She was bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked with skin the color of dark chocolate. She had mischief stamped onto every tiny feature and she was bubbling over with enthusiasm and more than a little of that mischief peculiar to children her age.
The driver, as is common with greedy Abuja drivers, had ruthlessly squeezed four grown adults into the back seat of his tiny car and our little comedian was perched onto the legs of the young man seated beside me.
She was three years old if she was a day, with a voice as clear as bells as she made repeated demands of her weary minder.
As the taxi passed underneath the famous Apo bridge, she suddenly shot to her feet, her eyes scanning the environment while her chubby cheeks danced as she murmured to herself in childish gibberish. She was so cute.
"Seat down," the young man carrying her ordered, trying to get her to seat back down.
She ignored him.
"Police will catch you ooo," he lied baldly.
Apparently for the Nigerian child, the fear of police is the beginning of wisdom.
She hastily sat back down and proceeded to hide her face in her hands; evidently if her face was covered so was the rest of her little self and the police wouldn't see her. I hid a grin, willing myself not to laugh and ruin the young man's good work.
Few minutes later, just as we were nearing Apo roundabout, our little bundle of mischief surged to her feet again, eyes as bright as stars as she looked around.
"Why are you standing up again?" Her minder demanded.
She turned to face him, her expression very adult and wise as she declared in a voice as clear as church bells, "I WANT TO SEE POLICE."
THE entire occupants of the taxi roared with laughter.
Evidently she had decided she had had enough of being threatened with police and was now her own one-woman liberation squad; facing down her fears in the back of a crammed taxi.
Morale of the story? Most children do not truly know what fear is and in my book, that's the best way to live. Preserve their spirit and their innocence for as long as you can. πππ
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