Travelogue ~ When Ibadan Madness jammed Zaria Madness ~ Hajara Wodu
Leaving home for school, and the other way round, was always dreadful when it meant having to sit for hours on end in ridiculously tiny Hiace buses that mostly plied the saddening South-West federal roads that connected the lip-sealing deadly ones up North. If you were travelling from Lagos to Zaria, you had to spend an entire day on those roads, sandwiched between other passengers, most times, the space meant for the movement of your feet, compromised by loads, so that your knees were practically up in the air, as though they were yearning for a catch-up with your chest. If you didn't control them- because buses like that never had enough space between a row of seats and another- the passenger in the seat in front of you had a bone to pick with you, half as much as you had one to pick with the one behind you. It was always a long-ass journey with a heavy dose of non-stop grumbling and fight for comfort. No one ever won, we only got "gifts", like the kil