Enroute Enugu

My mom and I got to the park five minutes to five in the morning. We had hopes of following the first bus and moving as early as six. The latter was possible not the other.We whiled away time.

Various individuals were entering the park with their different personalities skimming on the surface of their skin. A good looking and physically fit guy gotmy attention. One elderly woman in particular had mom and I smiling at her antics. She was checking the tyres, the plate number, the windows. Just about everything.We paid, got our tickets and numbers.

I was famished, eating rice and stew the previous night would make one so. I opted to take ‘Okpa’, an Igbo delicacy that involves blending a special specie of beans, spicing it and steaming. I also got a bottle of @pepsicola to wash it down. I uncorked it, it was tamper proofed, took a gulp and relished it. I took a good look at the crown of the bottle to find ants having their share even though it had caused the death of some. I leave you to imagine the rest.

At five minutes to eight, they were ready to board us. We took our seats according to the numbers they had given us, except for my new favorite person who was seating beside me. The elderly lady!The only young guy that had been eying me was supposed to sitdown beside me according to numbers and mama was having none of it. She was clamoring that she is 6ft+ which is true. Mama was ranting on how the seat arranger had no manners in telling her the sitting arrangement was by numbers in Igbo. Everyone in the bus kept quiet. When she was told luggage was to be kept beside her, mama tuned in to fluent British English.She told the guy he had no right and she had all the right. Shecould drive and park the bus for him and she wouldn’t be trampled upon. Were it not her daughter that paid for the trip she wouldn’t get into the thing he calls a bus.

The guy obviously got tired of arguing with her as she was beat on hammering she was a woman who wouldn’t take nonsense. Other passengers were smiling, some shaking their heads. I turned to face my mom and said it’s serious book that’s worrying this mama. It should be her first time entering a bus to the east. Mom was like, so what?

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Boarding the bus to the coal city @Jibowu Yaba Lagos

My supposed prince charming had to take mamas seat, two rows away. It was going to be a very long trip. At eight eighteen, we moved from the park.

A woman who had to seat alone on the row with luggage piled up took it upon herself to pray.  She prayed for about two minutes. My mom told me she wanted to pray too. In my mind, I was like as far as the woman behind doesn’t feel bad.

I know my mom, she’s a prayer warrior in one of the leading Pentecostal Church. She started cool. She asked everyone to thank God and ask for forgiveness. Next thing you know, she started ranting about witches and wizard for over three minutes. Binding and casting. I was hoping in my mind she would round up soon. She was beginning to glorify them and I didn’t like it. Trust Nigerians to respond heartily to such prayer. At last, she drew the prayer to a close.

I breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed for the journey that ended up lasting eight hours. Yeah, my earphone port is spoilt so I settled for the scenery and history lecture from my mom.

Last time I was on this route was over decade ago. It was officially my first visit to my MOTHER’S LAND.

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One Comment Add yours

  1. lol, okay i really enjoyed that piece……haha

    Like

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