She’d never seen such crowds of people; walking, riding bikes or scooters, hanging from the tops and sides of busses.
Her dad had told them that Lagos, the largest city in Nigeria, was made up of three islands; Lagos, Victoria and Ikoyi. Amy and her family would live on Ikoyi.
The driver crossed the bridge to Ikoyi Island and soon they were on Awolowo Road. Vendors had set up little stalls beside the road and sold food and drinks to people stuck in traffic jams. She noticed a woman sitting under a tree having her hair braided.
“Look, Mom! A beauty shop!” A sign propped next to her stool said, “Olowo Braids, 2 shillings.” Big-toothed wooden combs, thread, and jars of hair gel were lined up on a tiny wooden table.
“Mom, how much is a shilling?”
“I think it’s about sixteen cents. I can’t remember for sure. It’s not the same as the British shilling. I’m so confused. First British pounds, then Italian lira and now Nigerian pounds... When I get over this jet lag, we’ll look it up.”
By the time the two taxis turned onto Omo Osagi Street, it was almost noon. The drivers pulled up to a wide wooden gate and sat down on the horns in a long, loud blast. A middle-aged man dashed out from behind the shrubbery dressed, or so it appeared to Amy, in his pajamas. He threw a salute to the car, then swung open the gate.
They drove into an area surrounded by high bamboo fences. This must be the “Compound” where her dad had said they would live. Inside the fences were two houses. They drove to the driveway of the second house. All right! A two-story house. Maybe there would even be two bathrooms and she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her natural life waiting around while Suzanne shampooed her hair a million times a day.
The man who’d opened the gate trotted along behind the two taxis until they rolled to a stop. He opened the back door of the car where Amy sat with her mom. He bowed, as if they were royals or something, and then he said, “Welcome, madam. I am James, your Gateman.”