The dew still carpeted the green shrubs while the sun had started opening its eyes when I stepped out of my compound. My mission was simple yet spiced with a dint of uncertainty.


Like most Nigerians, I wanted to exercise my franchise.


As I stepped into the streets leading to Okpanam Road, Asaba where I would board a ‘keke’, a spiral of silence circled the once-busy area!


I could count the number of “keke”‘ cars and people on the road. They could pass for the number of trees in a desert.


Luckily for me, I saw a ‘keke’, flagged it down and hopped in.  While we meandered through the roads and streets leading to Ibusa junction, the ever-busy heart of Delta’s capital left none in doubt that a historical landmark in Nigeria, was taking place.


The loaves of bread that could pass for the height of Berlin wall had suddenly collapsed. The gala and sweating bottled drinks balanced on hawkers’ heads were nowhere to be seen.


Commercial vehicles and their drivers, including the hoard of ‘agberos’ who jostled for passengers like ants do to sugar and shouting louder than the vuvuzela, were visibly missing.

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