Most Nigerian roads are terrible. We go out everyday without an assurance of coming back home. Accidents happen daily and claim lives on the roads. Those people that died were hopeful of returning home when they were leaving. Unfortunately, they lost their lives to traffic accidents.
When I think of this, I realize how risky it is to go out of one's house everyday. But one can't because of this, refuse to go out. No matter what you do for a living, you will have a reason to ply the roads at one point or the other.
I have had the course to mourn closed relatives that lost their lives to accidents. The most recent was my younger brother who lost his life to a road accident.
In the face of all these, I still go out daily for my activities with the hope that I will be back home successfully. The major factor that leads to this problem is the bad shape of our roads. I have experienced many ugly scenes on the roads. In a few of such instances, I narrowly escaped death.
I would like to talk about the one in which I had a very close encounter with death. I escaped it narrowly.
It happened when I was staying with my father in Ekiti state. He bought a motorcycle for me to aid our movement to the farm and other intercommunity movements. On that fateful morning, I needed to transport some laborers to the farm with the motorcycle. Upon checking the motorcycle in the morning, I realized that there was not enough fuel in the tank.
I rode it to the fueling station to buy Petroleum Motor Spirits (PMS) popularly called petrol. As I was getting close to the fueling station, I saw a wide section of the road that was water-logged. There was a narrow portion beside the water that was pliable. In order to avoid passing through the muddy water, I took to the small path that wasn't bad. I diverted my movement to the left without looking behind to see if there was a vehicle trailing me.
Immediately I did that, I felt the passage of a big vehicle by my right. The vehicle splashed the water all over me because of how close it was to me. I managed to navigate my way to the road side and parked. I alighted from my motorcycle only to see that I just narrowly escaped from being crushed by a luxurious bus.
Some onlookers were already on their feet with their hands on their heads. They concluded that I had been crushed initially. They were full of appreciation to God when they saw me with my motorcycle at the other side of the road.
Despite that my body was covered with mud, I was sweating profusely. I nearly urinate in my pants.
Some elderly men watching the whole scenario came to meet me. They seized the motorcycle's key and accused me of being a novice in riding a motorcycle. Blames were being rained on me from different quarters. I couldn't utter a word. I remained in my sitting position sweating.
I was held there until a man that knew me very well came and told them that I wasn't a novice in riding motorcycles. My key was given to me with a serious warning to be careful how I ride my motorcycle on the federal road.
I bought the fuel and returned home. I couldn't tell my family the details of what happened.
For the remaining period that I used the motorcycle before leaving Ekiti, I became more careful especially when on the major roads that are used by all sizes of vehicles. It is an experience that I can't forget in a hurry.
I thank God for the survival.