fiction · out of my head · this kind of God · Uncategorized

Bodija – Moniya

He looks into her purse as she opens it to bring out her transport fare. He sees about four thousand naira,all neatly lined up by the side of the purse.
She holds the thirty naira she has just pulled out, in her hand, and draws her shopping basket nearer to herself. The shopping basket is made of straw, the same material used for mats. Inside it, he sees eggs, plantain, grinded pepper on the surface.

“excuse me please.will he pass in front of Ui to get to Moniya? ”
It’s the last micro second before it becomes obvious he was distracted, when he catches what she said.
” yes” he croakes. He had not expected her to talk to him. This happens to him all the time; responding in necessary and unplanned situations, but responding in a voice not much distinct from that of a frog.

She still sits uncomfortably in the bus, very upright. In her defence she is apparently the only one of her social class in there.
It is a small and crowded bus plying the route of bodija market to Moniya in Ibadan.
Theirs is the last row in the bus. He sits at the extreme left, she follows and then there is a Fulani man by her right, followed by an Alhaja sitting next to the Fulani man.
Others in the bus are significantly older.

The small phone in Ire’s pocket vibrates and makes him jerk his leg suddenly. He pulls out the phone to see it is a beep from his younger brother 

“flasher of life” he mumbles under his breath and remembers he has to be in church later that afternoon. He hisses.

Mo ki gbo gbo yin ninu oko yii kaaro l’oruko Oluwa
He is stunned. It’s the Ui student speaking.
o se pataki ki onikaluku wa ye igbe aye wa wo nitori  pe. .. “
Her Yoruba is faulty, they’re also fast approaching UI gate. By reason of logic there is no reason for her to preach but then she is preaching. 

She is.

When the bus gets to park in front of UI, she rushes to complete a faulty statement, then wedges her way out of the bus after paying her fare.
The Muslim Alhaja with the yellow scarf at the extreme right hisses after she leaves but Ire knows the Alhaja couldn’t have hissed while the girl was in the bus. There was something about her unjustified courage that made her message worth listening to.

When Ire gets home that morning with the items he bought at bodija market, he knows he has a motivation to go to church. He needs what the girl with the shopping basket and purse lined with one thousand naira notes has: the shameless courage fueled by her God.

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10 thoughts on “Bodija – Moniya

  1. The shameless courage fueled by her God! I need it indeed.
    Awesome write up! πŸ–’

    I’m now hungry after seeing eggs, plantain and pepper at the surface. Who know what’s beneath?

    Liked by 1 person

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