By Vanessa Obioha
‘Mile 2! Mile 2! #100 Mile 2!’, bellowed the dirty-looking conductor. Ngozi stared at the rickety blue and white coaster bus in disgust as it crawled to the bus-stop. The driver joined in the chant, a chewing stick in his mouth; he coughed and spat every now and then. The driver looked as old as his bus, she wondered who was older…
She hates taking coaster buses; they lack the meandering speed of danfos even though they are relatively cheap. She’s been standing at the bus-stop for almost 15 minutes and so far this is the cheapest commercial bus that had stopped by. She hates Mondays. The crowd at the bus-stop was always scary and there was always scarcity of buses. Sometimes she wondered if it was deliberate. The few commercial drivers available utilise this situation very well by hiking the fares. If not that she had promised KC that she would attempt the interview, she would have stayed back home, at least she was guaranteed partial rest.
While she was still contemplating if to take the ride or not, an old woman with bosoms like her two sleeping pillows at home and buttocks almost the size of her cushion ran past her, shoving her to a nearby ditch. If she was expecting a kind of apology from the heavy weight woman, she was disappointed. She cussed as she gained her balance, clutching her signature bag to her side. That was when she noticed that almost everyone has joined the bus. She glanced at her leather wristwatch; she was almost 15 minutes late for the interview. How she wished she had more time to wait for a lucky danfo but the thought of Volks and Barracks traffic scared her. Traffic at these spots is unpredictable and being a Monday morning, anything could happen. Unhappily, she joined the mad rush of people who were still struggling to get a seat on the almost filled bus.
‘Five five for seat, chance still dey for back. Madam shift.’
The conductor ordered her to the back seat where two corpulent women had infringed on the little space meant for her. She stared at both women; one of them unfortunately was the woman who had pushed her away earlier.
‘Abeg make una shift oh!’ she said, squeezing her tiny bum into the space. An old man with tobacco stained teeth at the extreme left grunted. ‘This seat suppose be four no be five’.
The troublesome old woman wiggled, making Ngozi more uncomfortable, her left bum was slanted, her legs cramped as the seat before hers was occupied by a tall burly man whose weight leaned towards her legs. Exasperated, she shouted a plea that her co-passengers should make room for her but it fell on deaf ears. She bemoaned her fate, wishing that she could turn back the hands of time. They all looked like packed sardines in the bus, sweaty bodies with a mixed scent of Cologne, shabbily dressed and the corporate dressed, all made a beautiful juxtaposition of life to her. Fela’s suffering and smiling quickly played in her head. How the late Afrobeat king foresaw the sympathetic plight of the average Nigerian was still a mystery to her.
She stared ahead, catching a glimpse of a fashionable young lady cruising past the coaster in a latest Hyundai SUV model. She bit her lower lip, not only in anger of the situation she found herself but the nausea. Her morning sickness had been worse than she had anticipated; she quickly opened her bag and took out a Tomtom sweet. It would help keep her hormones down till she gets to her destination; she hoped that there will be a good convenience for her to empty her stomach.
If only Bode has lived, if only he hadn’t postponed the introduction, life would have been easier for her, unlike her present predicament. If not for friends like KC and Amaka she wondered how she would have sailed through these past two months. It has been a living hell; her once luxurious life suddenly became a nightmare. The shades of sleep had been lifted from her eyes, turning her to a nocturnal owl. If only she had someone to prey on, it would have been a bit entertaining. But she was alone. She was not only faced with the daily struggles of life but the pain and rejection from her family and loved ones. The mere thought that she had gotten pregnant for a married man was like a taboo to her family.
Only KC and Amaka had understood the kind of relationship she had with Bode. It was pure unadulterated love, a match made in heaven, two souls meant for each other. He was everything to her and she was everything to him. She was his spotlight and he ensured that she got all the attention and glam she desired. At first, she had thought it was just a fling, some fantasy that will fade away with time but instead it had nurtured into an undying love. They were a perfect match, his colleagues said so, and her close friends couldn’t argue less. She had met Bode at a party organised by her law firm during her national youth service in Abuja. They were everywhere in Abuja. He was a complete socialite and businessman, showing her off like his latest treasure. He wasn’t the kind of married man that denies their lovers in front of his friends. He boldly introduced her to everyone he knows with torrents of admiration for her beauty and intelligence. He would hold the door out for her whenever they go out, he would carry her bag, even dust the very ground she walked on. Those little romantic gestures won her heart completely. She didn’t blink an eye when she rejected her boyfriend of almost two years proposal to marry her. Bode was her world. He was so kind, loving and respectful. They talk about his wife on some occasions, he loves her no doubt but she (Ngozi) was the centre of his world. He never failed to tell her how much she had changed his life. The sweetest thing anyone had ever told her. It felt so good to have impacted someone’s life positively and being credited for such. She was so over the moon with Bode. Thus, when he had proposed to her, she accepted with smiles. Her dream was almost coming true. Who would believe that Cupid be so kind to her. His marital status didn’t bother her. His gentle love erased all doubts in her mind.
She curled her lips as images of their intense love-making filled her mind. It was always wild and steamy. He completes her in every sense. And each time he moans how much he wants her to have his baby. The thought of it always thrills her. She imagined how cute their baby will look like. Fair, tall and very intelligent. The daughter of a lawyer and an accountant would definitely be brilliant. Thus it was with great joy that she announced her pregnancy to him. He had been very happy, so happy that he promised to buy her a car. He told her they had to travel to Lagos to meet her parents so that he can ask for her hand in marriage. Ngozi was overjoyed at this news. That night, they made compassionate love, building oasis filled with promises. They had planned to go the week before Christmas but he called later to cancel the trip for an urgent business trip to Lokoja. So she had made the trip alone, unknown to her that she would never see him again for he never made it to Abuja or to Lagos. He was involved in a car crash that took his life. His best friend Somi announced the news to her through a phone call and advised her not to attend the funeral to avoid any drama since his wife knew about her affair with him. She was deprived the opportunity to tell him goodbye not even on Facebook or Twitter – his accounts had been blocked. All attempts to reach any of his friends when she travelled back to Abuja for her P.O.P proved abortive. The ones she managed to get on the phone quickly dropped the call when she identified herself. It was just another bitter pill of life she had to swallow.
‘Agboju dey?’
The conductor’s voice jolted her back to reality. She quickly said ‘owa.’
The heat was becoming unbearable these days. Her pink striped shirt already had sweat patches under her armpit. She wiped her sweaty forehead with her blue handkerchief as she crossed to the other side of the road. She took a bike to TFC on 23 Road. KC had told her that the law firm was opposite the eatery. As she was about to pay the bike rider his fare, a Toyota Corona drove into the parkway of the eatery. For some unknown reasons, she found herself staring at the car, like some supernatural force pulled her to the flashy black ride. The passenger door opened, a fair lady in a sleeveless cream top on short pencil skirt with an irresistible long legs adorned with adorable black shoes stepped out. She was smiling at the driver of the car. She painted a beautiful picture of a rich girl in love with a rich guy. Then the door of the driver opened.
‘Madam take your change now’.
The bike rider’s voice sounded like a distant call as Ngozi eyes stared in disbelief at the figure whose eyes stared back at her in shock, fear or was it guilt? She would have gladly believed in miracles if it was a different scene. Maybe, the biblical Lazarus story could have made more sense to her now. But no, it was reality, harsh reality staring cruelly at her. Unbelievable as it appeared, Bode was alive, in flesh and blood, right in front of her, dressed in his impeccable grey suit, serenading another victim.
*Obioha writes for thisdaylive.com
