Member-only story
Life is a Beach
Fiction
Disclaimer: The scenes from this short story are set in the West African country of Nigeria. Some of the language used reflects the popular Pidgin English spoken by locals. Pidgin English is a form of broken English.
It was 3:30 pm and Lukeman was drenched in his own sweat. The damn sun hadn't set yet? He hissed as he scanned the traffic for potential customers. Being a street hawker for over two years on Eko bridge had taught him a thing or two about who and who would make potential buyers.
"Heiss, pure-water man."
Lukeman didn't stop to see if he was the one the customer was calling, he ran towards the car frantically with a blue basin of packaged water in his hand. Lukeman soon found himself trapped in the mob of other desperate pure water sellers like himself.
"No, be you I want. Na that yellow man I want."
"Ah!! oga me?" Lukeman couldn't believe his luck as his lips contorted into a huge smile. Not too long ago, he was worried sick that he hadn't sold water all day. The other pure water sellers kept overtaking him, but see how God had remembered him.
"Oya make all of you park for one side. You don see say na me him dey call?" Lukeman wanted everyone to know that this was his time and nothing could stop him.
