Siri, play me Driver’s license by Olivia Rodrigo…
If I could describe my upbringing in three words, I’d say fun, memorable, and comfortable. Very comfortable. I wasn’t in a rich rich home, but I was comfortable enough to get almost everything I desired. I’m grateful for that privilege, but I didn’t know it was going to end so soon. I got to a stage where my parents could not drop me at functions and events anymore because they didn’t want to, or because the location was far. WHAT??
I moved to a different city with my family when I was 14. Is it even a city? We moved to Mowe/Ibafo. Some people call it second Lagos because it’s in the outskirts of Lagos. This place is not so far from Lagos, but due to the abundance of traffic, it seems far from everywhere. We moved to this location, but school, church, and work for my parents were still in Lagos. We had to leave the house as early as 6 am to get to school/work. It was not a walk in the park, especially when we were the first to get to school and the last to leave. What was the solution? Public transportation.
Before this, the only means of public transportation I had entered were the okadas and kekes. Those ones were even fun, riding with the wind blowing my face. When my mum told my brothers and I to be taking public bus to meet her at work, I was horrified. But, hey it was BRT, “the safe bus”, so we did it. What a struggle it was! Especially because that was/is the means of transportation for most public school students, while they’d be fighting to rush the bus, my brothers and I stood in the queue but still got treated like one of them. People really couldn’t tell the difference because in Lagos everybody’s school uniform is blue. That was one struggle, the other was not getting seats and having to stand and hold the railings. I was used to comfort and cried a lot when these happened. That was BRT, “the safe bus”. How about danfo?
Ugh! I’ve suffered in those yellow buses. I had fought with my parents one Friday night and could not wake them up the following morning to tell them I had Saturday lessons. So, I took bus for the first time by myself. It wasn’t hard, I knew I could easily get to school in Maryland once I got to Ketu. I left the house in my casual clothes, changed a thousand Naira for smaller denominations (Rule #1: always have change) with the estate guard and left for school. I got there late, but proudly told my teacher it was because I came by bus. Returning home that day, my teacher told me what to do and I got home safe. My parents were shocked because they thought I had been in my room all day. I think it was then I realised that public transportation was no big deal and I could easily navigate it. There were no Ubers then, and I was broke so there really was no other choice. Little did I know the ride was just beginning.
I went to a private university that required little means of transportation within campus. Luckily for me, my parents picked and dropped me every time it was required for me to leave and resume school. During the holidays, I stayed home and my need for public transportation was scarce. However, it became a necessity during my internship holiday. This was not a tough one as transportation only cost N100/N150 from my area. The tough part was crossing the expressway. By this time, I thought I had mastered the art of jumping bus. I had, but I had not seen anything yet. Returning home from work that day, I sat by the window (usually, cause these buses are hot), plugged my ears and enjoyed the ride, the wind blowing through my hair and whatnot. An old woman sat beside me and didn’t look comfortable. It was non of my concern, so I sat, facing the window and minding my business. This woman took off her scarf, rubbed her chest, then before I could tell what was happening, threw up her lunch. I remember what it was. Yam/porridge. I wanted to cry. Covid-19 had not been discovered then, but no one wants anyone vomiting around them. I got home that day, took a shower, threw my clothes in the washing machine, and ranted to my parents about all that happened.
“I don’t want to enter danfo again.” I cried.
After that, I enjoyed a few rides to and from work, but that was not my last time inside danfo.
I graduated from University and got a job. I was lucky to have my dad working not too far from where my office was located, but he was transferred and I had to struggle with bus again. The years between that internship and graduation, I had gotten used to taking public transportation, learnt new routes and felt ready enough… till my phone got stolen. Nothing ever prepares you for such, especially because it was stolen in a Sienna, a private vehicle. I thought those were the safe ones. I almost ran mad. That was my first phone after school and it hurt me so much because I had not used a good phone throughout University (iykyk). The thief entered the vehicle, then got down before we got too far because the windows were not rolling down. We had gone too far before I discovered my phone was missing. It still hurts because I felt so stupid. The worst part? That was not the last time.
The second time, my bag was torn and it was taken. That time, I did run mad. I had been in traffic for hours with the phone in my hand, I slept and woke up with my grip tight around it. I then decided to put it in my bag and had it hung on my shoulder by my side. I sat on the same seat the entire trip home (by the window), but people beside me kept stopping to drop off. There was this guy that sat beside me that I wasn’t comfortable with. I should have known 🤦🏽♀️
I got to my bus stop and wanted to use my phone torch to get change for the okada rider. That was when I discovered a huge tear in my leather backpack. At 10pm! I was exhausted. I used my other devices to track it, but it was just too far away and I got a new one. Wherever those thieves are… 🙃
To be honest, public transportation in Lagos is not for the weak. Generally, transportation in Lagos is not for the weak, whether by car, bike, bus, or foot. Even via boat, you experience problems. I’ve got so much to share but will end with the one that had me feeling violated.
This was during my National Youth Service Scheme and I was returning home from my place of primary assignment. It was dark… no matter how much I try to leave work early, it always gets dark before I get home.
It was dark and this bus did not have its inner lights on. I was seated between an old man and a young man (I was not one of the first passengers, or else you should know by now, I’d have sat by the window). I hate to remember too much from that night, but the young man got off beside me. It was in a dark bus, but I knew, the old man could tell I was uncomfortable, but I couldn’t talk. The most horrifying thing was the eye contact. I really didn’t know what to say or do, and the old man kept asking “Are you okay?”
Immediately I could, I moved seats, but imagine my horrification when this man alighted at the same stop that I did. I ran far away from him as I could and got home safe.
I’ve recently learnt how to drive and will be getting my license soon. Will that stop me from entering public transportation? NO. To be honest, I’m more terrified of driving at night and encountering another breed of mad people on Lagos roads. Pedestrians, drivers, passengers… it’s a crazy world!
