Watch out, manhole alert! – How I (almost) got canalized in Nigeria
A minimalist adventure story with a deep fall and a big heart
Ever since I started traveling, I’ve let go of many things: unnecessary baggage, big expectations – and trust in manhole covers. Yes, you read that right. I have deep respect for anything on the street that looks like a lid. It all started with a story from Jordan, where a friend’s aunt once fell into a canal because the cover gave way. Since then, anything that even *suggests* a hole gets a wide berth from me. Better safe than… submerged!
In Nigeria, that instinct was truly put to the test. There, things are simple: in many areas, there are no covers at all. Problem detected – problem visible. Perfect for people like me, who not only carry a curvy figure but also a healthy fear of falling into the unknown.
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I was on my way to the bus station. Fully focused. No way was I going to step into one of those open, trash-filled trenches. There are definitely better spa experiences out there.
I was just crossing one of the busy streets in Lagos. If you’re not alert here, you’ll make quick friends with bumpers. Rule number one: either you’ve got eyes like a chameleon or a seriously overworked guardian angel. I had both that day. There he stood – a kind police officer signaling us when to cross. I felt safe. So safe, in fact, that I let my guard down for a moment.
I stood still, waiting for his next signal. And then – for reasons still unknown – I took a single step backward. Just one. Suddenly, a woman screamed. And in that instant, I realized why: my foot had landed in thin air. No ground. No cover. Just the dreaded open drain. Shit – too late.
I fell in.
Luckily, the canal was dry. Not too deep. Just deep enough that I couldn’t get out on my own. Then, as if summoned by fate, a man rushed over and pulled me out. People sitting nearby immediately cleared space and offered me a seat, asking if I was okay. I was genuinely touched by their kindness – and thankful that only my pants had a hole, not me.
One massive bruise, a few scratches, and a slightly damaged favorite pair of trousers later, I continued my walk to the bus station. And yes – I kept going with a smile on my face.
Because honestly: who can say they fell into a canal in Nigeria – and were lovingly pieced back together afterward?
