Chapter 2: No Rest for the Weary

I shock.

Na real shock. My mind dey turn, dey wonder how bus staff go just leave person stranded like that. If official no fit solve ordinary seat matter, how dem wan take solve bigger wahala?

I dey expect say official go stand for right, but dem just leave am like that.

I shake my head, chest tight. For my mind, I dey tell myself say maybe I expect too much. For Naija, e dey always be "sort am yourself" level.

As the attendant waka commot, the man begin mock me: "You sef no get manners, you think say bus staff go help you?"

He laugh under him breath, like say na him win. Some people for bus chuckle, some just bone face. I grip my seat, dey fight the urge to reply am sharp.

I just tire.

My spirit begin drop. I dey ask myself if all this drama worth am. My back dey pain, my pride dey wound. E be like say wahala follow me from city enter bus.

I no understand—if I buy ticket, I suppose fit use my seat as I like. If e fit recline, na my right be that. Why you dey say I no get manners?

I reason am, dey search my heart. I no offend anybody, no steal, no insult. Yet na me dem dey drag for bus. I dey wish say I get power to rewind, pick another seat, another bus.

I begin check my phone to see wetin I fit do for this kind situation.

I search Google, check WhatsApp group, even ask for online advice. Na same answer everywhere—bus crew no dey interfere for seat matter. Na passengers suppose settle am. My hope just reduce small.

But all the reports I see talk the same thing: passengers suppose settle am themselves; bus crew no fit interfere.

I close my eyes, breathe out. Sometimes for Naija, the system just dey like water—e go pass any shape. No justice for small things. I dey on my own.

I breathe in deep, hold my anger, and talk to the man politely: "Oga, abeg, my back dey pain me. I no fit sit upright for so long."

I try my best, voice calm, eyes soft. Even my body language dey beg. For Naija, sometimes politeness dey work, sometimes na sign of weakness.

He just bone, "Na your back dey pain, no be my own. How e take concern me?"

E bone face, voice cold. No pity, no smile. I dey look am, dey wonder if e ever feel pain before. Some people heart dey strong like stone, no dey move dem at all.

I don tire.

I rub my forehead, sigh. Sometimes, wahala just dey for road, you go learn patience by force. I dey calculate if to just swallow pain or force my own.

I no be weak person o. Na just say, after all the hustle, I finally get holiday, my old army guys even make time to meet up. For this rare chance to see my people, I no wan fight anybody.

I reason am, see say na long time I see my men. We dey plan reunion, gist, chop, laugh. I no want make small bus wahala spoil my mood before I reach house.

To try make myself comfortable, I pull up the bus curtain, rest my elbow for window, try get small space like that.

The night breeze dey cool, and I just wan use am calm my mind. My elbow dey balance for window, and my eyes dey try find rest for darkness. For Naija, sometimes na small adjustment dey give big relief.

But wahala no finish.

As I dey close eye, e be like say problem just dey multiply. My body dey tire, but this man wahala still dey grow.

As I raise my hand, the man behind me just vex, drag the curtain down with force.

The way e take drag the curtain, e resemble person wey dey pull generator wire. I shock, hand still up, pain flash through my fingers.

Anybody wey don enter night bus know—the curtain get iron for the bottom.

Na true wahala be that. The iron dey heavy, e get as e dey swing. If e jam you, e pain like pepper wey enter wound. I bite my lip, try hold the shout.

The iron part slam my fingers. "Yee! My hand o!" I shout in pain, hold my hand, suck in air.

I nearly curse. The pain be like pepper wey enter wound. Some passengers turn look, some pretend say dem no see. I rub my hand, try hide my tears. Na only strong person fit endure that kain pain without scream.

But the man just talk coldly, "I tell you say I dey watch film. You still raise curtain? You dey find trouble? Sun dey enter, I no fit see my screen."

E dey talk like say my pain no mean anything. Na him movie matter pass my finger. For my mind, I dey shout, "Abeg, sun don set, which kain sun again for night bus?"

That one na the last straw.

My patience finally break. The small self-control wey I hold since don fly window. I turn, fire back with anger wey don boil for long.

I turn to am, vex, "You no gree make I recline, you no gree make I pull curtain—na your papa get this bus?"

My voice loud, even the driver glance mirror. Some people for bus begin murmur, dey expect wahala. I balance myself, no care again.

He hiss, "Bus no be my house, but e no be your own too. If you talk again, I go beat you."

He raise voice, face fierce. For Naija, na so fight dey start—mouth go sharp, body go follow. I dey look am, dey wonder if e fit really try am.

I just laugh.

My laugh dry, e no reach my eyes. I dey look am up and down, dey size am. If to say I no dey careful, I for show am say old soldier no dey dull. But I hold myself, remember say fight no dey pay.

Beat me?

Na me dey ask myself—na me go beat am sef. I dey calculate if e go fit stand my hand, but I know say wahala no dey end well for retired army man like me.

Na me go beat am sef.

For my mind, I dey replay all the drills, all the muscle memory wey never die finish. My bones dey pain, but my spirit still dey sharp. E dey pain me say I no fit show am small.

I be retired soldier—this my back pain na old injury from service.

E no sabi say na bullet wound cause my back wahala. If to say e know, maybe e for reduce mouth. Na service injury I dey manage since, but Naija no dey care for old heroes.

But wahala be say, I no fit fight.

Na so I dey remind myself, "Man, calm down. You no dey street again." Civilian life different, small wahala fit cost big thing. Even if dem provoke me, I no fit raise hand anyhow.

After I retire, I get normal job, and my unit dey look my record well. If I fight, I fit even lose my work.

Na true talk. For civil job, any small wahala dem go use am sack person. I dey think of my pension, my family, my old friends wey still dey service. I no fit disgrace myself for bus.

For this kind situation, na me dey at disadvantage.

E dey pain me—if na before, wahala no go pass five minutes. But now, I dey count cost for every action. Na so old age dey humble man.

I no believe say just to go house, I go jam this kind person.

My luck this holiday really bad. I dey look window, dey pray say make time fast-forward. If to say I know, I for just trek home—no wahala, just peace.

Frustration just full my mind, I push my seat back again, no send am.

I just decide, make e be say e be. I press the recline, no look back. If fight wan come, make e come. Sometimes, person no fit beg forever.

He try push am again, but I don lock the seat—this time, e no fit move am.

I jam the seat, make sure e lock well. He try push, I no answer. For Naija, sometimes na who stubborn pass dey win for public wahala.

He vex, raise leg, kick my seat back well well, shout, "Sit up straight."

E hit my seat like person wey dey drum. The force loud, my back vibrate. People dey look, but dem no talk. I dey wonder if bus go soon scatter.

I no answer am.

I just dey mute, hold my ground. If I reply, wahala fit escalate. I wear stubborn face, dey act like say nothing dey happen.

I remember how he behave before, I just talk, "Na my right be this. If e pain you, go meet attendant."

I talk am, my tone flat. Make e feel how e be when person use power for you. For Naija, sometimes you go show person say you no be mumu.

Since staff say make passengers settle am, make we see who stubborn pass.

I dey test who go blink first. For my mind, I dey say, "Wetin stubborn goat fit do wey stubborn grasshopper never see?"

The man look me, surprise. "Why you dey do anyhow? Your papa no teach you manners?"

E voice rise, eye red. Na so e dey try shame person for public. But I no send. I don already lose patience.

Some passengers notice, dey look, but nobody talk.

You know as e dey be—Nigerians go dey look drama like film. Nobody wan join, nobody wan judge. Everybody dey mind e own wahala.

He continue, "To recline seat dey disturb people. You no sabi manners? I agree say I recline too, but nobody dey my back. How e take be the same?"

E dey try explain, like say e get logic. But na selfish logic. I dey look am, dey tire for the hypocrisy wey dey everywhere.

I just look am, wear my headphones.

I drag my headset, press play. Music dey enter my ear, drown him noise. For public, sometimes na to ignore dey work pass argument.

For public, to argue no make sense. Just show your stand.

I close eye, dey pretend say I no hear. For my mind, I dey give silent protest. The bus dey roll, engine hum like lullaby.

As he see say I no send am, he hiss, mutter, "Who dey fear who?"

He hiss again, voice low, but I hear am. E dey boil, but I no care. My peace more important than reply.

But na then he shock me.

I never ready for wetin e go do next. This man wahala no get brake. My mind dey prepare for another round.

He start to dey kick my seat again—over and over.

Kick, kick, kick. The whole row dey shake. I dey bite my lip, dey wonder if na small pikin I dey sit with. For mind, I dey beg make God give me patience.

Worst part be say, he no even wan stop.

E dey kick like say na him exercise. Some people for back dey complain, "Oga abeg, reduce noise na!" but e no send anybody. Him own wahala na full-time job.

At first I try endure, but after twenty minutes, he still dey do am, like small pikin.

My body dey vibrate. Even people for next row dey shift. I dey look clock, time dey crawl. I dey pray make journey finish sharp sharp.

My back dey pain me well. I just wan lie for side. As I turn, I just feel something hit my head.

Na so I shift head, try balance small, and gbam! Something knock my skull. Pain enter like thunder. I turn, eye red.

I look up, surprise.

I dey expect maybe bag fall, but na human leg. My mouth open, eye wide. For Naija, this one don pass wahala, na insult.

The man put him foot for my head.

E put leg, press my head like say I be mat. For my mind, I dey shout, "Which kind disrespect be this?" My soldier blood dey boil.

I vex, push him leg commot, but he point at me, threaten, "You dey use hand now? You wan fight? Where the attendant? Where police? Make dem come, fight dey here!"

He dey shout, hand dey wave, like person wey dey call crowd. Some passengers dey peep, some dey shift for seat. The whole bus dey tense.

I just dey boil.

My hand dey shake, my teeth dey grind. I dey use all my willpower hold myself. For my mind, I dey list all the punishment I fit give am if I be army again.

How I take jam this kind person?

I dey question my luck, my destiny, my bus ticket. Of all the seats, of all the days, na this man I jam. Life really fit play person rough.

The attendant come again. As I explain, she beg the man, "Oga, abeg, behave. No dey put leg for another person head."

She sound tired, but voice still dey calm. She look the man, look me, try balance matter before e escalate. People dey look, dey expect solution.

The man answer, "Make am sit upright first."

E no gree, still dey point finger. For him mind, na him get final say. I dey wonder which kain confidence dey worry this man.

The attendant say, "Oga, try get patience small."

She beg am, dey use soft voice, like say e be small pikin. But I know say this man no go ever reason am.

He bark, "Patience for wetin? I dey go last bus stop. Make I suffer for the whole journey?"

E shout, hand wave. Some passengers begin whisper. Everybody dey tired. Even the driver dey tap horn small small, sign say make everybody cool down.

Once I hear that, my mind cut.

I dey reason, "If this man dey last stop, I go dey see him face, hear him mouth, smell him wahala till journey end." My spirit begin dey beg for mercy.

Because me too, I dey go last bus stop. To think say I go sit with this kain person till journey end wan craze me.

I dey calculate time, dey wonder if I fit disappear, or change seat, or even drop for road go enter keke. But my ticket dey tie me to this seat, to this wahala.

I reason say, since na rare chance to go house, better make I avoid wahala. I tell the attendant, "Abeg, I wan upgrade my seat. I dey go last stop too. You fit check if seat dey reach there?"

I beg am, voice soft, money dey my mind. I dey ready spend extra, just to get peace. For Naija, sometimes na money dey solve small headache.

Before she fit answer, the man begin mock me, "So you wan upgrade? E good o. If you get money, why you buy normal seat?"

E laugh, mouth wide, face full of mockery. Some people snicker, but some just bone. For this bus, drama no dey ever finish.

I no argue. The attendant quickly check ticket machine, then talk sorry, "Big man seat no get space. Na May Day, ticket scarce. If you wan upgrade, na only Oga level remain."

She tap machine, shake head. Her face show say e pain am too. Na holiday rush, seats don finish. Only people wey get big money fit move again.

I pause—I no fit afford Oga level seat.

My mind dey count salary, dey balance expenses. I dey think of house rent, school fees, transport. 40k for bus seat? Omo, e no possible. I rub my forehead, sigh.

Normal seat na over 12k, big man seat over 20k, Oga level na 40k.

For Naija economy, to dash 40k for seat na real extravagance. My account balance dey laugh me. I just bone, dey think of plan B.

To spend 40k for few hours? My salary no reach that level.

I dey calculate, "If I try am, na beans and garri go finish me for month." My chest tight, I just wave hand, surrender.

I just sigh, "Leave am."

My voice low, defeated. The attendant nod, try hide pity. My pride dey pain me, but sometimes na sense dey help man survive.

As the man hear, he laugh louder, "So you wan form big man, you no get money? Go Oga level now! No money, dey do as if."

His laugh loud, wicked. Even the attendant eye am, like say she tire. This kind mouth, e fit wound person spirit. I just look window, dey count stars for sky.

Him mouth too bad, even the attendant tire. She point seat three rows front, "You fit sit there for now. E go empty for some time. Just return if person come. Make una two rest abeg."

She try help small, voice gentle. She dey do peacemaker. For public bus, any small space of peace na blessing.

I think am, agree.

Na small price to pay for sanity. I pack my bag, gather my things, waka go front row. My body still dey pain, but my spirit small small dey heal.

As long as I fit comot from this guy, anything better.

I sit down, sigh relief. The air for front fresher. I close eye, try count my blessings. For my mind, I dey thank God for small mercy.

I stand, change seat. The man happy, even dance for public: "See am, justice don win! The reclining idiot don commot!"

He dey jubilate, dance small for seat. People dey look am, some dey shake head. Me, I just bone, dey mind my own.

I no answer, just go front row.

For my mind, I dey sing praise, "No more wahala, at least for now." I close my eyes, try drift away with the sound of tyres for tar road.

At last, I fit relax. I play with my phone small.

I dey scroll through messages, catch up with my padi dem. WhatsApp dey hot with gist, jokes, small banter. My spirit dey lift small.

For WhatsApp, my old army people wey dey drive say dem go pick me.

Dem dey ask, "O boy, you still dey bus?" I reply, gist small, tell dem my wahala. Dem laugh, give me advice, "No mind Lagos people, e go soon end."

I gist with them, but peace no last. After some hours, as person enter the seat, I must return my own.

Na so my new-found peace cut short. Person with big Ghana-must-go bag enter, look me. I respect myself, stand up, waka back to my old seat, dey brace for round two.

As I come back, I see the man dey sleep, dey snore.

Snore wey loud, like small generator. E dey spread leg, occupy space. I just sidon, try no wake am, dey pray say peace go last.

I thank God, hope say he go sleep till journey end.

For my mind, I dey dance small. If e fit sleep, I fit finally rest. I recline my seat, balance, close eye, dey plan reunion gist.

I recline my seat, rest small. He wake up see am, but no talk.

E open eye, look me, grumble small. But e just bone, maybe e don tire. I thank God again for small mercy.

I think maybe wahala don finish, maybe we don understand each other small?

For mind, I dey say, "Maybe na sleep dey cure madness." I hope say journey fit finish like this, everybody dey their lane.

But na wishful thinking.

E no take five minutes, wahala dey stir again. For Naija, peace dey short-lived if stubborn person dey close by.