My alarm rings. It’s 5 am. As I roll on the bed, I feel my body aching me. God will not punish the person that set this useless timetable oh. Why can’t I just live a soft life? I take a deep breath and stare at my phone screen. It’s past 5 am. I start praying before I start running late. I get up after prayers and dress my bed. Then I walk into the bathroom. I do all the necessary cleaning and dressing up.
The day is starting to get bright. As I walk to enter a keke, I think about my itinerary.
“I just pray the person that is selling food will take transfer oh or else hunger will finish me today.”
As I get off the keke, I walk to the bus park. Conductors are already shouting at the top of their lungs. I look into the bus and scan which seat has the potential to have less leg space draggers and people that don’t understand personal space. Then, I take a seat.
I want to plug in my EarPods and listen to music but I decide to respond to emails first. I wait for the bus to start moving then I hold my phone tightly as I type. The choking, provoking, pungent smell of rubbish at the landfill area disturbs my flow. I lock my phone and watch the landscape. We drive on the third mainland bridge and I remember that I need to take swimming lessons. The last time I was on the bridge, rain was falling and the bus driver couldn’t see the road but he kept insisting that he could see despite nearly having different slips.
The bus arrives at the final bus stop and I take another bus to my destination. I look out the window as the bus moves. I imagine myself owning the beautiful properties I see and living there, driving the cars I see. This is the only thing I like about the island- the architecture, and the landscape of some of the areas. Everything else about the island upsets me. I arrive at my destination. The shift is just beginning but I can’t wait for it to end.
The food seller agrees to accept transfer. It is the first time I’m eating out in this place. I like the food but the 100 naira meat is like a cube of Maggi. When I complain, everybody tells me this is not the mainland. The day goes by and it’s time for me to leave.
I enter a bus and try to bargain for a cheaper fare with the conductor but he’s not having it. 300 naira or I get out. We pick up a man at the next bus stop and he charges him 400 naira. This conductor is not normal sha. Thank God I didn’t drag too much with him. Another woman enters. She isn’t too familiar with the area and her English quickly gives her away as a JJC. She gives the conductor 400 and he is supposed to give her 100 naira change but when we get to her bus stop, he says there’s no change and the price has changed. I wish I spoke up. I think about the woman for a long time and the sadness she must feel when you get ripped off by conductors. What if it was her last card?
I enter the next bus. The breeze is a lot. The next time I open my eyes, we are at my bus stop and everyone is shouting at the driver for not informing them about taking the route he took. I am just glad the screaming woke me up.
Leave a Reply