You’ll still come back

Last updated on March 21st, 2024 at 09:04 am

I hiss. Not for the first time. I’ve hissed more than a hundred times since I arrived at this bus park. 

The man beside me gets up and heads to the attendant’s desk for the umpteenth time. 

“We were told!” He roars, gathering looks from everyone. Then he continues, just as loud. “We were told that this bus leaves by 6:30, 6:30 a.m.” The ‘a.m’ was more like ‘ayy emu.’ The attendant looking bothered and ‘busy’ almost rolls her eyes at him, almost. She can’t try it. 

We’ve been here for more than three hours waiting to leave. Yet, it didn’t seem like we were leaving anytime soon. 

“A journey of ten to twelve hours.” The man slams his fist on her table. This gets her attention. 

“Sir, we’re sorry. I’ve told you, we are waiting for fuel.” At this, everyone starts murmuring. 

“I thought you said it was the driver you were waiting for?” Another woman gets up, her headtie now around her waist. 

“Exactly!” The man slams his fist again. 

“Leave that your desk and come and address us.” The headtie woman says. 

***

One hour after the rant, a woman with long braids comes out. 

“Sirs and mas.” She says facing no one in particular. “We all know the situation of fuel scarcity in the country. Please bear with us as it is not our intention to waste your time.” 

“It is not your intention but you sold us tickets!” One lady with a brown wig and a high-pitched voice screams. The woman addressing us whose name tag reads ‘Onome’ presses her lips together. 

“Are you done?” She asks. 

“Ahh,” everyone echoes and starts talking. I hear, “Is what she said wrong? You thieves!” from someone; “Look at this dumb girl o,” from another and other incoherent sentences. A baby around starts crying. 

Well-played, Onome. Best in customer service. 

I had arrived thirty minutes earlier than the takeoff time, paying an insanely expensive Uber fare, just so I wouldn’t miss my bus. Now, it’s… 11:15 a.m and we’re still here with no idea of when we’ll be leaving. 

Onome receives a call amidst the noise and sighs. 

“Everybody, oya calm down.” She answers, defensively. 

“Don’t tell us that! We’re not your mate.” One man says. 

“Do you even know my age? I was born in 1970! I’m over fifty years of age.” Another man adds. 

“Everybody, calm down… Let me talk.” 

“Let her talk, she no get home training.” Another woman replies, earning herself a derisive look from Onome. She doesn’t miss it. “You wan beat me?” She charges at Onome who steps back. This doesn’t stop the woman. Some men step forward and hold her. “Am I your mate? I resemble ashawo like you? Wetin dey your body?” 

“Calm down.” The men plead. 

“You too, talk.” The high-pitched voice lady says at the time that the speaker said something like ‘bus 1742.’

“Ehn?” we all scream.

“Bus 1742 is ready. Passengers for bus 1742, please head to the bus now. I repeat, bus one seven four two is now ready for the trip. Passengers, please head to the bus.” At last! 

“No apology, nothing.” Another man wearing a Kangol cap retorts. 

“We don’t have a choice na, they know we will still come back to their park.” 

The other people at the park start complaining. I turn around and see that Onome has disappeared. 

Bus 1742, here I come.