My experience this evening under the bridge at Toyota Bus stop, Lagos

On my way from Victoria Island Lagos to my parents' house in Festac this evening, there was a minor traffic jam on the Apapa Oshodi Expressway, under the bridge leading to the Lagos Airport at Toyota Bus stop.

A scruffy looking man walked up to my taxi cab by the door on the passenger's side where I sat and demanded that I give him what to eat. He didn't ask for money but what to eat. He said it in pidgin English. It was clearly not a plea or an appeal or even a request. It was a command. His voice sounded coarse. He looked tired and hungry, but I knew he had enough strength in him to snatch my phone and run in the opposite direction from us.

I looked into his eyes trying my best not to show any sign of fear. I could hear my heart beating. It sounded very audibly in my head. My arms were folded as if in defiance, as if challenging him to do his worst. I did not want to look away. I did not want to give him the opportunity to take anything from me and run. There was no way I could match him in any race.

This man, in his mid twenties demanded again that I give him something to eat, his head was in the window already quickly scanning the interior of the rickety Volkswagen Golf. He was surprised not to find any phones handy to steal. He did not even see any money or loose change. This time, he threatened, again in pidgin and Yoruba that he would bring "it" out if I did not give him the money.

I was thankful that as soon as we got to that spot, I quickly put both of my phones in my bag and my bag beneath my feet. The taxi driver shouted at the man in Yoruba to leave. He was clearly not part of it.

When he saw that I did not budge, he turned around and ran away...