TRAVELING IN DECEMBER (1)
It was always the same experience every December. There was nothing unique about travelling; nothing special about embarking on long journeys during such a period.
Road users;
The insane ones always over-speeding as if someone had assured them of a spare life; in case they lost theirs due to reckless driving. Then the sane ones, who understood that they only lived once, and drove with a high level of consciousness, knowing that other road users like me; were plying the same road.
Cyclists;
I’ll call them sub-road users. These set of people were the ones whom I never liked for once. To me, every cyclist had one kind of force moving him/her. I’d always had unfortunate encounters with many of them who were never precise and lacked correct judgment while riding. Always breaking the rules and regulations, riding on pathways meant for pedestrians, swerving dangerously on highways, driving without headlights at night.
Cyclists; always taking risks. They were the ones with the most accidents. Daily victims of collisions.
Once when I was younger, I was running home through a lonely path when a cyclist suddenly came into view. It was raining and he was approaching at a high speed. I quickly moved to the left and he did. Then I moved to the right and he did. I paused and remained on the right-hand side for him to swerve quickly and continue with his journey, but this wicked man still hit me and sent me flying into the sky. I was very light in weight then, and that’s why I was sent even higher into the atmosphere. Feel free to seconds later, I landed inside a farmland nearby.
Nature;
The millions of trees standing at a particular spot, forever and ever; ageing and awaiting death and extinction. There were so many of them. So many that one would certainly lose track of counting them after a few minutes.
While the vehicle moved forward, the trees were always running backwards; more like they were chasing something. And if a kid hadn’t grown old enough to learn some sciences in higher grades, it was normal for him/her to ask a question like. “Dad, why is the tree running back? Where is it going to?”
The Road itself;
It always looked like a long thin line from afar which kept widening in width, as we moved further. When you were fortunate enough, some roads would be smooth. But when you weren’t fortunate, some would be bumpy, irregular and even contain potholes. An experience that every road user had tasted of.
If you’d never come across a pothole during a long journey - waiting for you to go over it and bump your head towards the roof of the car, and then curse and curse and swear - then you probably weren’t in Nigeria.
Hawkers;
This set of human beings never rested forever and ever; always carrying one thing or the other on their heads; looking for whom to sell to. Some wore cheerful faces, which became more cheerful whenever people bought from them. They would beam with satisfaction and fulfilment after selling a piece of their cheap products as if their whole lives depended on it. Yes, most times it did.
Some never smiled; and one could tell that with such facial expression, they were ever ready to start a physical fight if any situation called for it.
“Buy toothpaste!” one of them would shout from outside the window of the vehicle, extending his hand into the vehicle and raising the product towards my face. On several occasions, one would feel like biting their fingers because they had no manner of approach. Such persons weren’t going to stop until you pushed their hands away or even threatened to cut them off. The whole scenario would look like we were being cajoled to buy from them. Some would stay and keep shouting into our ears. “Broda, don’t you need toothpaste?”
Well, I was never going to buy from such persons who forcefully pushed their products into a passenger’s face.
So I learned to always keep my side of the window shut whenever the vehicle was about to slow down.
The dusty weather;
A significant feature of the festive period. Licking all cars dry with no iota of mercy or a pinch of remorse. If you ever travelled In a bus or bigger vehicle, you would be so lucky not to sit close to someone who had catarrh and a blocked nose due to constant accumulation of dust. Every day, I wondered how pedestrians coped with such normalized discomfort. In Nigeria, if there was no dust in December, then it wasn’t December yet.
Uniformed men with their numerous checkpoints;
A normal thing every December. A taunt and a nightmare to every road user who had no license. A time for strategizing and re-strategizing. A period in which you had to be more clever than the uniformed men. A sole moment of luck. You never knew who would be a victim to them. Some drivers would be so lucky to evade them; others could be so unlucky and would be forced to learn their lessons the hard way. A deterrent to whoever wished to mess with uniformed men during the December period.
It always called for celebrations; blessings upon blessings, whenever a driver made such a successful and smooth journey from one part of the country to another. But if the reverse was the case and he found himself in a tight spot with uniformed men -maybe because he got busted for not driving with a license, or for not having complete vehicle documents, or for throwing a tantrum at a uniformed man due to impatience- then he would be cursed and despised by all passengers. In fact, they would associate him with all sorts of bad things and anything relating to bad luck.
The Vehicle;
A major Determinant of the nature of the transportation. You could be delayed severally in the course of the journey, but as long as you were travelling in a well-air-conditioned vehicle with a smooth-running engine, then you were good to go. Most times it wasn’t that way.
There were a lot of buses which housed and harboured old, worn-out engines; Breaking down in the middle of a long journey. But the drivers would never tell you. Instead, they would feign surprise with you whenever the vehicle broke down. Then they would alight from the driver's seat and try locating where the faulty part of the engine was. Then they would stand quietly and shake their heads in disappointment as they pretended to be staring helplessly at the weak and tattered engine; which had already grown tired of its existence.
Trust me; they always knew it was going to break down. They knew; they’re already used to sleeping on the road at night, but you aren’t.
The Driver;
A hilarious and cheerful driver was a clear indication that you would laugh throughout your journey despite frustration from left and right. But, if had an encounter with a mean-faced driver or a sadist, then you were in for it. Such a journey was in no time going to bring out the worst version of not only you but every other passenger.
Once I’d joined a vehicle which was being driven by a hot-tempered man. I can’t recall if he stammered or not. But a few hours into the long journey, he had already started threatening to deal with a passenger, and his anger never ceased till we arrived at our destination. Such a temper.
Some other time, I’d joined a mad driver and his passengers who were more razz than he was. A thug had climbed onto the side of the vehicle because the driver wouldn’t give him little money for beer. So the mad driver sped off while the thug hung helplessly by the side of the bus, struggling not to fall off. They settled everything at the nearest Police checkpoint. The thug’s saving grace.
“You get luck say police dey here. You for Die today!” The driver threatened.
The whole moment the thug hung by the side of the speeding vehicle, he was silent. But as soon as he had come down from the vehicle he began to abuse the driver and the passengers, who became more enraged and regretted not pushing him off the moving vehicle earlier.
“Well, the police will take care of him,” one of them said.
Wedding, Burial Posters and banners;
It wasn’t December if there weren’t wedding posters and banners here and there. Not to talk of Burial flyers. Whenever we came across burial posters or banners, it always brought this kind of hash and inevitable reality.
The difference between such burial and wedding programs would be that even, if the wedding was between two aged people; it was always a thing of celebration. A time when the kids on the streets would wash their plastic spoons and get their best clothes ready to attend any forthcoming wedding in their area. They were only coming to eat food; good food. If you were doing a wedding program in Nigeria, the taste of your food, and its nature were both crucial.
Then the kids would invite their friends and every other kid whom they could remember. This was one of the reasons why kids loved December.
“Wedding Rice”
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