Tired of the plenty errands I had to run that fateful sunny day, I was exhausted but happy that I was finally on my way home.
At Anthony bus-stop, I sat and waited for Oshodi bus with constant tired yawns. Every bus that stopped just wasn’t heading my way.
After a short while, a bus came along, and it was going to Oshodi. Getting in required much struggle, as I wasn’t the only one that had been in the long wait for a bus heading to Oshodi.
I finally got in some minutes past noon, out of sun and ready to enjoy the cool breeze that was to accompany the ride.
On getting to Step bus-stop after the Oshodi heritage park, the conductor announced that all passengers headed to Oshodi should alight, using the regular Yoruba dialect, he screamed “Oshodi bole” and immediately started calling on Mile 2 passengers.
The plenty complains and curses of commuters wondering why the the driver didn’t drive to Oshodi bus-stop before calling in other passengers fell on deaf ears and people began to alight angrily. I decided to sit back after thinking about the scorching sun and the long distance I had to walk before getting to Oshodi bus-stop.
Using the fact that the conductor hadn’t given me my balance of N150 I sat back whispering, “conductor change” as my sweet excuse to still be seated. The bus began moving as little space was remaining for the bus to get full. I could feel my face flush with pride that my plan had worked.
On getting to Oshodi, I alighted, while commuters struggled to take my seat. I faced the conductor for my balance this time at the top of my voice. As the bus got full, the conductor reached into his pocket, hopped on the bus and the driver drove off in nano seconds like I was dreaming.
With confusion, annoyance and self pity I just stared at the bus leave. The conductor turned with a coy smile and my balance in his hands.