An afternoon walk in Alexandria

David I. Adeleke
2 min readApr 20, 2020
Credit: Eric Muhr (Unsplash)

I step out of the house and cold wind breezes across my face, making my eyes and nose water. I sniffle and shudder a bit, then lock the door and place the keys in my pocket. I take off my glove and check the time on my phone. It’s 2:02 PM. I replace the glove. My walk today will last just under 30 minutes. I have to be back in the house by 2:30 PM to catch the football game.

The people here call football ‘soccer’ and I don’t know why. They have chosen instead to call a game where people throw an oval ball and run around with it, football. They have a different name for almost everything. They call car boots ‘trunks’, call flyovers ‘overpasses’, biscuits are ‘cookies’ and they spell almost everything differently.

I exit the close via the walkway. My hands are freezing despite wearing gloves. I have never experienced this level of cold before and, apparently, this is not even cold. I whimper at the thought.

The walkway takes me past houses made of red brick and some look like they are made out of wood. There are many cars parked outside and I wonder if the neighbours even go to work. The houses in this neighbourhood are spaced out and well-organised, a stark contrast to where I live in Lagos. The houses on and around my street back home are choked up, like they are gasping for breath and struggling to survive. Unlike the streets here, those in my neighbourhood are narrow and unpaved, made even narrower by double-parked cars and lined on both sides with poorly dug, shallow and exposed gutters filled with plastic bottles, styrofoam packs, and green water. The streets are littered and sometimes are open burial grounds for dead rodents.

I turn the corner into the woods and my ears are welcomed by the twittering of little black birds on dry, leafless trees. In the distance, I hear car engines and tires zooming across the road. The cars pass, and then there’s silence. Walking through the woods, dry leaves crackle beneath my feet and squirrels scurry through the grass, sniffing and stopping, probably hunting for nuts.

I exit the woods and arrive at my destination for today — a black-framed glass cubicle — the bus stop. I sit down to take in the scenery. Once I’m done, I head back home to watch the game. I‘ll be back here tomorrow to continue my walk around the neighbourhood.

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David I. Adeleke

I write essays, creative nonfiction, and short stories.