Saturday was a full day. That means I hopped buses…a lot. There are lots of stories in buses. I am not talking of those told by the creaking chairs and groaning headboards. I don’t even mean those told by the conductor’s armpits. I mean those of Mrs. Phillip. Oh! A common mistake. I ended the story before starting.
Immediately I boarded the Obalende bound bus, I heard her voice. Bus preachers. I once had a bad experience with one. He was Akwa Ibom, I know because he called Jesus ‘Yezzuz’. He shouted at the top of his voice. At a point, I told him to stop shouting-that I had had a long day, that Lagos life is not easy, that we should Observe Chill. The other occupants called me the Anti-Christ. Since then, I let preachers preach.
This one was interesting. So interesting, I will share. She said it is bad for a woman to be the one sponsoring the home. She said once in a while, the woman should see fine shirt and buy for the man, but that’s it. When the woman starts buying rice, fuel and dispenser water, nnkan be. She said it happened to one doctor in The America who did not see work for 12 years. After he called her, four hospitals in Houston employed him.
She brought out complimentary card. She said ‘Who wants?’ All the young girls collected.
I did not collect. I focused on the the Lekki Toll Point; the green-white-green Ajah buses, the tail lights of cars in front of us, the payment checker, the car owners pressing their phones and the ones who leave their queue and drive in-between other cars.
She said a woman came to meet her, because every man she sleeps with dies after a while. The woman looks as if she can’t swallow eba and has a thin voice. She prayed for the woman. Now, everything is fine. She said a couple had stopped sleeping in the same room for three years. She saw in vision why the marriage has K-leg. Now, they have reconciled and their love is sweet…again. She said one fine boy did not have good job. She said after just little deliverance, he now flies a lot, infact people now call him ‘Small London’.
She stretched the card again. I collected.
Don’t judge me. See, my life is good, but sometimes, it is as if somebody is pressing something somewhere. It can be that I will go to three ATM’s and all of them will seize my three different cards. Shuo! Then, see book I say I am working on, I have hang. Even if it’s her healing stories she shares with me, is that not bestseller?
So I might call. I might not call. If I call, you will get the memo (blog post)
Immediately I saw the driver wearing a woolen jacket at 2 p.m. with 37 °C weather, I knew nnkan be. I took front seat. He did not disappoint.
He told us he is sixty five years old. He said he has been driving bus for forty one years (and still counting). He said he used driver money to train his children, and now they are all on Instagram. After he said anything, I would reply ‘Boss’. I was like Samuel .L. Jackson in Django, I was his hypeman.
He finally looked at me. He said I will ‘Go Far’. He called me ‘Bobo Toh Yuppy’. He made me his Personal Assistant (P.A). He told me to be adjusting the side glass for him since he does not have conductor. I was the first person he gave change. When people asked for their change, he told them to Meshonu (‘Shut Up’ in Igbo). He said he has their type at home.
He drove like he owned the road. When area boys asked him for fifty fiber, he removed his cap, so they will see his face well. I was in the front seat with him-I was that close to power. We went far, then the bus spoilt. One loquacious woman at the back said he should return our money. He went hard on her. He said ‘Egun lo ma je fada e. Baba e. Se oju e ti fo ni? Iya-lal-ay-aya-yay-ay-ay eh’. (PLENTY SWEARWORDS). Everybody became calm after that. He drove us to the mechanic. He said everybody should stay in the bus while it is being repaired. He said they should not make noise. He said only me can get down.
Guys, I have to go catch another bus now
Signed: Bobo Toh Yuppy