The Zebra Crossing
We stared down at each other, both of us waiting for the other person to make the first move. In that moment, my life had plagiarised a standoff scene from an American western film — one most likely directed by Quentin Tarantino. I had found myself in a precarious situation. My undecidedness and sheer confusion had — at many times — put me in awkward situations, but at that moment on the zebra crossing, I suddenly wished that someone had quickly shot me in the head.
It was a hot Tuesday afternoon — actually, I don’t remember what day of the week it was, but sh*t like that seems like a Tuesday affair. I know for sure that it was a hot day though, the kind that makes you wonder if the sun was running a fever. I was walking back to my residence, after a pointlessly long day in school. I couldn’t wait to get back, take a shower, and finish the manga I had begun reading the previous night.
I was walking at a normal pace while listening to music. I love listening to music while walking, but it comes at the cost of having to keep very keen eyes on my surroundings — What if I encounter a friend? What if someone is trying to get my attention? What if someone was about to stab me? Listening to music while walking is indeed a risky activity, but it’s definitely worth it.
Anyway, I had to cross to the other side of a road in my school. The road had two lanes, with an intersection in between them. I was approaching from the left side of the lane at the left, and I needed to get to the right side of the lane at the right. Once I got to the intersection, there it was… the zebra crossing. If you have ever been a Nigerian before, you’d know that at the zebra crossing, the car doesn’t wait for you to cross over, like they told us in primary school. In Nigeria, you normally would have to wait for the car to drive past first before crossing the useless stripes of white on the worn tar road, else you’d suddenly find yourself floating in the air like superman (but unlike superman, you may actually die).
It was common knowledge to me — wait for the damn car to drive past. But something strange happened. The approaching car slowly came to a stop just before the zebra crossing, just as I was waiting for it to drive past, and preparing to cross. It was so strange, and left me a bit confused. In that moment, my brain began working overtime — creating simulations and journeying the multiverse, looking for a reason why this car had stopped just before the zebra crossing.
There was a male driver in the driver seat. The antagonist of this story. He looked like he was approaching his 50s, and he indeed looked Nigerian. So it made no sense.
Does he want directions?
Did his car spoil?
Maybe he wants to introduce me to his daughter or something.
And then, the stare down began. He seemed a bit too patient to be a normal Nigerian. I began wondering if he had mental issues. “He could be having a midlife crisis,” I said to myself. He didn’t even yell or anything like that, for the good 1 minute I stood there staring at the car, being confused and not knowing what to do. Then I was suddenly nudged back to reality, and out of my head, when someone came up from behind me and crossed the zebra crossing. Without thinking, I followed suit. As soon as I reached the other side, I looked to see if the car would still be there, and to my astonishment, it had driven past the zebra crossing.
I finally understood what had happened. The bastard was actually waiting for me to cross the road?
I felt so embarrassed. I had never met a psychopath in real life before, so it was a very weird experience for me. As it drove past, putting more and more distance between itself and me — it’s victim, I made sure to memorise the plate number at the back. It’s best to keep an eye out for crazy people like that.
Why did the chicken cross the road?
Because it saw a zebra crossing
