Emeka

*The Okada and the Lawyer*

Emeka’s okada was his life. 2018 Bajaj, dented tank, engine that coughed on cold mornings but never quit.

He used it to pay his sister’s school fees, his mum’s hospital bills, and his own HND exams. Every morning at 5am he was at the bus stop, calling “Oshodi! Oshodi!”

One rainy evening, a man flagged him down near Ikeja. Suit soaked, phone in hand, shouting about a court case starting in 20 minutes.

“Brother, abeg, I’ll pay double. Just make we fly.”

Emeka flew. They dodged danfo, jumped potholes, got splashed by a water tanker. They made it to the court with 3 minutes to spare.

The man jumped off, threw 5k at him, and ran. “God bless you!”

Emeka picked up the money. 5k was two days’ work. He was smiling until he saw the man leave his briefcase on the seat.

Inside was a laptop, documents stamped “Federal High Court,” and a phone blowing up with “CALL ME NOW.”

Emeka’s first thought: _Sell the laptop, settle my debts._
His second thought: _My sister would disown me._

He didn’t know the man’s name. No number saved. So he sat under the tree by the court and waited. For 4 hours. Rain came and went.

At 7pm, a woman ran out crying. “Where is my husband’s bag?”

Emeka stood up. “Madam, calm down. The bag is here.”

The man came out next. His face changed when he saw the briefcase. He didn’t ask questions. He just said, “Why didn’t you take it?”

Emeka shrugged. “Because it’s not mine.”

The man opened his wallet and pulled out 50k. “Take this. And from Monday, you’re driving me to court every day. 20k per day. No argue.”

Emeka didn’t become rich. But for the next two years, he had steady work. He finished his HND. His sister became a nurse.

People still call him “Okada Emeka.”

But the lawyers in Ikeja call him “The Man Who Waited.”

And in okodaLagos, that name means more than money.