There are about a dozen red buses around me but quite a number of observers keep sitting and waiting, whatever they are waiting for remains unknown to me. Taking this bus after my debut last two weeks seems very different. The visual mixture is awesome, slim beautiful young “chicks”, menopause-stricken old ladies, forty-year old bums sitting around lurking for loaded luggage to arrive, the list is endless. Facing the many possibilities scares the shit out of me, I mean my laptop is comfortably resting on my laps obviously, but the middle-aged man sitting next to me is visibly startled. How many times do you find a young man seriously typing on a bus with nothing as expensive as a laptop without being scared?
No matter the number of robbers waiting to lay siege on this supposed prize asset, it’s a decision I’ve decided to make this cold morning. I must admit there’s a heavy distraction sitting on the throne of my mind; it’s the memory of yesterday’s goodbye kisses my girlfriend planted on my lips after being MIA these past few days. This blind-fold is good enough to rid me of such chicken thoughts of losing my laptop to an unknown assailant on reaching my destination.
My battery is fast dropping like the credibility of my dear nation’s political climate. Just overheard the occupants of my bus (I don’t own one yet) talk about some journalists being coerced into taking monies with the intention of supporting some political move of theirs(as if this is the first time anyway), which I honestly care shitless about. After all, these pathetic political monkeys depend on the ignorance of the electorate to earn their incomes or better still, their ex-gratia. My father once told me he’ll never accept a governmental appointment, or enter politics for any reason. I guess the strings attached to that line of occupation are too taut.
Can’t believe I’m listening to an Action Film: Mister Incredible is one hell of a talent. Normally I’d be enjoying an African movie on this bus, which is far better than Silverbird cinemas anyway: you can decide to sleep after a while. I keep wondering what makes Nigerians better than Ghanaians on all fronts, whether it’s entertainment, scrabble, making money (no offence in that dubious regard), even forming rebel groups. Is it the Ghanaian passive attitude or the lack of motivation to achieve greatness? I have discovered it’s more of the latter, the average Ghanaian seeks the safest option most of the time in order to avoid undue attention, whilst the Nigerian wants to make sure he has the newest jaguar or the tallest wall with well electrified barb wires. But I guess its an African thing in the end.
My battery has finally given up but I haven’t.............