Night Bus War: My Enemy Behind Me / Chapter 1: Night Bus Wahala Begins
Night Bus War: My Enemy Behind Me

Night Bus War: My Enemy Behind Me

Author: James Hickman


Chapter 1: Night Bus Wahala Begins

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May Day holiday for Naija na survival of the fastest—everybody dey rush home. Me, I squeeze myself inside night bus, praying say wahala no go jam me.

The air that evening thick like ogbono soup, full of that restless holiday excitement wey only Nigerians sabi—everybody dey hustle reach where go sweet dem pass. My own joy na say I dey go see family—people wey mean pass office wahala. Night breeze get small chill, but the smell of roasted corn dey enter the bus, mix with fresh suya aroma. The hawker dey shout, “Sweet corn, hot suya!” while traffic noise and Fuji music from nearby keke dey blend for background. I just dey wait make bus move, dey thank God say I fit escape city stress.

Because the journey go long, I decide make I recline my seat small, try catch sleep for road.

Before I even settle well, my body don dey calculate how I go survive these stiff seats and all the potholes for express. My neck and waist don see shege for Lagos. I press the recline button, gentle, so I no go disturb anybody too much. Even as I adjust, I dey cautious, no wan overdo am. You know as Naija be—people dey quick vex if you invade their small bus space.

But before I even relax, the person behind me push my seat hard.

No be small push o—na proper shove. E shock me, my body nearly bounce front. I grab my seat, turn sharp sharp, dey wonder if I press sacred button for him back.

I turn look and see one man behind me, him eye cold like harmattan morning.

Na heavyset man, face strong like person wey dem just wake from wrong side of bed. Him eye dey shine, no even blink. The kain eye wey dey warn you say wahala fit burst anytime. Knockoff headphones for neck, shirt rumpled, face show say e no come play.

He bark, "Na who give you mind to bend seat? You no sabi say people dey here? Abi dem no teach you manners for house?"

Him voice loud, carry wahala reach another level. Some people for nearby seats turn look our side. As usual for Naija—public bus fit turn reality show at any time. Me, I just freeze, mouth open small, dey wonder how reclining seat turn to matter of home training.

I just freeze.

My mouth dry, palm dey sweat. I dey wish ground go open swallow me. For small seconds, my brain blank. I dey calculate if I go answer or just bone like say I no hear. My heart dey beat kpokpo, but I no wan cause scene. For my mind, I dey pray, "God abeg, no let wahala meet me for road."

I no understand how reclining my seat take turn to matter of manners.

E shock me reach bone. So if person try rest for public bus wey dem say seat fit recline, na wahala? I dey ask myself if I miss new law for news—maybe reclining now na taboo and nobody tell me.

I try explain, "I just wan rest small, abeg. My back dey pain me."

I talk am with my softest voice, add small beg join. For Naija, if you wan survive public wahala, sometimes you go humble yourself. My eyes dey beg am, my back still dey remind me of old pain. Even people closeby dey watch, dey gauge who go calm first.

He cut me off, voice sharp: "I no go allow you recline, you hear so?"

E snap like person wey dey hurry, face squeeze, voice rise one notch. Small anger dey there, like say na personal beef. The bus driver sef look mirror, dey check if fight go burst.

This sudden wahala just tire me.

I sigh deep, chest heavy. Sometimes, e be like say wahala dey pursue person for road. I dey try reason how small movement fit grow to fight for bus. For my mind, I dey pray say make this journey no spoil my holiday mood.

Logically, if bus seat fit recline, passengers suppose fit use am now.

Na so I reason am—if dem no want make person recline, why dem put the button? Abi na just decoration? I dey ask myself, maybe e get unwritten bus law wey I never hear.

Because of work, my waist dey pain me steady. If I must sit upright for six hours for bus, how I go take manage?

Omo, for Lagos and this my work wey no dey let person rest, na miracle say my back never break. All the jumping up and down, plus old injury from my army days, don turn my body to yama-yama. If I no rest for bus, e be like say dem send me suffer message.

To make matters worse, I notice say the man own seat too, e don already recline.

As I dey complain for mind, my eye catch him seat—e don lean back well well, as if na him papa buy bus. I just shake my head. For Naija, people go dey claim right, forget say dem dey do same thing dem dey vex for.

He recline him own seat but no wan allow me recline my own.

The hypocrisy dey pain me pass. I just dey look am, dey wonder if na me get problem or na world dey mad. Even small pikin go see say this one no balance.

I no fit hold am, I talk: "But you sef recline your seat."

I try hold my voice, no make am too loud, but frustration still leak out. E get as e dey do person when wahala reach neck, you no fit swallow am again.

He answer, still impatient: "You see anybody dey my back?"

E throw the question like slap, mouth twist. I reason the row—true true, na last row e dey. Nobody for him back. Na only him dey chop space full. E still dey eye me like say I be thief.

Na that time I notice say he dey the last row for the bus—true true, nobody dey behind am.

I just nod, keep quiet small, dey process the irony. E fit enjoy full recline, but me, I no fit get small comfort. If no be Naija, where else you go see this kain thing?

I talk, "But you don already recline. Your space don big pass."

I talk am soft, but my tone dey carry small vex. E no fair. For my mind, I dey wonder if him see the injustice or just dey enjoy upper hand.

He hiss, "Face your own. I no go allow you recline. Abeg, no disturb me while I dey watch my film."

The hiss loud, like generator wey dey knock. He face front, pull phone, plug earpiece, and press play. The sound of movie begin leak from him phone speaker, like say e wan drown my protest. I dey look am, mouth open.

I begin vex too. "So why you no gree swap seat with me? Why you fit lie down, but me I no fit?"

I talk am, voice sharp now. E pain me pass say I dey beg, but sometimes you go reach breaking point. If to swap go solve wahala, why you no gree? My chest dey rise, the vex dey warm up.

He just bone me, no answer, just push my seat again, force am straight. Next thing, he set up his phone for the tray table and start his movie.

As he dey press my seat forward, I nearly shout. He arrange him phone, position am like say na cinema. All this wahala just for ordinary rest. The thing dey tire person, my blood dey hot.

The thing just dey choke me.

Frustration begin collect space for my chest. Everywhere suddenly dey hot for bus, my body dey vibrate. I wan just disappear, but nowhere to go. I dey look window, dey count streetlights, dey pray for miracle.

My back dey pain me seriously. I just wan lean back rest small.

My mind dey beg my body, "Just manage. No let this one spoil your spirit." I adjust small, try take in air, but pain dey press my waist. Even my leg begin cramp. All because one man no want peace.

No get choice, I go find the bus attendant, hope say dem fit help settle the matter.

I waka gently, squeeze myself through narrow aisle, dey dodge legs and bags. For Naija night bus, to waka na war, but I no send. I find the attendant—young lady with tired face, gele tie anyhow, eyes red from long shift. I pour my matter, voice low so I no go cause more scene.

As the attendant reach, the man roll eye, sneer, "So you run go report? You be small pikin?"

E talk am loud, like say e win trophy. Even some passengers snicker. For Naija, dem dey quick tag person oversabi or mumu if you try follow due process. I just hold my anger, jaw tight.

I swallow my anger, no wan quarrel. The attendant try talk to am, but the man just cut her off: "I no go allow am recline. If e do am, no space for me. You dey okay like that?"

The attendant try calm am, voice soft, but him no gree. E dey argue like say na him get final say. The woman dey sweat, look left and right, dey hope the matter go settle quick.

The attendant pause small, then finally tell me, "Sorry, nothing I fit do. Try talk with am, abeg."

She raise hand, shake head. I fit see say e don tire her too. Public bus wahala no be beans. Sometimes, even staff dey pick their battle, no wan stress body.

With that, she just waka go.

She waka sharp, shoes clap for aisle. I just stand dey look, as e be say hope don waka comot. Nobody dey to help. For Naija, sometimes na who get mouth loudest dey win small small battle.

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