I had been away from my family for quite some time and I looked forward to when I would have a break to check on them. It was a new lifestyle that I had to accept and cope with as the reality.
My wife worked with a company while I was a civil servant. I was transferred to another state, a three hour journey away on land. I had to get a small apartment at my new place and decided to visit my family whenever the opportunity presented itself. My wife had initiated a transfer to a convenient branch of her organization to join me but it was still under processing.
The opportunity came to visit them and spend a week break with them. I picked up my bag early in the morning for the journey. I got to the motor park and saw that the park was almost empty. There was fuel scarcity in town. The oil marketers were in a dagger with the government on consequences of some government policies.
I was thinking of the next thing to do when my wife's call came.
"Daddy, buy me my favorite bread." My son who used his mother's phone to call and reminded me.
"As usual, be rest assured that I will get it for you." I replied to him despite the uncertainty about my movement because of the unavailability of a vehicle.
I left my bag with a fellow stranded traveler to trek a few meters to a shop to buy the bread that I promised my son. I was confident that I would get a vehicle, it could only be behind my schedule.
I barely returned to my bag when a group of protesters in solidarity with the marketers came with a protest to lock the motor park.
"We can't allow this policy that impoverished the people to stand. The pump price is a killer." The leader of the protesters explained to the few of us in the park.
We were asked to move out of the park which we did.
"No interstate movement today," they declared as they locked the gate to the park.
I was at the point of taking a bike to return home when an eighteen seater bus emerged.
"Ege! Ege!! Ege!!!," the conductor of the bus was shouting his destination.
The protesters disagreed with the bus driver initially before the plea from the park officials made them change their mind to allow the bus to carry the passengers. The park officials made it clear that the bus was the only one that would leave that day and that the park would resume its normal activities after the industrial action was over.
Ege was en route to my town but the town is volatile to civil unrest. My experience the previous year when I stopped over in the town to take another bus to my town was a nightmare that I wouldn't want to have it repeat again.
I had two options of either suspending my journey till the strike was over or joining the bus and boarding another bus to my town from Ege. I decided to go with the latter because I was eager to see my family and I wasn't sure of when the strike would be over.
We hopped into the bus and the journey began. Beside me in the bus was a young handsome man.
"Good morning Sir, he greeted me.
"Morning," I replied.
What was playing through my mind was the experience I had on a similar trip a year before. I was on the bus with others when we were attacked by armed robbers. The passengers in the vehicle were screened and the valuables of the non-natives of Ege were collected while the natives were spared. One of the passengers in the bus turned out to be a member of the attackers. He shared information about the movement of the vehicle with his fellow criminals before we were eventually stopped a few meters from town. I was tormented with the experience, especially the silence and assumed approvals of the fellow passengers that were spared. I was flogged with the side of a matchet when the money found on me was below their expectation. It got to a point that I was praying to survive the assault from such mean souls.
"How am I sure that the people from Ege are not all wicked? In fact they are," I concluded in my mind.
I wasn't ready to familiarize myself with anybody in the bus, including the young man carrying a smiling face.
"These people can't be trusted." I declared.
In fact, the facial appearance of my seatmate was reminiscent of one of the attackers in my previous experience. Wickedness is never written on the face. I decided to avoid familiarization with anybody. All I was praying for is to get to Ege and board another bus to my town.
"My name is John. Are you traveling to Ege or beyond?" He asked.
I wasn't a type that liked ignoring people no matter their class on a normal day. I mustered the courage to reply to him though not cheerfully.
"I am Patrick. I am going beyond Ege, thank you." As I said this, I lay my head on the back of the seat in front of me. I was trying to avoid any further chat from him.
I maintained that position throughout the journey. We got to Ege and I had a sigh of relief, especially moving past the spot where I was attacked previously.
Suddenly, we began to hear gunshots from far and near. The tormenting memory came over me again.
We were accosted by a team of police that advised us to join their convoy to safety. They took us to the police station.
"Hoodlums took over the fuel scarcity protest by marketers and consumers. They hijacked it and started looting shops." The police explained the situation to us.
We barely reached the station when the gunshots started approaching the station.
"Don't panic, we are up to the task." A police sergeant assured us of our protection while pointing his hand to a hall within the premises for us to stay there.
John tapped me and asked me to join him to leave the station and go to his house which was just a stone throw from the station.
"The last time that these bad boys engaged this officers in this station, they overran them and burnt that building." He narrated the previous encounter while pointing to a burnt building through the window of the hall.
"We are not safe here, let's go. I am a son of the soil, I know the easiest and safest route to my house." He held my hand and was moving out.
"Won't you pick your bag?" I asked.
"I don't have any valuable documents in it. Do you have any in yours?"
"No, I have only clothes and other accessories." I responded
"We will come back for them." He said as he dragged me out through the rare entrance and we left the station.
I thought of the implications of trusting these "wicked people".
Do I have an option? No, I thought.
After a few minutes, we arrived at his home safely. His parents welcomed and celebrated our safe arrival. I was entertained beyond whatever my family could do for me.
"Are these not the same Ege people?" I wondered.
I spent two days with John and his family before the situation in town was brought under control for me to continue my journey after picking my bag from the police station.
The station was actually attacked after we left but the police were able to repel and neutralize some of the attackers.
On our way to the park, I appreciated John and highlighted my experience in the previous year for him.
"That was why I didn't want to be familiar with anybody on the bus. I had wanted to avoid the "wicked people". But with your action, I was wrong to have believed that everyone in this town is wicked."
In his response, he explained to me that in every tribe or town, you would find the kind-hearted souls and the wicked ones. The ratio may vary but it is obtainable everywhere.
"It's good if we avoid stereotyping a group of people for the crime of one or few. Let love lead." He advised.
I boarded my vehicle, after collecting his phone number with a promise to visit him when we get back to the city. John changed my erroneous conclusion about Ege people.
