It was the year I got admission into the university. I was to resume classes and I has to travel.down to the state my school was located. Prior, when I took the post-ume examination, my dad had gone with me. And you know that feeling of safety when you travel in company of an acquaintance especially an older person.
This time however, I was to go alone. All was set for my arrival. My mum had insisted that someone accompanied me but I vehemently refused. I was supposed to be a big boy. A big boy in university.
The day of the trip, I set out of the house by past 11am. My parents complained and tried to make me stay back an extra night and leave early the next day but I refused. They said I was going to arrive Enugu late at night which was unreasonable being that I was new to the city. I did not see their point, it angered me that they thought of me as still a little boy. I had everything figured out.
When I arrived the park, I found the last bus loading. There were just two passengers already aboard. I hurriedly went to the counter and bought my ticket before my mum, who went with me all the way to the motor park, would insist we went back home.
It wasn't until past 2pm that the bus got filled and we began the journey. I bade my mum goodbye and was excited to be having my first ever solo trip.
I felt like a big boy. In control. Like I would still do, I plugged in my earphone and was blasting to music from my blackberry bold 5.
I would take turns going to facebook and Whatsapp. One exciting part of journeies for me is purchasing snacks and drinks from roadside hawkers. It was even more exciting because then, compared to other times when I went along with an elder, I was spending my money. It felt different.
Fast forward
At around 7pm, our bus stopped in the middle of nowhere. A long, scary looking bush path that had toads croaking and trees taking scary figures. After trying in vain to start the bus, we were all made to alight. The driver opened up the bonnet, went by the car boot and got out a toolbox. It was not possible that a mechanic would show up by that time of the night. So the driver and some men from the bus had to try what they could.
I texted one of my close friends whom I was chatting with what the situation was. He replied me immediately saying that the area where our bus had stopped was a danger zone. He said armed robbers and bad guys usually way-laid vehicles there. That it was at that location that his mother's cousin was kidnapped and brutally tortured until they raised money for ransom. I believed him. That was his state of origin, plus, at that time, cases of kidnap were rampant. My heart sank. I began to tremble.
I called my mum.
She answered on the third ring.
"Hello, how you de? Una don reach?," she asked me.
"Mummy pray for me. Pray for us," I quickly said..ignoring her questions.
"Wetin? Something happen?" I could hear fear and panic creep into her voice.
"Our bus go stop for road. And the place na bush. I don hear plenty bad thing about this place."
"Aboi calm down. Nothing de happen," I heard my big brother say in the background.
"Oya, calm down. No worry, no cry. Nothing go happen, I go pray for una now...(she started to pray)Almighty and everlasting father.....in Jesus name, Amen."
"Amen," I said too.
"Okay, go near where other passengers de. Now now, the car go work and una go reach safely. No cry again. I go call you small time, you hear?" she told me, the trace of fear in her voice now absent.
On hearing, "no cry again," I felt my face with my hands and they were wet. Even my nose had gathered snort and I realized I had been sniffing.
When I looked up from where I stood, I found pairs of eyes on me. The driver said to me, "cry cry baby. Mummy's boy, enter motor let's go." The other passengers burst into laughter. I felt so small.
Apparently, they were done fixing the bus and had been waiting for me to get done with what I was doing. After that day, I counted myself out of anything concerning night trips, although. I have embarked on a few that went smoothly. But that one incident remains new in my memory. Of course, how can I ever forget?
Thanks for stopping by
SOKA
