Opening the Door for Death: Part-1

We got to the bus station at exactly fifteen minutes past the hour of five in the morning. Even at that hour, we met a female passenger already there who would enter her name in the manifest before us. The cosy air-conditioned bus seats seven passengers and choosing a seat is on a first-to-come basis. Big and tall people usually prefer the more roomy front and middle seats. The journey from Abuja to Warri is easily an eight-hour expedition when you factor in the feasting time at Lokoja, some three hours into the journey.

As soon as my daughter and I arrived, I headed straight to the manifest desk to put down our names, but we were quickly overtaken by the first passenger who grabbed the pen before I could reach it.

“There goes my favourite front seat,” I muttered to myself. It was going to be another excruciating day of folding my long legs for eight hours!

She was short and very fat. Only the front seat with its generous apportionments could contain her; and she had made a supreme effort to wake early to secure it. To accommodate my long legs, my daughter and I decided to take the three middle seats, so I could sit askew and stretch them when I tired from folding my legs. It was the next best option for us.

Presently, our vehicle filled up and we boarded. I watched our friend carefully load herself into the front seat as I took a seat behind her. She had hauled each leg slowly and gingerly into the vehicle as though they were fragile, and appeared to be in pain as she did.

Suddenly the front seat advanced towards me with a whoosh and banged straight into my knees. Her attempt to create more space for herself was executed with unconscionable violence.

"Madam, you've pushed your seat too far back," I protested. "It is crushing me."

"Sorry, my brother," she pleaded, “I need room for my accidented leg." She apparently meant that she had injured her leg in an accident. Her voice was loaded with plea for compassion.

My frustration immediately turned into empathy. But deep down I knew this was no way for me to travel for eight hours. I was not going to fold myself in two for that length of time. Thankfully, my daughter, also empathising with our friend, suggested I swop positions with her. That seemed to be a workable solution.

I thought my daughter and I were quite generous. Our friend had all of her front seat space and quite a bit of ours in addition. Well, she needed the space and I decided to hold no grudges. In physics we were taught that matter occupies space, and I could see that this woman certainly did have enough matter to grapple with.

You're asking, "So what happened next?" Please be patient. You too hurry!

(To be continued. Culled from my book, Laughing Over Serious Matters. For more articles visit https://www.chrisekpekurede.com/blog)