In the Loving Arms of Servitude

10. Welcome to Lagos I

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While the bus waddles down the road, Uju subtly winces at the foul stench emanating from the robust woman sitting beside her. It almost smells like putrid mayonnaise mixed with sweat. In a bid to evade the odour, she stylishly turns her nose away, but to no avail. It's almost as though the smell were deliberately running its course into her nostrils, and as though every driblet of saliva she swallowed were tainted by its putrid essence. She finds it so unsettling. But what can she do? The vehicle is extremely hot and stuffy.
This is no surprise though, because the air conditioner of the rickety bus is already ancient history. And its windows are so stiffened by age, that they can barely open more than a few centimetres. As if that weren't enough, Uju is sandwiched between two ọrọbọs who are occupying much more space than they paid for and seem quite unconcerned about her discomfort.
She is only a child, after all. Who is she to complain? And there is no adult here to defend her. So, she is all on her own.

'Four passengers forced into a seat meant for three people during such a long road trip? It's just terrible.' Uju opines within. And Mummy made sure that she travelled with one of the cheapest transport companies in Owerri. 'Transport Company' is an overstatement really. The print of their company logo has already faded off the battered door of the bus. It is a long Igbo name, a bit difficult to pronounce.

#BUMP!

The bus jounces violently as its tires cross a speed bump on the road, jolting both Uju, her two seat mates and the ghana-must-go bag on her laps.
In a way, it wasn't so bad, since the two people beside her absorbed the sideways shock with their robust bodies. But the shock of the vertical jolt was as deadly as ever, bouncing the loaded ghana-must-go on her fragile femurs. Her knee caps are still sore from the heavy weight. And all she can do is cringe, as painful cramps slowly permeate her leg muscles.
All this pain seems to have taken away the thrill of arriving Lagos for the first time. Lagos; the land of opportunity. Lagos; the land of infrastructure, business and entertainment; the land of suspense and wonders; the land where talents flourish and dreams come true. Lagos; the land flowing with milk and honey. Ohh! How Uju would have loved to properly relish this moment; a moment she can never get back again.

While still lost in deep thought, she is snapped out by the deep voice of the driver,
"Ojota dey??? "

"Yes oo! Driver, Ojota!... Stop me!", Uju yells in response.
Then in a few minutes, the driver parks the bus inside a petrol station and opens the door to let her and another older man out. With the might of a heavyweight champion, this middle-aged surprisingly muscular driver lifts the loaded ghana-must-go from her laps and dumps it forcefully on the ground, to enable her come down easily.

"Ha!... Na small girl like you dey carry this kind heavy load??? ", he asks Uju jocularly.
Too tired to speak, Uju simply smiles at him and adjusts the tattered leather purse on her shoulder; afterwhich a woman chuckles and then echoes from inside the bus,
"Person wey don already dey get breast, na'im you dey call small pikin?"

Upon hearing this, all the passengers burst into laughter.
Then the driver replies, while struggling to close the stiff door,
"Na by breast?... This girl never pass fifteen years."

In response, the woman asks again rhetorically, as he enters into the bus,
"Fifteen years old girl na small pikin? "

They all burst into laughter again.

Uju on the other hand, pays no attention to them, but immediately begins to surveil her environment.
Yes, Lagos may be a land of wonders, but it is also a den of criminals, thieves and con men. She is no fool. She has heard of the many ways one can be harmed or robbed at crowded parks like these in Lagos. And not to mention, she is a young female; easy prey in the eyes of these predators. Hence, she plans to be extra careful.