Tag Archives: Molue

The Poop Dilemma.

THE POOP DILEMMA

 

Most times when I see peeps defecating in public places, soiling their bodies in the bus or in class, seeing peeps exploding with poop, I always abuse the living daylights out of them. I mean, how can an adult ‘shit for body’? Yuck! “There is no justification whatsoever for it jor”, I always bellow.

Unknown to me, fate sat down waiting to make it my turn. And when it came, it came so hard on me. It was a bright Thursday morning. I had an interview at Lekki but mehn, I was broke, very very broke. ‘Yahoo-yahoo’ was in its prime but fearing the ‘what-goes-around-comes-around’ effect, I had long decided not to do tread that path. I grudgingly took the molue http://wp.me/p2sMMf-10 , my first love, and surprisingly, it was a scandal-less journey.

 

Everything was moving very smooth, I even finished my interview on time, came home, ate my lunch of bread and Portuguese beans and spiced it up with Hollandia milk. Off to my friend’s crib I went. At least man go unwind after the day.

 

Boarded an economically disempowered rheumatism-causing danfo with a crayfish seller seated to my right and a ‘don’t-touch-me ugluche’ with ‘gbagaun-cious tendencies’ to my left. As we all minded our business, trying our best to seat comfortably, the first sign came, mess kash me. “Chai…inside dis cramped bus, with the lack of breeze, omo mehn, if I ‘minister’ into this bus ehn, we fit get accident o! That filled my thoughts, with both my mind and tummy in turmoil. But as the ‘mess‘ no gree go, I angled my butt to deliver…

 

Now, this thing would have happened to you reading this sef…where you feel like you wanna ‘mess’, or ‘pollute-the-air’ (or fart, in standard English) and as you angled your butt to get the perfect setting before your release, you suddenly realize something else well prepared to follow the mess comot your body ‘by force by fire’…you know that feeling shey? That’s exactly what i felt that fateful day. I thought it was mess but lo and behold, as e hook me, I immediately knew I was in trouble. “Na shit dey worry me and dis  kain shit na die!”.

 

Got to my friend’s crib, bobo don comot. My mind started racing, “how I wan take shit now nah? Na house sure pass o”, I took the supposed face saving decision. Quick quick, i jumped into another bus. This time around, traffic was not my friend. The traffic was so heavy and we had to snail on. I almost died in the bus as my tummy was on fire.

 

 I felt like my belly would soon explode into tiny pieces of the beans and milk combo that was manifesting in my tummy. I kept scanning for any bush or eatery but for where, I no see any. The olodo driver just dey match brake anyhow making us shove forward and backward, hitting bumps and forcing yours truly to hold back leakage of catastropic odourous compounds stemming from the deepest regions of my belly.

 

The lady beside me was sincerely scared as she obviously thought I was about running mad! She gave me that ‘e-be-like-say-this-one-don-craze’ look. I had to sit with one bottom cheek and angled my bumbum so that any change in movement won’t depressurize my bowels!

 

Thank God for endurance and strength. Just as sudden as it started, my stomach troubles disappeared. The bus moved and the road was free. Relief washed over my entire system.

 

As I sat properly, the bloodclaat tummy rumbled again. This time around, it gave a very loud, disturbing sound. Lucky me, we were near the next bus stop. The bus had barely stopped when I jumped out. Sweaty palms and forehead, I asked for and was shown a public toilet. My people, if you see the mound of poop I saw in the Water Closet eh! It was as if some people were hired to mould the shit kon put for dia. It was so bad that flies were performing orchestra on it! “Chei! Shey na for this kain tin I go tanda put my yansh? Lai lai”. I paid the agreed N50 for ‘toileting’ and sharpaly hailed a bike. “My house nor too far, I go try hol am”, I decided again, and moved on.

 

As fate would have it, it was those ‘aboki , them ‘mallam born-champion’ types that only understood ‘GO’ that carried me. The bobo nor get Stop or Slow down for him dicko o. Na so e dey enter am, potholes, bumps, pavement, anything and everything. My right hand gripped the okada seat, my left spiritually held my tummy as I prayed I don’t release the nuclear warhead inside me. My whole body was strained and barely, just barely, I was able to manage holding on. Finally, after what seemed like eternity despite the Bobo practically flying, I got home and fantasized seeing myself seating on my WC, downloading away…

“Ah! Welcome Nicko” “Omo baba e”, “you have really grown o!”, were what greeted me. Today of all days, my family was having an impromptu meeting! Yeeeeeee!

 

I was pushed from one family member to another, introduced to countless numbers of people whose names and titles I forgot instantly as I grimaced with my tummy killing me. Each time I tried to escape for the toilet, another uncle or aunty will sha try to introduce me or drag me to meet someone…mehn! Even when I politely asked to be excuse that I was pressed, for wia? Dem nor do like say dem hear me at all.

 

After finally getting to the toilet, it was occupied. I almost cried, cringing as my “belle dey turn me” and begged the occupant to “please do quick”. The occupant killed my hope as he replied, ‘bros, mesef just enter now now’ !

Heeeee!

 I don die!

 

Na so I go take embarrass myself for dis place wey every full ground? Mehnnnnnnn!

As I immediately made way for the door, headed to my neighbour’s house, the poop hooked me to the point that I couldn’t walk. I kept ‘uhmm-ing, and aaah-ing, and cursing the spirit that made me eat beans and milk as I slowly made my way to the door, delicately avoiding any physical contact.

 

After barely making it to the sitting room, my uncle just had to tap my belly and that was went I gave up holding the poopoo any longer…

 

 It was those smelly watery kind…the type that typifies ‘Gastroenteritis’. The one only a ‘running tummy’ would produce. Just imagine what came out of me that day right in the sitting room.

 

First, everywhere went dead as if an angel passed by. The next thing that followed made me almost curse the day I was born…it is exactly as you have pictured it in your mind.

 

 

Written by @nykelodeon

Nick Benson-Osagiede.

Comments are highly welcomed. Sharing, re-broadcasting, all the every so far you like it is allowed.

 

Other funny Stories by yourstruly…

 

‘Carryover tutu re o!’ on http://wp.me/p2sMMf-2f

 

‘Ghen ghen’ on http://wp.me/p2sMMf-2H

 

My JAMB-SALIM diary on http://wp.me/p2sMMf-w

Once upon a ‘molue’ Part II.

Once upon a molue Part II.

 

After what Mr Okitimako did to me, i vowed not to ever board a molue again ! However, as we all know, man proposes GOD disposes…one tin-one tin, i found my self standing at Oshodi bustop waiting for yourstruly, Molue. What choice did i have sef, with 70 naira left on me, i got no choice na ! except of course, i get ‘witch-craft’ !  It was that time of the year where @one chance’ was rife and to avoid stories that touch the heart, i decided to travel safe.

After 20minutes, a rickerty, rheumatism-causing bus, came bounding along and to my surprise, half of the crowd were going to obalende as well ! wahala number one, this means war ! after wasting enuff time waiting for a bus, i wasnt gonna form ‘bigboi’ and let this one pass, lai lai. As if reading my mind, one frail looking man standing close to me gave me the ‘oya-make-we –see’ look. Choii  ! Today na die ! Over 100 peeps waiting, armed with uppercuts, blows, slaps, and push to make boarding the already filled bus a success.

obalende aiye joko’ , bellowed the conductor  ! Within seconds, the almost filled bus was ‘fulled’ to the doormouth with sweaty, ‘gingered’ lagosians . Now, after such hustle to board a molue, a lot happens to a successful boardee…there is this exhilaration and highness, followed by a ‘gingered’spirit and an extreme edge of temper instability…there is this king of the jungle feel…

It was 9.25pm, a very late hour for 3rd mainland bridge plyer. The bus had headlights…very bright ones like a candle flame as one could hardly see the road and i know y’all wont believe this but the driver actually tied a recharable lamp to his side mirror !  it was those unique kinds of molue that had the driver’s seat barricaded like a cage and  a small door 4 d driver to pass thru. The bus was poorly lit, giving the sweaty, body odour smelling bus  an eerie feeling…like something crazy just had to happen.

From no where came the shocker…due to the time, the driver and conductor decided to up the tfare by 30naira making the total tfare a whooping  100 naira ! choooi ! immediately,Ii knew world war 4 was about to start because most like me, had budgeted 70 naira ! The already ‘gingered’ crowd were ready for anytin, with their tempers on the edge, an aluta was brewing. How could they increase the tfare just like dat ? who dem be ? wen fuel is still 97 naira ? i pray ooo ? we no go pay ! Inshort, pipul blood don dey hot ! One don dey tap the condutor 4 head, sparking another round of shouts and insults ! As the noise got to a maddenIng cresendo , the driver did a miraculous thing…he left the steering wheel to aim a well directed curse!  Jesus !!  a woman almost fainted as the bus hit a bump and almost skidded off the road. Mehn, there was commotion everywhere, with the driver, barely having his eyes on the road as he kept turn back , hurling insults.  una mehn….still on the first row, demanding for 100 naira, with no one ready to pay, the conductor wasnt ready to capitulate. After enuff shouts and ‘aluta’ chants by the commuters, and with the driver’sreluctant  interference, the conductor grudingly accepted 70 naira and everyone was happy. As we got on the 3MB from Adeniji Adele , we could see the road better thanks to the street lamps on the bridge.

All of a sudden, the bus started quaking, jerking like an epileptic patient,  forcing the driver to stop .

Aaaarrrrgh ! On top 3MB, the longest bridge in africa? @9.52pm ! ahhhh ! how we wan take reach House? Nooooo it must not happen ooooo ! First, it was noise, unrest and fear. Next came the insults, and normal rebuke of poor maintenance . Next were the tirades of people with ‘experiences’ and of cos last came the way forward. However, in the midst of the melee, we forgot the driver ! The dude with the bus’s key had crossed over to the other side of the 3MB ! Everyone @ first thought there was a problem until we saw the conductor race like a mad man to meet his ‘oga’ on the otherside of the bridge . That was when the conspiracy dawned on us…because we failed to pay 100 naira, the driver decided too leave us in the over crowed bus in the middle of the 3mb @ 9.52pm ! The driver and conductor have taken their  pound of flesh !

‘ Yeeeeeee !’,  ‘oloriburuku’, awon weyray’,  enuff curses rented the air ! chai ! Have you ever laid foot on the 3MB? Standing very close to d rail, breeeze blowing like crazy, with the bridge doing a kinda vibrating something , like its moving and of course, the acute reality that no bus or car would stop 4 anyone @ dat time of the night plus the fact that ‘man nor fit swim’….mehn….it was a live nightware ! Maybe i ‘bluetoothed’  the fear to everyone else bcos all of a sudden, the realisation that we were alone, In the middle of the Third mainland bridge, with the nearest treakkable distance being IyanaOworo, a far 100km away 1 mehn…people humble straight ! We started pleading, begging the driver and conductor with reckless abandon. To make matter worse, the crazed driver had even started walking in d direction of iyana oworo !!!! aahhhhhhh !

oga driver, pleaseeeeeee’, one woman cried !’Joor baba okomi, ma shey bayii’, another pleaded. Even the boy scout co-ordinator wey dey form  ‘Staff’ follow beg. For where,  The guy just bone awa side…chai…there is feeling that comes with the realization that sumtin very bad can happen…you go just humble. Na so we dey, some dey comtemplate how dem go negotiate the movement on top bridge. A man was even trying to signal some fisher men below  to help..like say him go jump d bridge ! my mind was spinning oyut of control as i tot about my life , only child, no wife, no girlfriend, no sugar mummy, no pikin, no will, nothing…na so i go just kpai ! chooooi !

Kon see as prayer warriors begin to dey cast and bind ! Some were invoking all kinds of spirits to come save the day. Some have started calling family and friends to break the story. Many tried flagging down cars and busses at formula 1 like speeds…for where? No one stopped.

After what seemed like ages, Eventually, we all succeded in persuading the driver who insisted we paid first before we continued the journey. After another 15mins on the bridge spent on collecting another 30naira from all of us, the driver eventually hopped into his seat.

‘taaayuuuunnnnnnnyunnnnyunnn’, nothing.

Tayyyuuuuunnnnyuuunnnnnyunnnnnnyyyuuunnn…., nothing. The ‘molue’ would not start !

Fearing the wrath of the passengers, the driver attemted to bail but one ‘soji’ guy grabbed him sharp sharp ! After another round of abuses and insults, we diagnosed the bus problem…no kickstarter…meaning we had to push the bus till it starts !!! mehnnnnnnn, wetin eye see dat day eh, e heavy for mouth ! we had to take turns pushing d bus to start ! After anoda 19mins, we got the bus roaring, with billows of smoke covering the bus like lord vildermort in dem Harry porter movies.

Mehn, that day no b beans at alll ! as we rolled into anthony, i breathed a sigh of relief. The almost silent bus came to life again, and  everyone, including the driver became chatty and cozy as we all laughed  and recounted the events  of the night. We eventually reached oshodi  around 10.54pm and the driver, out of his ‘finite’ mercies decided to take us down to ‘Cele’ free of charge…your guessed right, we declined !!!!!!

 

Written by Nick Benson-Osagiede .

checkout other interesting stories …

once upon a Molue Part I …  http://wp.me/p2sMMf-10

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