Shewa’s chronicles is a Nigerian non-fiction that talks about the different encounters we have from day-to-day as Nigerians. Check it out!
It had been a long day and an interesting one for Shewa as she boarded the BRT bus en-route home. Stepping in, she darted for a comfortable seat and ah! she found one, lucky me she murmured. She found her convenient place by the window-thanks heavens! Shewa settled awaiting for the other passengers to board and brought out her phone to keep busy. She started whatsapping her friends.
Her online conversation was engaging until it came. She tried to but she couldn’t breathe. Her stomach begged for fresh air. In a comical slow-mode, she turned her head to the object of her discomfort. Gush! she couldn’t believe herself “ohoh, it’s not happening today of all day.”
She adjusted to the end of the seat, her stomach upsetting more. Her thoughts flashed to all the consumables she’d devoured earlier in the day – jollof rice and chicken, ice cream, drinks, popcorn and the other sweet stuffs. If she puke, would anyone really blame her. Goodness!, the object of her distress sat unbugged. She looked around for empty seats, there were few but babe couldn’t bring herself to change- it was hypnotism.
The smell came like that of rottenness after the pour of rain. Not even the air condition in the bus could take away this odor. And there, the Aladura man sat oblivious to the comatose of internal disorder he had caused. Shewa wondered, “could it be that the aladura’s cloth hadn’t visited soap and water in days or weeks?” What was more disapproving for her was the insensitivity of many who put others through such heinous torture on daily basis.
She sighed hoping that sooner the journey will come to a halt. As a last resort, she turned to the window and prayed she holds forth till she gets to her destination.
What a day!