CHRONICLES OF BUS TRIPS

 

We never really get to talk about the ridiculousness and utter insanity that occurs on a Lagos Danfo bus ride.

Well I am here to address it today after reminiscing on my first experience.

Where do I even start? Imagine my shock when after I flagged down a bus, the driver refused to accord me the courtesy of planting my butt on a seat before he sped off. I almost hit my head on the glass windows, plus I am sure my cheeks flushed in humiliation at the awkward swaying movement my body made as a reaction to the sudden speeding.

Let’s talk about the odor. Oh lord. I remember this not at all fondly because just yesterday, even after putting on a covid19 inspired face mask, a dirty stench still found its way to my nostrils. During my bus rides, I have realized there are levels to this body odor sh*t. There is the one made up of stale sweat and there’s the one that smells like deathly decay. I can’t make this up guys. Here’s a friendly advice, brace up your nasal glands before hopping into a bus. I can’t say more than that.

Let’s get into the money demands. I chuckled to the annoyance of a bus conductor when he demanded money from me by stretching his hands towards my direction and saying “Öwo my sista” with the agbero gruff in his voice. My laughter was short lived when I realized I had alighted from the bus before remembering I had about 800 naira change to collect. The conductor had tactfully stalled me until I got carried away and forgot my change.

Let’s talk about the peddlers and preachers. These are a special segment because my feelings towards one is very different from the other. The preachers for one, I grew up in a strict Christian home so every now and then I reply “Amen and Hallelujah”… well except that day I had a throbbing headache and the preacher with his loud speaker sounding voice happened to be seated next to me. Wanted to press his lips shut so badly.

Then drug peddlers that claim a tablet is the effective cure for fibroids and diarrhea. How??? My biggest fear with them is that those meds are probably regular chalks, or worst still, adulterated drugs, and people are out there purchasing them with gusto. The sheer ignorance of it all!

Let’s talk about my fellow passengers, we have highlighted body odors, I want to address their obnoxious behaviors. As a young pliable girl, I was once shouted at to shift further towards the window seat. I ended up having one side of my butt suspended in the air for the entire trip. I dared not protest for fear that someone will slap my face for my mummy. Once I was listening to Marvin Gaye’s Sexual healing with earphones. Unfortunately, the sound could be heard by my seat partner- an elderly man who I caught looking at me reproachfully. (Oga it is just a song. A beautiful one as a matter of fact).

Let’s talk about the popular phrase that must be shouted on arrival at your destination. "Ö wa oh!” you can’t afford to mouth it with the average voice volume. No one will hear you. I am still not used to shouting that phrase. Sometimes it comes out with a shrill voice smeared by plenty embarrassment. Sometimes I wait to see if someone else is alighting at that same destination, some days I’m lucky, other days I am forced to say it, and my terrible Yoruba accent makes it 100 times worse. Once, I alighted at the bus stop before my actual destination, and trekked the rest of the journey to avoid mouthing out that phrase.

Guys! Has a bus conductor attempted to collect change from a passenger beside or behind you? Please comment your experiences. These people have decided to be intentionally wicked and not take their baths for like a week so that you almost see the stench wafting through when they raise their armpits. On some occasions I have almost gagged from the nausea.

Can we also address the grit and resilience of a bus conductor? How they can hop on and off the bus in motion without staggering, or the way they can catch up with a bus that was way in front of them? I’m always so scared for them that they might get hit, or they might fall and break some bones, or they might one day fall so bad and roll to the road where they could be crushed by a coming vehicle.

I almost forgot, the scariest part of it all. The recklessness of bus drivers should be studied in road construction courses. I have sudden bouts of palpitations these days and I am pretty sure this factor contributed to my situation. A bus driver would suddenly decide that he is too good to queue along with other vehicles, speed forward and swerve violently to cut into queues in front and start to beg, now if these cars refused to give in, they go ahead to force their way in, with the knowledge that the owner of the car might want to avoid scratches or dents and therefore has no choice but to give in.

A bus driver’s impatience should be studied in psychology. I did not understand this until recently when my father said they speed so much because they want to return early to their park to reload. (Wait. What? At the expense of my beautiful and young life?)

A bus trip is not for the fainthearted I tell you guys. Or maybe Peace is not for the bus trips. This could be it.

DUDE IN THE CAR (Pt. 2)

Just remembered I never finished this story guys, so here you go.

I eventually told the bike man to slow down so I could catch a glimpse of who the mystery person was. The Car pulled up beside us and I sighted what was an impressive  Honda Accord model Car. A dark complexioned guy who I had never seen before smiled at me from inside the car and was like "Hi, mind if I complete your ride with you?"  I wasn't sure I understood what he meant by "completing my ride with me" (who says that? did he want to drive beside with my bike?) so I replied "But i'm already on a Bike". The guy insisted saying that there were no strings attached. He proceeded to ask me my name but I was obstinate, . I realized this fellow was going to keep following us and probing until I acquiesed. I however thought for a split second about giving him a fake name but then, would't that have been cheesy? So I told him my name.

He motioned for me to get in so I paid the bike man, got in his Car and sat down cautiously, legs clamped shut and both hands held closely together. Being the queen of awkward as always, I smiled tightly at his jokes (although funny and I love a witty sense of humor), and mumbled answers to his questions. When we got to my bustop, he asked for my phone number and the mischevious twinkle in his eyes told me he'd dial my number right there and there was no need to conjure up a fake one. I was right.

Now guys, you know what irks me about men? they are very confident in their abilities to be "sleek". This guy called me about two hours later, asked if I had gotten home safe, I expected that we'd have a proper conversation (just because I am a complete extrovert on the phone) He hung up and I didn't hear from him till after about three days. Probably observing the mandatory three days wait to "arouse a yearning or intrigue"(which by the way doesn't work) . Anyway, he then invited me for drinks at a lounge. I had a Coke and a few good laughs, he was amused at my refusal of alchohol and my taste in music.

We talked a while after that and although I enjoyed his wit, I was no match for his worldliness and level of exposure, and I was always clueless. So I eventually just stopped responding to his phone calls and abruptly cut off communication with him. 

DAY 1 in India (The “Motel” Guesthouse)

5th March 2020

It’s been one hell of a flight. Most of it spent watching the lion king movie and listening to Stevie Wonder’s Past time Paradise on repeat. Super exhausting, and I am in desperate need for some  ZZzzzzz. Mother appears to be okay and not as shaken as I thought by her first flight experience. Strong woman! 

Anees and Ibrahim seem nice. Ibrahim is quite loquacious. I’m too tired and shy to engage in a conversation but my dad is being the chatterbox as usual. 

India is like I thought it would be. A mix between rural and urban. I think I’ll like it here. 

The hotel we’ve been taken to looks like a motel from the outside. A worn out building with Neon lights that no longer illuminate and a dangerous looking gutter that could break your bones if your leg grazed its edges. However it looks really great and uncomfortable inside. 

Finally I’m able to catch the much needed sleep after informing my friends of my safe arrival. 

As I step out of the motel looking hotel , the cold air hits me and for a second I regret not wearing a sweater. I’m greeted by the sights of different street food joints, one that particularly grabs my attention has a man devouring hungrily something that looks like tomato sauce with freshly sliced onions with much gusto. (Eww these people no get suya or asun??)

I also notice a group of Indian touts ogling me in a not at all subtle way and smiling creepily. I become super apprehensive. If I was in Columbia i hear we’d be sizing each other up and gearing for a fight. Here however, I’m told the people are locals who haven’t left the countryside hence, the sight of a foreigner fascinates them.