How I Almost Died In A Public Bus
These extreme situations make Owambes worth it every weekend.
The first thing you should know about me; I like keeping to time.
You know how they say…
adversary is sperm for innovation.
- na me talk am.
Just Google to see if that's correct, but you get the gist, right?
If you were in my shoes, and you've been suffering to finish the literary pieces you started, then what happened to me would have motivated you to give it another shot.
So, here I am, lamenting about what happened that day.
It wasn't a typical Saturday for me. I was dressed in my neatly pressed kaftan and polished palm slippers, with my Creed Aventus and Dang! Zeus perfume oozing a chilling essence. Bling gold chain on my neck. Gold wristwatch to match, and my favorite gold ring to go with it.
I couldn't get it wrong. Or so I thought.
The night before, I checked the price for Bolt from my place to my destination, Sango Ota, the outskirts of Ogun State. It was N4,500. I was skeptical about it. I knew the road was terrible (I should have imagined worse), and the traffic would be hell, so the price might increase at the end of the trip. Why take that risk? I asked myself.
Come Saturday, I strolled out of my house, climbed bike to the bus stop, and inquired for the bus heading to Sango. At first, I stood outside because why suffer the heat inside the bus when it wasn't filled yet.
Three passengers came down, and there was space, so I entered and sat. I can't have these girls walking into speeding vehicles for my sake na.
I am a firm believer that whatever is worth doing at all is worth doing well. When the first wave hit me, I could feel my tummy rumble. It has been a while I took public transport, and for almost two years now, that's a once-in-a-month occurrence.
What was it? It wasn't difficult to find out. It was the human odour. No, not dead. Alive and breathing.
The long and short of this story is that I had to endure that odour for almost two hours. This experience took me back to many years and the experiences I've had in the different kinds of transportation systems that have found their way into Lagos.
Some of you will relate to these experiences.
Molue
The year is 2004, and it is one of those Saturdays my mum wanted to bless me. She agreed to let me go out with her to Oshodi.
Until that moment, I had no recollection of ever being to Oshodi. I was joyous as we got to Agric bus stop. We didn't wait for long before it pulled in. A cartoon-like front that also looks like a newsboy cap. Its yellow glistened. It must have just been polished, and with the hot Lagos sun, it could pass for the yellow of a burning fire.
Anyway, the real adventure was inside this truck of sandwiched humans. The journey from the back entrance to the empty seat a few rows ahead was arduous. The molue driver seemed not to care, and we were yet to take our seats. I swung from one side of the bus to the other: I didn't do much swinging, thanks to those who decided to "mu standing." Let's just say, to date, I don't remember what happened at Oshodi, but I knew never to look forward to a ride in molue.
Danfo
Danfos in Lagos are little Molues, but with the madness closer to home. Being a gentleman, I can proudly say I've never had an altercation with a danfo driver or conductor. I have witnessed a lot of crazies go at it with each other. I especially look forward to the conductor's fight with market women going from Mile 12 to Ikorodu.
Their load is always excessive for the boot and the roof, sometimes. Danfo stopped at a lay-by (the BRT lane), and the conductor harangued three market women until they agreed to go with his bus. They spent five minutes bargaining their fare until they reach an agreement. They are loaded into the bus, and off we go. "Owo da? E yo change yin jade o. Motor eleyi o ni change o. Mo ti so temi," the conductor screamed above the loud roar of the danfo's engine. Meanwhile, the three Macbeth witches exchanged notes.
And the problem began.
Most of us never have change, so the conductor is pissed already. By the time he got to the market women, one of them already had the fare for the three, and she gave it to the conductor. What followed is the five longest seconds in any bus before you hear that loud bang on the danfo's body. "Pilot, duro duro, jeki awon iya osi yi bole." And thus, the fight ensued.
The women gave the conductor less than they agreed to pay, for those who didn't know. In the end, they pay that lower amount after wasting everyone else's time.
Keke Napep
This part will offend some people, but abeg, I have suffered, and I will mention it.
Aside from the mixology Keke Napep does for the food we don't have in our stomach on terrible Lagos roads, it is "big" people who decide to sit beside you that's bad. Worse is when two big people sit on both sides, and you're the flat cheese between them.
If eye is not turning you when you get to your destination, then Buhari is not our president.
Okada
You will always see death smiling at you.
Red BRT
A behavior Lagosians carried from the time of Molue to Red BRT is selling every kind of drug that cures every disease in the bus.
I had terrible breath at some point when I was young, and my mum bought one white powder for my condition.
I use this foamy powder to wash my mouth when everyone uses toothpaste. Never again sha.
I recently threw away the mustard seed my mum must have bought ten years ago on one of such rides in Red BRT.
Blue BRT
Blue BRT came with a better Ikorodu Road. I saw hell returning from school and having to spend hours in traffic because they were widening the road, but I guess it paid off for a while.
For most of 2019, I suffered at the hands of these buses. I'd wait at the terminal for two hours sometimes before I could get a bus for a fourty minutes journey. Same problem in the morning and at the close of work.
Old things have passed like this.
Korope
These are recent, and it's a more robust version of Keke Napep. Anyway, Isawo road has never let me enjoy the ride. I've banged my head in this bus in the last three years than I did in danfo all these years.
I either sit in front, by the window at the back, or by the door on the first row. I cannot afford to be short of breath. My Mile 12 market experience taught me a lesson I will never forget.
Taxi/Charter
Honestly, I've never been in this before. Those who have, share your experience with me.
Uber/Bolt
The new wave of transportation has saved me from enduring further trauma using any other means of transport. It sure does have its downside when the drivers cannot locate where they should pick me up.
Abeg, me sef no sabi road. Just follow the map to me. Sadly, there's a magnetic manipulation to pin locations in Lagos.
Despite the terrible smell in the bus that fateful Saturday, I would have drained my account if I Ubered my way to this Owambe. The traffic was awful, and thanks to the shortcuts, I made it to Sango Ota at precisely 10am, not a minute late for my function.
Like I said, I like keeping to time.
I laughed out reading this. My first encounter with Molue buses was nothing to write home about. Till date, I still have phobia of the bus falling down.
And as for the wonderful human perfume (body odour), thank God for nose mask. It's been saving me a lot
You write well. I was thrilled all the way.
I'll always be thankful about Covid-19 for one thing; bringing nose masks to my knowledge