Gwarinpa! Galadima! Berger! Two lucky chances remain! And just in case Im not going deaf fast enough, the bus conductor repeats the anthem. Then he adds, Two lucky chances o! Berger! Berger! Berger! Lucky chances? Maybe theres something about this bus. Maybe it grants us superpowers. I am irritated and it isnt because of the lady beside me who insists on keeping her distance because of Ebola; or the sickening scent of some native perfume. Or the lack of air, since my fellow passengers are immortal and can survive with the windows closed. No, I am irritated simply because I am around these people desperate to act like Abujans. The day before, in a bus, a man made this call: No. Are you mad? Your stupidness is too much. I wont pay 70k for it. No! Idiot. Ill pay 50k. When the conductor asked him for money, he frowned and said, I dont have money to pay na. In the present, a man behind is complaining about Goodluck and Boko Haram. He says quantry and pheful not country and people. I listen to him: no point or logic. But people are nodding, intrigued by his spitfire pace. A man tries to buy Okpa when theres a holdup, the seller doesnt give him change fast enough. He throws the Okpa to the road and later, in his wisdom, he blames her. Thats how they do. Those sellers. This business has risks. You have to be prepared. But he cant hide the guilt from his voice. The no-touch lady beside me receives a call and later ends it with, Kisses love. Her accent is uniquely Igbo-American. I almost ask her if shes sure Ebola cant spread through kisses. But I do not. The driver of the bus is complaining about the government... then he speeds past a FRSC car; afraid. His seat has no seat belt. When the conductor demands payment, we all give him N500 notes and he curses us in murmurs; where is he supposed to get change, he complains. Earlier, we had all cursed soldiers at a checkpoint. They had kept each lane waiting for thirty minutes. There had been no point to the delay; just we want you to know we are here thing. When I put on earphones and begin blasting away to Rock, no-touch lady taps me. Excuse me, that music is noisy. I hate noise. The song Im listening to is, Whos They by Daughtry. Its my rebellion anthem. Youre in a bus, I tell her. So? Please, reduce the VORUME. Its too ROUD. I reduce it then I ask, Do you think you can get Ebola by kissing?
Posted on: Sun, 09 Nov 2014 10:39:07 +0000