My older brother sent a package from Abuja through a night bus.
He forwarded the driver’s number to me on WhatsApp.
"He will get to Ojota park by 5:00 AM," my brother wrote.
"Go early before the agberos start making noise."
I set my alarm for 4:30 AM.
Lagos is a different kind of quiet at that time.
The air is cold, wet, and smells heavily of diesel and dust.
I parked my car outside the motor park.
I pulled my jacket tight and dialed the driver's number.
It rang twice.
"Hello?" I said.
"Oga Samuel," a voice replied.
It was incredibly raspy.
It sounded wet, like the man was gargling thick liquid while trying to speak.
Every breath he took was a heavy, rattling wheeze.
"I am at the park," he forced out.
"Come to the back and carry your waybill."