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THE OLD RULE OF THUMB

There was a time when the criterion for enrolling children into school was for the hand to go across their head to touch their ear. It was deemed practical and the proper judgement for establishing a child old enough to get an education.  Many of our parents experienced this because there was no documentation regarding age/birth certificates, so the logic was to ascertain a child's age by specific abilities. Take, for instance, Diana in 1985. The education standard for getting into school was from the age of 5. Diana's mother had painted beautiful pictures of a school's appearance and said that only sensible people were considered worthy of being a part of it. All Diana wanted to do was put on the new socks and shoes her mother had purchased. Diana dreamt of reciting the greeting the night before, 'Good morning, teacher; we are happy to see you; God bless you.' And so, Diana was taken to school that morning for enrolment. 'Fine girl, raise your right hand over y...
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SHADES OF KINDNESS






 SHADES OF KINDNESS
That woman. One would have called her a bully with such body structure. You could tell she hailed from the Niger Delta region, she had the speech swag called WAFFI. She had one of the biggest behinds I’ve ever seen and an understanding heart. Her voice was raucous but her laughter truthful. When I got on the bus, the first voice I heard came from her: “Sister you get change? Driver go para if you no get o abeg sidon if change dey your hand.” And this was her job as long I remained in the bus. She would gather moneys, give changes, direct incoming passengers on where to sit, making sure she was not inconvenienced. “Sister you know as e dey na, dis place too tight so make we three (instead of four passengers) just manage dey go like that until no space again for bus before we allow anybody sidon here.” Sitting side by side, we both laughed.
Half way through the journey the driver was provoked by a teenage boy who hung on the boot of the bus trying to evade payment. Driver stops the bus, chases after the teenager; reigning curses, deaf to the pleas of his passengers. Seconds later he returns to the bus:
“na so dis small pikins dem go dey tamo bus up and down. One die which day for Onikpan after the driver hold brake and e nak im head for the back of the moto. Dis one now wan put me for igbese abi. Olori buruku omo…”
Woman: “Driver calm down fess. You for ass were im dey go. Maybe e no get the money to pay na im make e do wetin e do. Na night we dey so abeg try reach am for front make you carry am. E fit be your pikin.”
Out of all the commentators, she was the only one who spoke considerately on behalf of the teenage boy who had raced forward after he was chased by the driver. This woman, her convincing power was out of bounds. The driver somehow hearkened unto her voice and drove to catch up with the boy. He was going to Maryland but had no money for his bus fare. Woman told him to enter and ask nicely next time instead of performing such dangerous act. I looked around me and noticed that many of us had lost love for one another. We were all ready to abandon that boy on the road at that time of the night because we felt his actions were greater than his safety, because we relished in reproach than assistance. I learned and unlearned that minute.
A man going to Oyingbo was about to enter our bus going to Yaba but the driver snapped at him: “I no call Oyingbo na Yaba I call for you. Where you go see Oyingbo for here? Nonsense!” He drove off.
Woman: “driver why na? That man no know say you go first reach Yaba then take Oyingbo na. Wetin you for just explain give am na im you vex go like that…”
We were at this point silent in the bus as we were all guilty of criticizing rather than giving a helping hand. Many of us had laughed at the man, calling him a novice, JJC. I learned and unlearned again.
When I finally got to my bus stop, I waved at the woman; although she never waved back for her only flaw was how quickly she wanted the driver to go so she could get to her destination on time as she had complained that the journey had been terribly slow for her liking… I continued home listening to her voice fading into the distance as the bus drove off… “Driver carry go na you want make we sleep for here? No forget say you still owe me hundred naira change sha…”

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