He Had Been Going Somewhere

Ada had been honking for a while when the man decided to help her.

She was trying to turn right into Adetokunbo Ademola.

The bus in front of her was not.

It was a commercial bus going straight along Ozumba Mbadiwe, where the traffic light was red, and the cars were waiting.

The turning lane

had been moving.

So, the bus driver

had taken it.

Now he was at the front.

The light was still red.

He couldn’t move forward.

The cars beside him were packed too closely for him to move back in.

And behind him was Ada.

Trying to turn right.

He had successfully outsmarted himself.

Ada honked.

Nothing.

She honked again.

Still nothing.

That was when the man appeared.

He was on foot.

He had been going somewhere.

Then he saw the bus.
He walked towards it.

Ada’s windows were up.

The AC was blasting.

She couldn’t hear what he was saying.

She could see that he had plenty to say.

He pointed towards Ada’s car.

Then towards the turning lane.

Then back at the driver.

The bus driver answered.

That appeared to be the wrong answer.

The man moved closer.

Ada watched from inside the car.

By now, she was watching him more than the bus.

She still didn’t know who he was.

Ada was delighted.

There was absolutely nothing the man could do to move the bus.

The driver had trapped himself until the light changed.

This did not discourage him.

He continued

Then the light changed.

The cars began to move.

The bus moved.

Ada turned right.

Watching him, Ada remembered another afternoon on the same Ozumba Mbadiwe.

Another man who had been passing by.

Ada was on the phone when a loud bang sounded behind her.

Her driver stopped.

A car had hit the back of her SUV.

Everyone got out.

Two men.

Two women.

They were coming from work.

They looked at the damage.

Then they started pleading.

“Madam, sorry.”

“Please.”

“It wasn’t intentional.”

Ada and her driver were still looking at the car when people began to gather.

Then a man came from the left.

Ada hadn’t seen him before.

He looked at the SUV.

Looked at the four people.

Looked at Ada.

And developed a position.

“Madam, abeg, leave them.”

The four continued pleading.

So did he.

Madam was being driven.

Madam was in an SUV.

Madam could afford it.

She should let them go.

After a while, he was doing considerably more talking than they were.

His voice was louder than theirs.

When they spoke, they apologised.

When he spoke, he argued.

“Madam, abeg. Leave them.”

The four pleaded.

He made another submission.

They apologised.

He made another.

Eventually, Ada had had enough.

She turned to the four of them.

Their colleague, she said, was making the situation worse.

If he continued like this, they would have to pay for the damage.

The four stopped pleading.

They looked at Ada.

Then at the man.

Then at one another.

“Madam, we don’t know him.”

Ada looked at the man.

So did they.

One of the men turned to him.

“Oga, abeg. We are handling it.”

The man continued.

Another joined.

“Oga, abeg now. Leave this thing.”

The women joined too.

Now all four of them were telling the man not to plead on their behalf.

He persisted.

Ada looked at him.

“So I should take my children’s school fees and use it to repair the car?”

The man still had things to say.

It took a while.

Eventually, the four turned back to Ada.

“Madam, please.”

Behind them, the man was still talking.

Ada Obiajunwa writes from Lagos about the big truths tucked inside ordinary moments — friendship, self-discovery, and the quiet revolutions of everyday life. She believes in the power of presence, good banter, and decoding the unsaid. Through her fragrance studio, WhiffWonders, she also crafts scents that weave memory and emotion into experiences that feel like home.