“Could this be the end?” I repeatedly asked myself.
I had relocated from the north back to the west and was transferred to somewhere far from my home. That’s where I was supposed to begin my one-year journey of serving my fatherland. It was a rural community where many traditions were still being practiced. I knew I wouldn’t have a problem with their traditional practices because I grew up in a community where women were not allowed to see some sacred masquerades at certain times of the day, so it is safe to say that I know everything about their ways and I know better how to protect myself.
Prior to this day, I had gone to the town in a morning for registrations and had tried to secure an apartment, but it seemed like good houses weren’t their priority in that community. Because of my health, I couldn’t just make do with an ‘anyhow’ house, so I tried to search further for an ‘at least this is better’ apartment. In the process of searching, I met some fellow members who were already about 10 months into their service, and one good-hearted lady among them volunteered to accommodate me for some days till I was able to get an apartment.
I travelled back home to pack my bags because I had just two days to report to my Place of Primary Assignment. A day to resumption, I headed to the park with my lightly packed bag. The time was 1:00pm. It was a 2-hour journey, so I had assumed I would be there by 4:00pm at the latest leaving time for some irregularities that could happen along the way. The bus left on a full speed, and I was happy that the journey would be faster than I had thought, but…
Suddenly, the bus slowed down. “What happened?” I asked the driver. He looked at me and said, “he would check”. It was still bright in the afternoon, I should still be there within the planned time, I thought. But the bus had an entirely different plan.
It wouldn’t move fast like it did when we started the journey. it suddenly listened to an invisible motivational speaker that said, ‘slow and steady wins the race’ but it was trouble as there was no race here. Slowly, the driver dragged the bus along the smooth and lonely road.
I don’t know how it happened, but there was smoke. “Driver, please stop the bus!” I screamed. It seemed like I was the only one on the bus because others seemed unbothered by the happenings. I screamed over and again until the driver stopped, and I ran out of the bus. I could hardly breathe.
I moved a bit far from the bus for fresh air and I saw fire burning from underneath the bus. “Everybody, come down!” I screamed again. For real, I think the strength to scream was a result of the Adrenaline rush in my body that had suddenly sensed danger and couldn’t bear to allow others fall victim. I knew I didn’t have the strength because it was barely a week since I got discharged from the hospital.
We transferred to another bus and the journey continued. The time was way past 7:00 pm. I called the good-hearted lady that I was coming, and she had ‘excitedly’ given me the directions to get to her place, however, at the last stop, I would’ve to call her so she could come pick me from there to her house.
By 9:00 pm, I got to the last stop that she described to me, and I called her number. 1, 2, 5, 6, 10 until I registered about 20 missed calls on her phone.
The road was lonely and the only visible creatures around were dogs and cats. There were men too, in different fits and looks, and there were ones with preying eyes. It was a dark night. While trying to call her phone to stupor, there was a sudden lightening. The heavens seemed not to be in my favor, because why would it choose that time of all times to rain? It had already started drizzling.
I tried to reach her before 10pm because that was the time the sacred masquerades were going to start their routine and it is forbidden for women to set eyes on them, else she would be their next sacrificial lamb.
“God, is this the point where I will bid the world a farewell?” I said with my tear-filled eyes. I knew no one in the community. I couldn’t call my dad because he had just cried with me at the hospital a week ago, and I didn’t want him to have any more reason to cry over me. I stood there in the dark looking into the heavens that kept shining its lightening on my face. It was 9:45 pm, and I already submitted to fate. Then, my phone rang. It was my friend, Bolaji.
“Hello, how are you? what happened? why is your voice so dull?” he asked. “I’m stranded”, I replied. I couldn’t say much to him but told him my location. Luckily, he was also in service at somewhere very close to the community. Luckily for me, a bikeman passed just in time, so he carried me to the closest bus stop where I got a bus going to Bolaji's place.
I got to Bolaji’s apartment tired, but I was at peace. He prepared me a nice meal, and I ate. I had a warm shower after, thanked God for saving me, and slept after.
At exactly 12:00pm the next day, my good-hearted lady called and gave plenty reasons why she couldn’t answer my calls last night. I thanked her for her time and that was the end of any conversation we could’ve had. I got an apartment two days later, and I moved from Bolaji’s to mine.
Fascinating story, I really love to read those type of stories.
Wow! Thank you.
You are welcome 🫶🏻 Keep writing 💖
!PIZZA
I will. Thank you.
$PIZZA slices delivered:
@ayamihaya(5/5) tipped @storygoddess
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I read it to the end sha...
This is really captivating.