EMPHATY

In the humid, neon-lit chaos of the Federal Ministry of Cosmic Distribution somewhere in the federal capital of Nigeria, Empathy—fondly called “Sister Em”—was facing a disciplinary panel.

The air conditioner was humming a dying tune, and the room smelled of stale meat pies Stale perfumes mixed with sweat and bureaucracy.

Sister Em sat on a plastic chair, wearing a vibrant Ankara print that seemed to pulsate with the heartbeat of everyone in a five-kilometer radius.”Sister Empathy,” boomed the Chairman, a man whose heart was made of Solid Iron and Strict Protocol. “You are a liability to the National Grid. You were assigned to a LASTMA official on Ikorodu Road. The job was simple: seize the bus, collect the ‘fine,’ and maintain the status quo.”The Chairman slammed a folder onto the desk. “Instead, what did you do?”

Empathy sighed, a very deep sigh, before answering; “I put him in the shoes of the driver, by first, letting him feel the heat of the driver’s engine through the floorboards. I let him feel the driver’s ‘inner-man’—the one thinking about the school fees for three kids and the wife waiting for N2,000 for soup ingredients.”In the end, the officer didn’t just see a traffic violator; he felt the salt of the driver’s sweat on his own brow. He began to contemplate the structural failure of urban planning that forced a man to drive eighteen hours a day just to afford a bowl of garri and soup. The officer didn’t just let the driver go; he gave him a sachet of cold pure water and told him, “Oga, go home. Your eyes are red. Life is hard, but we go survive.”

He didn’t even take a bribe! the Chairman screamed. “In this economy? You are devaluing our global currency of ‘Each Man for Himself’!”Sister Empathy stood up, her wrappers swishing with a sound like a quiet ssshhhh to a crying baby. She looked at the panel— each man seated on the panel, were men who lived in houses with high walls and even higher electric fences.

“Chairman,” she said, her voice smooth like palm oil. “You think I’m making people weak. But I am the only thing preventing this country from dissolving into a heap of ash. Logic tells you to park your car and ignore the woman begging in the sun. Ambition tells you to crush your neighbor so you can buy a fourth SUV.”She stepped closer to the table, her eyes reflecting the collective “God Provide” of the masses.”If I am ‘witty,’ it’s because I see the joke in a billionaire stuck in the same Lagos traffic as a vulcanizer—both of them sweating under the same sun, but only one of them is pretending he’s in heaven because his AC is working. If I am ‘inciting,’ it’s because I know that when Nigerians truly feel each other’s hunger, your fences won’t be high enough to save you.

The Chairman opened his mouth to shout, but then, he smelled it, through Empathy’s presence, he wasn’t just smelling the office’s stale air. He was smelling the Jollof rice being cooked by the tea-girl in the hallway.He didn’t just smell the spices. He felt her sore feet. He felt her pride in her daughter’s 90% score in Mathematics. He felt her anxiety about how she would pay her daughter’s school fees the next term.A single tear, unauthorized by the Civil Service Commission, escaped the Chairman’s eye.

Someone… get that girl a fan,” the Chairman whispered, his voice cracking. “And find out what school her daughter attends, she needs a scholarship. This desk is too big for just one person’s comfort.

Sister Empathy was not fired, but she was given a “Warning Letter” and told to stay away from the National Assembly during the budget season—they couldn’t risk the senators suddenly feeling the weight of the millions of people they represented.She walked out into the scorching Nigeria heat, catching an “Along” taxi.

As she sat in the cramped back seat, the woman next to her accidentally bumped her with a heavy bag of yams.The woman started to apologize, her face tight with stress, but Empathy just smiled, adjusted her Ankara, and leaned her shoulder in so the woman could rest a little easier.”Don’t worry, Ma,” Empathy said. “The load is heavy, but I’m holding it with you.”