That Wednesday morning, the chickens came home to roost. Our governments don’t think methodically. Often they explain away consequences as inevitable. That was how our naira crashed and plunged everyone into deeper poverty. Good policies that are poorly thought through and implemented erratically. This time, there was no wiggle room. 

They would like to tell us what could have happened if the bridge was not fixed. Cars would have eventually fallen into the sea. So we must endure whatever comes with the repairs, no matter how inept. They would like to say the economy was more fractured than that bridge. But they won’t mention that a properly planned closure of the bridge will begin with better traffic enforcement on the alternative routes to mitigate the consequences on the already frayed citizens. They never acknowledge that failure to institute cushions before announcing drastic economic policies with wide-ranging impact is bad governance in itself, regardless of intentions. The bridge closure was a glimpse of our national life. 

That Wednesday’s traffic madness threw our mess into bold relief. 

Indeed the signs had been pasted for weeks. “But where is the independence bridge?” That was the question on many lips. The communication was poor. A bridge was to be closed for repairs. Neither the government nor the contractor bothered enough. When it was eventually closed, nobody was ready. The government that closed it wasn’t prepared. Their clumsiness made it seem like life was dependent on that short bridge. 

By 8am that hellish day, Victoria Island, Ikoyi, Lekki, and Lagos Island were grounded. Cars were running back to meet cars running forward. People were jumping down from panting stationary buses and starting to trek. Their faces said they didn’t believe they would get to their destinations. Then the rain came. 

By 11am, most offices had no workers. Many cars caught in the melee had run out of fuel. And those who underestimated the distances they had embraced with their feet were running out of breath. Soon, they would have the independence bridge etched on their minds. Lagos was accustomed to traffic turmoil, but that Wednesday, even for the initiated, it seemed surreal.

All through the madness, neither the police nor Lastma were anywhere to be found. Perhaps they were all stuck somewhere. On a day when a state of emergency could have been declared and soldiers sent in to move the traffic and restore order, the government was soundly asleep. 

If those who shut the bridge had an eye for consequences, they might have re-opened it immediately to relieve the city of the suffocation. Sick people were stuck. Health workers were trapped. But the engineers at the bridge started to break it. Perhaps having put thousands through the anguish, they might as well go through it once and for all. If likened to taking out a bad tooth without anaesthesia, having started, they were justified to continue and finish. 

When the minister of works, who, it appears, has no respect for environmental impact assessment assays, woke from his slumber, it was already sunset. Without thinking it through, he announced that the works be stopped and the bridge reopened. Perhaps he was worried that some aunties of the president would reach him to tell him that the minister had put them through hell. Perhaps the president was already screaming at him.

Unfortunately for the minister, his order for re-opening left him looking clueless. The bridge had been excavated and broken. The next morning, the governor stepped in to do damage control. He tendered a solid apology. He begged the public not to dwell in the blame game. It’s difficult to know between him and the minister who should get the kick in the groin. 

The bridge repairs were overdue. But had anyone been thinking about the people, arrangements would have been made to lessen the suffering. Lagos can put traffic officials, soldiers and policemen at every bottleneck and curtail the anticipated constipation. But the authorities slept and the city became an obstructed and tangled mess. They know how to prepare for the visit of the president, to prevent him getting trapped in traffic. But they couldn’t think about the people.

That fateful Wednesday, some people got to work at 4 pm. Bedraggled and famished. They hid in their offices till 11pm to avoid any contact with the scourge on their way home. But at midnight, they still ran into it. Many got back home at 5 am. Only to have their bath and start another sleepy uncertain journey back to the office. 

By the time the governor was rendering his apology for the previous day’s commotion, another maze was forming. Nothing had been done overnight. He politely asked the public to disregard the minister of works, suggesting that the Abuja man was at a remove from the consequences. He asked the people to brace for the disruptions to get a healthy bridge and avoid a calamity. Once again he asked for two whole months to fix the short bridge. 

After the governor left the scene, the minister appeared. He said he was sent by the president to sort out the bridge and the nefarious traffic. He said he was taking responsibility but didn’t avoid throwing his staff under the bus, saying he wasn’t informed of the closure and the repairs. He said the president was displeased. He said the Controller of Works wouldn’t go unpunished. The number of times he mentioned ‘Mr President’ left no one in doubt. The president wasn’t just on his neck, but the sulking president was perhaps angry with the governor too. During this appearance, the minister praised the governor for his effort in curbing the traffic before he arrived from Abuja. 

But before sunset, the minister returned. He announced the bridge must be re-opened the next day. “Before the close of work,” he said. Obviously, the president sent him back. Perhaps the governor’s stance had bruised the president’s ego. In his usual style, whenever he had to shield his boss’ tempestuousness, Umahi was ambiguous. He said by the next day, he would have effected a temporary fix that could become permanent. The same bridge he had planned to close for two months for a proper fix. At some point, he almost suggested that the temporary fix could even be a blessing in disguise. Tomorrow he might attribute the ‘miracle’ to Mr President. The same Umahi who had claimed he supervised the original engineering repair design was speaking like a peripatetic luxury bus medicine dealer. Effectively, the broken bridge will be patched up. 

A clash of egos in the end, possibly. Excruciating levity, flippancy and costly reversals, certainly. A country stumbling along. The brunt is always borne by the people. The bridge could be closed again next month. Umahi would again come with some mumbo jumbo.  The story of our country.