I worked in Aba, Abia State, for two years. My daily commute to and from work was mostly by tricycle ie keke. With three people crammed into the back and one upfront, you could quickly learn a lot just by listening and observing. Those rides became little windows into people’s everyday lives — full of stories, arguments, laughter, and the occasional gbas gbos.

In time, I realized the most interesting parts of my day weren't just at work, most of them were the daily adventures I experienced on those keke rides.

The scenarios I share in this piece are just a handful from the fleet of moments I witnessed - some funny, some heartwarming, others chaotic.

Through them, I’ve come to see how these random encounters form the fabric of our shared humanity.

I remember one particular evening, a man hurried into the keke carrying a gas cylinder. A curious passenger asked if he was off to refill it, and just like that, a story unfolded. The man shared how he had gotten home early, decided to make a quick pot of noodles, only for the food to get burnt and worse more, somehow nearly burning his gas cylinder in the process. I don't remember the exact story in full details but I do remember the laughter that filled the keke as he spoke. Before he alighted, the other passengers had joined in, sharing their own kitchen mishaps and offering teasing words of comfort.

In less than ten minutes, I watched strangers bond over a shared, everyday experience.

Moments like these happen every day, though it’s easy to miss them amid the rush and seriousness of life. These are experiences that have nothing to do with titles, careers, or social status - just people sharing a space, a time, and a fleeting connection.

I know we all have our differences and complexities; a whole other story for someone else to tell.

In this piece, I simply celebrate the small, everyday moments that connect us.

Can you relate?

Ever opened an old book and been greeted by that old, musty smell that ushers in a truckload of memories?

A while ago, I picked up my very old copy of Chimamanda Adichie’s Half of a Yellow Sun, and suddenly this rush of memories came flooding in. This piece took form in the days that followed, as I flipped page after page, basking afresh in the moments of the story. I was catapulted back to 2011-the first time I read the book, as a junior student in boarding school, going through life in its unique way, with all of its joys and trials.

Back then, books were my world: African fiction, Shakespeare, and foreign texts occasionally. Little wonder I excelled, especially in Literature, which would eventually form the foundation of my writing journey. Soaking in the smell of the book, which hadn’t changed at all in 13 years, took me back to those little joys that have clung to my heart through the years and helped shape my identity today.

I realized I needed to remember these details, which so easily get lost in the daily grind of “adulting.” These little joys have the power to make the world rewind for a moment and transport you back to a time when life was really as simple as a short school play, a family trip to the village or even a hangout with friends.

Of course, we can’t live exactly as we did back then, but I think pausing to remember those memories can truly help ease the daily weights that come with being an adult.