I stood by the side of the road in the burning sun waiting for a bus to come my way. I incessantly kept looking at my watch, despairing within my head about how much longer my weary legs and forehead could brave the inescapable scorch of the sun before a bus. I grew more impatient with each turn of time — I needed to be out of the heat.
To take my mind off of the increasingly unbearable heat and the delaying bus, I started to recall how my tedious day at work was. I realized it wasn’t any easier being a chef and violinist all at once in the same restaurant; standing nearly every time and using my hands and fingers till they felt numb. It suddenly dawned on me that working tirelessly around heated stoves and gadgets everyday meant I could grapple with being scorched by the sun for a few minutes longer.
I tried really hard to keep calm and patiently wait for the bus, but I could feel every cell in my body needed a short time to relax.
My mouth and throat were as dry as a desert yearning for rain water; I reached out in my bag for my cold water bottle. The water was nearly full and I had no money to buy another bottle if I drank all of it while standing by the roadside… I drank it anyway. For a few seconds, I was hydrated. My entire body felt cool, but the exhaustion seemed to have intensified after gulping down that water. The heat also came back stronger and only the inside of my head popped up in the Arctic region.
I turned my head to check for any sign of a bus, and I felt relieved when I saw it in the far distance. “It’s coming!” I whispered to myself through a faint smile, just as a cool breeze quickly rushed in to brush through my warm rigid hair. I packed my water bottle away as I waited for the bus to finally make a stop at where I stood.
The driver hooted and flashed lights as the conductor poked his head out the window. “Muyenda?” he shouted in one of the local languages to mean, “Are you going?”
I quickly nodded and answered, “Ehe niyenda,” I responded to mean, “Yes am going.”
The conductor opened the door and I instantly began the transport fare negotiations with him. After impossibly tough negotiations, I was finally let into the bus for a fair amount, considering I wasn’t boarding the bus from Arydha main station itself.
Inside the bus, I barely got on the seat when the bus started off; there was very little space that I was squeezed out like an unwanted spread on a sandwich the instant I tried to sit down. I nearly fell forward if not for firmly holding onto the seat in front of me.
I turned to my immediate neighbour, and politely asked if she could move a little further to accommodate me. She gave me a single stern stare, but I didn’t back down as I too made sure to stare right in her unfriendly eyes. With no words spoken, she straightened her back and moved an inch to the right, the look of annoyance never ever leaving her face. I flumped back into my supposed seat and right away accepted the prospect of sitting uncomfortably for the next hour and half: the weather itself left me with no option to argue with a total stranger on a public bus… I was much tired already. My body and mind only yearned for a quick nap to maintain my sanity.
In spite of the discomfort due to my sitting arrangement, my eyes became increasingly heavy that I started to doze off. However, the bus reeked of goat urine and fresh chicken poop. Sleep escaped my eyes as I wondered where the animals could be, but I didn’t need to look far within the bus to spot where they were: the three goats lay quietly under the back seats while the chickens sat under the seat on my far right. In Arydha, it was normal to share a ride with animals that were destined for a big cash exchange in Ilya. I tried to grab my phone from the bag to keep my mind busy with menus for the coming week, but the muscles in my hand were drained of strength. I let it go and looked out the left window instead, straining for a little of fresh air that was coming through from the outside. Most other windows were surprisingly closed: a sort of strange thing that raised my anxiety.
Before I knew it, the bus was already in the busy centre of Arydha. To my relief, two passengers from the row of seats in front of me were dropping off. Like a hunter about to make her catch, I waited for them to drop off before jumping out of my seat to replace them. I finally could seat comfortably and take a short nap inches away from a wide open window.
I looked back to the unfriendly woman who did not want to move to accommodate me. The victorious stare I gave her seemed to pierce her stone heart. Feeling defeated, she looked away and fixed her gaze at the world beyond her window. As I stared at her, I wondered why she would be mean to a total stranger like myself. The conductor’s call to pay my fare shifted my attention to the bag I held on my lap. I quickly handed him my fare and looked on as he counted it to check if I had paid the agreed amount. He added my fare to the bundle he had kept in his pocket before he slumped back in his seat to take a nap. I stared at him with envy that he could sleep a little that easily.
I looked away to the window on my right and closed my eyes as each part of my warm face collected a gust of cool air: for a brief moment, I forgot about the awful smells. Even the prevailing heat had no hold on me at that moment. My hand freely dived into the bag. I grabbed my water bottle and gulped down the cool water while my eyes reminded me I needed a nap. The goats and chickens were quiet and my eyes still heavy.
I was just about dopey at that point, having nonsensical and repetitive conversations in my mind about next week’s diamond, fiery menu stars against the blue sky far outside, wondering if I was still holding on to my violin and where I left the water bottle. My inner conversations grew quiet.
“Alo! Alo! Nabebagona bonse tafika!” rattled a voice that woke me up. I instantly felt annoyed to have been woken up like that by the conductor. I quickly calmed down when it dawned on me that he was simply calling out to everyone, including me who had taken a nap, to wake up because we had reached the main station of Ilya. I couldn’t believe I had taken a nap for nearly an hour; it left me feeling groggy.
Everyone else was dropping off the bus and I finally gathered myself to do the same. As I stepped out of the bus, the cool air of Ilya streaked across my sleepy face. I knew instantly I needed two things, a cool juicy pineapple and lots of sleep.
My happy thoughts were dampened by the fatigue in my body as I hurriedly walked to my apartment. My jaw dropped when it suddenly started to rain. A surge of fatigue topped with worries I would get soaked flooded every inch of my muscles.
Then something beautiful happened. As I tiptoed my way in the corridors of various buildings, trying hard not to be tossed in the rain by crowds of people seeking refuge from the rain, a little girl ran away from her mother’s arm into the rain. Her mother furiously called out to her as she went about giggling and spinning in the rain. I found myself wondering why only her should do that. Without thinking of anything else, I boldly stepped out into the rain, and started to spin with my arms spread out to catch the rain. I closed my eyes as I realised every strand of fatigue weaved in my body went out with the rain. I opened my eyes to see for myself: fatigue strands being pulled out by the rain as the sun lit up the cloudy blue sky above. It was both raining and sunny when the rain caught a hold on everyone who was soaked to float us to our various apartments.
The following morning, I woke up rested. I walked over to my fridge and saw my juicy pineapple slices. I smiled as I realized I could have them for breakfast instead.
Read – Beautifully Broken – A Short Story by Favour Ehijokwu, Nigeria
