Kano, Nigeria

A dark cloud hangs low over the sprawling city. Signs of commerce are evident everywhere. Once wide streets are impossibly narrow; shops spill into the streets, threatening to swallow them completely. Motorcycles weave dangerously through any space left unoccupied. In this city of 6 million, the Islamic Lagos of the north, life can be exciting. This is particularly true for motorcycle taxis. Incredibly enjoyable to ride, they are also the fastest and cheapest way to get around a city like Kano.

Yet, despite my undying love for these motorcycles, we have had our differences. Just yesterday, I crossed paths with an inattentive driver on a nearly empty road. After a fleeting collision, flesh encountering metal, I found my heart still intact but my right leg in pain. Fearing I had shattered femurs, flattened toes and tore tendons, I stumbled onto the sidewalk and quickly examined my injuries. They appeared minor. But the motorcycle and I, we were finished.

Although our encounter was unnecessarily brief due to the fact that my new friend did not have the courtesy to stick around, I have not taken it personally. When you involve yourself with motorcycle taxis, you have to be prepared for both the highs and the lows. Finding oneself left behind, damaged in the wake of a superior actor, is often unavoidable. Today I forced myself back onto the proverbial horse, seeking fresh acquaintances of the road.
* posted by Sean at 12:18 PM