I just rolled my eyes and let out a heavy sigh of frustration at the okada man that was conveying me to my busstop. "Like seriously? God, you know I hate to enter this kind of okada o.....hian!". 

I should have seen the signs earlier and of course, I did see the signs but chose to ignore my instincts ( I tend to do this a lot...what about you?)

So I'm starting a new series called 'chronicles of an Abuja road user' where I'll be sharing my experiences and that of other road users in Abuja per time. Let me know what you think about it and if you'd love to see more of these, in the comment section below.

So on my way to work on this day, I stopped this Okada man and didn't even tell him where
I was going. I was just thinking of how to quickly dispose of the small black nylon I was holding because the smell comings from it was quite repulsive and I didn't want anyone staring at this fine girl with her fine makeup oddly. The okada man (let's call him Saliu...) mumbled something I assumed was he, asking me where I was going and I called told him.

WHAT OTHERS ARE READING:  Invading My Privacy On Whatsapp 

Along a small shack-filled area that housed majority of the Hausa people in that part of town, there's a Refuse Dump where the 'Mai bolas (people who use a cart to pick waste in from people's houses at a small fee...mostly done by young Hausa boys)'  usually collected the dirty together before burning. Sometimes, when the refuse I need to dispose is small and smelly just like the one I was carrying today, I'd tie it up in a black nylon (there's always an empty black nylon in the house and it's also in the Nigerian constitution.....hahaha) and throw it into the refuse dump while passing the shack area. 

And that was the mission I had set out to do this morning in happiness until Saliu ruined it and my mind for me.....mtchewwww.......

'Go close let me throw this thing there'. Five seconds later, no response.....

  'Go close na, let me throw this thing away abeg'. Still no response and I suddenly developed a short temper.....

'Oga, go close go close, let me drop this thing and now you've passed there. I'll just leave it on your bike when I come down....ahn ahn'. I got his attention this time.

'Ehn?'.......He asked and I had to explain to him again under my breathe after which he drove close to a small bush behind the refuse dump where I threw my package into.

'You, ba Turenchi?' I asked and he nodded in agreement.

I just rolled my eyes and let out a heavy sigh of frustration at this okada man (Saliu) that was conveying me to my busstop. "Like seriously? God, you know I hate to enter this kind of okada o.....hian!". 

I always made sure I had a  10 seconds conversation with any okada man to be sure he understood English before using his service because I've had several tales of woe where the okada man didn't understand a single word in English and I, not a single word in Hausa. The last time it happened, it was an argument about price and the guy had such a bad temper that as soon I got down from his bike, he tried to draw a knife from under his shirt save for the timely intervention of another English-speaking Hausa guy.

Moral of the story: Never ignore your instincts and please, per adventure you need to use a motorcycle, make sure that you and the rider have mutual understanding of one language to avoid stories that touch the heart. 

Have you had similar experience before? I'm itching to hear it below........

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