After a long rainy day, shivering under the AC because my colleague will not agree that cold used to catch somebody, all I wanted was to get home, have a hot bath and hug my bed.
I walked straight to my bus stop, didn’t even do my usual play where I look at people, try to imagine their lives at home – who looked like a wicked husband, or good mother, or armed robber – entered bus, settled into a seat by the window and rested my head.
The bus filled up fast, ope o and we started our journey. I closed my eyes and went to fantasyland, to take my mind off the traffic. The bus conductor started collecting fares, ‘Yes? Owo da?’ I brought out my money to pay, N100, but when I stretched out my hand to pay, he waved me off, pointing to the back, that someone behind paid for me.
Ah, I turned back to look at this person, maybe it’s someone who knows me (because it’s rare for strangers to just pay your fare in this Lagos). So I turned and my eyes met a dude’s shining teeth. I didn’t know him from Adam, so I said thank you politely and went back to my fantasy.
Before I could settle into my personal lalaland, someone was tapping me from behind, it was brother who paid fare. I raised one eyebrow; he continued smiling one kain smile, the type Tom always has on whenever he is trying to trap Jerry with nice gifts. Then he said, ‘Baby, can I have your number?’ See ehn, I was too tired to talk. Without blinking, I just opened my bag, brought out N100 and handed to him.
Imagine, N100 to pay for my number. Na crayfish?
Maybe it was embarrassment, but brother collected his money back and started muttering about ungrateful girls who don’t know tomorrow. The rest of the bus watching our drama erupted in laughter. Me? I settled back into my seat and continued my fantasy from where I stopped. Who dash monkey banana?
By Lucia Edafioka
