each afternoon. She was seventeen and was well acquainted with the majority of the employees there.
She glanced at the bag, from a distance.
Who put that there, she wondered.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
Nevertheless, no one picked up on it.
Amina walked closer and carefully touched the handle.
Well, someone must have left it out, she said softly.
Suddenly, Musa, a bus conductor, came over.
"Uh-uh, what is that?"
“A bag it has been here for quite some time."
Musa looked around.
"Open it."
Amina looked down at the ground and shook her head.
"No, it's somebody's."
The conductor laughed.
"Too careful, you are."
But before Amina could respond, an old woman came to them.
“Have either of you ever seen a brown leather bag?"
Amina's eyes widened.
"Is this yours?"
The woman then noticed the bag and breathed a sigh of relief.
"No, my was smaller,"
She was disheartened, and thanked them and went to keep on searching.
The evening was a crowd, too. The terminal soon started to get loud and crowded.
Amina looked back at the bag once again.
"What if the owner doesn’t ever come back?"
Last, she lifted and took it to the little office of the terminal officials.
Mr. Adewale, a man in serious mood who was wearing glasses, was inside.
Amina said that she found this on a bench.
He nodded.
“Well, it's here."
He said as she was about to depart, "Let's see if you can show us your ID."
They together broke the bag.
There were a number of documents, a notebook, and a sealed envelope inside.
The papers were closely studied by Mr. Adewale.
"Ah," he said.
"What is it?" Amina asked.
"Here's a name here, Chinedu Okafor."
He searched further.
"No phone number."
Amina glanced through the notebook.
The cover was very old and worn.
"May we go in to look?"
Mr. Adewale nodded.
Handwritten notes were found on the first page. An overwhelming majority of them had to do with the farming projects in villages in Nigeria.
Then Amina noticed that there was something between two pages.
"A business card!"
Mr. Adewale smiled.
"Excellent."
The card was for a hotel at Ikeja.
He dialed the phone number right off the top of his head.
A receptionist answered.
After a second, she replied, "Yes. Mr Chinedu was here this morning, he left a contact number."
It was recorded as soon as the number was written down.As soon as the number was written down, it was written down.
Mr. Adewale called.
No answer.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Amina thought, "Perhaps his cell phone battery is broken?"
"Perhaps."
The office was closed at seven, but Amina still couldn't get the bag out of her mind.
She then went back to the terminal the following afternoon.
"Did anything get past you?"
Mr. Adewale nodded.
"A little."
"What happened?"
He phoned earlier today.
Amina smiled.
"Great! Is he coming?"
He stated that he was coming from Abeokuta and would be here today.
At about 4:00 pm, a tall man walked into the office.
He had a wrinkled shirt. He was looking weary.
Come," he pleaded, "somebody has phoned me asking about a brown leather bag."
Amina was familiar with him and was able to identify him at once.
Mr. Adewale stood.
"Your name?"
"Chinedu Okafor."
The man gave his ID card to the man at the desk.
Everything matched.
As the bag came to rest on the desk his shoulders dropped.
He just gazed at it for a few seconds.
He said, "I thought it was forever lost."
Amina smiled.
"Left it on a bench."
"I know."
He laughed nervously.
As I was trying to catch a bus, I had reached half way to Abeokuta when I noticed that it had just left.
He removed the lid of the bag and looked inside.
All was as it was.
Thereupon he retrieved the old notebook.
It was his greatest fear.
"The notebook?" Amina asked.
He nodded.
For three years I have been traveling to farming communities all over the states, inside are all the plans, all the notes and all the contacts.
He carefully flipped through the pages.
The loss would make me have to begin all over again.
Amina could see the importance it had for him.
"Then you're lucky."
"I am."
He looked at her.
"I'm told that by Mr. Adewale."
Amina nodded.
"Thank you."
"It's okay."
"No," he said. "It's more than okay."
He took his hand out of his pocket, but Amina shook her head.
"I don't need anything, you don't need to give it to me."
Chinedu smiled.
"Then let me at least purchase your water, anyway."
Everyone laughed.
Amina had given him 2 bottles instead of 1.
Buses were rolling in and out of the terminal as the evening sun lit up the orange hues of the terminal.
Bags and boxes and dreams of far away places were hurried by the passengers as they passed.
The brown Leather Bag was not in isolation on a bench.
Now it was a possession it was held tightly by its owner.
Chinedu then looked back again as he walked towards his bus and waved.
Amina waved back.
She then went back to her water stand, and the terminal kept moving as if she hadn't lost her bag in the first place.
