I
had thought for a good while if I should actually do this post or not. For some
reason, it kinda sounds absurd doing two consecutive posts talking about shit.
I mean, who does that? Definitely, most people don't. Then I thought again to
myself. I'm not 'most people' so I decided to do it anyway. The story I began
in the last post would really not be complete without sharing this experience.
The
incident of 2005 proved to be a pretty embarrassing one for me but I was able
to get over it eventually especially when I considered the fact that most
people had lots of other stuff to think about than about some guy who shit his
pants. Worst case scenario; they would laugh about it for a day or two and then
move on with their lives. I have to admit however that it was pretty difficult
for me to move on after that experience. It took my last nerve to show up for
lectures the next day and I assumed every single person who looked my way or
smiled at me knew the story. Nevertheless, within a few days, it was
history and I was back to my usual stylish and suave self.
Of
course, I never bothered to pursue my love interest in Chichi, the lady who
brought me water to clean up myself. I was sure I would never be able to look
at her without imagining her visualizing that ridiculous moment when I stood in
the toilet in my messed up boxers. The sight of her that day passing me the bucket
of water and with her hands over her nose was one I would never be able to get
out of my head. Thus, pursuing any love interest with such messy clouds hanging
over my head was a definite no no! I took special care after that day to ensure
I never ever found myself in such a situation ever again . . . until about two
years after when a similar event occurred.
For some time now, I do not ever bother to eat or drink anything before travelling, especially if it's through public transportation. I have experienced a rather strange phenomenon that sort of connects my mind to my bowels and as much as I have tried, I have just not been able to overcome it. Whenever I embark on any trip, my bowels suddenly develop a mind of their own and I find myself having reasons to visit the bathroom repeatedly before setting out. Once in the vehicle, my stomach gets extra-sensitive and thanks to the deplorable state of our Nigerian roads, every bump on the road further provokes my tummy’s sensitivity.
As
a result of this, once I arrive at my destination, the first thing I usually do
is go to the toilet for some evacuation of whatever my cranky insides have
conjured up during the journey. I’m still yet to understand if my case is a
medical condition and what it is called. The irony of it all is, I never
experience this whenever I drive myself on such trips. Now, ain’t that some
situation?
2007
The
last straw that finally influenced the free-tummy-empty-bowels decision came
about on one fateful day in 2007. I was on my way to Lagos from Ondo State; a
four-and-a-half hour journey all things being equal. I had a light breakfast
and set off at around 10am. Fortunately, I was one of the last passengers in
the bus and so there was no delay. I paid my fare and settled at the right back
corner of the 14-seater bus. A cute chewing-gum-chewing girl was seated on my
left. Since we were going to be seating partners for the next four hours at
least, we naturally had to say hello to each other. I decided to mind my
business thereafter. Truth was, I had some emotional situation hanging over my
head during this period so flirting with some random girl was the last thing on
my mind. Her Sony Ericsson K800i phone caught my attention though. That was
probably the ‘iPhone 6 of 2007’ if comparisons are to be made.
The
journey was a rather smooth one for the next hour and half and I continued
reading Dan Brown’s Da Vinci Code which I had begun a few days earlier. We made
a ten minute stop-over in Ore town and some passengers had seized the opportunity
to buy stuff from competing hawkers struggling to get their wares through the
vehicle’s windows. Some passengers alighted and rushed into the nearby fast
food restaurant to ‘do their business’. I would have loved to come down to
stretch my legs but my seating position meant I would have to disturb the lady
beside me who had not bothered to leave her seat. I had no ‘business’ to do at
that moment so I waited patiently for the journey to continue. Besides Dan
Brown was thrilling the hell out of me at that moment as Leigh Teabing was
planning an escape for Langdon and Sophie from his chateau.
I
was so engrossed in my book that it was until I heard the engine start that I
realized everyone had settled in again and we were good to go. It must have been
about thirty minutes later when I felt a slight rumble. I dismissed it as a
possible protest in my bowels. Perhaps, I was hungry. After all, I had only
taken a few fingers of fried plantain and fried eggs and washed it down with a
cup of tea that morning. Of course, that wasn’t food and I had a right to be
hungry. We hit a terrible bump in the road a few miles ahead and I felt the
rumble move down below. Instantly, it became clear to me that these were no
hunger pangs. The protest wasn’t a request for an entry but for an exit. With
every bump in the road and every pothole we hit, the feeling got worse and I
was almost sure I would repeat Episode 2005. This would be a bigger disaster
for many reasons.
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| Source |
I
still don’t know where I got the courage from but what I did eventually
surprised me and I have considered myself a super hero ever since! It must have
been the longest three hours of my life. Yes, the rest of the journey
eventually spanned over three hours as we hit a most annoying traffic on the
Lagos-Ibadan expressway. I was like a mad man all through the period and
thankfully, the lady beside me slept for a good while or else she would have
suspected something was wrong with me. Of course, I didn’t dare attempt to fart
this time thanks to the lessons from the 2005 experience.
I
told myself again and again that if I survived this, I could survive in the war
zones of Benghazi, Afghanistan or Iraq. Trust me, it was that bad! I almost
pleaded for a stop-over many times but held back and finally we arrived at
Ojota, Lagos. As the driver parked the bus and came around to open the trunk to
let out passengers’ stuff, I climbed out from the same trunk. It was too risky
to wait for everyone to get out of the bus before I did. Only I knew why.
“Oga
na wa o,” the driver said, “You dey rush o!”
Even
the lady beside me seemed to wonder why I dashed off like that. I ignored them
and with my bag swung behind me, I dashed off.
There
was no fast food restaurant in sight so I asked a guy selling airtime recharge
cards around for the nearest hotel or guest house and thankfully; it was just a
minute away. I thanked him and took hurried steps towards the guesthouse.
“Hello,”
I said to the receptionist, a rather ugly looking dude.
“Welcome
bros” he replied.
“Please
I need to use your restroom” I said, sweat breaking on my face. I could almost
feel ‘it’ coming.
“You
wan rest?”
“Abeg
I wan use toilet!” I almost screamed.
“Na
short time be that. Na N400.”
“What?”
I screamed. “Guy I no dey do short time o. Na just toilet I wan use.”
“Bros
na the price be that” the guy said dismissively.
I
winced. This was clear exploitation but I just couldn’t deal with that right
now. I gave the guy two N200 notes. “Please let’s go now. I need to use the toilet
now.”
He
handed me a key. The keyholder had 102 inscribed on it.
“Last
room on the right,” he said, pointing in a direction. I was off already. I
would find the room or break down any door if I had to. I had already paid for
it anyway.
“Water
nor dey o!” he called out after me. “You go patient small make I go fetch
water!”
I
could have strangled the guy.
In
seconds, I was seated on the toilet bowl blasting out like the world was mine.
At that moment, that was my own heaven. The N400 I paid was hurtful but it was
just my luck. Of course I took it up with the guy when I was relieved and out.
“Na
people like una dey spoil Nigeria” I told him. “You take advantage of people in
their desperation.”
He
shrugged dismissively as he retrieved the key from me. “Oga na your own be that
o. When shit wan kill you that time, why you no talk all this one?”
I
ignored him and left the place. I realized he actually had a point. Anyways, I
had done what I had to do.
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