Wunmi locked her concentration on the beautiful girl who brought out a novel and started reading immediately the bus pulled out of the motor park. Just as the bus climbed up the bridge and onto the Oshodi/Apapa Expressway, the last passenger to board cleared his throat and Wunmi and the other passengers knew what was to come. Either he had goods to sell, or he had some story about some unfortunate victim of this or that attack, languishing in the hospital and in need of the public’s support to go for an operation. If none of those, then he was a preacher who had stolen into their early morning privacy, determined not to leave them any moment of peace to dwell in thoughts of activities that will fill their day as he had no regards for what their minds were filled with because what he had to offer should be at the top of anyone’s list of priority; salvation, and at the end of his teachings, an envelope would go round for his evangelism to be supported, looking from the side of his eyes to know who was putting money and who wasn’t. After collecting the envelopes that contained money which would probably pay for other trips in buses around Lagos preaching the gospel, he would encourage the passengers to look for bible believing churches to attend. It was hard telling the real ones from the fakes. In Lagos, people would do anything to survive.
The instant the last passenger who had something to say said, “Praise the lord,” Wunmi instantly knew they were about to receive a sermon. When Mr. Preacher, asked the others to bow their heads so they could commit the journey into the hands of God, Wunmi looked to see if the beautiful girl would obey that. The girl did. She actually closed her book and responded at the end of the prayer. After the prayer, the man launched into a sermon, while most of the passengers did other things. The men with newspapers opened and read. Some looked out the window, probably listening. Wunmi wasn’t paying attention. Her attention was for the beautiful girl who was listening to the preacher with rapt attention.
It amused Wunmi in no small way because others would think that the beautiful girl would be the one not to listen, because of the way she was dressed, especially when the man was preaching about presentation. At one point in the middle of the sermon a phone rang. The phone jingle was the trending Konko Below song by the masked one, Labgaja. Wunmi discovered it was the beautiful girl’s phone, and she smiled. Wunmi already was falling deeply in love with the girl who seemed interesting. The phone jingle didn’t play to the end because the girl ended it, so she could continue listening to the preacher. Wunmi found that impressive.
The girl’s phone rang again minutes after the preacher rounded up and this time she answered it and Wunmi paid attention to her side the conversation on the phone. “Hello.” Wunmi smiled at the cool voice. The girl seemed to have everything. “I’m sorry I couldn’t answer earlier.” Wunmi couldn’t see the expression on the girl’s face but she had got one very cool and smooth voice. “Your story … yes, I got your story, and I passed it on to my editor.”
Editor. Wunmi raised a brow. The beautiful girl worked in the print media.
The girl laughed. “Call me later, will you? … Em …I’m not sure if I can.” The girl laughed. “You are flattering me again.”
Wunmi knew instantly that the beautiful girl was talking to a guy.
After the phone conversation, the girl resumed reading her novel.
Less than ten minutes later, Wunmi alighted.
*****
All through that week, Wunmi hoped to see the girl again, but she didn’t.
She had filled her diary with writings about her. That Tuesday was one Wunmi would never forget.
*****
Back to the Monday that Wunmi was the first passenger in the bus, she adjusted herself and checked her time piece, praying the bus would get filled quickly. She didn’t want to be late for school. Today would be a very interesting one at school. The SSS3 students were starting their Senior School Certificate Examination in a month’s time, after which, they’d graduate out of the school. As a result the next school prefects would be named on the assembly ground that Monday morning. Wunmi knew she was one of the prefects because for the past two weeks she and other SSS2 students had spent their break-time period in the Principal’s office, where the school authority questioned them.
Wunmi returned to the moment when another passenger arrived. The new passenger got into the first row in front of Wunmi and turned to look around. “When will this bus get full?” She hissed something quite inaudible and alighted.
Wunmi watched in fascination. It was the same girl; the beautiful one from the previous Tuesday whom she had just been thinking about. Wunmi felt disappointed the girl had to leave because the bus was still empty. She really wanted to know the girl. Today she noticed that the girl wasn’t that tall, but the heels she wore hid the fact.
*****
Idara Effiong picked a newspaper and paid for it. She’s supposed to be early at work today because she was called the night before from the office that some systems crashed and they lost most of the materials needed for the next edition of the magazine that was supposed to be heading for the press Monday night, and her material was one of them, so it was starting from the scratch. From where she stood, she could see the bus. Only one passenger was inside. The schoolgirl. Idara shook her head. She couldn’t understand why parents would send their children to schools that are far away from home when schools are around their homes. If it were a boarding school that would have been different, but for a day student to go all the way from Mile Two to Ikeja or wherever the girl’s school was didn’t sit well with her. The journey, the stress, the time, and the traffic jam.
She looked back at the bus in time to see a man and a woman climb in. Idara looked at them closely feeling she had seen them before but she couldn’t remember where. She approached the bus slowly knowing that four passengers would help attracted more. Eighteen more passengers to go.
As she was about to board, a young guy slipped through her in a brusque way and entered. Idara gave him a very irritated look, wondering why he should hurry when the bus was practically empty. What irritated her most was that he took the seat she vacated earlier. She wished she could tell him to leave the spot since she was there first, but she hadn’t told the schoolgirl, who was the only one in the bus then, to keep the seat for her. Idara looked around for an alternative seat since she wanted one next to the window so she could get sufficient air supply should they run into morning traffic.
She noticed the couple again and the way they were seated ticked her memory. She had been in the same bus with them the previous week. She couldn’t remember what day of the week it had been. The albino man again, like that fateful day, was seated on the third row next to the window while the woman, who definitely should be his wife, had a different seat beside the schoolgirl on the second row away from her husband. Idara noticed them because of their attitude. The woman would turn in her seat to talk to the man, who was always looking out of the window. Idara remembered they had dropped off at the same place last week.
When Idara finally got into the bus, she went to the last row and sat next to the window. Having nothing to do she brought out her novel to read and immediately she felt her usual pang of guilt because always she wished she carried a bible in her bag. She knew she had to study her bible constantly but Idara kept drifting away. As a result, whenever anyone offered to preach the gospel in a bus, she surrendered her utmost attention. She loved God and knew she owed him a lot. She quickly dropped the novel onto her laps and bowed her head, trying to get some quiet time in meditation, and seeking God’s forgiveness. At twenty-two, her life was filled with one task or the other and has been that way since she was ten. She hardly had time for herself or for boyfriends when she came off age. She took the time she spent in buses to meditate and commune with her God and reflect on her life. But that Monday morning, as she tried to concentrate on meditating, so many disturbing issues kept coming to mind. She eventually gave up and sat up straight. That was when she realised another passenger had taken the seat next to her. Idara turned to see it wa
s the student who earlier occupied the second row.
“Why did you leave there?” Idara pointed to the second row. She had no idea why she asked. Actually, it was none of her business.
The schoolgirl leaned closer to Idara and whispered conspiring. “She has a body odour,” the schoolgirl indicated the albino woman carefully. Her husband was sitting right in front of them in the third row.
Idara looked at the albino woman. Was that why her husband wouldn’t sit next to her? She wondered.
“I’m Wunmi.”
Idara turned towards the schoolgirl again. “Excuse me?”
“My name is Wunmi.”
Idara smiled then. “How come you’re schooling at Ikeja, when you have schools around here?” she asked. She felt she could talk with the schoolgirl.
“We’ve just moved down to Festac from Mafoluku and I kind of have to finish from there. I love the school. My friends are there.” And I am a popular sport person there. Wunmi left the last sentence unsaid.
Idara smiled and picked up her novel. As she was about to start reading, the schoolgirl said something and Idara looked up. “Excuse me, did you say something?”
“I said I’ve seen you before.” Wunmi said.
“Oh,” Idara smiled.
“You were in this bus last week Tuesday.”
Idara raised a brow in surprise. “Were you in the bus?” Wunmi nodded. “You have a good memory but I can’t remember seeing you.”
“You sat right there in front of me,” Wunmi pointed. “It was on a Tuesday. You wore a nice white top and a black jeans trouser.”
Idara was fascinated. “Now I remember.” She put her head out of the window and looked around for the conductor whose voice she could hear yelling, “Ikeja-Ogba, Ikeja-Ogba, N70 bus.” Idara smiled and nodded. She faced Wunmi. “This is the bus I took last week, yes. But I don’t know if it was on a Tuesday. I’m sure this is the bus. That conductor,” Idara smiled. “He looks like Tony Tetuila. His hair and all.” Idara laughed.
Wunmi smiled. “I knew it was the same bus when I saw him and I knew it was Tuesday because I saw you.”
Idara studied her carefully. She was used to been patronized but by the opposite sex. And this girl couldn’t be more than eighteen, maybe younger.
Wunmi smiled and looked up as four more passengers got into the bus. “Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, I had looked out for you.”
“Wow!” Idara blew.
Wunmi laughed. She was having fun. “Apart from our Tony Tetuila conductor whom I knew I will never forget, I also knew I won’t forget your face either. You look like someone.”
Now Idara closed her book. “Tell me,” she invited. This wasn’t the first time someone she doesn’t know was recognizing her. They always recognize her in buses. Last week Friday, she had closed from work early and on getting to the Ikeja bus stop, she was happy to get a bus going to Mile Two. The previous day, she had sweated one good hour at that same bus stop waiting for a bus going to Mile Two. She later gave up, and took a bike down to the motor park where she quickly got a bus.
On that Friday, she had been surprised when a man sitting close to her spoke to her saying that she closed early. Idara had looked at him closely, wondering if they had met. “We entered the same bus last night from the Ikeja Motor Park.” The man explained. “We were here both waiting for a bus that did not come.”
“Oh.” Idara had smiled.
The man ended up paying her fare.
“Actually, I can’t remember her name.” Wunmi cut into Idara’s thoughts. “I saw her on TV once. She appeared on an interview program. She was also on the cover of a magazine two months ago. When I saw that magazine, I knew she was the same person.” She smiled at Idara. “Do you know Perfect Magazine?”
Idara nodded. “I work there.”
“You were the one on the cover two months ago right?” Wunmi pushed.
“Yeap,” Idara answered.
“You were the one on that TV program also.”
“Yeap,” Idara replied. “What’s your name?”
Wunmi smiled. She had said her name twice, the girl probably wasn’t listening. “Wunmi.”
“I’m Idara,” Idara opened her paper bag and produced a magazine. “You read our magazine, don’t you?”
“My mother never misses an edition so I always get to read it,” Wunmi said.
Idara gave the magazine to her.
They both looked up when a mobile phone rang. It was the albino woman. She answered the call and spoke for a long time. By the time she dropped the call, the bus was ready to move and the woman’s head was turned. She was talking to the albino man in the Igbo language. The man never looked at her but replied when necessary, his eyes so busy counting the hawkers of Gala or recharge cards or whatever they had to sell. After the conversation between husband and wife, the woman adjusted herself to enjoy the ride. Idara and Wunmi exchanged looks and smiled.
When the Tony Tetuila conductor started collecting the fare, Wunmi opened her bag.
Idara touched her. “Don’t worry, let me pay.”
Wunmi smiled and thanked her.
“I’ve always wanted to meet you.” Wunmi said.
Idara was used to a lot of things, but not this kind of attention. She smiled at Wunmi.
The girls were quiet as the bus climbed the bridge and got on the Oshodi/Apapa Expressway. They were both engrossed in their thoughts, and were oblivious of the traffic jam they were running into. While Wunmi was thinking of what to say to Idara that won’t sound so seventeenish, Idara was working herself into a frenzy because none of the passengers had said, ‘Praise the Lord.’
All of a sudden, their bus was hit from behind and Idara screamed the name of Jesus. The bus engine died and Tony Tetuila was already out of the bus. The driver also alighted from his side. The passengers were all looking behind to see who hit the bus. It was bigger than their bus and it stood there monstrously, as if waiting to open its mouth to swallow the small bus. The driver of the trailer was already out of the trailer, and he was yelling incomprehensible words at the bus driver in Yoruba.
“See this mumu o,” a woman passenger in the bus shouted at the trailer driver who definitely couldn’t hear her. “You wan kill us finish for here. Koni da funwe.”
Idara looked at the woman, who was dressed like a staff of one of the numerous banks and wondered why she couldn’t behave like the lady she dressed as. She thought the woman ought to be thankful that they were still alive considering they were on top of a bridge.
The noise from outside attracted some of the male passengers, who alighted to assist the driver and Tony Tetuila. The trailer driver continued to yell at the bus driver that the bus driver was at fault. Tony Tetuila’s anger materialized to the surface and came pouring out on the trailer driver as a fistfight began.
“Now I will get to school late.” Wunmi lamented.
Idara was still in shock. She couldn’t find words to thank God enough, for keeping her alive. She was sitting at the back! If the trailer had squeezed them she would have been one of the causalities. She knew how mad some drivers in Lagos could be and she knew that trailer drivers were worse, struggling with small buses for the thin roads; they had no mercy to spare. As they sped towards their graves, they would push all form of obstacles out of their way. If at all they offered apologies, they would tell the affected party that the trailer had no brakes, and as such were not to blame.
Assuming there had been no traffic, the poor bus would have been sent crashing into heavens only knows where and idara’s family that depended on her for almost everything would have been more than distraught. Now that God had given them another chance at living, instead of someone to apologize and put an end to the confusion they were delaying the poor passengers, who were now victims of circumstance.
“Driver come let us go now, see this motor here don move since. I don’t want to miss my interview o,” another passenger bellowed.
He shook his head disgustedly
and turned to look at the other passengers, who were still in the bus, wondering why they were so calm. They definitely should have places to be at else they would be at their homes. The young man just needed someone to talk to desperately to calm his nerves and tension that the coming interview had bestowed on him. He couldn’t afford to be late. Buying the Guardian newspaper every Tuesday and Thursday to check for vacancies was expensive enough, being lucky to be invited for an interview was a reward for his money spent. All that was left was to get the job. “I can’t believe this.” He shook his head again as his eyes fell on Idara and remained.
Wunmi saw it all happen. She saw his searching eyes stop, and the brows close together, either in recognition or in surprise at the beauty he didn’t notice before. Well, Wunmi thought, if the trailer hadn’t hit the bus he wouldn’t have seen Idara. She looked at Idara to see if she had noticed her admirer only to see a stricken face that was trying to recover from the not so serious accident.
“Idara,” she called. “It was just a little hit.”
Idara sighed.
“Idara.”
Wunmi and Idara both looked up at the young man who was staring at Idara happily. Wunmi was surprised he knew Idara’s name.
He smiled and shook his head. “This is a surprise. You and I in the same bus and I didn’t notice, for that reckless trailer driver…” he stopped.
Idara was staring at the young man. He was the same person that had rushed passed her to get into the front seat. Now he was sitting on the edge of the seat close to the door – he had probably moved so he could see what was going on out there with the mad drivers. He knew her name and she was certain they had never met.
“You don’t recognize me?” he sounded hurt.
Idara shook her head. “I’m sorry I … I can’t place the face.” She worked to regain her poise.
“Last week,” he said excitedly. “At Ikeja.”
Idara smiled helplessly. “I’m sorry,” she apologized again.
“Last week Wednesday, we were waiting together for Mile Two bus at the Ikeja Motor Park. Remember, we sat together when a bus finally came around 8:00pm. Then at Cele bus stop we ran into those bullet hungry policemen. Can you remember?” he sounded desperate and really wanted her to recognize him.
Entangled Affair Page 8
