Good evening, people!
It has been a while, I think a few days. I do hope everyone has been fine?
Well, remember how I said I’d told my boss I wanted to go home? I was not kidding! I wrote a letter requesting for permission to travel which he had to sign before I could submit it to my Local Government Inspector. But I realised that the spirit of Anambra was using my request letter to wrap akara when my boss the reverend father changed his mind over my journey a few days later. I worked all that day and most of the night to finish that work… that was Friday night.
I woke up by 7am the following day which was yesterday. With a journey of ten hours before me, that was a late time to wake up but then, I could not help it since I had slept by 2:30am, when I finished working on the magazine articles.
I began parking, had my bath and left the house by 8am. I went to say goodbye to my boss the reverend father and he gave me #2,500 to buy ‘something’ for my mother. I’m sorry, Mama, I used it to buy Body Fantasy. I will pay back when I start working, I promise!
I was dressed just as I had imagined I would be dressed for the journey: blue jeans, ash shirt, black shoes, khaki green and brown skin.
I was the last passenger to board the bus which left Onitsha by 9:45am. I sat at the rear with three skinny people, and I am NOT skinny, so the seat was free and comfortable. Before the journey began, other passengers complained that there was no AC in the bus, convinced by the empty AC slots above our heads. When the journey began, however, the driver turned the AC on and there was no reducing it: the bus was as cold as 10 naira ice block! Thank God for my khaki jacket!
The journey was eventful. Somewhere in Kogi State, we stopped to ease or bladders. We had left that location when one girl began screaming that she left her money on the floor. We had to go back to get her over-ten-thousand-naira money that was tied in a black nylon bag.
Soon, they started talking about Biafra. They said Igbo people were filled with hate and jealousy for each other. They gave examples of people they knew who came back to the east and were stranded but were not helped by their relatives. They said the Hausas were a better lot, that if not for the people who were misled by religion, they were actually more loving of each other as well as being more considerate. They said if Biafra happens, Biafrans would be in a more pitiful state that it already is. ALL THESE PEOPLE TALKING WERE IGBO! And I…I was just like:
I do not know if it was the route the driver took or if the road has got worse but this journey back home was the longest I have ever had. It took more than 6 hours to get to Lokoja from Onitsha. It was already very dark when we got to Abuja. I kept singing my junction to the driver because I couldn’t see well in the darkness. When I asked again, this man gasped and parked the bus, turned and told me we had passed my bus stop. I was in many worlds at the same time. It was already about 9pm, how was I going to get home? The hot tears in my eyes as I alighted the bus and made for the opposite side of the road were hot enough to cook moi-moi.
I stood there for a few minutes before I got a #100 bus to my junction where I also stood for good 20 minutes before a car came along going my direction. I got home at about 10pm, hungry, tired, angry and hungrier.
This is the worst journey I have ever had.
I am a Nigerian graduate documenting the perks and pains of being a graduate without long leg in Nigeria; while also contributing her quota to make the world a better place. Lets be friends on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter. You'll find me there as Naijafreshgraduate.