So, there was a time when I saw my friend’s younger brother come down from a Black Maria (a prisoner’s van) along Lugbe Road Abuja.
I was surprised and also thought he committed a crime.
I rushed to him and asked him what he had done and why the prison van dropped him.
He laughed and told me he didn’t do anything, and the van was a public transport.
He said, while other vehicles collect ₦500 to go, the prison van collects ₦150.
I told him not to enter it again before they would carry them and land in prison one day.
He laughed again and said such couldn’t happen that he had been entering it for a long time now.
He told me where and the time I could easily find the van to enter.
I rejected it in God’s name and told him that nothing would ever make me enter such a van.
I kept warning him to stay far away from the van.
Yesterday evening, I finished what I was doing and wanted to take a vehicle home. I got to the junction, the conductor said it was ₦800.
I shouted and asked why ₦800! This was something we used to pay ₦300.
The conductor asked me If I didn’t know fuel added more money.
I remembered what my friend’s brother told me about a prison van that carries passengers, how cheap they collect, and the location where I would meet them.
I ran to where I would see them, and luckily for me, they were not there yet to carry passengers.
I joined the hundreds of Nigerians waiting for the Prison van to come around.
Immediately they arrived, the strong Nigerians who were strong enough to fight for what belonged to them fought and got space for themselves while the weaker ones missed the van, and I was among the strong people who fought like a wounded lion and found sit.
The van driver was collecting #200 instead of #800 others were collecting.
I never knew my friend’s brother was also in the van and he saw how I pushed many down when I was struggling to get a sit.
The next thing I heard was someone called Sis, Sis.
I recognized the voice and turned, it was my friend’s brother.
We laughed eeh!
He would want to tell me something, but he would burst into laughter, and I, too, would laugh.
We kept laughing, and people were looking at both of us, trying to figure out what was making us laugh, not knowing we were laughing because of the conversation we had concerning the van and how I condemned and rejected the van.
We got to our junction we came down.
He wanted to remind me of my words and how I used to advise him to stay away from the same van I conquered people to enter.
I scolded him and told him to start going home.
He laughed for the last time and said Sis, but you sat like an ex-convict with the color of your clothes that looks like prisoner’s wear.
We both laughed again.
Inside me, I had already made the van my best vehicle.
Even if they carry me one day and land in prison, I don’t mind; hence, they will keep charging less.
Nigeria has lost its charm as a desirable place to live.
It’s heartbreaking to see a country forcing its citizens into situations they never wanted.
People are being driven back to the very things they once condemned.
The cost of living is crippling, with a liter of fuel costing ₦1,700!
Farmers can’t even afford to eat the food they work so hard to produce.
What a country called Nigeria!!
Government, people are tired already!!
By Amaka Ember
