The time is 9.19 am and I am in a bus on my way to the island. I have taken this route and similar bus rides many times before, but none has got me on edge like this one. No; it isn’t the condition of the bus. I know how Lagos danfos can be rickety and make you fear for your life once they get moving. For some odd reason, many times, you are already in motion before realizing that you are in a coffin on wheels.
No; this bus is fine. The engine is not droning loud and drilling away the little sanity that I have left from the stress of work yesterday. The gears do not screech and groan each time the driver switches them. So far, the brakes have worked very well too. I have certified this bus roadworthy.
My problem with this bus ride is the hungry looking policeman sitting right behind me. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days too. And he has a gun on him. Perhaps if it was a properly holstered pistol, it wouldn’t feel so threatening, but what he has is one of those ugly rifles. I hear people talk about AK47 often. I suspect that is what this one is. I am afraid. Very afraid. Because accidental discharge.
The time is now 9.31am. and I have finally gotten my nerves to calm down by blanking out the image of the gun behind me, and now someone has entered the bus carrying a gallon of petrol and taken the seat beside me.