Another drama from Lagos late evening commute Late evening commercial commutes in Lagos metropolis come with endless drama.If you saw the driver I traveled with tonight, you wouldn’t even want to get angry. When you see an ‘ancestor looking’ man like an 85-year-old, you must remember your lessons on respecting elders, especially if a Yoruba woman raised you when the days were sane.He parked his bus and simply walked away. Passengers loaded themselves and chose what fare they wanted to pay. Then some passengers started searching for him. When he finally emerged, we confronted him. He calmly explained that he had gone to negotiate union fees with night-duty agberos (garage union men) who were away from the garage, obviously in a pepper soup joint around the park. These guys are a formidable, unbroken force in the Lagos transport system; leadership somehow respects them and listens to them.Baba collected the fares, then performed his routine checks, taking his sweet, meticulous time. I knew we were in for a long night. After much parambulation, he finally started the engine. His ancient music system booted up automatically alongside it.He drove a few meters, settled some other touts ₦600 (the fare of two passengers), and kept crawling. We thought the actual journey was starting as slow Fuji or Apala music blared through the speakers. I zeroed my mind, unaware that the real story was just beginning.Everyone was exhausted. Fridays, like Mondays, are not “beans” in Lagos.Our driver moved a few meters in slow motion and suddenly pulled into a filling station. Passengers whined, but Baba was completely deaf to the noise. Two pumps were open, and he chose to park directly behind a luxury SUV being attended to. Normally, commercial drivers line up where they won’t spend much time. They buy small drops, so attendants clear them in seconds. Fuel is almost ₦1,350 a liter, and stingy drivers usually buy round numbers like ₦700 or ₦1,000. Very calculative. But Baba queued behind a rich man buying tens of thousands of Naira worth of fuel.After several minutes, Baba pulled out while the SUV still had the nozzle in its tank. We thought he was switching to the open pump. No. He apparently got impatient and drove straight out.I prayed the bus wouldn’t stall. He drove out with the confidence of someone whose stomach was filled by the aroma from a neighbor’s kitchen.Baba’s tank was literally running on the aroma of fuel from the SUV, not that he bought fuel eventually.The road was clear, past 8 PM, with kilometers left to go. The ₦300 fare was already paid upfront, if the bus died midway, Baba had nothing to lose.Luckily, I made it to my bus stop and alighted safely, leaving the remaining passengers with my prayers. Lagos late-night rides are truly powered by crawling buses and old-timer lullabies.
