A Conductor’s Love
Who said you can't find love in a Danfo bus?
Ask any commuter; they will tell you that there are many wonders to behold on the streets of Lagos. I too have beheld a few. I once met a girl who asked me to lap her on a bus because we were headed the same way. I've had a conductor threaten to drop me if I didn't add extra cash—his excuse was I didn't specify the bus stop I was dropping at. I've watched a lady look at a driver with eyes that could kill. I held my breath because I knew the driver was this close to slapping her, and I mentally prepared to join hands to beat him up if he had—he's lucky he didn't. There’s no way he’d have survived my punches. I've seen my share of things, and I would be foolish to assume that is the end. So when I see things like this, simple in its sweetness, well, I have to share.
It is 8 pm on a Monday evening, and I'm in a bus I got from Anthony headed to the stadium. I decided to stay back after closing hours because of traffic and also because I needed time to work on personal stuff. The bus, as you would expect, is sweaty and cramped; the sides are a rusted yellow, the seats already shaky. I do a quick glance over, trying to mark the faces in the bus. I've heard about the recent cases of kidnapping. I'm not about to be a victim. When I am satisfied that nobody looks like a kidnapper (as if it's written on the forehead), I make myself as comfortable as I can be. I look ahead and strong my face, making sure to clutch my handbag tight.
The journey is relatively smooth. I'm staring out the window, imagining my life is a reality TV show when I hear the bus suddenly stop at the intersection in Yaba, and the driver tells everyone to leave his bus. My first reaction is confusion, and then I'm livid. What does he mean? This is not my bus stop. Thankfully, I'm not alone, and soon, a few people begin to express their displeasure. The conductor beckons on us to please follow him. We do, and by this time, it’s 8 something. I’d check my phone to confirm, but that would mean bringing it out of my bag, and I’m not about to do that in Yaba. Anyway, we are standing by the roadside in a busy road, looking for empty buses the conductor could transfer us into. I stood there more worried about the time spent than wondering if we would find a bus. Finally, we found one who agreed to take us, and after a little tussle, I found a seat at the edge of the bus, you know where the conductor stands and often sits? I sat there, stiff, and as we climbed the overhead bridge heading to Surulere, that's when things got interesting.
A conductor’s love is a moving thing.
I heard a “How are you” in the softest voice right behind me. Now don't judge me; I know I'm a fine girl and I get hits all the time, which is why in my head, I figured the conductor was talking to me. I looked back, already practicing my “I'm fine thank you.” I'd smile in a way that was friendly but not welcoming, but I found the conductor on his phone, smiling sheepishly, listening to the response the other person was giving.
I faced my front and tried not to listen to the conversation, but against my will, I was forced to. He spoke in Yoruba, soft tones, apologizing for not being there sooner. He was in traffic but he would soon be on his way to her. Pele o, Yes, the final bus stop was Costain. He would be right there, she should be patient and then he dropped the phone, and this is the funniest thing, in the deepest voice he could muster, asked somebody if they would drop him there—by this time we had left the bridge—I tried hard not to laugh. So, conductors can be soft babies? They just form? It was too cute. Thankfully, I arrived at my destination safely, and as I walked away from the bus, I couldn't stop smiling. I imagine him now, filling up the Danfo bus with roses on Valentine’s Day as a grand gesture for her. My conductor, conductor! Biggest conductor! Big condussss!
Two things I learned from that experience:
If you're making a phone call on public transport, it's safe to assume that you know other people can hear your conversation even if they don't want to.
I've seen a hawker pick up calls in the midst of traffic, now a conductor. I've witnessed some kind of intentionality in my life that assures me that nobody is too busy; if they wanted to, they would.
Music Recommendation: I haven't really been listening to anything this week, but Dunsin Oyekan’s Ogo reverberates in my head and it's my go-to for worship.
Book Recommendation: Please, look forward to Uche Okonkwo’s A Kind Of Madness when it's out. It's rare that I've seen something so authentic; she doesn't try to fit in; she just gets it.
Movie Recommendation: I'm currently watching The Office. Michael Scott is a big fuuu, and I'm liking Jim.
I have countless number of experiences.
About the conductor, he is only human.
I say this in ' Lauren diagle's I am almost human' voice.