Violence might not be the answer; but it is always an answer
Yesterday might have been one of the few days I said the most prayer while zoned out.
My eyes caught the speedometer, already 3 digits, something is missing.
Where is it? What the hell? How come? No! no! no!
Moving at such speed means braking distance is never your friend.
I watched… passing 6, 9, more meters before the bike came to a stop.
Parked my bike, hopped off, holding my helmet, gloves and keys.
I ran backwards, moving against fast moving cars.
“God, please…”
That was all I could say.
Then I paused.
Lifted my right arm, with thumbs up.
A Samaritan finally stopped, picked me, his bike was moving…
Something felt different, he felt slow and it hit me.
I have gotten accustomed to my 500cc; where an open road is:
An invitation to deafen everything in its path.
A reason to cool my radiator.
An excuse to feel the g-forces.
A test of my senses, and play on my instinct.
A short ride on a dispatch bike suddenly felt like forever.
That realisation changed my prayer into gratitude.
Gratitude for life.
Gratitude for speed.
Gratitude for health.
Gratitude for people.
Her name is Adésúbọ̀mí
Eventually, I got back to my bike.
The man gave me directions on how to return to the other side of the road, and I rode off carrying gratitude in my heart and regret in my thought.
First gear… Second… Third… Fourth.
If you are curious about the figures,
feel free to Google the max speed of a CBR500R in fourth gear.
Back on the right track, now moving slow… I searched like someone searching for buried treasure.
Technically, I was.
Eventually, I gave up and headed home.
At the entrance to my house, I met two strangers as I parked.
One casually asked how my day had been.
I paused, removed my glove, opened a bottle of whiskey I had collected from another awesome TTT party, and told him we needed a drink before I answered that question.
That was the second time someone truly paused for me this night.
Become a Medium member
So they drank, and I told them how I had lost something vital to me on my way home.
Now, about violence.
Violence might not be the answer; but it is always an option I can choose.
Always.
Later that night, my friend and I went back out searching.
Typical Lagos shenanigans followed: hood boys pretending to help, giving useless advice, trying street tactics we know is organised robbery.
Eventually, I gave up and decided to leave.
Then things got interesting.
Suddenly, I was surrounded by two men.
Both insisted I was going to give them money, or they would attack me.
Money? Attack?
I believe deeply in love.
I will always preach love, until I am reminded that I am still human.
Told them there is nothing, especially when they didn’t do anything but watch me. I had literally just lost my phone.
How exactly was I supposed to transfer money?
One of them threatened to smash my friend’s car window.
And for a moment, I saw it.
Not fear… Violence.
Not anger… just instinct.
Cold… immediate self-defence.
I could already picture the movement.
No rules, no coach, no hesitation.
Just angles to cripple a man before my adrenaline leaves.
Maybe they noticed my biker boots shift.
Maybe they realised I truly had nothing to give.
Either way, it ended before it began… they didn’t attack.
For context, the “treasure” I lost was my phone: an iPhone 16 Pro Max that had apparently taken a trip off its mount on my bike while I leaned into a turn.
So yes, I am currently unavailable for regular calls.
But honestly, I am grateful things never escalated.
I hate imagining the collateral damage that could have followed.
More than anything, I remain thankful to the people who showed me kindness that night.
The stranger who stopped.
The men who listened.
The people who helped me stay calm enough not to lose myself in frustration or anger.
For that, I said another prayer.
Cheers to speed, love, and life.
And may we be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows we are gone.
