|Join Nairaland / LOGIN! / Trending / Recent / New|
Stats: 1,947,124 members, 4,036,136 topics. Date: Saturday, 20 January 2018 at 12:22 AM
|The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 12:24pm On Jan 29, 2017|
THE JOURNEY TO DELTA NYSC CAMP IN ISELE-UKU
"Are you sure you carried a bible" my mother asked me for the twentieth time. "Yes ma" I responded reluctantly. "I even have the soft copy on my phone"I continued. My mother has always been a religious woman. She knew how to force you to do every single thing. Finally she laid her hands on me and used two hours to pray for me. Thank God I didn't miss my bus that day. My bro got behind the steering and being the crazy man that he has always been, we reached the motor park within three minutes.
"Clear road! I say make una clear road" A man in his mid-thirties thundered as we approached the gate of the motor park. "See my star boys don arrive" He said smiling carelessly. His name was Roland. I have known Roland for three years now. He was the leader of all the agberos in Sabon Gari motor park. He had always been in charge of taking care of our tickets. All you had to do was call him and keep some change for two or more bottles and you are good to go. Roland was quite different from all the agberos I had come across in all my life. Unbelieveable as it may sound, he was a statistics graduate who had caught inside the thorned web of street life and drug abuse. "See! me no be "chop and collect" agbero oo" He will always tell us. For this park wey I dey so, if I no see money in a day na 5k, and dat na after I don drink like six bottles finish." He boasted as he gulped down a tumbler-full of chilled the Legend beer I had bought him. "Madam pass me two bazz for there" He ordered the waitress in the joint we had sat down to relax a bit. Roland didnt stop there, he invited two of his other friend who were professors in the motor park hustle. "See my starboy don dey go service" He said as he ordered two bottles each for his agbero friends. Need I say all the bill was on me. My brother had to call my attention and signal me that my bus had started moving before I realised that I should get going. I shook my brother and the melee of Sabon gari agberos in our midst whose hard palms could be used to sharpen a blunt cutlass.
That was how I found myself inside the bus and beside the luscious Precious. Precious was a fellow prospective corp member who I had met the previous day in a Whatsapp group. "Henry where have you been?" She inquired suggestively with sincere concern as the bus crawled slowly out of the park and into the road that will meander into Delta state. "I bought water for us" She said handing me a bottled water. What later happened between me and Precious that night as we sat side by side will remain a secret for now. We finally reached Delta state by 8am the next day only to realize the worst- there was no Glo network. That was the beginning of my problem!!
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Michelle55(f): 1:00pm On Jan 29, 2017|
cuman kontinu jhor
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by kheengjay(m): 2:23pm On Jan 29, 2017|
puhhhleaaaaasssse cum n kontunu oh........
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 9:57pm On Jan 31, 2017|
"MY FIRST TEMPTATION IN CAMP"
The queue I met in Delta camp was without doubt, the longest I had ever come across in this whole wide world. Every single human being on the queue had slowly transformed into a lion- you dare not jump the queue, lest you get yourself lynched verbally. The queue was endless and the more I tried to respect myself,the more the devil carressed my dirty mind; "Henry jump that queue it, jump that queue Henry"! The voice in my head echoed consistently. Finally, I summoned courage and walked with all the boldness Unimaid taught me to the front and entered the front line only to hear the uproar of my life "Heeeeeeeeeeyyyyyy, Nooooooooooooo!! Gooooooooooo baaaacccccccckkkkk! Go baaaaaccccckkkk" They thundered to the hearing of the soldier in charge of the queue. "Who is that?" He inquired as he rushed to the front. "That tall fair boy! They said pointing at me. I knew I had commited a sin according to the commandments of decorum but I knew for sure I dare not lose my guard lest I get punished. "You are Henry! I mean you are Henry" I said to myself.
"Go down there!" The soldier ordered me angrily. "You must be a stupid boy. Look at your 'nyanmiri' face" He continued as he walked towards me. I stood still and made a very sick face immediately. "I am seriously asthmatic" I lied. "I dont think I can be able to stand there any longer" I said breaking down in feigned pains and squeezing my face like someone that is about to die the next minute. "Haba?" He asked in a concerned tone. "Yes sir" I responded "My inhaler is even in the hostel" I cemented my lie, coughing loudly and holding my chest.
"Ok follow me" He said as he led me to the very first position of the queue. The few friends I had made on the back side of the queue couldn't believe their eyes. They watched with astonishment as I got cleared and bounced out of the queue with the swagger of a rich kid and headed straight to the popular "Mammy" to have a taste of the meal I had heard so much about-Banga soup.
Mammy was filled with everything you couls imagine. It was lit ranging from make-shift restaurants to cool bars. Everything was sold there. I smiled and entered "Mama Chi Chi" cool spot and sat on the plastic chair. "Wetin we go give you fine boy?" A beautiful lady with Warri accent inquired. 'Fufu' and 'Banga' soup I responded hungrily. I was really hungry my dear friends. I had only eaten gala and meatpie since I arrived.
I used to think the Igbos were the best cooks until I tasted 'Banga' soup. I had to order another plate to fill up the hidden corners of my stomach. God bless Delta state. If I have been served that soup in the privacy of my room, I would have made sure I used my fingers to do justice to the plate. But I had to respect myself. Comm'on Corper Henry. Don't allow Banja soup to mislead you! I got up, paid my Madam ChiChi and walk away feeling fulfilled. I had almost reached the end of Mammy, when I realised it- I had forgotten my file with all my documents. Jesus!! My certificate! Ahhhh.. I quickly ran back to Mama Chichi shop like a mad man. Banga soup you have finished me!!
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 6:08pm On May 06, 2017|
BANGA IS THE BEST SOUP IN DELTA CAMP
I couldn't believe my eyes when I printed my call up letter. What!! Delta state of all places! I was dumbfounded and shaken to my very foundation. Ahhh! Lagos has broken my heart. I picked up what was left of my broken heart, put myself together and made up my mind to survive, moreover only the violent take the kingdom of God. I made a solemn promise not to taste any camp meal and so I armed myself with money and beverages. But upon getting to camp I realized that my dream of not eating any food may be cut short as a result of the food prepared in Mami.
I have suffered in this camp. I have been through hell and shook hands with the devil himself. Enjoyment has turned its back on me. The early morning parade and boring lectures has gotten to my fragile system. Its just six days but my body feels like I had been here for six years. Every time hunger finds its way into my path, and my body screams for food, the first response I give to my growling stomach is ‘shut your damn rumbling’!.
Come on, I don’t hate my stomach, neither do I hate myself. It’s just a function of the Unclad fear that grips me each time I decide to eat.
In Delta camp, eating soup at Mami is like a trip to the dentist. You never know what you might get. No food is to be trusted, and none is perfect. I dream of the perfect food for my perfect stomach all the time. I deserve it for Christ's sake. Being an 'Otondo' alone, is an exhausting business, let alone finding yourself in platoon4 where the platoon commander had bitten his finger and sworn to the blue heavens to make life unbeareable for everybody. For Christ sake, we deserve to be spoiled with love. We desereve to be rewarded with the best of meals. I have spent a week eating in unkept restaurants in Mami. Truth be told, the meals were great, but my pocket wasn't smiling at all. The quantity was poor and I was slowly going broke by the minute. Not the best of ways to survive in this harsh Delta camp.
I gave myself brain, and when I heard the sound that announced the readiness of food, without exchanging unnecessary pleasantaries, I decided to walk the lonely paths that meandered into the camp kichen, , in search of culinary gold. My aim was simple and short. Since I have long experimented with all the Egusi and vegetable soups in Mami, I gave up and surrendered my Behind stomach to the yearnings of the 'ajekpako' camp meals. As fortune will have it, it was banga soup. I had heard so much about this soup.Finally I found love, and it was right in front of me and when I tasted it, it lived up to its name. I sat on my bed, washed my hands carefully and attacked it like a demon. After I conquered it, I sat for a while stroking my stomach with immense satisfaction. This is how life is supposed to be!
That night, I slept like a baby. And woke up to a bright new day. I have since made the camp kitchen my official dinner partners, and ever since, morning drills and parade have suddenly become fun and life now has new meaning for me.
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by donkelz(m): 6:58pm On May 06, 2017|
Nice story, more mb to your phone!
Am with you!
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 8:55pm On May 08, 2017|
Ode To My "Bole"
I remember when I first came to Asaba. It was a cloudy afternoon. The air was wet and the earth was stone red. I was very hungry and wasn't quite sure if I would ever be able to pass the night, let alone stay here. You know the high cost of accomodation, constant rain and the famous Asaba ants whose sting could bring a dead man back to life. Don't get me wrong, I like the place. I had spent all my life in the north, I needed somewhere to cool off, relax and at least, forget about the trauma of schooling in Maiduguri. I saw it as a rare opportunity to savour the intricacies of the eastern part of this country, especially the nubile maidems. But mere liking Asaba, wasn't enough reason to keep me back. Of course this is Delta "The Big Heart" the land of the precious crude oil, but what's my business with that? I couldn't drink crude oil!
For me, one of the most important aspect of any place I visit, is the food. So when my friend asked me to try the legendary "Bole and fish", I wasn't quite sure of what I was expecting. The "Bole" (pronounced as 'ball le') refers to ‘roasted’ plantains and the fish is almost always ‘affordable and plentiful’ Mackerel. "Bole and fish is quintessential Nigerian street food just like "Suya" . In Asaba, roasted plantain is a meal rarely made at home. They are best purchased at street corners where wizened old and young women, sit beside blackened bowls with fingers of lead, facing red hot coals. Where plantains, green and yellow say their last funeral rites, and poor mackerels, segments themselves. Where sweet hot sauce, oranged with palm oil and reddened with spice makes happiness its home.
When my friend convinced me to try the meal, I made the sign of the cross in Catholic fashion and gave him a look that seemed to be saying "I'm doing this out of trust". But fortunately, when I took the first bite that warm Wednesday afternoon, tears came to my eyes and for once in my entire life, I realized there was still hope for our dear country. As I continued eating, I was convinced I wanted to eat it for the rest of my life and I couldn't help but want to live in Asaba forever.
Its been four months so far and till date, whenever the traffic, cultists, constant rain, heartless keke-drivers and the vicious Asaba ants want me to make a move, my delicious "Bole" holds me down. Words cannot convey the happiness this street meal brings to my heart.
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 8:47am On Sep 21, 2017|
MY EXPERIENCE WITH A MARRIED WOMAN IN ASABA
My phone slipped from my hands last week while I was trying to make "Eba" to eat the delicious egusi soup a wonderful lady made for me. Fortunately, it didn't land inside the hot water like the devil would have wished. I picked it up immediately only to realize that the light in the screen had suddenly tripped off. I was devastated and angry. How would I survive without my phone? How would I get to write my stories? Gosh! I suddenly lost appetite as the "Eba" eventually tasted like dangote cement in my mouth.
I needed my phone like ever. Of course I couldn't do without it. It was my side chick. In fact, it had become my full-time chick ever since my girlfriend of nine months suddenly told me she couldn't tolerate my numerous facebook pictures with beautiful girls and called the relationship off. I cried, begged and tried to explain to her that there was no strings attached but it seemed she was just using it as an excuse to dump my broke ass and cling to some rich dude that must have been dashing her monies since only God knows when. Girls sha.
The next day, I carried myself and my heavy heart and went to the famous "Ogbogonogo" market to fix the phone. You heard the name right? It took me 3 weeks to master the art of pronouncing the word "Og-bo-go-no-go". I bit my tongue countlessly but thank God, its all history now.
"Bros you wan repair ur fone"? A middle-aged man with serious bow legs inquired.
"Yes, e fall for ground yesterday and the screen con blind" I responded as I gave him the phone to see.
"Na the screen spoil na, go this shop go buy the screen come" He said pointing at the phone accessories shop adjacent his. Without wasting time, I headed to the shop to buy the screen.
"Do you have the screen of this phone" I said showing her the phone.
"Let me see it" The dark middle-aged woman responded after five seconds of scanning my appearance, particularly my lips.
"It's six thousand naira, but for your sake I will sell it for five thousand five hundred" She continued.
"I will give you five thousand naira." I cemented avoiding her steady gaze. There was something unusual about the way she smiled at me. I have met a lot of women in Asaba, young and old, dark and fair, tall and short, and it has been the same struggle all through. It is not easy being a fine boy in Asaba, even worse, if you are a corper who is yet to know your way around. She looked at my face for a moment, and her gaze lingered on for a while. It was extremely obvious that there was something unusual. And even with the noise of Ogbogonogo market, I still captured the tone of her every utterance and suddenly I felt my emotions were under attack.
"Alright bring the money" She said.
I brought out my wallet from my back pocket and gave her the cash.
"Your face looks familiar, what is your name?" She began as she counted the money. "It seems I have met you before" She continued.
"Chinedu" I responded. I had suddenly developed this flair for my Igbo name over the conventional "Henry" ever since I came to Asaba. It gave me a sense of belonging.
"You stay around, this place abi?" She inquired handing me the screen.
"No I stay in campus" I responded. At this point, I was already aware of what was about to happen so I turned around to leave but it was already late.
"May I have your number" she inquired quietly in order to avoid the attention of her colleagues.
Wow! The moment was already here. I had the opportunity to politely decline, but a part me couldn't say no. I collected her phone and punched my digits and that was it. My life in Asaba would never remain the same again!
To be continued...
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Afam4eva(m): 7:05am On Oct 18, 2017|
Na where this guy dey to come finish wetin im start.
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by rumenase(m): 8:42pm On Oct 22, 2017|
guy come finish Wetin yu start o. and when yu start let me know Abeg
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Jungpablo: 10:09pm On Oct 26, 2017|
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 8:11am On Oct 27, 2017|
Jungpablo:What I do na?
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Jungpablo: 10:16am On Oct 27, 2017|
guy cor finish Wetin yu start Abeg I take all the witch for my village take beg yu.
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 7:02pm On Oct 27, 2017|
OK SIR.. I GO FINISH AM
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 6:58pm On Oct 28, 2017|
THE DAY ASABA RAIN TAUGHT ME THE LESSON OF MY LIFE.
Asaba rain taught me a lesson I would never forget in my whole life and I learnt a great deal from this bitter experience. It happened on a Wednesday which happened to be my CDS day. We had rounded up the never-ending meeting which was marred with arguments and verbal disputes from various topics ranging from Anambra politics, Hushpuppy and his Gucci boxers to relationship wahala. I was already exhausted but I needed to rush down to the famous
Ogbogonogo market to get beans. I had borrowed two thousand naira from my neighbour Kunle that morning as the monthly stipend was taking longer than necessary to come. Although we were both corpers, there was no doubt that kunle was earning more money than me. He was an electrician, a barber, a tailor and on top of it all, supported his ministry with Bet9ja. He always had some change to lend me whenever my wallet started to frown. Only God knows how I would have survived in Asaba if not for Kunle.
I waved a ‘keke ’ and entered. ‘Ogbogonogo ’ I said.
‘Corper shun!’ the driver, a stout-looking man with pot-belly exclaimed merrily with smiles as he nodded his head. I smiled back immediately in acknowledgement. Apart from ‘Corper doh’, the phrase I had heard the most in Asaba was ‘Corper shun!’
‘I remember when I dey serve’ He began as the tricycle meandered its ways towards Nnebisi road. ‘That time eh, I go starch my khaki, e go just stand kpagammmm !’ I think say na there this world finish, na wen service end, na dat time I realize say omoh dis life no easy at all.’ He said
“Where you serve?” I quickly inquired. “Na Abia state na. Na we run Aba as at 2014.” He continued. “Guy forget oo, this life wey you dey see like dis, dis life deep oo”.
I wasn’t suprised. The reality of the failed system had made me to look beyond the fact that a graduate of Business Administration was driving “keke”. I thought about the millions of graduates sitting at home and earning zero naira every month. The situation is so unfortunate and there is nothing I can do, even me wey dey write never chop sef”
I had barely reached Ogbogonogo market when it started to drizzle. I had come to dislike the rain in Asaba for two main reasons: It comes without warning and falls without stopping. I alighted from the keke and entered a food item shop. To my astonishment, beans had suddenly added price. Just a month ago,I had bought a painter of beans for 1500 naira.
“Na 1600, No oo oga na the price be dat, everything don add money” The dark Igbo trader said to me with all the certainty he could muster.
“I no be Oga abeg. Na corper I be, reduce price for me abeg” I pleaded with him removing my cap in a show of respect.
” You be Oga oo” he insisted. “No be una dey chop federal government money?”
At this point, I sensed there was no need wasting my time with the man. I gave him the 2000 naira and collected my 400 naira change and disappeared.
Now the rain was getting serious. I needed to get into a keke before it became real. I stood along the road and started to wave at them. “Infant Jesus” I screamed. None of the drivers looked at my face. The few that manage look, frowned upon hearing my destination. They must have thought that this corper wasnt serious. My khaki was getting soaked already and my beans was also helpless inside the nylon bag. It was when the rain started to gain momentum, that I realized that I was in big trouble.
Fortunately, just like a lake in the desert, a “keke” stopped. But there were three passengers seated at the back already. I managed to squeeze myself with the driver as I struggled with my beans. Sitting at the front of the keke meant two things: I would not be comfortable throughout the pot-hole-ridden journey and the rain will deal with me. And indeed the rain dealt with me mercilessly. Little did I know that the rain that was falling at Ogbogonogo market was a child’s play compared to the one falling at Infant Jesus. Before I could alight, I was drenched to my boxers. At this point, my khaki was like a skin on top of my skin. I was shivering and the rain cared less. It increased and beat me even more. My beans was already soaked completely. Poor beans! I was already contemplating on how I would dry my beans in the sun at home when the worst happened.
The keke had stopped just beside the gutter and I needed to jump over it to get under a shade and wait for the rain to stop. As I lifted my feet to cross, the slippery mud drew me down and I landed on my buttocks. A big portion of my beans poured inside the gutter while the rest mixed with the mud. I was devastated. I had bruised my arm in the process.
“ Eyaah Corper sorry” the few people who cared said to me as I was lifted up. The rest looked away. They obviously had bigger problems to think about. I waited for almost two hours before going home that day. With the mud on my khaki, some children in the neighbourhood thought I was a mad corper. That night I cried myself to sleep as I cursed the gods that brought me to Asaba!!
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by rumenase(m): 9:37pm On Oct 28, 2017|
As I lifted my feet to cross, the slippery mud drew me down and I landed on my buttocks. A big portion of my beans poured inside the gutter while the rest mixed with the mud. I was devastated. I had bruised my arm in the process.
“ Eyaah Corper sorry” the few people who cared said to me as I was lifted up. The rest looked away. They obviously had bigger problems to think about. I waited for almost two hours before going home that day. With the mud on my khaki, some children in the neighbourhood thought I was a mad corper. That night I cried myself to sleep as I cursed the gods that brought me to Asaba!![/quote]
chai corper this part make me laff laff laff laff laff laff laff laff so Tay myouth cor dey pain me
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by rumenase(m): 9:38pm On Oct 28, 2017|
cor continue o
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by itsandi(m): 9:39pm On Oct 28, 2017|
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Alexgeneration(m): 11:00am On Nov 11, 2017|
Henry come back oooo, come finish this story
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by rumenase(m): 10:29am On Nov 14, 2017|
kraspo yyu no dey try at all o
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 10:41am On Nov 14, 2017|
Make I continue
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 10:47am On Nov 14, 2017|
‘’NO BE BY FORCE TO WEAR PANT FOR ASABA!
I won’t die in Asaba. This I know for sure. I only came here to obey the clarion call with dedication and selflessness. But with some of the extremely weird experiences I have actually gone through, I can only pray to come out of here in one piece. Just the other day in my area, a lady was stripped Unclad inside a market by a woman and to my greatest surprise she wasn’t wearing any pant!
In Asaba, there is no law that states that everybody must wear pant. I have come to realize that it is not even a norm. It is actually a personal obligation. A good number of ladies are uncomfortable with the idea of wearing pant. Don’t even think of preaching to them, because they might slap you!
Two days ago, I had gone to hang out with my friend at his neighbourhood only to witness the shock of my life. A young lady had gone to the market to buy iced fish. She was wearing a very short shirt that almost revealed her butt. Adorned with a gold necklace and a nose ring, she cat-walked towards the fish seller. One thing led to another and before I knew what was happening, they had started quarrelling.
‘Why e be say your fish dey always dey expensive?’ the young lady asked lifting the fish in the air.
‘No be force to buy from my hand na, If my own too expensive, go another place go buy’ the madam who sold the fish responded.
‘Make una dey fear God for this una business’ the young girl advised as the fish slipped from her hands and landed in the mud. And that was where all hell broke loose.
‘Shey I tell you say make you carry your wahala go another place abi?’ the woman thundered grabbing the lady by the neck and shaking her head. ‘Oya pick my fish go wash am now now!’ she barked. But the young girl was more concerned about her necklace and as she struggled to remove the woman’s hand from her neck, she realized that her gold necklace had been broken in the process. She had managed to grab it before it landed in the mud.
‘You no go pick my fish?’ The woman barked in anger. The lady turned around in an attempt to walk away and that was when the woman got really infuriated. ‘Pick my fish go wash am or you pay me the money’ the fish seller shouted as she held her clothes.
‘Madam you go first pay for this gold wey you just cut and I no go fit bend down pick your fish, na short skirt I wear’ the young girl responded as she struggled with the woman.
Wetin concern me with wetin you wear? Na me tell you make you wear this kind skirt? If you like dey waka Unclad you must pick my fish.’ The woman thundered as she gave the girl a dirty slap and dragged the lady’s skirt up to the viewing pleasure of the crowd who had gathered around the scene. And that was it – unadulterated buttocks in all its glory, no tight, no pant, no G-string, just natural buttocks inside Asaba market!
That day, for the very first time, I sensed that my service year was finally coming to an end and of course, I had completed my task in Asaba and I needed to go somewhere else before I die.
Funny enough, the young girl wasn’t ashamed at all. She didn’t put up a fight. She dragged her skimpy skirt down, went back home, changed her clothes and put on more decent ones and in less than an hour time, she was back inside the market but this time, with a truck of policemen. They bundled the fish seller inside the van and as they headed back to the police station, I overheard a policeman shouting at the woman ‘No be by force to wear pant for Asaba oo!’ ‘Moreover, if some of una wan do the tin, no be fling una dey fling pant comot?’ Another policeman inquired sarcastically.
|Re: The Chronicles Of Corper Henry by Kraspo(m): 10:31am On Dec 01, 2017|
"HOW I NEARLY LOST MY LIFE AT RIVER NIGER BRIDGE"
I have travelled far and wide within the shores of Nigeria. I have savored the freshness of Kaduna's "fura" and the sweet aroma of Maiduguri's "fara". I still remember the taste of Enugu's "Okpa'. A million years will pass but I will never be able to forget the sweetness of Owerri's palmwine and the flavour of Asaba "bole" and banga soup. And with every new town I enter, I take my time to romance all the street delicacies and time without number, they have given me culinary orgasms. It was during the course of my service year that I discovered that it is a taboo to eat "Ogbono" soup in Asaba. Yes! "Ogbono" is worshipped like some god down here. According to a myth, the Ogbono plant saved the people of Asaba during the civil war, hence they do not eat it for any reason.
A part of me was craving for "Ogbono" soup and I couldn't help it. I had spent ten months in Asaba and within this period, I have trekked from Nnebisi road to Okpanam, been ejected from a keke for no reason, helped strangers pushed their car three times and on two occassions, I have seen women stripped unclad in public. But despite everything, I had never seen or tasted Ogbono soup. The urge to eat Ogbono soup became severe as a result of the fact that I had prepared soup only once since I entered Delta state and being that I added too much Maggi that day, I gave up on making soup forever and I have been buying ever since.
It was during one of my quests for peptic ectasy, that I ventured into a daredevil sojourn into the famous Onitsha to have a taste of "Ogbono" soup which I had missed for a very long time. This is a story of how I almost lost my precious life chasing satisfaction. And sadly, if I had died that day, perhaps it would been a good way to leave this unfair and unjust world. I would have bowed out with my head held high, a cute smile and a full stomach, but God said NO!!
How can Asaba be very interesting yet one cannot eat "Ogbono" soup? What irony! When I couldnt hold it anymore, I decided to take the bull by the horn and travel to Onitsha to eat "Ogbono" soup. You heard me right? Yes Onitsha. I got dressed that afternoon and headed to the motor park. I needed to take my mind off the life of Asaba. I needed to think straight for a moment without seeing short skirts or bare cleavages. Most importantly, I needed some Ogbono soup in my life.
As I alighted from the bus in Onitsha, it didnt take long before I spotted a local joint at Upper Iweka, where Ogbono soup was boldly written on the signpost, just below the "Food Is Ready" inscription. How much I love Onitsha! Life is easy in Onitsha. So I heard from friend who resides there. I ordered for two plates that day and immediately I took the first morsel of "fufu" into my starving mouth, tears came to my eyes, and I knew that there is a God in heaven and for once I hated Asaba. I took time to savour the meal and licked all my finger tips at the end of the session. The big standing fan in the restaurant provided the right temperature to relax and stroke heavy stomach that was already purring from satisfaction. I didn't come all the way from Asaba only to rush back after the meal. I relaxed for a whole one hour before I carried my stomach and myself and headed back to the motor park and that was when it happened.
Little did I know that while I was relaxing at the restaurant, a trailer had fallen at the road leading to the head bridge and a heavy traffic had ensued. I had paid 200 naira from Asaba to Onitsha but this time the driver insisted that we must pay 300 naira. It was already 5pm. It didn't take long before the bus got filled up and we headed towards the River Niger Bridge. That was when we saw the traffic and I knew I was in for some long discomfort. The bus was air-tight with passengers and we could hardly breathe. The bus driver made matters worse being that he was an old man and couldn't manoeuver the vehicle like the young drivers. He would promptly turn off the ignition at every slightest opportunity in an attempt to save fuel and the effect was that whenever any space comes for him to move forward, before he would even turn on the ignition, another vehicle would just overtake us from nowhere. This went on over and over and that was how we spent three good hours trying to ascend the River Niger bridge.
At last , at about 9pm, through some divine intervention, we finally found ourselves on the route that led to the bridge. This was after we had rained curses on the driver. Just as we had reached the middle of the bridge, we realized that there was another traffic on the bridge, and just like expected, the driver, promptly turned off the ignition to save fuel. This time, it didn't take long before the vehicles in front started to move and that was when the unfortunate happened. Our driver tried to turn on the ignition but the vehicle wouldn't come through. He tried it for almost twenty times but the vehicle refused. This was happening right in the middle of the Niger bridge. At this point, we were now causing the traffic. Most of the ladies inside the bus had started crying and shouting "Blood ofJesus" while others screamed "Obara Jesus"! The male passengers couldn't hold their anger as they insulted the driver for not checking his vehicle before putting it on the road. The driver suggested that we should alight and push the bus. You heard me right? Push the vehicle on top of River Niger Bridge!! At first the passengers refused, but then we realized that it was the only option left, all the guys alighted and that was how we started pushing the miserable bus. Jesus Christ! I couldn't believe what I was doing. Trailers and big trucks were blaring their horn behind us. One Dangote truck almost hit us had it been the driver hadn't used the brake. We pushed and pushed but the bus refused to start and that was when we realized that the driver had hoodwinked us. We came to the realization that the problem wasn't even battery-related. That was when it dawned on us that the driver had been managing his fuel all the while because he wasn't even having enough fuel. Damn!
We stopped pushing and dragged the driver out of the bus right in the middle of the Bridge and demanded for a refund of our monies. He refused at first, but after recieving three slaps from different directions, that was when he realized we weren't joking. He ended up refunding us 200 naira each that day. And we left him to his fate with his useless bus.
It didn't take long before the ladies got free rides to Asaba, as drivers slowed down to pick them. After waiting for a while, I had already made up my mind to trek the distance down the bridge, when a car slowed down and picked a couple of us who promptly hopped in. I reached my house that night at exactly three minutes to 10pm. The memories of the experience still haunts me up till this very day. What if that Dangote trailer had failed brake? Chaii!! God forbid bad thing abeg!
|Sections: politics (1) business autos (1) jobs (1) career education (1) romance computers phones travel sports fashion health |
religion celebs tv-movies music-radio literature webmasters programming techmarket
Nairaland - Copyright © 2005 - 2018 Oluwaseun Osewa. All rights reserved. See How To Advertise. 492