It began like d chinese people say; 'Wit d bucklin of shoes...' on d contrary tho, i began dis journey wit d lacing of boots. As i stepped out of my lil' room at d University of Benin, lil' did i knw dat my trip 2day wld stretch for over 12hrs &span almost d entire S/Western Nigeria.
I woke 2d sounds of my alarm clock (my phone actuali), it was 6:00am. Jumpin up, i hurriedly performd my calisthenics, pulled some dumb-bells &jumpd into d bathroom. Soon i ws dressd and i plunged in2 d light rain. It ws Sunday mornin.
Joggin quickl, i moved to d bus-stop. 3 buses later, i ws at d motor park. The sign proclaimd it as d 'Uselu motor park'. Shouts tore d air as soon as i disembarkd as touts jostled wit each other, each wantin me 2 board his vehicl whilst nt concerned as 2wher i ws goin.
'Osogbo! Osogbo!' i heard in 1 corner. Makin my way over, i discoverd a dismal (for want of a 'good' term) lookin' white-colourd jalopy which in its long-gone better days wld hv bn calld a Peugeot 505 station wagon.
'How many una be?' asked d tout oblivious 2my discomfort.
'Two,' i replied, pointin at my friend Obagol.
Dis trip had bn Obagol's idea, and it had sounded good to me. He had said, 'Bro, let's go 2d erin-ijesa waterfalls, it's a national heritage site u know?' and so i had agreed.
Anyways, after finally pilin ourselvs; our seven selves into d Pijot (peugeot), we waitd for d driver while shouts of 'Baba! Baba!' rent d air. Finali 'Baba' appeard and my heart nearly sank for 'Baba' was indeed a baba! Wit scarcely a hair on his head, d wizened old man lookd like he could hardly push a trolley let alone drive dis 1984 piece of scrap metal. Nevertheless, Baba jumpd in2 d vehicle, all too game 2pilot us on dis ride. But no sooner had he settled behind d wheel dan he calld out to some of d touts, 'Oya, come push dis motor' Instantly, my hrt sank completely. The car, i mean vehicle, had to be pushd to start?!
But Baba was nt deterrd, soon d vehicle was runnin and we were underway. As we rumbled past d gates of the University of Benin, my spirits liftd and i settld; takin out a Robert Ludlum, ready to enjoy d trip. That ws whn i discoverd dis jalopy didnt posess anythin remotely related 2 a shock absorber. Every inch of d way, the car rumbled, shook and rattled and our teeth were very nearly shaken out of our skulls on d occasions whn d car hit a pot-hole. But in all dat Baba proved his mettle and slowly bt surely, d car ate up d miles to Osogbo. That is, until we got to Ore.
At Ore, d road was blockd. And dis was nt d blockd of which people refer whn dey mention three cars jammed together at an intersection. Rather d Benin-Ore/Ore-Lagos expressway ws clogged wit Two thousnd vehicles all forced to a standstil. People had bn sleepin on d road for days b4 we got ther and we were jst d newbies. As fear began to cloud my features and my mind raced for answers to dis dilemna, i forgot one essential thin: This was d time for Baba to show himslf. Shiftin gears in moves dat wld have weaknd a youger man; a far younger man, Baba found a way off the road and thru d forest and 2hrs later, we were bk on d highway none the worse for wear and wit no traffic jams dis tym. Whole we had bumped thru d bush road, over tiny bridges dat could scarcely hold a bicycle, d pple along d way stared incredulously at our run-down jalopy wit d wizened fellow clutchin at d wheel for dear life and cheered us on wit shouts of appreciation and congratulatn.
Once on d highway, it ws smooth sailing to Ile-Ife and dat ws jst all Baba's Pijot needed. The trusty old vehicl, after overheatin a coupl of tyms and almost losin a tyre, gathered speed and tore down d express to Osun state at 120kmph(dis is merely guesswrk as Baba's speedometer ws a wreck and permanently fixd at 100kmph).
Then we reachd Ife and disembarkd, waving a tired goodbye to our fellow travelers and d wizened gnome at d wheel.
In d city of Ife; home to d gods of d Yoruba; d kingdom in which Oduduwa lived and learned and taught; d centre of enlightenmnt, in dis city were we nearly stranded at 3:00pm in d year 2010 AD, a thousnd yrs after Obatele climbd down d chain to scatter sand upon d surface of d deep.
The money on our pocket ws nt sufficient to take us to erin-ijesa and bk 2benin city and dere ws nt a single ATM to be seen. D skies darkened; tym ws runnin out, dere ws no choice nw bt 2return 2Benin, such a lng journey wasted for nothin. But alas, the buses to benin had all bt lft and those remaining were nt willin to dare d jam at Ore. So we had no choice; we must go around and first visit Akure before findin a bus into Benin.
So we wnt, dis tym around on a bus filld wit almst 14 commuters, and dis ws after wranglin at d price wit an irate bus driver using an amazing combination of pidgin english and a smattering of Yoruba. The bus, rugged-lookin and dirty it may be, wit a chassis dat redefind wat d Americans mean by 'floor-boards', had a powerful engine albeit a crazy driver. Zoomin down d cock-screw bends, dey hv in Osun state, i ws surprisd d passengers didn't complain as i expected to hear d usual 'Ah! Oya were ni?!' dat we are all used to in Lagos. Instead, d passengers sat calmly, while some evn dozed. I and Obagol meanwhile clutchd at our seats and prayd for respite. It ws whn i saw crazier drivers overtakin us on evn more rickety vehicles, dat i realisd our driver ws evn too slow by Osun standards.
Soon, we were in Akure despite havin 2 detour thru d Ikeji-Arakeji community whn some trailers tried to box us in by blockin d road wit their trucks. Wat their game ws, we'll never kno, nt dat i wish to anyway.
This part of d journey ws easy and d lights of Akure soon greeted us as d clock beeped 6:00pn. Now we hd 2fix d problm of finding a bus bk 2 our city of Benin.
First we journeyed in one of d lil' blue and yellow cabs d Ondo pple favour 2 Aja-Oba or the Oba's mrkt, then to a lil' park on d outskirts of town known as Benin Garage. How joy resonated in our hrts as we discovered we were d final two to board. It ws tym to return home.
But nt yet.
The driver of dis bus, after d necessary debate on d fare, informed us dat we had to pick up d final passenger.
'Who?' queried a young man.
'A woman,' was d only reply.
And indeed it ws. It ws a large woman and ther ws no space for her. After some wrangling and squeezin and prodding, she got in right beside me! I had always thought i had bn thru all and experienced everythin, bt dat ws before she startd placing her goats very close to me. Oh yes, twelve goats in all did dat woman carry, and there i ws sandwichd in btw. I could nt help bt let out a bleat of my own.
But i did nt blame her. In d Nigeria we live today, d 'Police Officers' at each road checkpoint wld demand a fee from her for each goat she posessd and by d tym she sold dem off, the profit, if any, would be minuscle. So i held in my revulsion and settled for d night journey into Benin, d goats bleatin all d way. It ws 7:34pm.
The bus ws fairly new and d driver ws experiencd if timid, for he constantly jumpd whn he met checkpoints, and whn he 'dropped for' (bribed) them, he often nearly 'overpaid' d 'men of d law'. Nevertheless, withn an hr plus, we arrivd Edo State. Bt wit d dark rds (there wasnt a singl light in sight asides from d moon), i could nt read d signs. Bt i knew where we where as soon as we were stoppd at a chckpoint and d 'Police Officer' demanded fifty naira, rather dan d twenty naira 'egunge' their breed is accustomed to.
Oh Benin; land of the Obas, the city of bronze aquifers; the centre of African civilization; the heartbeat of Nigeria; land of witches and wizards.
The bus kept zooming, bt d roads were familiar nw and i felt at home. Whn d lights; oh, d beautifl lights of UniBen (University of Benin) appeared, my hrt leapt and i could sing for joy. Disembarkin, we waved cheery goodbyes and stumbled thru d gates, our legs in a cramp. It was 10:00pm.
'Wow, dat ws some trip.' said Obagol.
'Yeah,' i agreed. 'A tour of erin-ijesa.'
Then i remembered, we never actuali got there, did we?
