The Traffic Warden And I


Photo: nigerian eye
Photo: nigerianeye

Hello everyone! So, today, apart from the regular essays I post here. I decided to share a piece of my fiction. “The Traffic Warden and I” is a flash fiction story I wrote a while ago, and decided to submit as an entry for the 2017 Etisalat Short Story Prize. Do enjoy the read, and more importantly please vote at


“Have a great day madam” he had said to me only yesterday.

I had waved to him with a smile as I meandered through the early morning Lagos
traffic. I never quite got his name, but the Traffic Warden had become a staple on
my daily route to work. The threadbare outfit, an awkward gait, those black shoes
that could easily pass for brown – the consequence of standing too long in the ever
busy and dusty metropolis, the cap that never failed to tip slightly to the side, and
the wry smile of one who had accepted what fate had carved out as his lot never
failed to announce his presence.
I had grown accustomed to seeing him between the College and Iju road
intersection every morning. Sometimes he would pass my lane of traffic a little
longer just so I could get on with my journey without further delay.
At first I never really noticed him, but it became inevitable that I would eventually
as he always seemed to be on duty each time I drove by. And somehow,
whenever I caught a glimpse of him from a distance I instinctively relaxed. It
always ended up being a good day every single time he smiled at me.
Then today, as I approached the junction as I had always done, I immediately
sensed something was amiss. The crisp yellow and burgundy uniform backing me
triggered the first set of alarm bells before the fair neck and long fingers that
waved traffic on languidly confirmed all I needed to know.
My Traffic Warden was not the one staring back at me. He had been replaced. I


P.S: Please I really need your vote guys! Just click on the thumbs up sign at the top of the story (on the Etisalat Prize For Literature site) to vote. Thank you.