I had just left the Iselle-Ukwu NYSC camp in Delta state and was travelling back home in
order to retrieve my car for use in the service year. I stood at the motor park looking strange,
exhausted and tired. There was no attire to suggest that I was a corps member, save
my ID card in my pocket- my khaki and other paraphernalia of service were tucked away
safely in my little hand bag.
I boarded the commercial bus set for the journey to my home state of Ekiti. There was this
extremely beautiful lady beside me in the bus. She was a study in panache, a paragon of ravishing radiance, a whole garb of pageantry. She wore the carefree smile of a collegiate female model on the runway- the type that gives men a combination of goose pimples, a confused mien, an imbecilic reactive smile, an assent to every unreasonable demand.
Initially, we ‘styled’ for each other amidst intermittent exchanged glances, I reasoned that she was conscious of her ineffable beauty and i was ready to bring her down from the high horse of
her cosmopolitan arrogance by not making the first move by my usual pick up lines of a
humorous interjection or so I thought.
Like the witch that most beautiful women are, no sooner had I made the rule than I broke it. I became a gentleman true to type, making the first move of course, and we got talking-
bonding almost immediately…she moved closer to me, leaning on my slightly broad shoulders
whilst I smelt her soothing pheromones and sweet-smelling vanilla flavour cologne.
We exchanged gists and I cracked her open true to type as a connoisseur of humour. She giggled repeatedly hitting my laps in reaction to every joke I shared and I savoured every bit of it with a ‘don’t wake the sleeping mamba If you don’t want a bite’ grin…
After about one hour into the journey, I began to notice a tickling sensation and a numbing
feeling in my tummy. I felt so much discomfort as my belly worms began to make rumbling,
tumbling, thunderous noise like loud fusillade of applause after a phenomenal
“What did I eat?”, “Why me?”, “Why now?”….. I asked rhetorically…I started sweating profusely on my forehead and my stomach alone even though I sat by the well-aerated window shore. The
discomfort was so evident but only me sitting on bottled up shit could feel it. I only managed to eke out a wry smile as this gorgeous beauty asked me what the matter was.
I replied ‘nothing’, not wanting to fall my hand…I began to shift base, turning up and down like pancakes on fresh fire…my eyes became pepper red, wet, misty and dreary. I grunted ceaselessly in excruciating pains as I tried effortlessly to suppress the dysentery-compelled
My mind raced to the Afang soup and Garri I ate which I wasn’t used to as I researched into the cause of my predicament… My church mind prodded me to inform the driver to stop for me so I can empty my bowel into the bush ‘toilet’ in a sportless shot put spree; my ‘forming’ mind gave me ginger that I can pull this off alone that I would ‘soon’ be in my destination in 5hours; my street mind warned me that If I do not talk fast, my
disciplined shit holder might lose grip and empty its content into my boxers. All hell would be let loose as neither the beau I am ‘styling’ for nor the passengers would be able to withstand the stench of the outpouring harvest of Afang soup’s misgivings shit..
I tried switching off my mind, holding on to the faith…I began to question myself- why form for someone I might not even see again? What is it? ‘She no dey shit?’….every diversionary tactic did not work.
I was praying someone would be in my shoes who would prompt the driver to grind the bus to an abrupt halt so I can go for the shit ritual- in the bush of course…this was very unlike me…me?
Forming because of a pretty woman? All these while, my new friend was snoring mildly- her braz weaved head on my troubled shoulders… She soon woke up and what she said almost shocked me…”Oga Driver, Abeg, pull over, I wan shit!”
I thought I didn’t hear well, that she was stopping the bus for me…I heaved an overdue sigh of relief as I screamed “me too”…it was at this point that I realised I wasn’t alone in the shit saga… About 7 of us alighted and navigated our way into several locations of nature’s latrine and ‘boskaka’ there…
We all returned with passing glances of “so, you sef wan shit” on one another….I never saw or met the lady since the hilarious episode even though we exchanged contacts…
One vital lesson the shit saga taught me was never to form for those oblivious of my existence…God forbid that one does the thing in the panties and the commuters choked from the stench – That shame one avoids would be in manifolds.. Always say your mind and demand help when you need one, eschew every form of meaningless pretentiousness and ego trips…be as real as daylight ..for the one you hide your shit from also shits..
Have a great day, friends!