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| copyright 2012 |
STRANGEST RIDE
HOME EVER!
Episode 4
(A continuation
from 14th, 16th and 18th of May 2012 blogpost
@ alexzandasopi.blogspot.com)
But there was a breakthrough, her partner, the one she
“lapped” in the bus, remembered the number!
Eager to get to the end of this, just to prove that the
purse could not possibly be among the remaining passengers loitering, one male
passenger volunteered his phone and called the number.
BEHOLD, SOMEONE THOUGHT HE HEARD A PHONE RING! And there
were random movements, everyone strategically repositioning!
But it was just one person that had claimed to have heard
a phone ring. So, they tried it
again. No one heard any phone
ringing. Someone declared that it must
have been switched off.
While this drama was on, something else was going on
outside the circle of eager Sherlock Holmes.
One of the construction workers headed towards the roadside drainage and
“staff” followed him. Or so I thought.
Curiosity pushed me towards this line of action.
“What was going on here,” I questioned my reasoning.
“Staff” jumped into the drainage, kicking aside the
collection of waste on the floor.
And I asked, “na here the phone take ring?”
Silence greeted my query as busy Sherlock Holmes
continued with their search.
I had thought that the construction worker was making an
attempt at repositioning himself to hide his guilt and “staff” was moving in to
uncover his ploy. But observing for a
little time, I then concluded that maybe someone had gone to the drainage to
dump the phone there at the moment the phone was to be called.
In all these emerging theories, I was wrong. For immediately “staff, ” in teamwork with the
misjudged construction worker, did not see what he was looking for, climbed out
of the drainage and started shouting in Yoruba.
“The person that went to urinate, where is the wet patch
of urine you left on the floor?!”
IT WAS COLD! IT WAS CALCULATED!
“Staff” instantly went to the “Agbo” hawker and
categorically put it to her shouting, still in Yoruba, that if she was to find
her purse, she must conduct a thorough search of the person that went to piss.
THE ACCUSATION WAS NOW POINTED AT THE NURSING
MOTHER/HAWKER!
She it was who had claimed to want to urinate at the time
of a second attempt at calling the phone inside that stolen purse.
Again and again “staff” shouted, “both of you are women.”
“Go to a corner and strip her naked!”
At this point, I was reluctant to join this train of
accusers especially as the nursing mother/hawker was pointedly denying the
accusation and willingly followed the “Agbo” hawker to a corner along the
road.
But something did not sit right with me too concerning
the presently accused. She kept accusing
“suya” lady and minor-role lady.
Just as I was trying to make sense of all this from “staff”
and the construction worker, then came running back to the loitering passengers,
was the “Agbo” hawker with her stolen pursed high above her head like a trophy!
The mother/hawker
was the thief!
As if this was a drama with some sought of timing
sequence, along came the conductor with a container of fuel.
At the time the fuel was completely discharged into
the bus, the thief, mother/hawker, was yet to come out of her corner of shame to
join the other passengers.
The conductor fully updated with what had happened led a
charge on the wares of the mother/hawker taking a pack of cigarette. This action was followed by “staff” and some
other persons making an attempt at taking something from the wares. I quickly stepped in and begged that she
should not be plundered.
Also sensing that the thief could not be guaranteed immunity
against the anger of the plundering passengers, I pushed as many as I could to
board the bus so that we can go without her.
I reasoned that if we left without her, no one was going to beat her up.
For those of you who don’t know Lagos, a thief on the
street, surrounded by a group of angry persons, is never granted safety. I know this by experience having stood
between a mob and its thief-of-a-target for lynching.
I had to choose between two evil and I chose the
lesser. I could not afford to be a
witness to a lynching. The issue that
she is a nursing mother, I guarantee you, would not even save her. For the purse she had stolen, according to the
“Agbo” hawker, contained all the money of the sales for the week and this was a
Friday!
And so we were relieving the Agatha Christie drama that
just played out, everyone filling in little unnoticed details as the bus took
us to our final bus-stop without the thief among us. In the course of the talking, I tried to
arrange everything that had happened in my head.
If the bus did not stop, the no-blow-thrown-brawl would
not have occurred. Without the brawl, “staff”
would not have wanted to cool his fury with “Alomo” and the purse would not
have been discovered stolen.
“Suya” lady and the minor-role lady played their part to
fuel distraction from the real thief.
And even the baby with the mother/hawker was relevant in the scheme of
things. It was the cover needed for the
thief. While carrying the baby in front
of her with her wrapper loose over her hand, she avoided attention from the
three construction workers beside her to claim her underserved prize.
My role?
I was thinking it was about stopping the lynching but
then I realize that this drama needed an “amebo!” In other words, I am the tale bearer.
And you want to know why the “Agbo” hawker was this
lucky?
Not to worry, I won’t ask you to wait another
episode.
While we recounted all that had happened, she revealed to
us that there was a time she has boarded a bus and she picked from the floor of
the bus a handkerchief tied into a ball containing N20,000 (Twenty thousand
Naira)!
She called out in the bus if anyone had dropped
anything. But no one answered. It was only after a little while that it
occurred to whoever had dropped the handkerchief that she had lost something, her
money that was contributed to her through thrift collection, popularly referred
to as “ajo.”
That day she received a prayer from the grateful owner
which I believe was a catalyst from whoever had arranged for the casting of the
roles of the passengers inside that bus that fateful day. A necessary manipulation to warrant the
outcome of the strangest ride home ever!
THE END!
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| STRANGEST RIDE HOME EVER! Story by Alex |
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