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Eleven

Author: Cephasqueen
last update publish date: 2020-10-08 06:34:54

    

It was a tough battle but I managed to defeat Ms Nancy with the help of my gravely annoying and brilliant tutor Rasheed. My results still weren't that great but it was good enough to keep me in SS2.

We left the school compound early to catch the morning bus to Lagos. Of course I had other reasons like not wanting Abike to know what I was up to, I had told her I was going to keep my things at the front of the administrative block when she saw me taking them from the room.

Rasheed knew I lived here in Calabar and when he asked why I was going to Lagos instead, I told him my mom had called and asked me to come meet her there at my grandfather's house. Luckily for me he bought it.

Part of the story was true though, I was going to see Alade but mom knew nothing about it.

The bus had began loading so we got in and headed straight for the backseat, I bullied Rasheed for the window seat.

Every park is the same with hawkers and drivers screaming their destination despite the fact that there are already written in cardboards and taped to the front of the vehicles.

Rasheed got us egg rolls and zobo for the road.

A few minutes later, a guy about five years older than me and a girl whose lithe stature made it hard to think she was any older than me got into the bus.

As they made their way to the backseat, I noticed the bump in her belly. She greeted us with a smile that would've been considered impossible on her tired face.

A quick glance at the boy's face and I could tell he wasn't in the best of moods. Why would he be? He was going to be a young daddy by his teenage girlfriend who looked like the world had turned against her but was still full of hope.

Maybe that was the case, maybe they were eloping. Maybe he was worried he would be a bad father, maybe he would be. Maybe he was scared they would all die of hunger, maybe they would. Maybe he was afraid she'd die in labour, I hoped just like mom, she wouldn't .

I looked out the window as other passengers filed in, watching people say goodbye to relatives who had come to see them off but mostly thinking about Abike. How would she feel when she realized what I had done? Would she panic? What would Mrs Dapo do? Call my mom? Report to the police? Would mom be able to guess where I had gone?

'Amanda'.

I turned to face Rasheed.

'I was showing you a billboard of Jidenna'.

'Sorry, not a fan'.

'How can you not be a fan?' He asked, eyes wide.

'I'm guessing now is not the right time to express my shock at you knowing a pop artist and even fanning him'.

'I do not live in a hole, ma'am'.

'Oh. Good thing we've gotten that cleared up'.

'Are you?.. Okay, if you aren't a fan of jidenna then who?'

'Yemi Alade, Timi, hassani, davido, wizkid sometimes, Ycee, ol..'

'Ycee? You are into rap?'

'Not really but I'm into Ycee. I just like his sound'.

'You have a celebrity crush!' He said louder than I would've liked.

I was about to tongue lash him a bit when someone interrupted.

'You can't blame her, Ycee is kinda hot and unlike a certain baba nla, he isn't all over himself'. The girl from earlier said.

'I couldn't agree more'. I said and she smiled.

She took the guy's hand in hers.

'Baby, it's fine'. I heard her tell him before leaning her head on his shoulder.

He just kept staring out the window. I saw a pained expression cross his face and he shrugged her head off, unlinking their hands. The girl sighed small, a bead of tear in her eyes, before scooting a little closer to Rasheed who apparently had been talking to me all this while.

'So, if you look at it closely you will see that bad governance takes root in the family. Family is everything, the orientation you get from your family is the one you carry with you throughout your life'. He was saying.

When did he get there?

'You know well enough that the bad governance in Nigeria is as a result of our cultural and religious diversity. I do support the motion for the division of Nigeria'.

He turned to me, mouth open, eyes squinting, nostrils flaring, ready to show me the error of my ways.

'Hold your horses'. I said, slamming my palm on his face.

'I am in no mood for a debate'.

He slapped my hand away.

'This trip is going to last 14hours. We are going to talk about this'.

'Can I ask for a favor?' I said, doing my best to make my eyes googly.

He looked taken aback for a few seconds before shaking it off.

'Of course. Sure'.

'Throughout this journey, can you lock up nerd rat shit and let wannabe, fun freak Rasheed out? He is less annoying'.

'Your appeal is rude so, no, can't do'.

'Fine then, talk to yourself'.

I turned to the window and he tickled me.

'Stop that!'

He laughed.

'Your current is always so high'. He said like a primary schooler.

'You two are so cute'. The girl beside Rasheed cooed.

'I know right. Like Adesua and Banky'. I said cheerily.

'Davido and Chioma'. Rasheed supplied.

She chuckled, shaking her head slightly.

'You see what I mean? How long have you guys been dating?'

I laughed out at that and Rasheed shot me a playful frown.

'Ehm, we actually are not dating. Just really cool friends'. He explained.

'How precious. I always wanted that sort of friendship but this Bruce Lee right here chased off all the potential candidates'. She gestured to the guy beside her who was still looking out the window.

He hadn't come off to me as a jealous type.

   

The bus began moving and we continued talking amongst ourselves.

The streets were beautifully decorated in the spirit of Christmas and the upcoming carnival. Abike told me about the biggest street party in Africa that was hosted yearly at calabar. People from all walks of life troop into Nigeria just to have the carnival experience. I wanted to experience it too but maybe not this year.

'Una Wehdone o'.

I turned to see a man dressed in a green shirt tucked into brown jeans with a big tie that wasn't properly knotted, standing with a carton at his feet.

Some passengers glanced at him and returned to minding their businesses, some sighed, a teenage boy a few seats away slid on his headphones, no one gave him a verbal response.

'Today I bring to una a very good medicine, e de work well well. It is called wazobia cleanser. E de cure malaria, typhoid, Ebola, chicken pox, body odor, mouth odor, any odor at all. As a man, if you bazucca no de work? This na the thing for you. Aunty mi, if your punani the scratch you? This be the thing weh you need. Beri beri o, Jeri jeri, HIV o?'

'Heh!' Majority of the passengers screamed.

'Wetin? Make any HIV patient here come try am see if e no de work'. The man defended.

'My friend will you keep quiet? That is how you go about creating problems for people in the name of drugs'. A well-dressed lady said from the seat behind the driver.

'Madam. No de put sand sand for my garri'.

'The only sand that will be here is the one I will shove into your mouth if you don't put your ynash back in your seat right now and allow us some peace'.

'Gbam!' A few other women agreed and the marketer slowly returned to his seat.

Then the discussion about the problems in our beloved country began and the bus suddenly became a market place.

The journey was bearable with the help of Rasheed and our new friend. She flowed easily in every topic almost as easily as she smiled or bursted out laughing.

She'd glance at the other boy at least once every minute but he never stopped looking out the window.

At 6pm most of the passengers were already dozing off due to exhaustion from being in the same position for too long. Rasheed dozed off after complaining about the lack of proper lighting to read a novel.

I looked over at the girl, she had her head rested on the seat, facing the roof of the car. She looked calm and beautiful and at peace with herself.

I wasn't the only one watching her, the guy had finally turned from the window and was staring at her with admiration. He took her hand in his and kissed her knuckles.

She turned and smiled at him.

'It isn't fine. It is amazing'. He said.

Even I thought it was.

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