Looking back at my horrible experience, some parts of me find it unforgivable for not acknowledging the karmic responsibilities of a Lagos unburdened by the traffic of Monday and Tuesday— a government-declared public holiday for the Eid-el-Fitr celebrations.

IN THE BEGINNING:

It was the second of April and in my mind, a good Wednesday was promised. I woke early for my 7 a.m. gym session, fighting the horrors of unhealthy eating and an always-looming gym trainer. I huffed and puffed and blew the sets and reps down. The clock read 8:50 a.m. before I walked back home, and showered, in preparation for my first day at the office in six days.

The sky darkened, and the rains seemed inevitable at this point, so I pondered on my logistics.

Usually beholden to the public transport system, but recognizing that the arrangement would cause a certain tardiness in regards to my 10 am resumption time, I opted for an in-drive ride. The cost should have set alarm bells ringing, but I expected that something had happened that could explain that cost, in connection to the rains that had started to pour. It was 16,000 naira.

Alarm bells failed to sound. I opted instead for half that price on Uber (still expensive) and headed to my office in VI. I left my home at 9:30 am. Then began the circus of horrors. 

What was usually a 45-minute ride at the very most began to morph–not like the Power Rangers but more like the birth of a monster in a vat of acid–into a gridlock that made the worries of the 2023 closure of the 3rd Mainland Bridge look like a practice session.

I, who left Gbagada at 11 am, was staring intently at the fixtures of the Ikoyi Club signage, studying that sign for several minutes, understanding the letters anew, in the face of no movement.

I had joined a work meeting I was certain would happen in the comfort of my office, and defended a moving project for funding. I had considered possibly turning back because it was now 2:30 pm WAT and I had effectively spent 5 hours in traffic for a 26-minute ride. 

Both sides of the road were, in a sense, mirrors of the same crawling traffic. I was trapped. I finished that meeting, finished two work tasks and watched an hour of a film before I crawled to the front of my office at Ajose Adeogun.

My coworkers were all shades of the same tale, and at this point, we all had the same questions on our lips. Why?

THE PREQUEL:

Two days before, during the festivities that follow the month of Ramadan,  the Federal Ministry of Works had thought it a great idea to close Independence Bridge, a bridge that linked Victoria Island (coming from Ahmadu Bello Way and Adeola Odeku) to Onikan, Eko Bridge and Marina, offered a way to connect to TBS and also a route to Obalende Bridge, where you could then connect to the 3rd Mainland Bridge. In a sense, all the island roads in Lagos, lead to the Independence Bridge.

It was critical infrastructure, it seemed, as all of the movement on Lagos Island was effectively crippled once the usual swarm of cars resumed after the holidays. It speaks to the infuriating conundrum of Lagos’ urban planning, where one road being shut down can cause all sorts of insane delays. It also speaks to the dearth of proper planning and communication, from the government (both federal and state) where communication about this blockage and possible alternative routes was not made till the evening of this chaotic happening, and when it was, it was effectively the same route with the verbs changed; go through Ozumba Mbadiwe.

MY JOURNEY HOME:

The traffic held out till the late embers of the morning. At work, effectively useless, the team that made it despite all of the chaos, spent time playing FIFA (I’m really good at this) and Kahoot trivia. When we were hungry, we walked down the road to get fast food, past the honking and barely crawling traffic on Ajose Adeogun. 

Traffic cleared up around 9 pm in front of our office and then, within 15 minutes, reappeared like falling shapes in Tetris. By the time it cleared up again, it was 2:30 am. I had committed to sleeping in the office, but, geared up by a coworker heading in my direction, I joined their car heading to the mainland. 

Traffic was not done with us. 

We got stuck for about 45 minutes before finding a route to go all the way to Lekki to connect to Lekki-Ikoyi Link Bridge to get a path to the 3rd Mainland Bridge. When I got to the mainland, it was 3:50 am. By the time I found a ride going to Gbagada from my boss’s estate (owner of the car), it was 4:08 am. 

I got home by 4:24 am, which means that I effectively had an eight-hour workday morph (again in cancerous ways) into a twenty-hour workday.

THE GOVERNMENT’S STANCE:

All of the communication from the state government in the aftermath of this nightmare has been rather incompetent. Outside of the weird alternative-verb-slinging routes, Governor Babajide Sanwo-olu went on television to call this carnage a “discomfort” and that we have to “think outside the box”.

The bridge, which was initially scheduled to remain closed until the end of May, prompted concerns from the public. Minister of Works, David Umahi, acknowledged the difficulties this closure has caused for Lagos residents, stating, “We understand the hardship this has caused Lagosians, and we are working to ensure that permanent repairs begin in three weeks to restore and enhance this vital bridge.”

David Umahi, the federal minister of works, declared a reopening of the bridge and said the controller of the bridge acted without his input. The Governor refuted the reopening and said it will be closed as initially mentioned till the end of May, and people should plan around it, “stagger their travel” and “do online meetings”.

However, following significant outrage online, Minister Umahi ordered the bridge to be reopened and it was on the fourth of April.

This is now the reality of Lagosians, consigned to long periods lost to gridlock and losing sleep, getting home at odd hours only to resume their gridlock assignments the next morning. The issue around the possibilities that one road can do this is not one to shirk off, as it speaks to the poor urban planning of the city, but one must imagine a way forward. How does the government make sure this doesn’t happen again? How do they ease the “discomfort” currently being inflicted on the citizens? 

PLAUSIBLE PREVENTIONS:

There should be long-term considerations of access roads that connect the mainland to the island, making it easier to close down roads for repairs. There also needs to be better-built roads that do not require frequent repairs, as has been our burden to bear over the last few years. 

There should be communication made well ahead of situations like these, where citizens are not blindsided by such a decision and its ramifications. There are other factors, but in the end, it comes down to a deep consideration for the state and comfort of the people you govern.

Do I think the current administration would implement this? Or do I think we shall always have to deal with Nightmares on Ozumba Mbadiwe as long as the ruling party is in power?

Well, look at that verb-wielding circular again.