Always Functioning, Never Formed — The Day I Wandered

THE DAY I WANDERED Ever felt so lost, so confused that all you could do was just… walk? Let me tell you of the time I cosplayed as a vagabond… for a day. I did my IT in Kano in a factory that embodied everything wrong with Nigeria. Strenuous working conditions, lorded over by Indian engineers that answered to their Lebanese corporate overlord. I watched Nigerians get worked like horses for far below minimum wage. It was painfully exploitative. The working conditions, the working hours, and well… the work. Modern-day slavery, even without the chains and whips. Poverty alone would keep them shackled to the promise of salary at the end of every month of back-breaking labor. The threat of a pay cut or even worse, a layoff, was all the propulsion they needed to offer every ounce of strength they wielded to fuel another man’s dreams for so little return. It was sad to see my countrymen address foreigners as “Master.” Not “sir,” not “boss”—“Master.” A word with long-standing historical weight. One part of history’s most destructive social dynamic. The other side of the coin was “slave,” which was what they essentially were. Slaves in their own country. It was unbearable. But what could I do? I was merely a student. I never even got paid, but in exchange I kept my freedom, only offering some of it for a few working hours, four days a week. Three if I felt bold. It was a trade-off I was willing to indulge. Besides, I barely ever got my hands dirty. You could think of me as nothing more than a glorified escort for the mechanics of the maintenance department. The mechanical engineering student always at their tail. I held tools, tightened screws, lifted weights, and watched. Half of my stay there was as an observer. When there was no work to be done, I went on adventure mode. The abandoned sections of the factory became playgrounds. I would traverse the cavernous halls, past the ancient machines that my imagination had morphed into beasts. I was a warrior in battle. Armed, armored, marching ahead of my imaginary army. We charge. We conquer. I would climb atop a rust-ridden machine and place my banner over their toppled battlement. Like so, beast after beast, castle after castle fell. I was inevitable. One day, there was little work to be done. The mechanics had left me in their storage room, which was a makeshift space where they rested during breaks. No work, so I went into battle. But something was odd that day. The machines were machines. I saw no beasts to slay, no castles to conquer. Just massive metallic bodies gathering dust and rust. What was going on? I tried, over and over again, but imagination betrayed me. I had nothing else to do, so I relieved myself from work early. They barely ever noticed my presence, so I figured my absence would also go unnoticed. The men at the gate simply waved, and off I went. Something felt off that day. The walk back home was devoid of sensation. My go-to NF playlist sounded like noise to me that day. Then I was home. I stayed with my aunt in Kano. In her home, I felt more like a son than a nephew. I was treated well. My cousins were quite fond of me. I was happy. I went into my room. I took a bath and changed. My little cousins had already left food for me on the table. I ate. I slept. I woke up. I logged into the E-SIWES portal and entered my activities for the day. In truth, I simply filled the blank with details of some installation procedure from the previous day. That oddness still hung in the air. I could feel everything around me slowly lose familiarity until it was all recognizable only in form, not in feeling. I tried to fill that void with distraction, but distraction became noise. The scenes in movies, lyrics in songs, and the pages of books all looked strangely unfamiliar. I drew out my notepad. My novel outline could do with some addition. I placed pen on paper. Ten minutes went by. Fifteen. Half an hour. There was only a single dot on the page. I closed the notepad. What to do? What to do? Everything was fading. I was fading into the background. Noise. My mind was losing coherence, gaining entropy. I could feel it slipping through my fingers—agency, control. It was happening again. Not for the first time. Just that this time, I didn’t have the healing serenity of my “hidden mountain,” where I went to find myself when it went missing. I was far from home. An unarmed traveler, ambushed by foes I did not think would follow me. I rose. I sat. I rose again. A sigh. I clutched my head tightly, desperately trying to force the clarity to return. Nothing. I stepped out. Outside, everything was insufferable, intolerably loud. If there was a word I could use to describe Kano, it would be “dense.” Dense with people, dense with vehicles—and with such density came noise. The people, the vehicles—I wanted everything, everyone to just shut up. Noise. But the noise outside was far more tolerable than the noise in my head. So I walked. Aimlessly. No direction, no destination—just step after mindless step. Walk. Walk. Walk. A turn. Cross the street. I glance at Ado Bayero Mall. A bubbling mass of people at the gates. Commotion. Noise. I walk on. More vehicles. Passersby. I approach a junction. Left. Right. Forward. Right it was. I was in a part of the city I had never been, but I couldn’t stop walking. I felt like if I stopped, I would erupt. I could feel the tears gather. I could not let them fall. Not out here. Everything is being seen. I would undoubtedly find myself on the internet, on some Arewa blog page. Speculations would brew. Backstories would be fabricated. Most likely, it would be concluded that the cause was heartbreak. I did not even know the cause. But the internet doesn’t care about truth. Drama sells more than facts. So I stifled the crippling urge to sink to my knees and let it all out. I walked on. It was almost like I was trying to see how far I could go without getting lost. I walked. Oh God, I walked. So much that my soles ached. Yet on I went, stepping into more unfamiliar territory. I kept on walking until I could walk no more. So I stood. The din of vehicles. The chatter of passersby. Noise. Noise. Noise. “Keep walking,” I told myself. My feet would not budge. Keep walking. Rooted. Please walk. No. I bent, hiding my face from incoming pedestrians, watching drops of tears sink into the concrete. Please. Please move. Step. At last. A little further ahead, I spot a football field. I stayed to watch the game. That day, I didn't find answers. I didn't find clarity. Just enough of myself to make it back

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