In the past, when people told me their betrayal stories, my reactions were;
‘oh.. just move on already’!
‘get over it! I don’t like cry babies.’
‘Alright, just chew a handful of ijebu garri, you will be fine.’
‘if you want to cry, remind me to get you a bucket you hear?.’ …. and so on….
So yesterday, I got a feel of betrayal and damn, it really does hurt. I didn’t post this yesterday as I have been busy chewing garri. I have successfully chewed 2 sacks of ijebu garri yet I don’t seem to be recovering.
I went to visit a friend yesterday in Yaba and on my way back, I got on a bus to mushin. When we got to mushin, I was about alighting when the girl who sat at my left asked the driver ‘Abeg where I fit see ikotun bus’?. Before the driver could breathe in and out, I jumped in with my British accent ‘Am heading to ikotun too, I will show you where to get a bus’. looking at that girl, she seemed 18/19 years of age. She had a small stature on an innocent face. I thought I could play the elder sister role and for once, have someone follow my lead.
She followed me like my shadow. Side by side. I was always watching out for her to make sure she didn’t dash her feet against a stone. I kept saying ‘be careful’, ‘watch out, or do you want to hold my hand’?. I bought lacasera for myself, I bought for her too. I was literally her guardian angel. when one bus conductor was pulling her to get on his CMS bus, I attacked him.
‘is it by force to go to CMS?
‘Why are you dragging her, is she your family member’?
‘You look like a ritualist, I should report you to NAFDAC’. –yes! I stupidly said that. Please ask me when NAFDAC started catching ritualists.
As we walked, I started educating her. I told her the history of mushin park. I told her the history of conductors. I Advised her not to join team bad gang and team slay queen. I told her to face her books. She Smiled.
We got to the place we would get ikotun bus but there wasn’t any. We walked from one end to the other asking bus drivers for ikotun bus but they said we wouldn’t find.
Finally, a big danfo heading to ikotun appeared and we hurriedly rushed to it. After pushing down irokos, hefty men and women, boys and girls, we got the First Class seat in the bus. She sat first, close to the window then I followed. Another man sat after me. I asked the driver how much it was, he said 250.
I didn’t bother arguing with him as I thought he was telling me the price he conveyed people from mushin to heaven. mushin to ikotun was apparently 150 or 200naira at most. In split seconds, the bus was full and the conductor was collecting money. He stretched his hand to me and i handed him 200naira note, asking him to bring change. He threw It back at me saying it was 250naira. My supposed junior sister quizzically looked at me. Because I didn’t want to be the broke elder sister, I dipped my hand in my bag, brought out 500naira and gave to the conductor. It got to my junior sister’s turn to pay but she was reluctant which made the conductor focus on other passengers. she quietly asked me to collect my money back from the conductor so we could alight as 250naira was rather expensive. I told the conductor to give me back my money. I told him I wasn’t going again.
‘Oya dide ,dide Kia Kia’. He furiously said
He handed me my 500naira and told me to get out. I stood up and was about going down. I already made that curve you make when getting off a bus with my butt covering the face of the man who sat at my right. I turned to see if my junior sister was up too but she was comfortably sitted..
‘hi dont know habout you.. but hi can hafford it’.-she blared in her h-factor accent.
This was thesame girl that asked me to take back my money for my the conductor. I could have drowned her in the red sea with my mouth but didn’t want to talk as i find it hard having a British accent when I’m angry. The only accent I can afford when angry is the very thick igbotic one. The conductor, seeing how I looked at my supposed junior sister, began barking at the top of his voice ‘I go call boys for you o, Comot for here! no dey look am.. no be every body poor like you”. I was dumbfounded. The passengers were already shouting ‘Aunty Abeg come down if you no get money. The man who my butts covered his face finally used his voice ‘Aunty Abeg remove your thing’. I came down from the bus looking like a mumu. Passengers were still starring. Some of them that didn’t get the gist asked, and the ones who were good at telling stories started by ‘see that girl there, that yellow girl outside. You dey see am? She no get money to go house’ and an ‘Ehya’ was chorused.
I stood there like a hopeless sinner who just missed the bus to heaven, watching as they flew away. I was thinking of my life and from all i thought, I decided to forgive that end time junior sister of mine. Of course, why else am I a Christian? I plan to forgive her before the second coming of Jesus but for now, if there is any babalawo reading this and is willing to help me fight this battle, you are most appreciated. I don’t have her picture but I can describe her to you. As at Sunday, she was wearing a red skimpy gown that put her 2 tubers of yam legs on display. Her legs appear bowed and look like future weapons for World War III. She is in between red and dark. She pronouces air as hair. I know because when we were on that bus to mushin, she tapped the man sitting close to the window and said ‘please close the window , the hair is too much’. I also know because she pronounced I as hi, afford as hafford. if you call out these features on your mirror and she appears, Just help me put her inside bottle. That 50naira groundnut bottle. Let her be haffording there till Jesus comes.