As we drove into the town I swung my head this way and that trying to take it all in. I didn’t know where I was going but I didn’t feel any sense of unease; partly because I’m quite used to visiting new places on my own ( I actually look forward to it) and more because I’m blessed with the born traveller’s ability to feel at home anywhere.
“please where is Ploy roundabout?” I asked the very pretty and buxom lady who had shared my seat in the bus for the past fours. She had intermittently used my shoulder as her pillow whenever sleep overcame her during the trip and I’d been very good-natured about it and now was payback time.
“ you will get to the last bus stop and then get a bike to take you there”
“Are there no taxis?” I asked with all the innocence of a Lagos woman in the countryside.
“ I don’t think you can get a drop”, she replied with a look that seemed to say, “welcome to the real world sister! I smiled inwardly. “If only she knew!, I thought to myself. I can make myself fit in almost anywhere and was only just checking out my options.
All the other passengers aligted at various points until there was just a young lady left in the the bus with me. We soon found ourselves in “go slow” which I realized was caused by a struggle between traders and motorists for right of ownership. We were literarily driving through the middle of a market. A few minutes later the driver stopped in the middle of the road and came round to open the door with barely concealed impatience and muttered, “oya, oya”, which could mean anything from “hurry up” to "get lost”! I got down from bus and pulled my three small but bookladen and very heavy bags towards me. My first order of business was to look for airtime as my phone that had credit was low on battery power and the one with battery power was without credit. “fat chance” I quickly found out as I looked around in vain, there was no recharge card seller in sight. I then crossed road in search of someone to ask directions to my Poly “wherever”. I noticed a young man and “yellow fever” ( local parlance for traffic warden) taking in the sights on a bench.
“ e ku ason, ejo nibo ni poly roundabout?” I inquired politely ( good afternoon, please where is poly roundabout).
“se new one ni abi old”? ( I had no idea there was more than one), “ I’m going to Afe Babalola University”, I explained.
“ah!, new one ni yen”. The trafiic warden got up and motioned for me to follow. He sought a bike for me and took the pains to describe my destination to the man. I shook my head in wonder, “small towns”. I couldn’t imagine a traffic warden in Lagos going out of his way to get you a bike and be this helpful. He would more likely arrest the bike for for having the audacity to pick a passenger in his presence. I balanced gingerly, bags and all and he rolled away at a pace the Lagos bikers would considerleisurely. When he coasted to a stop a short while later, I again shook my head. The only thing worse than arriving in a small town you’ve never been to is arriving Sunday at noon. There were very people about and all the shops were closed. I was hungry, tired, sweaty, and badly in need of a cleansing shower and a refreshing drink. I looked around and it seemed like I would get none of them.
Never mind, I consoled myself, I’m in a new town and there is always something to lean. I hoisted my bags and moved off in the direction of a sign that read, “Morroco relaxation and cool spot”. It was a beer parlour that appeared to be open. The verandah and sides had been extended to the road with metalbars and there were two men drinking beer leisurely.. “ se eni coke tutu?” I had to raise my voice to be heard over the blaring sounds from the Television set which was competing with the bike and bus sounds on the road.
“kosi coke o!, malt lo wa”. I gratefully dropped my bags and before I could sit down, the drink was in front of me. The bottle looked like it was coming from a barel of “yucky yuck” and I amost changed my mind.. The pack of straws resembled the pack of something designed for transmitting dysentery or something equally deadly. I touched the bottle and was comforted by its coolness. The girl opened it for me and I cleaned it as much as I could before lifting it to my lips. I ignored the straw completely and turned to watch the young lady walk away. She was heavily made up and dressed in form fitting multi-coloured top worn over a pair of black jeggings with “sexy” across her backside.. “small towns”, I thought to myself again as I settled down to enjoy my drink and update my travelogue on my BB. Ekiti Kete!
