Footnotes — December 19, 2019
Its noon and the sun is pouring down its heat like a constipating man's bowels. The lady sitting next to me is drinking Nutri Milk, her lipstick smeared all over the straw, the bottle makes sloppy sounds but she's determined to finish its content, to the last surviving drop.
'Bush gee!' I feel like saying, but I understand her plight. Things are hard, wastage is not an option.
From the car stereo, a gospel song is playing. The lyrics drowned in the lead singer's Igbo accent.
'Jump am pass, jump am pass' the refrain is projected by the high pitched soprano of the backup singers.
A neatly arranged snare roll bounces off the speakers. My attention is drawn to its exquisite jive. It is accompanied by a vintage synthesiser. Then an upbeat in the tempo and a female singer takes the lead.
'Kedu maka gi, Jéhovah, it is my turn to shine,
Kedu maka gi, Chineke, it is my turn to shine,
Shine, shine, shine... '
Once more the backup singers pick up the refrain 'shine, shine, shine' ending the last 'shine' in an unexpected falsetto, a forced run in their voices.
The bus eases on through the traffic and a few minutes later, another upbeat and another set of chord improvisation and a new song spurts out of the stereo.
'Diaris sontin da make me komintu your prayzense,
mai hayper,
Diaris sontin da make me komintu your prayzense,
mai hayper,
Mai hayper o... '
The lady next to me joins the chorus, her voice lending unsolicited solidarity to the singers. I adjust in my seat as the sounds of a Kiss Daniel’s song pierces through the gospel song coming from the car stereo. The man sitting on my right hand side slips his hand into his breast pocket and digs out a Gionnee phone. He stares at the screen, hesitates and ignores it. The phone rings again; he sighs and slides his thumb across the screen.
‘Swerry’ He begins in a strangely calm voice, one too placid for his size. Obviously, he’s talking to his wife or daughter. I see a lorry with the inscription ‘one day for the oner’. My mind wanders…
‘Baby, kam down. I have…’ he speaks, then goes silent mid-phrase. The lady on the other end must be a fast talker, I think.
‘See ehn, right now ehn, I don’t have much, but on the thirteenth. I promise…’ He pauses again.
‘Let me finish nau’. He continues.
‘I invested five million into MMM, once I get my money, everything will be soft, you know me na’
‘FIVE MILLION’ my earlobes vibrate. I hold myself from screaming. I try to imagine why someone who has so much spare cash to invest in a Ponzi scheme would be sharing a public bus with me, when he could have chosen to ‘charter’ the bus. Maybe his ‘jeep’ is faulty. Perhaps, he’s one of those blessed with the virtue of humility and he has choosen to live on a ‘lowkey’.
‘Alright dear,
Love you too’ He says and drops the call. He hisses, his thumb swiping through the phone’s screen. His facial muscles tighten, he hisses again. That explains it all. ‘Na format’
‘Brother, it’s time to give your life to Christ, place your right hand on your chest and repeat after me’ I feel like saying, but I understand his plight, things are hard and he has to be a man.
He must be a politician of some sort. He must be…
The bus bumps into a pothole, the bus vibrates. 'Jesus' the lady next to me mutters, I smile and wonder at how religious people can be in the face of trouble.
