Securing The Bag (The Lagos Hustle)

CHAPTER 1

RED DUST

FUOYO

The journey back to Lagos is one I would never forget for too many reasons. For one thing the condition of the bus was really terrible. The transport company had apparently played a fast one on us and loaded us in a faulty bus. The first sign of this was when the air conditioner began to turn to a heater barely 30 minutes into the journey. We had no choice but to roll down the windows or suffocate to death especially when we realized someone in the bus had a rotten stomach.... as in really rotten.

Red dust occasionally surrounded the bus, forcing us to quickly roll up the windows and wait till we got to a more tarred road before rolling them down again. But then most of the road wasn't tarred and the dust was a recurring problem plus rotten stomach kept releasing frequent deadly gas, making me roll down my window once more; preferring to die by red dust. To make matters worse, the bus was overloaded. Travel bags and food-sacks were stashed here and there and even a goat was on the bus which made it impossible to stretch my legs except when the bus broke down twice.

As you can guess the mood in the bus was foul, with plenty complaints and curses to the unknown "messer" but I remained quiet through out the journey, sttaring out the window at the red dust, lost in my own world, plagued with the same question that had been disturbing me since the pass out parade three weeks ago.

What now?

What do I do with my life?

You know how it is when you attend school, graduate from the university, enjoy your youth service and the prestige of being called 'corper' but the moment you pass out, you suddenly realize you have no concrete plan for your life, no money or safety net to fall back to. Okay obviously not "you."

Most people have their goals set down from the onset, whether they plan to get a bachelor's, masters or doctorate degree they go for it diligently. Or maybe they have a clear idea about the line of work they plan to contribute their labour quota, but not me. See my case was rare, I went to school but my studies didn't come first, to me the university was a place to finally enjoy my freedom and catch fun and occasionally attend lectures. Nysc was a year long vacation in the middle belt, receiving monthly allowance and sowing wild oaths up and down with the pretty but gullible indigenes.

But now it was over. I had my certificate in my bag and here I was thinking of what to do with my life. Start looking for a job? Even first class students were roaming the streets not to talk of a 3rd mainland bridge holder like me. My degree was more or less useless....the ultimate culmination of 4 years of unseriousness. Chai...I'll be 22 in two months and all I had to my name was 40 thousand naira in my account and I was in a bus heading home to my widowed mother and two younger brothers. For the first time in my life, I began to feel the weight of the responsibility I was stepping up to. It was so heavy I could feel the pressure spreading in my chest.

As rotten stomach released another deadly gas and I rolled down my glass, I knew I had a messy path ahead of me and I had to hustle or become dust.

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"You can't what?"

JECINCTA

"Omo Jessy you're my friend...no you're like my sister and I won't lie to you, you know I must tell you the truth no matter what..." Fifi got up from the bean chair and began pacing, a clear sign something big was on her mind, I instinctively shut the paper back novel I was reading and sat up worriedly thinking of what she was about to say.