I am a Lagos student who, as a result of the current ASUU strike, has decided to put himself to good use by embarking on an internship programme with an advertising agency. After spending two months at home, I think its safe to say that the allure of staying in bed 24\7 and eating all sorts of junk food has proven distasteful. Work has been chilled except for my hard ass boss who drives the heck out of me! Once he steps into the office, even if you were reading a newspaper, you would read it with such rapt attention that one would think you were looking at a complex equation pertaining to quantum physics. In my work place, lunch break is any time, meaning there is no lunch break. You can only eat when you don't have any work on your hands and that almost never happens with the boss around.
Now the work isn't so stressful you see, its the transportation to and from work that has quite easily become the bane of my existence. My workplace is a bike, a bus and a cab away from my house. I'm talking a minimum of two hours and when we factor in the almighty traffic that ensues along the way, sometimes I spend three hours reaching my destination. I have to admit, it has not been easy, but as a popular 80's songstress would say, «I will survive».
I woke this morning tired. I'm always tired, I can't help it. Staring at my wardrobe, I feel this sense of utter confusion as I simply cannot fathom what piece of clothing would grace my flesh for the better part of today. I find a pair of blue jeans tucked behind my bedside table and I dust it and thank the heavens for helping me out. God bless that happy person who created jeans, you can wear them as ruggedly as you can and the next day, just clean them with a wet cloth and they look good as new. Moments later, a Polo shirt reveals itself and I head to the shower to initiate my day. A few hours later I'm in a bus heading to Ojota, earphones firmly pressed against my ears, the cool morning breeze dancing across my skin through the window, and my mind meandering off to myriads of places. I check my handset and see a message from my boss asking me to meet up with him as soon as possible at a bank a few miles away. Drat! Anything that warrants meeting the boss outside of the office equates to stress, and I my dear readers, hate stress.
My mind drifts off again and I am hurriedly drenched in the waters of reality when the bus stops abruptly . I look to the front and it so happens that the bus was flagged down by a police operative. «This is so not happening this morning», I mutter under my breath. some random looking man appearing to be in his late 30s with a stubby beard and poorly shaved head walks to the driver's side and orders the poor bewildered man to disembark while he moves to commandeer the vehicle. Three alphabets run through my mind over and over again-WTF! My first problem is that there is no way I can find an alternative bus from the place where our bus was pulled over. My second problem was the heavily built conductor with bloodshot eyes and multiple scars decorating his somewhat charred body. This unfriendly looking man had turned deaf ears to the screams and rants of the agitated passengers and had no intention of refunding our money. As it seems, we would have to pry the money out of his cold dead hands to get it.
At this point, I'm scared, confused, tired(I'm always tired remember?), agitated and maybe a tad angry. The driver is currently arguing with the police officer that flagged him down asking him for the offence he committed. I don't know what to do. Some people are already alighting from the bus and leaving the scene. I overhear the police man saying that the driver was reported to have committed a traffic offence and that is why he was stopped. I'm confused, I was in this bus from the moment it left the bus stop and to the best of my knowledge, the driver drove very smoothly without misbehaving. Everyone in the bus starts arguing in favour of the driver. It becomes very noisy here now. This goes on for a few minutes until the driver wisens up and switches from defensive to plea bargain. He starts pleading with the officer to let him go. The man can beg sha. It's almost as if he's begging for his dear life. After much begging and invoking of the name of God, the officer changes countenance and even asserts that he knows the driver and that he is an upstanding citizen. I have that 'dafuq' look on my face, the one you have when a girl tells you she loves you but she can't date you. I think I may have seen the driver slip the officer a hundred naira bill. It happened so fast I'm doubting if it actually happened. Any way, I'm relieved. We can now approach our destination with the swiftness of the wind. My nerves can now return to there deserved calmness, I think...
All of a sudden, a fresh set of rants fill the air. My stomach turns at the the very thought of what the problem might be this time around. The last thirty minutes of sitting still was irritating enough. I soon stumble on the realization of what caused the new hiccup. A middle aged woman with multiple piercings and a head like Medusa had made a nasty comment about the Police being responsible for some of the deaths on Lagos highways. She appears Yoruba, with bleached skin, green popping veins and an unpolished accent. Things get pretty serious quickly as more policemen surround the bus and order everybody to alight. They brandish assault rifles and carry their head high without a care in the world. I hate guns. With all the stories I've heard about trigger happy cops going on rampage and attacking innocent civilians, my heart sinks a little deeper. With the way things are turning out, I just have to make a silent prayer to my maker begging him to overlook my erring ways and not make the stench of sweaty people mixed with traffic smoke and fumes be my last memory before boarding the Heaven Express.
I think the creator heard my prayer though, the police officers seem to have let us go. No wait, naah...not that easily. They made the driver dislodge the lady who made the statement by all means. Yet another round of begging ensues until the lady is finally let off the hook. When we return to the bus, I don't know whether to be happy, sad or frustrated. I have just wasted a buck load of time because of simple misunderstanding. My boss must be furious right now and in my mind, I'm imagining the myriad of weapons he might be thinking of employing to end my already pitiable life. I can just picture him in the office going over his life ending implements, «Should I use a machete? A torpedo maybe? Will acid do? Oh I got it, I»ll just stab him repeatedly with a bowing knife while I hum the lyrics of Michael Jackson's 'Bad« with a devilish smile on my face! That oughtta do it!»
I'm almost at Ojota. Finally. A journey of ten minutes has now lasted a little over an hour all because of circumstances I'm still trying hard to comprehend. In the middle of my thoughts, I hear the controversial Yoruba lady brag ceaselessly. «Those policemen cannot touch me», she affirms, «My uncle is the deputy commissioner of Police for Lagos State. They will be sacked in an instant if I simply make a call». Of course she makes this statement with wrongly stringed English mixed with Yoruba vocabulary. She wreaks of illiteracy. I wonder, «Why didn't she make that phone call in the heat of the moment when those officers were harassing us? Did she miraculously forget she owns a handset?». A sigh escapes from under my nostrils. You see, Lagosians are the weirdest set of people I happen to have met. They are aggressive, crudely impatient and most importantly, they all seem to appear perpetually embittered. Did I forget to mention that they can brag the black skin off their bare backs? The average Danfo driving Lagosian will not hesitate to get down from his battered excuse for a vehicle to remind another fellow sitting loftily in a Jeep that he might be driving buses for a living but he is also a landowner. He most definitely will make this point known at the top of his voice with ridiculous veins popping from his forehead. Truth be told, that Danfo driver is simply striving for relevance in a messed up environment where Darwin's theory of evolution is in full effect. Kill or be killed, or in this case, shout on somebody before someone else shouts on you.
Stepping out of the bus, I look to the horizon, it is a really sunny day afterall. Someone up in the sky must be having a ball.