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Platoon Two, Ep 4
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PLATOON TWO
Last Episode
After an hour, 10:30am to be precise in what it seemed to be like go slow, we arrived at Ikeja Bus Garage. I was overwhelmed with excitement. Once again, I had act organised physically.
“Ha, Mama, e ti dun ju, nibo le n nlo?” He said to Mrs Williams appreciating her beauty in “tout” language. Then he faced me “Omo ele, na your mama be this where you dey go?” He asked. Omo ele is a slang in yoruba language popularly used among garage boys to acknowledge a beautiful lady. Mrs Williams answered him that I was going to the NYSC Camp. She further explained that I was new in Lagos and we would need his favour to show me where the Lagos Camp was located.
While the conductor collected the fare, the driver called a vulcaniser to guage his tyres. The driver also brought out a yellow 5 litres keg of water from under his seat and poured the water into the bus radiator. It was a yellow bus with two black stripes drawn across it. It is popularly called Danfo in Lagos. After the whole “ceremony” was done, they both entered the bus, closed the door and at exactly 12 noon, we were set to leave for Iyanapaja.
For full story of episode 3, please click 'Back to topics' at the top right hand corner of the page. Thank You.
Episode 4
The driver drove out of the garage like he was been chased by a ghost. As he drove out, through the gallops of the exit, we bounced back and forth the seat. My heart almost jumped out of my mouth.
“In Jos, drivers are not this rough” I thought to myself “Is this man ok?” I looked at him with terror.
“Driver small, small o” One of the passengers said from the back seat.
“Conductor, my change o” Another passenger said.
“Mangoro, Cement, Under Bridge, Iyana” The Conductor announced the Bus stops, no one responded which meant no one was coming down at those bus stops.
“Conductor, N400 change o” The same passenger repeated himself.
“Ni suru, mo n bo, kilode gan-an? I don talk am say, I no get change before” The Conductor shouted at the passenger. He asked him to be patient that he already informed him that he had no change before he boarded the bus. The passenger shouted back at the conductor reminding him that he informed him earlier before he boarded the bus.
As the driver drove, my eyes travelled to and fro the road, I saw young boys and girls hawking their products, I was thrilled at how they were able to balance the products in their cartons and run across the street through fast moving vehicles, I even saw one who almost got knocked down by the speeding car right under a pedestrian bridge. Yet he laughed at himself when he got to the other end of the road.
The Igbo traders of the Eastern part of Nigeria were not left out. I saw the way they stood in front of cars with their rack of CDs and electronic items like headphones for sale. Some ran after the cars to advertise their goods.
Suddenly, my attention was brought back inside the bus when I heard the same passenger's voice say“Hello, Shola, how far? Please send me 5 of your men from the barracks to Iyanapaja, I'm almost there. There is someone I'll like your men to discipline. Make it fast please. Thank you.” The passenger ended the call.
I looked back and saw the young man. He was neither dark nor fair, he could be described as chocolate in complexion. He looked calm despite fact that his tone sounded angry. He looked like he was in his mid 30s and was on his way to work because he was corporately dressed. The bus went quiet and the conductor became restless. The passenger sternly warned the conductor to be ready to be disciplined when they get to Iyanapaja.
... to be continued
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