Steeming Community Contest, week #03. An open letter to my friend,steemit by @dayographix

We meet again this week, my entry for this contest @fabio2614 Thank you for creating this contest . Am happy that am in this platform where you share ur experience . This is my letter to steemit which I titled "Every Good Deed has a Reward "

Dear Steemit.

When you enter a cab or bus and you see people on their own minding their business without even contributing to the discussion going on while the car is in transit, do not always mistake them for being gentle. Some of them are going through challenges of life. Some of them could even pass as those they refer to “ogbara nkiti okwu juru na onu”. I couldn’t believe it until my first long distance travel early this month.

Traveling back to school after the Easter holidays i was not able to secure an online bus ticket making me to search for a bus, the morning of my travel. After painstakenly searching for bus, i got one though higher in price. A glance at our driver’s face will suggest that he is troublemaker, but i was prepared to give him the benefit of doubt because from my experience, looks are always deceiving.

The preceding day before my travel, i had eaten my mum’s food like the world was coming to an end. I ate whatever that was served both sollute and solvent. It already became too late in the day when i remembered that i would have applied some restraint since i was billed to travel the following day.

Prior to my finally getting a bus, i noticed some level of disquiet in my belly but i was hoping i could weather the storm. I sat down quietly and humbly like someone who did not pay the full bus fare as the driver navigates the steering from the streets of Lagos. It took the climbing of a pot-hole by the driver for the unsettled, stubborn and undigested residue of food to demand immediate and forceful evacuation from my belly. I knew i was going to purge but it was just a matter of time.

I kept matching my shoe( jungle booth side of canvass which i was advised strongly not to wear for long travel to avoid pains in the foot) and holding tight to the seat to know if the storm will pass me by. While I was battling with my situation, a passenger shouted from the back that she wants to ease herself.

The driver hissed and murmured without him knowning i was watching him as his rear mirror displayed his “”uwaezuoke” like face coupled with his harmattan kissed lips.
My heart jumped as i knew i was in a more precarious situation than the lady and i dare not mention to the driver to stop the car.

The woman sitting beside me had already started pampering her crying baby to stop crying. As a good Samaritan i quietly told the woman to try giving the baby some food in case the baby is hungry. The woman replied that she wouldn’t want to give the baby food yet so she will not have to poo so early.

I kept encouraging her to give her something so she can stop crying. In my mind i was setting an escape route for myself in the event the baby finally poo, i might have to poo on my pant and damn the consequences. I advised myself that life is most important and i cannot be killed by my own poo. I helped the woman carry her baby who seem so relaxed in my arm while I carried her.

My body was warm probably because of the goose pimple all over my body as a result of my predicament. The woman kept thanking me for helping her out. To make matters worst, the driver kept repeating “ezi nwa di uto” music by Paty Obazi in the bus television instead of trying to give us movies or at least TV comedy other buses use to entertain their passengers .

Not that Ezi nwa di uto is not a good music but repeating that same track from Lagos to Ore worn everybody out. A complaint for him to change it will land the complainant in various episodes of tongue lashing and allied abuses. It was as if we were in a military regime with the driver as the Head of State.

Everybody held their shit together including the lady that wanted to pee and myself. I was not myself anymore. I tried unsuccefully to distract myself from the fact that i can empty my bowel anytime without my consent. Luckily for me i was man enough to hold it till we got to Ore. Even when we arrived Ore to eat i told myself that i must find a way to take my pound of flesh on the driver for intimidating us on top of our own transport fare.

I couldn’t use the public toilet, i just had to get a tissue paper for N200 and headed to the nearby land for open land gravsing. There is a saying in igbo land that “onye afo na asa amaro ajo ofia”( a purging man does not know the meaning of evil forest). I only advised myself early enough by buying tissue paper instead of using leaf in wiping the west wing of my National Assembly bearing in mind that i have not accepted the fact that ore is still Yoruba State and making everything about them pepperish.

The same poo that respected itself all along the journey almost threw me inside the bush when i was about getting relax to let it go. The harmattan breeze was flowing in and out unrestricted, the feeling can only be experienced than imagined. I forgot I was in transit and took more than the estimated time for the break.

By the time i came out, the driver was almost at the road as they have waited impatiently for me. Before I could enter the bus, i could hear voices and whispers. The driver was already cursing me. I just mumbled I’m so sorry and sat quietly before we began the continuation of our journey with the driver still shouting.

While the tension reduced, I bent down to tie my shoe properly only to discover some substances inside the back of my show and stockings. Oh my goodness, it was my own poo and probably my souvenir from the good people of Ondo State. The stench oozing out from down there can cure a cataarah patient. I knew it was only a matter of time before the AC helps it to circulate as tension was still high due to my coming back to the bus late.

I didn’t know the woman beside me saw it. I was embarrassed when my eyes met hers. I didn’t know what to do, but i kept asking God to come and show once more that my name is Ekundayo(Sorrow turn to joy). To my greatest surprise, the woman started removing her baby’s pampers. This time the smell of my shit has gotten to first and second roll.

The smell of the baby’s poo and mine mixed together and it was to your tent oh isreal. One elderly woman who saw the woman beside me removing her baby’s pampers shouted “Nsi nke a sikarizikwa nsi okenye”( The poo smells more than that of the adult) and people started laughing.

As the woman was still wiping her baby’s ass, a passenger opened the window so we can effectively breathe in and out properly, the breeze carried some of the baby’s poo directly to the driver’s lips. Alas, the driver controlled his steering and abruptly stopped the car and asked everyone to come down. I thanked the woman for her good work and cleaned myself up.

I got a mail from the transport company asking me how my journey went and i told them it is was my best journey so far.

Am also inviting my steemit friends @alphafx, @awesomenonso, @noskiart, @beckie96830, @circwall, @davosimple, @beckie96830, @spyrex, @stitches11, @Ezege11, @rexdevex, @sonia440,@whitestallion , @alphafx , @awesononoso , @nellymartunez,@chezandras