The Weary Journey: Revelling in the Sound of Silence
The driver gunned the engine of the infamous big bus of the young shall grow motors, as we started out — the journey of possibilities — the long awaited journey. It’s true I was born with a peripatetic itch that needed scratching, as a teenager, I enjoyed adventures, and fascinated by travelling. I could remember the first time I travelled to the same destination; I tasked myself not to sleep at all to enjoying the scenic view of cities, and their landscapes. ‘Isy, wake up! You know you’re going for the first time’, my eldest sister yelled. She is such a wonderful, caring sister. She helped me choose the ‘right bus’ she wanted me to enter, and ensured I was perfectly comfortable before she left for work. Today seems quite different because: the sister that was single then has found her missing rib, as years had elapsed, and I was no longer the ‘kid’, she had pampered then.
With the blaring of the bus’ horn, I heard its lingering sound over the distance , as it sped quietly along the lonely road; trees sailed backwards as we progressed inch-by-inch, together with old and unpainted and derelict residential houses with most of them devoid of their owners.
The big bus I boarded seems unusually long to me; fully occupied with: old men; middle-aged women and their kids; few young boys. Most people that boarded with me look scruffy, some smell like freshly fried Crayfish. The bus’ interior lacks the aura that would motivate one travelling for fun. I had thought boarding a big bus comes with a special treatment, as the cashier’s words convinced me, ‘Today is the first day of the month, you’ll be given sprite once you board’; I kept my hopes up. I kept waiting as someone that needed a boost. At a point, I ran out of the luxury to afford the wait.
Albeit, I’m glad I sat down with a nice person — a man that gave an extra penny to choose a seat near the window, as he said; it wasn’t entirely enough to conjure ‘a happy moment’ for the fun traveller.
There were two ‘money-motivational’ speakers. I couldn’t fathom if they had paid for their bus fares. The first was a preacher, he acted and manifested like a true evangelist, however, his voice was no different than the sound of a horn-speaker in mounted close to one’s ears. The second ‘money-motivator’ brought along books written by him. He further described himself as a ‘talented writer being sought for’, he shared his books for us to peruse, and part with the cash if we needed any.
As the time ran marathon race, the journey seemed farther and made no sense anymore. I, tirelessly, rested my head. Refocusing my attention towards the window of the bus, I observed some oddly-looking buildings: one boldly labelled as ‘National Metallurgical Training Institute’; worn-out tall buildings; mechanic workshops. I wished that we’d passed the infinite, and litany of HD- unsavoury structured characters. If there was a spell I could cast to summon sleep to attenuating the boredom I felt; I think I craved for one now.
Untimely, I realised we’ve entered Onitsha; a city known for its hyper-business activities. ‘Be careful, be mindful of your pockets when you’re in Onitsha’, as a location-wise mantra people going to Onitsha take to heart. A passenger I had met before told his story of how he bought a packet of an Oxford biscuit through the window of the bus he’d entered, only to realise when he got to his home that the packet was filled with ‘carved wood’ in the biscuit size.
The bus stops for some passengers stopping at Onitsha to alight. It was pleasing to note that the external influence of the city has eased its way into the bus — heightened level of chaos.
Our journey continued once more. Now, I’m welcomed by a picturesque view: vast water spaced out beneath an enormously flamboyant bridge, dressed in varied silver-coloured metal straps. I was enthralled by the soothing landscape. With the glistening of the water in the sunlight, I felt completely at peace with myself — the silence of water rejuvenated my lost happiness.
The reassuring silence; the stillness within; the moment of nothingness — I absorbed them all.
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