This beautiful
Saturday morning (aren’t they all beautiful!), I spent 45 minutes in Obàléndé
waiting for the Bus to Berger to fill up. When it was finally full, the
conductor sauntered over and proceeded to collect his money.
“Oga,
you no fit collect money for road?” a man on the third row grumbled.
“Na
for road I go pay Agbèrò?” The conductor retorted.
“So
you knew that one since, you come just dey collect money?" Someone from the back
row said, disgusted. At this point, I knew how the drama would go, probably
ending in a I-no-get-change argument. I was about to plug in my ear phones to
drown out the noise when one madam beside
me upped the ante.
“Oníìranù, the time him suppose dey
collect money, na that chingum geh him
dey chase up and down! “ she said drawing out a long hiss.
“Na
ya business?” Oga conductor challenged, stopping in his collection to face off
the woman.
“Abeg
dey collect your money dey go, this heat too much nah!” another passenger said.
“Abeg
make I fire am! Abi you no hear the nonsense him dey talk?” Oga conductor
asked.
“Ehn
dey collect your money as you dey fire am nah!” the passenger said.
“Woman
wrapper!” madam hissed.
“You
dey jealous?” Oga conductor fired back.
“God
forbid! Na your kind me I dey follow?!”
“Why
you no talk nah, I for come toast you join.” Oga conductor said eliciting a few
titters from other passengers.
“You don dey
crase! Olòshí! “
He finally
finished collecting the money and we left the park, thank God!
The next sign of
trouble was when the engine started to cough like a nicotine addict.
“Oga,
this your moto go reach so?” someone asked.
“No
worry.” Oga driver said. “Him dey kamkpe!”
“Abeg,
if he no go reach, make we come down oh!”
“Come down for where? When I don pay for garage
already!” Oga conductor retorted, ready for another fight.
“I
say him dey alright, he just dey warm up!” Oga driver reassured.
That’s how we
left Obàléndé and climbed on top 3rd Mainland Bridge with our kpa-ka kpu-ku
bus. The thing would go kpa-ka kpù-kù, kpa-ka kpù-kù, ó-tó-gé (I swear, the groans
of that engine sounded like it was saying just that, true!), then we would go
vroom vroom vroom and then kpa-ka kpù-kù over and over again. I reckoned
sometime this century, we would sha get to Berger.
We were fine and
dandy for a while. In fact, after you settled into the engine’s rhythm, it
actually started to lull you like a child's lullaby. That was until it started
to rain and we found out that our kpa-ka kpù-kù’s wipers didn't work. And oh,
Oga driver was as blind as a mole too.
Unfortunately
for me, I was in the first row, behind the driver, so I saw everything in HD.
“Oga,
you no get wiper?” the lady in the passenger seat asked alarmed.
Oga driver
ignored her.
“Abeg
stop oh!” she said.
“Stop
for where?!” Oga conductor who'd been spoiling for another fight demanded. “Abi
you no see say nah for 3rd Mainland Bridge we dey?”
The fortunate
souls in the back seats were still blissfully unaware of the wiper shebang and
found something else to fight the conductor over.
“Oga,
this your bus dey leak oh!”
“Abeg
close your window jàre, rain get enter!”
“Na
Sharatin you think say you dey? “ Oga
conductor retorted forgetting madam in the front seat for the moment.
“Don’t
mind them. They will be collecting money, they won’t use it to fix their
vehicle. “ One woman said in disgust and other passengers agreed with her.
Ha, if they only
knew! There were way bigger issues than leaky roofs on ground!
Consequently,
the other passenger in the front seat became the Navigator and Oga Conductor
the right side mirror.
“Small-small.”
Navigator said, motioning with his hands.
“Your
side.” Oga Conductor said.
“Peeeem-peeeem!” The Corolla to our left
said.
With that
brilliant plan in place, we made it to Ìyànà Òwòrò in one piece. Barely. Next
issue was the line of tankers and trailers joining the Berger bound traffic
from there.
“We
no fit stop for here?” madam in front asked hopefully.
“Madam,
nothing do you. Your side!!” Oga conductor said.
By this time,
the fighters in the back seats had found out about our precarious situation and
had sobered up. Well, sort of.
“Oga,
you no dey see? You wan jam trailer? “
“Oritse
gbàmí!”
“Lord
have mercy!”
“Kai,
I don enter this one oh!”
“I
for no enter road today oh!”
As if to add
it’s own voice to the melee, the rain started to come down even harder.
“There's
a tanker in front! Small-small. “ Navigator said and Oga driver stepped on the
brakes.
“Not
so hard!” Navigator gasped and we all screamed as we were thrown forwards like
rag dolls.
In response, Oga
driver stepped on the gas and we were all thrown backwards. I cannot write the sort of colourful language
that followed. Ah, I fear that I wee be corrupting the eyes of Nigerians of
they had to read it on here!
In the midst of
that drama, something let out a hoot that almost had me peeing my pants and all
hell broke lose.
“Ah,
trailer dey your right!”
“Your
side! Your side!”
“Ah,
Jesus I am dead!”
“Oga
stop this bus oh I wan come down.”
“He
dey your side!”
“Na
tanker oh!”
“Blood
of Jesus!”
“Yéè
mo gbé! “
“Orí
ìyámi òh!”
Next thing, we
hit a massive puddle and the sounds of the water forcefully hitting the
undersides of the bus and the avalanche of water that hit us on all sides were
the final nails in the panic coffin.
The type of
mayhem that ensued was enough to cause even the sanest of drivers to lose
control, not that ours was anywhere near sane to start with.
“Abeg
please stop for Mobil oh, we cannot continue like this!” one passenger
implored.
“Ah,
we don pass Mobil since.” Someone else said.
“We
don pass?! I think say we still dey toll gate oh!”
“Ah, toll gate ke?!”
For all we knew,
we were already in Ìbàdàn sef!
“Na
Òtédolá gate be that in front!” someone exclaimed.
I doubted it
seriously but the thought of a safe place to get off was too good to pass off.
“Abeg
stop make I come down, I no go Berger again!”
“I
go waka the rest biko!”
“Why
you wan get down inside this rain?” Oga conductor asked.
“You
no see the nonsense your driver dey drive?”
“How?
The guy dey alright now!”
My head did a
360 and I stared at the conductor in utter disbelief, like really?! That was
when it really hit home that we were in the hands of mad men and I joined the
crazy clamour for the bus to stop.
In response, Oga
driver swerved to the right towards the bus stop without first consulting his
Navigator and Oga conductor and he had his right side mirror clipped off by the
tanker on his right.
“Yeh,
go your side! Go your side!” Oga conductor screamed, not that Oga driver could
have heard him above the panicked screams in the bus.
Oga driver
swerved left and stepped on the brakes.
“No
stop, no stop oh! Another one dey your back!” someone from the last row
screamed.
We stumbled on
until Oga driver finally brought the bus to a stop beside a dilapidated filling
station. As soon as the bus stopped, frantic passengers spilled out into the
pouring rain. Mehn, it had never felt so good to have rain slap me in the face,
I was so grateful to be alive and in one piece!
