By Hazel
Let’s talk about travelling by road in Nigeria.
Travelling with family or friends is one thing, the kind you can call a road trip. There is the sweet, slow high life music playing in the car, there is the gossiping about family and friends and, there is the buying of fruits and plantain chips from hawkers in traffic.
Travelling by public transport is another thing. I’m talking of the kind where you have to be in a bus with about ten to thirteen other passengers and a driver who barely speaks English. This is the kind where you’re never fully relaxed. Where you’re worried that the driver might fall asleep. Where the driver keeps yelling insults at other vehicles overtaking him.
Inasmuch as I’m not a hundred percent comfortable travelling this way, I enjoy it. I like to observe the different personalities in the bus and make up stories about them. There are some that are extra friendly and will gist with you like they’ve known you since forever. There are the daddies who will always argue about Buhari, APC, Trump or Arsenal.
There are the uncles and aunties who keep falling asleep on their neighbours’ shoulders. There are those who will make a thousand phone calls before they get to their destination. There are those who the bus to them is a dining place, who will eat and eat and then throw the biscuit wrappers or plastic plates out the window. And then, there are those who find partners on the bus.
One time, I was on a bus from Ibadan to Lagos and there was a guy and a lady sitting behind me. They had just met each other on the bus but, they talked and talked till he got to his destination and collected her number. They talked about everything from movies to life goals. It was like they were destined to meet (this is an exaggeration). But the point is they got along very well and they might have even hung out after that day and…well, who knows?
Next up are the drivers. You either get one of such drivers: the angry one, the noise-making one, the conversationalist, the quiet one, the slow one, the flash or the sleeping one. You don’t want to be in a bus with a sleeping driver because hmmm… The angry one is the type who makes statements like, “No be today I start to dey drive o” or “Na you wan teach me how to drive?” The conversationalist may look like he’s the best type of driver, but is he?
I was in this bus one time and the driver kept turning back to play with the baby behind him. We were on a highway and he kept turning back to say, “Gimme your Gala na” to the little girl. I just sat there, wanting to slap either the driver or the girl’s parents who should have held her closer and asked the driver to pay attention.
Well, I have to acknowledge the fact that these drivers are wonderful people. How do they know so many short cuts? You’re on this familiar road and the next thing you know, they’re turning into one street and muttering, “There’s hold up at the front”. We just have to give it to them for being solution-oriented.
Now, to the part of the journey I don’t like—the part where the driver is stopped by the police. Till today, I can’t still comprehend why these policemen collect money from drivers. They don’t even ask for their license or any document, they just block the roads with tree branches, stop the vehicles and stretch out their hands to the drivers.
I’ve seen policemen go look for change just so they can collect money. The last time I travelled, the driver was asked to pay one hundred and fifty naira. I looked at the pot-bellied man and wondered, “this is someone’s father.” He just stood there looking at the driver like, “You know you’re not going to go if you don’t pay the money.”
When the driver paid, he allowed us to go and I started wondering what Mr Pot-bellied Policeman would use one hundred and fifty naira to do? Would he share it with his colleagues? Would he use it to buy a bottle of chilled Pepsi? And then, it hit me! Mr Pot-bellied Policeman collected one hundred and fifty naira from our driver. He probably did the same for the hundreds of vehicles that had gone before us and would have done the same for the ones that went after us. I’m sure you already have a rough estimation of how much they make everyday from all the one fifties.
Other than what goes on inside the bus, there’s what goes on outside the bus. There are the bike men who act like the kings of the highway, speeding through like they have nine lives. Also, there are the hawkers of which there are different kinds. But two are very peculiar- there are some hawkers I see and wonder why they chose to sell what they sell. They sell goods that people would be reluctant to buy in traffic. For example, clothes. I just pity them and wonder how much they make after being under the sun all day.
The second set of hawkers are the you-must-buy-by-force hawkers. These are the ones who will open your windows and shove their goods (commonly bread and plantain chips) in your faces. Yes, everyone is hustling to make money but be calming down, those who want to buy will buy.
With all of these happenings and personalities you meet while travelling by road in Nigeria, the happiest moment is when you get to your destination in one piece because in Nigeria today, that is a big accomplishment.
