Spider-Woman strikes again, September 2026.
a funny story, about an unfunny situation.
the first time i jumped out of a moving vehicle, i was 16 and had PTSD.
this time around, i’m 18 and i still have PTSD.
it happened that on the 5th of September this month, i was supposed to go for the burial of my friend’s late father whom i had visited earlier in June. she’d told me a month beforehand and i assured her that i’d make it because i knew i had nothing to do on that day. the fateful day came around and the funny thing is that i stayed up all night. reading stories about a particular role model on how she left the country and stalking her and her thoughts here on medium, bluesky and even subscribed to her newsletter on substack. then at 7am, i went to fry some potatoes and chicken, had my breakfast, and went to prepare. but i was at a loss on what to wear to a burial as it would be my first. do i wear a short pink gown in my wardrobe or opt for a trouser and top combo? but i couldn’t wear jeans to a burial so let me just do something corporate. after all these contemplations, i landed on a blur straight cut trouser and a long sleeve top — a decision that would later save my future body image.
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i had a cute outfit on, made some videos for my friends on snap (John even complimented me and said i looked pretty, which is pretty gay of him icl.), and left for the burial. now, i could go into details on what happened on the way there, but this happened over a month ago and i’m honestly not in the mood to recount the story again. long story short, i had entered a keke named “one chance” in nigeria. i basically entered a kidnappers vehicle and bro was taking me to another state by the time i looked up from my phone. after realizing this, i quickly gathered myself and my belongings and lunged us out of the keke speeding down an expressway (now you get the title) in an attempt to save my life. i sustained some injuries, and was saved by my outfit choice (imagine if i wore the short sleeveless gown bro?). my clothes were torn in different areas and i simply boarded another vehicle back home, while i called my mum on the phone and told her to come pick me up from my sister’s place. that call made me realize that i really only call my parents when i need something or when something in my life goes wrong, but it’s not my fault they failed to bond with me after having kids 8 years prior.
i went to the hospital with my mum, got my clothes torn in front of 5 nurses, got a fresh set of clothes, cried in agony during the dressing and went to x-rays on parts of my body that might be broken. thankfully th x-ray came out okay, but i almost fainted at the x-ray lab, so i went back to take a pint of drip for strength. after which i went back home with my parents, and spent the next few days being assisted and bed-ridden. and i had malaria the very next day which caused me to pour out the contents of my stomach each time i ate something meaningful. i lost the rest of my weight, dropped down to 60kg, got angry at my partner, sustained life-long bruises, and took a week off from work. i had friends come over to come see me (my partner didn’t btw and i’m mad at them for this), and caught up with my reading partner and friends with the free time. in all of this, i was asking God why He’d let this happen. i was mad at Him again and went ahead to not talk to Him for over a month, particularly because i had cried on my bed the day before the accident, asking Him to do something about my life and how bleak my future looked. i didn’t ask for an action movie scene that’d give me ugly scars. oh and did i mention? i shattered my phone screen when i jumped and my phone became completely blind at one point, to the extent where i resorted to use my android as my daily driver.
two weeks later, i left home for my sister’s, where i’d prepare for our upcoming trip to Lagos for the first time in my life. we bought our essentials, and i packed my bags for a week-long vacation and a quest to fix my phone at a cheaper rate (enugu vendors had quoted upwards of 400,000 naira~$300 and it wouldn’t be an original screen). we went to Lagos and i couldn’t use my phone for the first two days, after which i went to get my phone fixed and was able to enjoy the rest of the trip. i took a bunch of pictures that i now look back on and am grateful that i took the money out to treat myself. we missed our return flight and had to spend two more days in Lagos, but hey, i’m not complaining. after flying twice now, i can confidently say that planes are not my thing. i get ear pops in the air and it makes the entire journey really uncomfortable. i am dreading having to sit on a plane for 10+ hours when i eventually travel for my studies and i really have to find a solution before then. anyways, lagos was fun. i enjoyed my time there, and i finally met Temi! remember John and Temi from the very start of this series? here, i finally met Temi in-person and we were exactly as i’d imagined 😂. we met at an art gallery, made a lot of noise, joked about pieces of art that we surely couldn’t afford, and took tons of pictures. it’s definitely a special day in my books for sure. i tried amala again in Lagos, still not a big fan of it. i tried karaoke, iced boba tea and loved those. we did a crawl thingy where we climbed up 750 feet high and i was genuinely scared for my life. we saw monkeys, and one tried to take food that we were eating. i tried noodles peppersoup in Lagos too, but i was let down can’t lie.
after all the adventures of the bustling Lagos, i came home to my calm city and genuinely appreciated life. as much fun as Lagos was, i don’t think i’d love to live in a city so populated and fast-paced that everyone is trying to move at 100m/h. it’s exhausting tbh. enugu just has a better quality of life.
all in all, September came with it’s ups and ridiculously down downs. i wouldn’t do it again, and i hope it perishes in hell 🫶🏽
bye for now (no, i will not be explaining why this is 18 days late, i’m just a girl).
