Drowned Hopes: The Flood That Stole My Chance

My first experience with a natural disaster is one I will never forget. It wasn’t just water that flooded my home that day, it was my dreams, my hope, and everything I had worked so hard for.

It happened in 2021, in a part of Lagos State where I was living at the time. I had been out of university for three years, tirelessly searching for a job. It was one of the most difficult times in my life. Financially, things were tough. Emotionally, I was barely holding on. Then, one Friday afternoon, everything changed or at least, I thought it did.

I got a call from a company where I had submitted an application. They told me I had been shortlisted and should come for an interview the following Monday at 9:00 AM. After three long years of rejection and struggle, someone had finally seen something in me. I was overjoyed. I called my mother. I knelt down and prayed. That night, I slept with a full heart and clear eyes.

But joy can be fragile.

On Sunday morning, the rain started. At first, it felt normal, like any other Lagos rain. Everyone thought it would stop soon. We waited. Noon passed. Evening came. The rain didn’t stop. It became heavier, darker, louder. By midnight, many of us still believed it would calm down by morning. So, we went to bed.

But I woke up to horror.

The coldness on my feet wasn’t from a dream. I jumped up and saw that my room was already filled with water. My mattress was soaked. My clothes, documents, shoes, everything I owned was floating. Outside, the water had swallowed the street. The whole area was flooded. People were screaming, crying, running to rooftops. Cars drifted like paper boats. Furniture from houses floated past like ghosts. There was no power. No rescue. No way out.

I sat in that water, staring at the clock 9:00 AM was coming, but I had nowhere to go, and no way to go. My interview was gone. My chance was gone.

Two days later, when the water finally began to clear, the community was silent. Not because the danger had passed, but because grief had arrived. Four people were confirmed dead. Three of them were children. One was a man I knew well a kind neighbour. His house couldn’t withstand the flood.

Since that day, I’ve never looked at rain the same way. It taught me how quickly life can change. How one moment of joy can be buried under a night of pain. That flood didn’t just destroy houses it broke hearts, ended dreams, and took lives.

I never got another chance with that company. But I’m still here. And every time it rains, I remember that storm. I remember what it took. And I pray that one day, that pain will have a purpose.

Thank you so much everyone for reading my blog post, i love you all.