The Dice#21

Clad in a simple leaf-patterned navy blue and white kaftan made with the traditional adire fabric. Molade appeared to be watching the cars that sped by as they drove along the Ibadan – Lagos expressway. She was lost in thoughts to another time when she made a similar trip. The road was not this terrible. Those were the days when it took you just a little over an hour to get to Ibadan from Lagos. Like this journey, she was driven by the same driver, Jamiu, who has been her personal driver from her teenage years to her adult life. Her brows creased in deep thoughts as they made their way to the ancient city. She could count the number of times she had a reason to come this way despite its proximity to Lagos.
Molade was jolted from her reverie as the car turned off the main road onto a muddy road meandering around deep potholes that laced the road. She jerked forward but for the seat belt that held her from hitting her face against the headrest of the front passenger seat.
“Sorry, madam,” Jamiu apologised.
She waved him off, knowing that it was not his fault.
It probably will cost the government little or nothing to get the road adequately fixed. Molade looked around, taking in her surroundings. At the same time, she wondered if her findings today will reveal her fears ever since she saw the document this morning.
The driver slowed the jeep down beside a woman roasting fresh corn for sale to ask for direction. He was about to drive off when Molade passed him a few thousand naira notes to give to the woman. She was beside herself with joy and rushed to wrap a few of the already roasted corn in newspaper to give to them. Jamiu declined and drove off, watching the room in his rearview mirror as she swirled and moved from side to side, dancing with joy. The money would cover her sale for the day and, if not more.
Jamiu brought the car came to a halt in front of what looked like a hospital. Molade gazed at the small-sized building with its white paint turned grey peeling off, a few broken glass windows replaced with wood. She could see the queue of people spilling to the hospital entrance, leaving her wondering what a weekday would be like if the weekend was this busy.
“Do you want me to go in for you?” Jamiu asked.
Molade managed a small smile. Jamiu uncannily knew her so well, but why wouldn’t he|? He’d known her all her life.