The tarred road which served as an alternative route to the main one was barricaded. Perhaps the contractor was yet to be paid.

Ama took the quiet, tarred road. It was barricaded to vehicles, not pedestrians.

She bypassed the UPSA hostel overlooking the Presbyterian Boys Senior High school. A few pedestrians passed by. She tried not to look them in the eye.

Ideally, she wished to smile and say “hi”. But these people, once you start smiling with them, they’ll start paying you unwanted compliments and won’t end it there till they’ve had your number. These days, they dial on the spot to be sure it’s not fake.

She kept going, occasionally pausing to check her WhatsApp to see if there’s been any update.

It will be very painful to get there and that man will say, “Let’s make it another day. Today is a very busy day for me.”

She tries to send him a message that she has set off. But then, pauses.

In her path was a dead bird. What could have killed it?

If someone shot it with a catapult, that person would have taken it away to roast it. Birds hardly die of a natural death in her neighborhood.

Could it be an omen?

She tried to not think it was a sign of some impending evil as she skirted her way around the dead bird to continue her journey.

“Santa Maria.” She whispered, making a sign of the cross.

She was now at a bus stop. All over the little shed under which travelers sat waiting for a bus were posters, mainly religious and political ones. But there were a few ones advertising medicines for penis enlargement.

A few years ago, bills on aphrodisiacs were much smaller. These days, they were getting bigger and better, like the promises of pleasure they sell.

There was one with pictures and names of a wide range of sex toys and creams, with a number to call. Door-to-door delivery was even available.

It took some time before Ama successfully fought her way to a seat in a bus headed for Lapaz.

At this hour of the day, getting a vehicle to Lapaz was trouble, besides the heavy traffic on the way.

To kill time, she decided to text one persistent caller she hadn’t had time to chat for some days.

But she must first remind Kojovi, the Togolese she was going to meet, that she was now in a bus.

“I have set off. I am in a bus now from Madina.” She went over the text before sending it.

“OK. I’ve left my house too. ” came back the reply.

In-between updating Kojovi on her journey and checking up on the persistent caller she had stored his name as Stalker, she mistakenly sent a message to the wrong guy :

“Awww…. Go me✌️…. I miss you too.” 

It was meant for the Stalker, something to spice the conversation and kill the boredom in the bus.

Unfortunately it was sent to Kojovi, the married man she was meeting to hand some books to be sent to Togo.

“Damn!” she exclaimed, unsure what to do next. It was a text message, unlike WhatsApp messages that could be deleted for both parties.

“Sorry. Wrong message😀.” She sent the apology to Kojovi.

Smart phones allow us to feign smiles these days, she thought, staring at the emoji.

There was no response from Kojovi.

“Conductor, please, I do not know Lapaz Ecobank Junction. Kindly notify me when we get there so I can alight.” Ama told the bus conductor.

He just kept staring at her, saying nothing.

“They’re talking to you, and you’re saying nothing.” One old woman rebuked the teenager serving as bus conductor.

“I have heard what she said! “ the teenager retorted.

After a long drive, the bus reaches a noisy market. Ama looks around. She sees ” Lapaz” on a billboard. Unsure whether to alight or continue, she asks the conductor.

“Are we at LAPAZ Ecobank?”

“No. We’ve passed there.” the conductor told her.

“The idiot! Didn’t I tell you I want to alight at Lapaz Ecobank? And that I didn’t know there? Why didn’t you tell me?” Ama blasted.

She alighted.

Thankfully, the junction she was supposed to alight wasn’t too far.

She found Kojovi at the junction. He looked much older than he sounded on the phone.

“Kojovi, right?”

“Yes.”

” Sorry I was working on something that’s why I couldn’t come to your neighborhood to pick up the books.” he explained.

“It’s OK.” She replied, handing him the parcel.

“I will make a deposit in your mobile money wallet in the evening.” he proposed.

“OK.” She accepted.

And they went their separate ways.

Back to the path leading to her hostel, Ama sees the dead bird still lying on the floor where she had first met it.

“Could this mean something? “ she thought, hurrying to her room as rain clouds were beginning to gather.