Bits of a Road Trip.

Men fight but make up quickly.

I had a good journey – from Abuja to Okene. Although the music was too loud and everyone was quiet or sleeping (I think) because I slept most of the way too. After we stopped for a bit at Okene and continued, one of the passengers had a fight with the driver. The passenger complained about the rudeness of the driver and that the driver’s disrespect for his age. They threw words at each other like “stop the car let’s fight” and “shey you said you would leave the car and charter another, what’s stopping you?’ and other variations.

The other passengers tried to soothe the passenger and from there it led to politics, God, Nigerians living in other countries, and everyone sharing their perspectives. Everyone wanted the other to hear what they had to say. the driver wasn’t interested and increased the volume of the CD playing.

I happened to be the only female among six other passengers including the driver. I had a conversation with the guy who sat next to me – young, early thirties. He’s been married for a year or so. He has a child. He was surprised that I could say my rosary in the car. He said that it made him ashamed. He talked about his wife and kid a little and how he met her. He told me about how he once had God in the center but that has changed. He could not explain what changed. He told me that it was the best part of his life but he doesn’t know how come he can’t go back there. After sharing a bit of this and that, he said that my parents did well in the way I was brought up.

I talked really little and liked to listen.

Erm, do I look that young??? He guessed that I was either in school or serving. Of course I couldn’t be married, I had no ring on it. They just looked at me as a young girl. Child. Something sha. Lol.

When the man started getting comfortable, I started looking for the next exit to end the conversation and go back to reading Americanah. As soon as he got a call I went back to my book and he didn’t bother me again. I saw parts of me in some parts of the book – the way I must have acted consciously or unconsciously both past and present. It was like someone had described some parts of you in a certain way before but argued that it was a a false description, then you’re given this novel to read and see for yourself.

We had a flat tyre somewhere.

I noticed that the married men, at least the young ones liked to say ‘my wife’. I liked that it wasn’t said like they had just made a new acquisition, rather it was said with happiness and  warmth – someone they love and look forward to seeing or talking. Lool! Don’t ask me how I know. I just feel these things. I hope you get.

Then there was the former-mad passenger who told us that he doesn’t go to any church in Nigeria. He agreed that God is everywhere but not in any Nigerian church and mosque – his words. The other passengers wanted him to share his ideology. (Dear readers, I’ll like to hear your thoughts about this). He was asked and he told them that he stays at home on Sundays but he has told his wife and children can go to any church if they want to (I was appalled). I just stopped listening to anything he had to say and focused on my book.

At this time, Former-mad passenger and driver were talking and laughing. The music was increased to an obscene volume but no one complained. It gave me a headache but everyone seemed not bothered. They were either fiddling with their phones or having conversations in monotones. So I read Americanah all the way.

The end. 🙂


Oh, Don’t you Judge Him.

You had just dunked your blackberry into your pocket when you saw the blind man. The blind man was led by a man that was not. You had just approached the entrance of the church where everyone happened to be either making the sign of the cross after putting their hands in the bowl of Holy Water or waiting for the person in front of them to go in.

While you waited to enter, you noticed that the man leading the blind man had deserted him to enter the church. You hesitated. You kept staring at the blind man staggering while the members of the congregation either ignored him or pushed him away. You finally decided on what you wanted to do. You entered into the church.

You finally found a seat and joined in clapping and singing the Gloria. Your mind went back to the blind man and you became sad. You became sad because you did not help him even when you could. It reminded you of the Samaritan story. Oh, but someone could have helped him by now, you thought. It didn’t make you any brighter.