The Night I Chose Sustainability Over Convenience – A Green Living Story You Won’t Forget

Two evenings ago, I was walking home from Yaba after a long day at work.

Normally, I’d just hop on a bike or call a ride. But that night, something in me whispered, “Take the long walk. Breathe. Notice the city.”

I adjusted my reusable canvas bag on my shoulder — it was filled with veggies from a small organic market I’d just discovered.

The streets were buzzing, keke horns clashing with Afrobeat leaking from roadside shops. Lagos was alive.

Halfway down the road, I noticed a woman struggling to carry two big nylon bags, the thin plastic handles cutting into her hands. One of the bags suddenly tore, spilling bottled water and snacks across the pavement. People walked past, shaking their heads but not stopping.

I jogged over. “Hey, let me help you.”

She looked at me, embarrassed but relieved. “Thank you. These Lagos plastics sef. Always betraying people.”

I laughed, handing her one of my spare reusable bags from my canvas tote. “Here. Stronger than plastic. And eco-friendly.”

Her eyes lit up. “You carry extra bags around?”

“Yeah,” I grinned. “Trying to live more sustainably. Small steps — but they matter.”

She chuckled. “So you’re one of those green people? Save the turtles, save the planet?”

“Something like that,” I said, lifting the bag for her.

As we walked together, she opened up. Her name was Ife. She worked at a fast-food chain nearby and had just finished a double shift.

“Honestly,” she said, “I don’t think people like me can afford sustainability. Reusable bottles, solar panels, organic food… they’re expensive.”

Her words hit me. I realized she was right. Sometimes green living feels like a luxury for those who can afford it.

I stopped and thought for a moment. “But you just saved money now,” I said, pointing at the bag. “You won’t need to buy plastic bags again for a while. That’s sustainability too — it’s not just for rich people.”

She smiled softly. “Never thought of it like that.”

Just then, the unexpected twist happened. We reached a small canal, and she sighed. “I cross this bridge every night. Look.”

The water below was filled with plastic bottles, sachet nylons, and food wrappers.

“This is why I don’t believe Lagos can be green,” she whispered. “We’re drowning in waste.”

For a moment, I had no words. The scene was heartbreaking. Streetlights reflected on the water, broken by floating trash.

But then I noticed something — a group of kids nearby, laughing as they dragged bottles out of the canal into a big sack.

“What are they doing?” I asked.

“Selling to recyclers,” Ife said. “They call it pure water hustle.”

I walked over to one of the boys. “How much do you get for this?”

“₦30 per kilo,” he said proudly. “Helps my mama buy food.”

And right there, I realized — sustainability wasn’t some distant, fancy lifestyle. It was already happening in the most unexpected corners of Lagos.

I turned to Ife and smiled. “See? We’re greener than we think. It just doesn’t look Instagram-pretty.”

She laughed. “Maybe you’re right.”

We parted ways, but before she left, she held up the reusable bag. “Next time you come around, I owe you jollof rice. Eco-friendly portion.”

I chuckled all the way home. That night, I wrote in my blog:

“Green Living in Lagos isn’t just solar panels or Tesla cars. Sometimes, it’s a stranger’s smile, a reusable bag, or kids cleaning canals for survival. Sustainability is closer than we think — if only we choose to see it.”