Kano to Abuja: Story from the other side

The time was 11:45am, “Oh my God! “, followed by “what the hell?” were the only words that could describe my situation. I was just coming out of the immigrations office, they had not only wasted my energy, they also wasted my money, and the time I should have spent with my family in the west. I was miserable and confused at the same time, except for the little spark of hope in me saying, “You know God can also show up in this situation”; trying as much as possible to be a believer, though I was all pissed off, I spoke with Iyanu; my friend saying, “I forgot my documents at home”. On hearing my predicament he gave a sympathetic sound. Also, the misery that covered his face gave me this sense of pity for him instead of myself. Talking of my friend; Iyanu, a fresh graduate with first class honors in Industrial Engineering, from the University of Ibadan. A simple embodiment of brain and dedication, wrapped up in some funny looking physical appearance; about 6 feet tall and extremely black in complexion. Indeed his features are unique. Yes, the blackness of his face probably made his expression funny for me to behold. The fact was established, I had forgotten my document at home. How could I have done that? Deep in my mind I was wishing that Iyanu, out of his benevolence would choose to suffer for my absentmindedness with me. Unfortunately for me he had his own problem which I didn’t care to hear. Since I was I the heat of the sympathy, I wouldn’t allow him to steal my moment with his possibly sadder story. I was definitely going to head to head back to the Air Force Base where I stayed, trying to get a tri-cycle took us about 15 minutes. The indigenous ‘keke’ drivers were quick to recognize that we were non-indigenes and decided to make fortune out of us. Confused, enraged and angered, as I was still wallowing in myself sympathy, it was January, harmattan was still expected to be prevalent, however it had forsaken us at this ungodly hour for the Northern mega sun to scorch life out of us. Unfortunately for me, I was wearing the black polo shirt I got from a thrift shop at the fashion market ‘Kofa Wambe’. My shirt already absorbed enough heat so much that I already smelled like a cotton material pressed with an overheated iron. “Asalamaleikum Megida, Air Force Base, mu biu, nawa? “ , was all I had crammed in 7 months, at least when the situation had to do with myself and anybody trying to negotiate with any keke driver to take us back to the Air Force Base from anywhere in Kano. They were all responding with prices ranging from N500 to N300. The N500 guy really got me irritated, he said “Kabadi deri biar?” meaning “ can you pay five hundred?”, the spirit of punch rested on me, but, what could I do ? I have sworn never to start whatever I could not finish, especially not in a place where my chances of finishing are almost invincible. I compressed all my anger into one statement, “Haba Jama!” meaning “You people are wicked”. Thence he unrepentantly drove away without saying anything.    Iyanu also got uncomfortable, since he had an assignment deadline he had to meet at his place of primary assignment, my attention was shifting to his expression gradually, when I spotted a keke man coming toward us. He didn’t look like an indigene, well maybe fortune finally smiled on us again; two unknown immigrations officers had helped facilitate the processing of our passport the previous week, by which we were left with two thoughts; was it because we are Corp members, or God was just being sweet to us again? I almost doubted the later when I heard this keke man’s intonations “where una dey go?”, meaning “where is your destination”, was his first statement . I was still stupidly forming my ‘I can also blend in’ when I said, “Air Force Base, mu biu, nawa?”. My struggle was probably obvious to the man because he just decided to humiliate my ‘polyglotic’ ego by speaking English to us all through, “300 naira”, he also said, I became sad again, but I had no time to voice my opinion when he started defending his proposed price with current affairs. ‘Yeah, yeah fuel scarcity, we all know’, at least I have been hearing about it, and I have been seeing queues at fueling stations all over the city, although it has not really affected me until this very day, “Oga, abeg 200” was all I could put forward in defense of ourselves, only for him to further explain to us that he wouldn’t cheat us because we were Corp members, and why he wouldn’t collect less than 250 naira, he went as far as explaining to us why other keke men might dare collect less than 250 naira. Despite the fact that I was already tired of the whole day, I really enjoyed his marketing skills. The fact was that deep inside my mine I was already sited In his keke , but since I wasn’t the one who was going to pay, I had to wait for Iyanu’s opinion. Equally devastated and exhausted, “Make we go” was his heart warming contribution, he crawled into the keke and I followed suit.      Our Journey back looked very much unorganized, “they intentionally drive like this because they don’t want us to understand the terrain of this City”, Iyanu had earlier said that month, and our hired driver seemed to be interested in confirming his hypothesis. After several minutes of turning and bending we eventually got to the Air Force Base, leaving Iyanu In the keke, “Yaa isa”, I was getting used to the language, at least in my mind. The guards already knew me, after about 7 months, so I did not need to show them any identification documents, except sometimes when new soldiers were deployed to the gate or when they just feel like pissing me off. I was in so much hurry to go get my document and head back to the bus station, so I got the guards keep my big back pack till I returned.  I was racing down to the lodge with anger, anxiety and fury when I saw Eunice. Oh Eunice!, the only female friend Corp member that deserved me leaving my room to go see. She had been deployed to the flying training school; where Air Force train their pilots, just a month after I was deployed to the Air Force Base service group; where other military logistics in the city were decided. Intel told me she schooled in Ghana, which she confirmed herself without any interrogation from me. I always had a feeling the girl was feeling me too. We always had our exclusive time at the Wednesday sport, where we got to sit and gist away the time while others were busy sweating away their lives. I had rescued her from a boring conversation with an officer the previous year, just with my awesomeness, so I had become her impromptu gist partner. I saw her far off smiling in her almost full regalia, except for her fancy 2010 Toms sneakers. She was heading for the kiosk for what I later discovered to be ‘la Casera’, but all I needed was a bite of ‘Gala’ or ‘Hob Nobbs’, damn!, I was famished. My time was racing out like a jet, but there I was smiling sheepishly with her in the kiosk. We were both in a hurry, but you know the thing about fools and feelings. After Eunice left I had Abigail; the kiosk attendant to deal with, since some demons in her enjoyed delaying me with the constant excuse ‘No change’, though the change usually ‘magically’ emerged after she had kept me for an average of 20 minutes.  “Abigail, not today please, I’m travelling” was my plea, but it seemed as if she enjoyed my predicament. To make my salvation quick, I had to buy, eat and assess some raw flour tasting twisted undone doughnut she called cake. “Okay, safe journey”, was her declaration of my freedom after she handed me some leprous bill which totaled 850 naira. I thanked her and dashed out for my room to see Bishop and Martins. Apparently fortune has smiled on me today, apparently, forgetting my document was a divine orchestrated strategy for God to bless me. Martin and Bishop had promised me they were going to ‘see me’ the previous day I informed them about my journey. They had arrived at the officer’s mess some 4 weeks earlier and they made my Christmas and New Year period both interesting and annoying. They know how to slide mint bills of 1000 naira into your hands and they know how to politely wake you up at odd times of the morning ‘say 7am’ to ask for odd things like water boiler, pepper, water, even spoon. Of course I was the mess manager; some of these things were my responsibilities to provide, only that they came when I just started to sleep. They started greeting me from far when I briskly walked towards them, giving only a positive smiley response to everything they said; all because I knew they keep their promises. They handed me 1000 naira notes each, I said a couple of thank you, waved at them and turned to Gbemi. Gbemi, Gbemi had been my mother, talk mate and congregation all together since everybody else in the lodge left for the end of the year break, in fact we went to the park together the day before, only for my family members to insist on me stopping over at my Dad’s at Abuja. Gbemi could be very girly and mushy and that often leaves me speechless, “I will miss you” was her way of saying goodbye, but since I didn’t want to get emotional with my ex-roommate’s babe, I said “I’d call you when I get home”. Off I went; fast forwarding to the park.