I took a commercial bus (BRT) that day. I was told that the traffic was going to be hell, since BRT own a Lane in Lagos, why bother my car?

I must confess it had been a long time I tried anything out of the premium class, from eating to the sleeping, everything I did was capped the rich life style.

It was intentional anyway, I suffered too long then. I made up my mind to do things not short of luxury. I mean, the money was there now. And of course, it’s flowing in because I’m working hard, so keeping it all deluxe is a necessity.

There was this dry looking biscuit the boys were hawking on the road side, trust me, it was looking dry and same time tasty. The lady that sat beside me bought one, I hesitated, being guided that I don’t eat stuff sold along the road; but then I reminded myself that I once was a road side hawker of ripe plantain, if they never purchased from me because I sold along the road, life would have been more difficult.

So I took one hoping to get bottled water later one as we wound the safe lane. Even before I took a bite, I salivated severally.

It was while I took the third one to eat I realised that the first two I’d eaten were still hanging somewhere inside my throat or chest, somehow I was finding it hard to breathe because even as hard as I tried, I couldn’t swallow it past where it hung. I quickly realised it was water I needed. I didn’t see anything ahead that looked like we were appraoching where I could get water so I encouraged myself to sit still and try to swallow.

After 6 minutes I was still struggling aimlessly, and I was beginning to lose my breathe really bad that I felt like I was being choked.

This was ordinary biscuit the young lady beside me was enjoying with earpiece on her ears, savouring the flavour enjoyably.

God so kind, we gradually approached where they hawked water, I quickly beckoned to the small boy selling water to come—you should be familiar with how these hawkers run; and I was impressed, I actually needed him to run like that, but at this point I knew if the boy didn’t come quickly, I would pass out and probably die.

As if the devil had a hand in it, the road was traffic free, the bus began to move faster, and the boy still ran along. I stretched one hundred naira out to him just so he could keep running, although I was losing consciousness already, the lady beside me did not notice.

The bus moved faster, yet the little boy did not give up, as if it was the only water he was going to sell or as if he hadn’t sold anything since dawn.

I gave up, drew my hand inside and intended to tap the lady at my side before I realised the little boys hand already closed to the window stretching the water to me—seemed like there was a slight slow of speed. I took it with my last strength threw the money down to him and the bus fired ahead.

I drank like it was the first time I tasted water. And almost immediately, I was ok. I could not but be grateful to the boy.

I had gone back to look for him, I haven’t seen him, but I kept on going there, no one seemed to know who I describe, I wanted to convince myself an Angel might have done that, but my grateful heart still want to thank the boy.

I am still searching for him.