“Bhet, why you dey para give her like that na?” Lantana smirked, a wry smile tugging at her lips. Lantana is my alter ego. Her only job in this lifetime is to harass my life. A self-appointed public prosecutor, although her duties extend beyond the financial. She constantly implants herself across me, acting as a check and balance in my life.
I caught her eye, then averted mine without a word.
“Why you dey rake for the babe like say na your country you dey?”
“I just tire for their ignorance, and I no get power to argue with fools today”, I returned with a sardonic smile.
“Ignorance bawo?”
“If no bi ignorance wetin dey make people behave small-mindedly towards others? You saw the crap she just did. I proffered my card, but her card reader couldn’t read it. And their card reader always does that, unlike the other bus company. How then is that my fault? I told her that if I try again, my card will be blocked for 45 days, yet she insisted I tried three times without success. She still come dey tell me nonsense say make I come down wait for the next bus. She drink?”
I exhaled hot steam like an Ox into the bitter winter air as I glared at Lantana.
“Ọmọ, you need to be calming down for these people. If to say she make you come down, you for come wait one hour for the next bus?
“Dem no born her well. Abi, you no hear me tell am so as she say make I come down wait for the next bus?”
“You tell am? Which time?”
“Mscheww, when you dey busy dey poke nose inside wetin no concern you how you wan take hear? She say she dey hurry, and wan go, say make I come down wait for the next bus if I no get money. Na why I begin para for her be dat na. Am I asking you for a free ride? I gave you a card which didn’t work on your card reader, I have £4.35 cash, which is not up to the £5 fare, and you are telling me crap.”
“You no even let her talk. Na only your voice I hear,” Lantana cackled like a Lagos conductor that finally managed to push you out of your lane.
“Which nonsense again she want talk? If she get sense sebi she for just collect that cash like that, come dey talk like say I no get money.”
“Na wetin me miss Naija for be dat o. As your money short, conductor for just say make you enter, or another passenger go just pay for you. But these ones, all of them just siddon, quiet like say dem no get where dem dey go.”
“Yet, those are the ones she says I am holding up. Make all of us siddon na.”
“Ah, I miss Lasgidi sha! Passengers for don dey rake for you since as you delay driver so.”
“Passengers ke? Na conductor for don leave me wákà since sef. Who get that kain time to argue? I nearly slap am when she dey yarn.”
“Just be calming down nne. You know say your face fit scare a person. Not to talk of your granite voice. The babe know say she meet kolo. She probably presumed it was another black person who would keep quiet and…”
“Oh, please! I am tired of playing the bigger person. After all, I no big sef. Again, na because all these black people dey keep quiet for them naim make dem think say na dem holy pass.”
“Doh. Now you can listen to your audiobook.” Lantana placates.
“Yes, oo, let me time out this…”
“She is talking to you.” Lantana motions me to the bus driver. I stare at her.
“Do you have the Stagecoach app?” She enquired conciliatorily.
I shake my head. She has taken me by surprise. From where to where? Shifted from animosity to placatory.
“You don’t have the app downloaded?” She speaks again.
“Nay. I don’t want to, but my son has,” I remark.
“Okay”. She goes back to her steering. Woman to woman, I recognise the peace offering for what it is. And accept it. I lean back into my book, ignoring Lantana for the time being. I was so gone until the gentle tap on my shoulder.
It was Lantana.
“Babe, we don reach.”
As I alighted, I turned to the driver and said, “Thank you.”
“Thank you too, and Happy New Year”, the driver responded cheerily.
“Aww, you still tell am thank you after all that drama?” Lantana drawled, winking.
“It’s called civility and maturity,” I said, smiling ruefully. “Who get time to carry face?”
