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One of those mornings
I woke up that Monday morning feeling rather reluctant to leave my bed. I just lay there and wished the dawn would remain so forever and I wouldn’t have to go to work ever again!
Slowly reality set in- I remembered the stack of unpaid bills waiting for me in my desk drawer, plus my Landlord wasn’t quite the lenient kind, I needed no further prompting so I hauled myself, albeit reluctantly out of bed and dashed into the bathroom. Icy water on my body completed the waking process. One look at the clock staring accusingly at me from its mantle piece perch told me I barely had time to brush my hair and rush out the door; breakfast was definitely out, as usual!
There was the expected crowd at the bus stop. I scanned the hurried faces for some of the usual commuters as I waited for my bus to come along. I was an hour thirty minutes away from the office. If I got a vehicle immediately, I would make it to the office just in time (taking into consideration third main land bridge traffic) and maybe have a few seconds to gulp down a cup of coffee… I was thinking to myself when a fairly new Toyota starlet stopped directly in front of me as though on cue.
“Palm grove?” I bent toward the driver and asked even as people swarmed toward the vehicle.
“Enter, forty naira!”
I couldn’t believe my luck. I hadn’t even been there for upwards of ten minutes! Now the vehicle was not the usual taxi or commercial vehicle. It was a private car whose driver-I presumed-wanted to make some extra bucks as he rode to work that morning-little did I imagine the drama that lay ahead.
I climbed into the back which already had two male passengers. A lady sat in front with the driver. We hadn’t gone very far when the driver began asking for our fare. The woman in front was first to hand him her money. The drama started there…the following dialogue then ensued between driver and female passenger.
Driver: “how much you give me so?”
F.P: “no be hundred naira I talk say I go pay you?”
Driver: “abeg pay me my complete money. I tell you say na one fifty you go pay”
F.P: “abeg I no get one fifty, no be for Ojota I go comot?”
Dear readers, we were heading toward motorways on the Ibadan expressway from Alausa secretariat by this time. I didn’t sense anything unusual in their argument-it was a regular occurrence in Lagos where most commuters vented most of their frustration on the taxi/bus drivers and vice versa. My ears perked up however when the argument took another turn.
The driver stopped the vehicle close to Eleganza Company and went to open the boot where the woman had her ‘goods’ while asking her to disembark from his car.
Driver: “oya come carry your load waka, trouble maker.”
F.P: “ok come enter make we go, I go pay you one fifty greedy man!”
The driver returned with a frown creasing his oily brows.
Driver: “madam na wetin you talk say you carry for those cartons?”
The woman eyed him in disdain as she answered him. “na pampers”
Driver: “but no be wetin I see for inside the carton.”
F.P: (in a not so assured voice) na wetin you see for inside ehn. And na how you take see wetin dey inside?”
Driver: “no be pampers dey inside, na dollars!”
The two men sitting behind with me echoed their shock and disbelief in a chorused exclamation. “Eeehn!” As though on cue from an unseen movie director.
By this time I had begun to sense something was wrong. I decided to sit still and act unperturbed. The driver threatened to hand over the woman to the cops at the next stop. She acted tough for a while and then broke down and began to cry, pleading with the driver to pity her.
F.P: “I be ashawo (prostitute). I bin meet one Hausa man wey talk say make I marry am. Sniff. I marry am my brother, we live together for two years until one day, sniff, im bin bring two oyinbo (white men). Dem say make I f–k dog say dem go video am pay me big money. I no gree na im my husband com beat me well, lock me for one room. Na that room I take see some cartons wey dollars dey inside. I carry this one wey e dey inside boot, jump window comot.
The unmistakable sound of silence briefly filled the air after she finished her narrative. The two men behind exchanged amazed glances, one actually glanced my way maybe to gauge my reaction but I kept a blank face and just stared straight ahead. What is going on, I thought to myself trying not to panic.
Driver: “the thing be say we go share the money. I go drop these people for the next junction then I go carry you go where we go take share the money”. At this the two ‘gentlemen’ burst out angrily.
1st GM: “driver you dey craze o. why you wan drop us ehn?”
2nd GM: “yes, e don reach money talk now you wan drop us. We are all in this together so we all share the money.” A glance in my direction, he addressed me. “Abi my sister na wetin you talk?”
I shrugged my shoulders noncommittally but did not utter a word. By this time the driver had started moving again. I was seriously calculating my options; I was now certain these were con people who were looking for a greedy prey.
Thankfully we had almost gotten to motorways where there were people and policemen, plus traffic was a bit slow so I summoned up courage and in my most commanding not too steady tone ordered the driver to drop me off at the junction close to the cops.
He looked at me from the rear mirror and asked me, “Sister are you afraid?” I laughed inwardly but replied with a question of my own coated with a thin covering of bravado, “afraid of what?”
“Just stop me at that corner where those policemen are standing” Was I ever so happy to see uniformed men? They seemed like princes from Wales and I could have hugged them but was deterred by a glance at my wristwatch which told me I had lost ten precious minutes.
I got off and started breathing again. “Una dey craze, na me una wan carry do mugu, oloshi!”
All these happened in less than ten minutes but it seemed like ten hours to me.
Phew!
Did I turn around and head back home? Nah! I immediately began the hustle for another vehicle. I had to get to work anyhow…after all, man must wack!

Culled from my diary