Sitting beside the smelly bus driver, I observed the traffic through a cracked windscreen. The vehicles were of assorted kind- old, new and the rickety, all stretched out along the pothole-filled road while moving at a snail’s pace. It was almost a beautiful sight, and even though I was too frustrated to dwell much on the aesthetic perspective to it, I could not help but notice the yellow buses. I just am fascinated by those buses! As a matter of fact, I commute in them on a daily…
It’s Lagos; the fast-paced city with crawling traffic! I was out early morning rushing to work on a Monday morning, the worst time to be on any road and worst still a Lagos road. Already the sun was out, combining with the heat radiating from the many buses to make people sweat profusely. A man sitting by my right was particularly distressed, fanning himself furiously with a newspaper as our vehicle crawled on. He appeared to be some kind of executive considering the fancy suit he donned and the demeanor he put out. But sadly, his fancy suit wasn’t helping him at all that morning because despite looking good in it, he was clearly uncomfortable. He cursed incessantly and later struggled to remove it. But cramped in the bus as we were, all his efforts proved futile. All he could do was keep fanning furiously while sweating and cursing. Meanwhile, luckily for him [fusion_builder_container hundred_percent=”yes” overflow=”visible”][fusion_builder_row][fusion_builder_column type=”1_1″ background_position=”left top” background_color=”” border_size=”” border_color=”” border_style=”solid” spacing=”yes” background_image=”” background_repeat=”no-repeat” padding=”” margin_top=”0px” margin_bottom=”0px” class=”” id=”” animation_type=”” animation_speed=”0.3″ animation_direction=”left” hide_on_mobile=”no” center_content=”no” min_height=”none”][and the rest of us], the traffic eventually eased up a bit just as the breeze came through the windows. But the breeze however didn’t come alone as it came accompanied by dust and exhaust fumes of different kinds. To this we all hissed in unison, some in relief while others were simply disgusted by the dust. A few windows were slammed shot in desperate efforts to to wade off the fumes. Well for me, I finally heaved a long sigh of relief, exhaling the driver’s odour which had been hitting directly at my brain. Goodness me! I could not wait to get off the bus! Unfortunately, we soon came upon another traffic jam.
This commute was supposed to last for thirty minutes at most. Sadly though, I already spent nearly an hour and was nowhere near my destination. It had been a slow ride, one in which I had to witness different kinds drama. For one, there was the bus conductor who exchanged angry words with two passengers over change. You see, while we were boarding at the garage, the ugly, hairy bus conductor had loudly announced in his loutish manner that the bus fare was a hundred and fifty naira per person. He forewarned us that he didn’t have any lower denominations for change; thence every one must ensure they have the exact denominations before boarding. But in spite this announcement, two passengers take him seriously. The two later paid their transportation fares with a thousand naira each, and this sparked outrage courtesy of the bus conductor. The argument that ensued almost had the two passengers being thrown of the bus! But at the end they managed to sort out the disagreement just shortly before we encountered our traffic jam…
Prior to moving to Nigeria’s big apple, I heard several stories about the place some of which scary. These stories agreed that Lagos was indeed a place to achieve one’s dreams. Yet, it’s also a highly chaotic place. I had even sworn (at some point in my life) that nothing would ever bring me here. Funny how quickly I moved as soon as I got a job. I came ready to conquer. But the situation I met upon arrival was almost discouraging. Having gotten so used to the calmness of a University Community most of my life, being in Lagos was like my first taste of the Nigerian reality. The traffic’s the biggest worry because I encountered it every single day. But it’s not just about the traffic; it’s also about the vehicles buses, its cramped nature and the drama that unfold within. Let me not forget the different kinds of pollution- smelly drivers, dust, fumes and of course the noise. Sad situation! Someone get me a car, please!
Interestingly though, despite the many things wrong with taking a bus ride in the city, I do enjoy being in Lagos traffic. It’s always a good way to observe the city. Each time I sit by the window, I observe the different faces of the humans of Lagos, fascinated by each and every one of them. There were the kids on their way to school, the embittered house girl knocking their heads as she tugs them along. There are also the many workers stranded at bus stops as they wait for the BRT buses going to the Island. And of course, there are the yellow buses and their drivers! Those ones deserve an entire story dedicated to them alone. Meanwhile, there are many more interesting things to observe while in a Lagos traffic. For fashion-inclined people like me, the traffic would allow you feed your eyes to different kinds of fashion statements. I for one have beheld all sorts, from the beautiful, simple to the wacky and outright outrageous!
But on a more serious note, I have also observed the level of poverty in the city. There are the many road hawkers who usually are present wherever there is a traffic jam. The heat of the sun never deters them. Instead, they ran after vehicles, thrusting their goods in people’s faces as though forcing one to buy it by all means. The disheartening aspect of the scenario is that most of these hawkers are Teenagers of secondary schools ages. They cannot stay in school because they are poor. And I cannot help but imagine the possibility of them hawking by the road side for the rest of their lives…Perhaps the hawkers’ plight was nothing compared to the two beggars I always see at a particular spot each morning. Their location is shortly before Ikeja Along bus stop, around an elaborately-constructed roundabout where vehicles went in different directions. There is always a terrible traffic jam at this spot, and these beggars (male and before) utilize the opportunity to attract enough sympathy and alms. Their conditions were apparently caused by polio, and today there are unfortunately rippled for life just like many others like them. I feel so sad each time I see them. How I wish I could help them forever…
*This story is pulled directly from my diary. I hope you guys keep your diaries too!
[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]
