I need a car…

My country people!!

It’s only Wednesday and I’m exhausted… About two weeks ago, I made up my mind to be more independent in my transportation life. By independent, I mean going to work and coming back on my own. Before then, every day was an adventure. Usually, I find my way in the morning… that is not a problem as long as I leave the house early enough. It was returning home from work that was the issue.

It was in July/August, in the middle of the Ebola wahala that all this started. You guys remember that at the time, we didn’t really have all the details of the disease. It was easier to sensationalize it than to just Google the facts… all we knew then was that;

i) The Ebola virus was manufactured in a lab in Ferguson, Missouri.

ii) The virus had well developed limbs and it could walk/jump/fly from one person to another, penetrate the skin and cause your internal organs to shrink.

Naturally, like everyone else, I was afraid. As fucked up as my life is, I didn’t wanna die. And I figured that the fastest way to catch Ebola was by being pressed together like sardines with sweaty strangers in a danfo bus. So I reduced public transportation, and after a while, I stopped taking buses altogether.

This fear of Ebola made me an expert on the lives of my colleagues who stay in my area. I knew what days they had mid-week service, I knew when they had to leave early to pick up kids and I knew when there was a turning up and he/she would not be heading straight home… ‘turn up’ is usually on Fridays.

I also knew the unspoken rules and regulations of each car…

There was the sleeping rule; One car had a paid driver and that car was sweet because I could sleep the entire journey without feeling bad. I and Madame would lounge in the back seat and she didn’t mind as long as I didn’t snore or drool on her car seat while I slept. Then there was my friend’s car… that’s the cool car. It was my favourite car because we would gist and laugh from the minute we leave till when I get off. However, in that car, no matter how tired I am, I dare not sleep.

There was also the eating rule; In one car, you could eat whatever you want… I’m talking eba, fufu, ewedu, amala… whatever! It didn’t matter. In another car, the eating rules were stricter. It was there I discovered that I had a secret power/hidden talent. Did you guys know that I can chew kpekere silently? Well, neither did I until one fateful day in September. I was in a car on my way back home. The car was dead silent. My colleague’s husband was driving and no one was saying anything. Me, I was in the back seat cold and hungry… I hadn’t eaten anything the whole day.

We got to Ikoyi and met some traffic. I signaled to one of the Kpekere boys and a couple of them rushed to the car as I wound the window down. The entire time, I was feeling very self-conscious. I didn’t know whether or not to offer them some. Were they too cream for kpekere? Or did they like their plantain self-fried? I didn’t know.

I bought two packets and just stared at them in my laps… you guys know how noisy the kpekere wrappers sound right? So you can imagine how much louder the sound was in a quiet car; it sounded like Christmas bangers. But I had no choice because I was starving. It wasn’t until after I opened it that I realized that the least of my problems was the noise the wrapper would make. I managed to open it, yes, but how was I going to chew the kpekere without sounding like a stone crusher in a quarry?

Brethren, I can’t explain how I did it, but I ate one whole packet of kpekere without making a sound!

*waits for applause to die down*

Afterwards, just before I got my stop, my colleague asked, “Ngor, you didn’t buy your Chipsy again?”

I told her I bought some, and even ate one. Till now, she marvels at how I was able to eat it without making a sound. I think she even respects me more.

*waits for second round of applause to die down*

Anyway, that’s how I discovered my superpower (silent kpekere chewing) and that’s how I got spoilt. Suddenly, I was too good for public transportation. I would sit in my front seat, with my seat belt, and look upon other poor passengers in Danfo buses, feeling sorry for them as they were packed like sardines in those tiny buses.

Fast forward some months later and one evening, I realized that I had become an unabashed car chaser and colleague harasser (When will you be ready to leave? What time is your husband coming? Must you pick up your child from daycare? When I was two I could find my way home from daycare… and so on and so forth) On so many days, I would be stuck in the office because I can’t go home till someone else is ready to go home. And it’s not like it’s a productive kind of waiting. The internet has been terrible recently so it’s not as if I can download good quality porn while I’m waiting. In the end, by the time I get back home, I am exhausted from sitting around and waiting.

So, I made up my mind to grow up. Ebola has gone and there’s nothing to be afraid of except some body odour, sweat and a lot of shouting/arguing between bus conductors and passengers. So, far, it’s been a living nightmare. Nothing will make you hate life more than being squished between two ugly ass men/toads who sit with their legs wide open and tell you to “ask your oga make im buy moto for you na, if e dey pain you.”

Happy new month people… maybe tomorrow I’ll gist you about how I got married last week 😀