The beginning:

I had come to Lagos to see my family for the holiday and was ready to return to Benin where I currently attend school. I do not like road trips, they are very long and the roads are in a terrible state. I had to prepare my body and my mind.
I packed my bags and hailed a cab to the park where I was to board a bus to Benin City. I chose a comfortable seat in the reception area to wait for other traveling passengers to fill up the bus. The bus boys typically would scream out the destination of the bus and would go even further to pull the arms of random people on the streets, trying to convince them to change their immediate life plans and board the bus.
This usually takes long hours so I pulled out a new novel from my handbag but found it impossible to read through one chapter, this had nothing to do with the way the story was going, which was good. But, the cacophony of noise from hawkers shouting in your face trying to sell people what they might never want and the exchange of insults between garage boys and travelers. Huge speakers played different songs at the same time such that one could barely hear a thought .Trying to sieve out the noise was no small feat. I closed my book and watched everyone that will be sharing this trip with me.
The weather that earlier promised a fine sunny day changed suddenly as thick black clouds began to gather in the sky, ready to empty its content on everything below. I looked at my watch and realized I had spent fifty-five minutes waiting for my bus. I was hopeful when a number of people gathered around the bus which meant we could be leaving soon. As I looked, the first people I saw and suspected would sit close to me were two elderly men in their mid fifties, they looked like friends but each arrived separately. The third man, I could tell, was a trader traveling back with his merchandise for sale; he had a small hand luggage containing fruits and some small personal items.
I busied myself trying to see through his bag when a lady caught my eyes. She had the customary muslim wear covering her head to her feet, she had fine slippers on her feet and I couldn’t help to think of the beautiful face which that hijab covered. She was talking to an older lady who I learned in the course of my journey was her mother. I wondered what they were talking about as they gestured at the bus and the people waiting to get in, none of the others captured my interest. I had gotten tired of waiting and lost the thrill of watching people. However, I did not have long to worry because the journey proved to be one I will not forget in a hurry. I owe the event to everyone with me in the bus, those I considered important and those who I did not look at twice.


The Trip.

Finally we were set to leave, customarily, the park evangelist shared a sermon and closed with a prayer after which contributions were made to improve his ministry and spread the Lord’s gospel. Slowly the bus began to roll out of Lagos. The rain had started drizzling and we sat back to prepare for the heavy downpour. The journey began easy so we were all optimistic about a quick trip. We approached the border Ogun state when the torrent made it almost impossible to see, the driver for fear of collision reduced the vehicle to a crawling speed.
But, you can trust the impatience of passengers. After some time we began to complain about how the journey was going to be a long one. hours later as we closed in on Ore in Ondo state what we saw ahead was unbelievable. As if on cue five straight lanes of cars were formed on the 3 vehicle lane, people were angrily cursing what or who was responsible for the traffic. Some people had slept, oblivious of what was happening; some ate everything that passed that they could afford to buy, from bananas, oranges, groundnuts to garden eggs, chips and anything that looks edible to the eyes and good for the stomach. Some others sat and sulked, conserving their strength for the long wait.
I assumed I was mentally prepared until an extra hour went by with little to no movement. It was getting real uncomfortable in the bus, cramps had the best of me. I could not stretch my legs outside because the rain was pouring hard. I soon found myself feeling hot despite the rain and my frustration began to grow. Just as I was grumbling of irritation, the fight started. Then I smiled to myself, at least something interesting was about to happen to lighten the situation.




The fight

Drivers and passengers grew impatient and wanted out of the traffic so everyone came out with different shortcuts, some of which became worse than the highway. One man shouted from behind:
“Oga driver you no dey see say people dey pass bush burst out for the other side. Instead make you follow you sit down dey look. Na wa o, which kind driver you be sef?’’
A woman replied....
“No mind the driver e no sabi anything, after dem go say dem get experience. I fit drive pass am sef. He just dey waste our time.’’ she was still talking when a young guy interjected...
“Madam can’t you see that those drivers taking the bushes are taking a risk driving close to the ditch? What if, as a result of the struggle we fall into it?’’
“Oga wetin you dey talk for mouth sef, abi na today be your first time to travel go Benin? You dey talk like say you no know say na so them dey pass this road, how many people don fall inside?
She had not completed her statement when a bus nearly slipped into the ditch. The driver saw the dilema of the bus in front of us and was turning to take the same path when another guy that had been quiet for a long time said in Yoruba addressing whoever understood.
“Can you people see this mad man! He saw as the other bus narrowly escaped the ditch and he is trying to put us in it, but it’s you that will die first idiot. See his big eye when he no fit use see road ‘’
I couldn’t hold my laughter at the way the man had exclaimed, I gripped the stereo I was traveling with to protect it from the bumps and holes that had taken over the road. I looked to see the driver’s expression to insult words. I imagined smoke flaring from his ears and nostril. To my bewilderment he was unperturbed as though enjoying the antagonism expressed towards him.
The driver, trying to swerve back into the right lane did not see the oncoming motorcyclist popularly called okada trying to hurry past us and another bus coming Into the same lane, the impact was a deafening noise as both buses swerved in different directions trying hard to avoid running over the okada man. The screeching noise was of metal on asphalt, screams of people in the buses, and hawkers clutching hard to their wares scrambling for cover in the bushes to avoid being hit; and then the sound of the motorcycle falling with a thud on the road scantily escaping being crushed followed by an uncommon silence.

The next sound was a bang on our bus, jerking our attention to the cause of the sound, behold it was the okada man. He rained a series of insults at our driver at the same time checking himself for bruises. Fortunately, he was well suited.
‘’You dey craze, abi something dey do you? So you wan tell me say you no dey see?
Wait make i go check my machine if e no start you go see wetin i go do you’’. He went back to pick up his bike and roving round it to find damage to his bike.
“if my okada no start again you go know say na Ondo state you dey, i go burn this bus. Na so all this Lagos people dey do, like say them big pass everybody. Make una wait first make my bike no start una go see whether una go comot for this town. I go gather my people come.’’
Our driver in order to calm the man down got out in the rain to plead him and help with his bike. The okada man was not appeased, “Just dey pray make nothing do my okada or you go see wetin go happen here today’’. Knowing how serious the people in this part could get I hoped for the bike to work.
In all these chaos some people in the bus remained passive. While the exchange of pleas was going on some people used the opportunity to answer to the call of nature and do things they deemed fit at the time. The girl with the hijab told her mother she wants to use to toilet and went behind the cover of the bushes. While the others responded to the insults dished out from the occupants of the other bus.
Now the buses were neck to neck because the traffic, one woman from the other bus stretched out her head from the wind and pointed at our driver,
‘Oga na your family u go kill o no be us, mumu man I no blame you sef, na people when you tell say you be professional driver when kon give you bus drive na them i blame. She looked at us then she said ‘’All these mumu people dey look as e wan kill them. Abeg if una wan die make una no use am rub us o’’
I was shocked at the woman’s insult at all of us in the bus, the bike man had right to have spoken to us that way because we hit him. As I was thinking this, the man in front of me replied her.
‘’Stupid woman you no dey shame see as you dey open your big mouth dey talk for public, and you no say you no brush before you enter the motor so shut up. Breeze dey blow your mouth odour enter our bus.’’
The woman almost cried of embarrassment as all eyes were now on the quarrelling buses. To redeem herself she cried “You kon? You no dey shame, Shameless man.’’ Her fellow passengers showed solidarity throwing more insult at us.

Remember the guy I considered a trader? He, the mother of the hijab girl and two other people formed the attack group of my bus. As I watched with the two elderly men by side, I realised the slow movement of both buses fuelled the confrontation. Yet, the traffic didn’t bulge. The trader had a short temper and could not watch a woman insult him. So he stretched out his hand from the window and gave the woman the hottest slap I had heard in a long time. Just as she felt the friction of a strong palm on her face she screamed and started crying.
The man sitting next to her wanted revenge so he opened the door of his vehicle and came out into the rain then forcefully dragged the traderman half way through the window of our bus while we tried to retain him in the bus by his legs, half of his body was drenched in the rain.
“stupid man, see as you dey beat another man wife. Na so you dey beat your own for house?’’ The attacker was screaming at the trader.
Seeing the trader was a strong man and could not be completely dragged out of the window, he took the man’s hand luggage he was carrying with him, hit him hard and went back to his bus with the trader’s bag.
We were all surprised, so were other buses as they crawled in the traffic watching the drama on the highway. I gripped my bag and stereo tightly, I wouldn’t want to be raided by more violent people in the other bus. In this entire catastrophe the rain refused to stop.
Now both buses were at war. Passenger verses passenger and driver verses driver. Some people had come down seeing they preferred hand combat involving kicks, slaps and blows than the verbal exchange they have been having earlier.
I resolved to be a mediator. “Please don’t fight yourselves, we are causing a scene.”. I turned to speak to the guy that took the trader’s bag. “Oga please return his bag, it has not resulted to taking personal things out of other people’s buses.’’
No one seemed to hear my attempt at settlement. I looked down at the new shirt and I wasn’t happy with what I saw. The package shirt I had donned for this trip was so my friends will definitely notice when I arrived in Benin. My shirt was stained in the fracas and wet. Angry, I moved to get into the bus.
I was trying to get in the bus when the trader got his hand luggage back, most of his fruits were strewn on red muddy ground. He was hurling insults at the other group and shouting
‘’you will buy back my fruits, give me my fruits.’’
He was still talking when the other group picked up muddy apples and threw them at us. As though ruining my shirt in the good cause of separating a fight was not enough, the second red muddy apple landed on me ruining my shirt further. I was so angry I was about to start a fresh fight but for the intervention of the two old men. I took in deep breaths to calm myself and watch the remaining part of the fight without interfering.

As I sat sulking, I saw her daughter come out from the bush. I had planned to was call the attention of others about her long absence if she had not appeared at that moment; I was starting to think maybe she had been kidnapped
Sighting her mother in a strong argument with some men she rushed up to separate them. It felt like something made them fight harder when anyone tries to make peace. Again the argument grew hotter; I had made up my mind not to interfere. I was hungry and tired but when I looked at the dirty shirt on me I just get drained of any little energy.
The daughter tried pulling her mother away. Her head to toe covering made her attempts futile. I watched the poor girl trying to talk calmly to her mother.
“Mother don’t mind these people, they are touts and will drain your energy trying to reply them don’t worry lets go and sit in the bus the traffic is moving a little. Come let’s go’’
“No I will not. Why will this common thief talk to me that way, does he know who i am? Leave me let me tell him the history of his birth and how he is going to die, which is today if he is not careful?’’
As she successfully dragged her mother away, one man hit the hijab lady causing her glasses to fall off her face. The scream that followed was ear deafening and we wonder what would have gone.
’’Why is she shouting, what did you shameless men do to her now?’’.
Her face was bent low and I could feel the eruption that was about to come out of her. I wanted to get down to her when she raised her face. With agility I never thought she could have, she was swift as she rushed to the man responsible and with dexterity clawed at his face and body,
The man shouted ‘’Witch, leave me alone’’
But she would not have it and tore his shirt like it was just paper. she must teach him a lesson he will not in forget in a hurry.
Surprisingly, no one dare stop her, the man was now bleeding. She didn’t stop until she was spent and then the man could do nothing, he looked like he was hit by a bus. Only when he was free from her grasp did his people come to his rescue and helped raise him from the ground where she left him.
Why did this quite lady who hadn’t spoken on this journey this angry? I considered her attractive at the park even if I didn’t see her face. when she spoke to her mother some minutes ago I could hear she had a great voice. As her mother rushed to bring her back to the bus I looked to the see the expression on her face after she almost dismembered a man.
When I saw her face I sucked in air and I understood why. I would have maimed the man if I had such a face and had taken care to cover it up so no one will see.
The left side of her face was bare, exposed enough you could see the structure of her facial bone. She was fair and beautiful on the unaffected part of her face; the skin on the bad side was brown like it was seared on a grill. Her eye on the left was obviously different from the other, it looked like the socket had been empty for some time before someone took out a fresh red goat eye and stuck it in place of the original eye. You could not look at her long enough without getting teary. She had no ear this side, if the hijab had no covered her head you could see her head was bald. it is the most horrible sight one can find on a young living girl and for her sake I hoped it remains covered.
That was what ended the 45mins of war between two buses. One side with a battered comrade while the other with a shamed one. As if on cue the road opened up and once again the bus was on the move this time with peace and quiet.



The trip home

We were so tired when we arrived at a pit stop for some food to eat. We had wasted so much time if we were not very hungry, would have voted to continue but we all needed food for our grumbling stomachs. We all agreed in the bus to spend just ten minutes to get whatever we wanted and get back on the road.
Ten minute later everyone was running to get on the bus which ought to be left open as the rain suddenly increased. However, we found it locked and the driver nowhere to be found.
“Where is this foolish driver, where has he gone to or did he eat and forget he is going somewhere?’’ one man said angrily’’.
“Are you still asking that question? And here I am thinking everyone knows he is a foolish man. Am sure he sat down to eat and sleep spot’’ a woman said calmly.
“Why did he make us rush down here and leave us standing in the rain? Surely he can’t be that stupid!’’ another man added.
The woman replied “Oh he is that stupid and you will be surprised at how much. Dint you see he could not see anything in his defence when a fellow man was insulting him? All he could say is ‘’you are not serious and something dey do you’’
I had to do something or they would keep deliberating on how stupid the driver was.
‘’am sure something is keeping him; I will go in and try to find him myself’’ I told the group.
I went back inside the packed restaurant to start looking and hoped that I could remember his face. I spent almost three minutes without any sign of him. I was certain others will send someone to look for the both of us.
I was about walking out to tell the others i did not find him when I saw someone sitting at a table eating; he had removed the cloth he had on. As I took long angry stride towards him, I felt like slapping him from behind because he was comfortably seated and eating with relish, I had the urge to choke him.
“Oga, you no know say people dey wait for you, you lock up the motor, leave people for under rain and you dey here dey chop abi? Oya, stand up make we komot. If you no get house to go no mean say we go stay here.’’
I told the others what happened and they almost tore him up when he came around.
The remaining part of the trip was peaceful. I was so exhausted and dirty, I entered my house took a shower, laid on my bed and slept till noon the next day.









ORIGINAL STORY BY ELOHO SARAH
Email: serahovermatter@gmail.com
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