BRAVERY, COMMITMENT AND AMBITION. - by Kuby Uyanga.

I am in the bus among the myriad of other vehicles slowly crawling along Badagry Expressway toward Surulere and CMS. It's not one of those smaller buses, I am in a big Molue with hard wood backed metal framed seats whose engine sounds like a fifteen year old brown bear attempting a menacing growl while suffering from the late stages of whooping cough, it would seem to die out and the bare bodied driver would put foot to the gas and it'd gurgle back to life. This bus is large enough to give the conductor the 'right' to cram us up to five passengers in a seat. It is warm and I'm already perspiring, the beads of sweat on my forehead have gathered into rivulets and coursed down to form a thin pool in the hollow of my neck.

This is Lagos and in Nigeria we have a high tolerance for suffering so I'm not crying. I rather switch seats into a more comfortable position when an elderly lady with an afro of greasy grey hair disembarks at Mile 2, plug in my ear piece, set my 'Soul' playlist and settle down with hawk eyes watching the sidewalk keenly hoping to catch a glimpse of my friend.
J. Festus is my very good friend. He also has no knowledge whatsoever of my existence. I know him because his name along with his staff number, 003115 is clearly stitched above the ragged monochrome epaulets of his white and leaf green NURTW polyester uniform.

He is the highlight of my morning bus rides to Orile. I usually spot him before my bus gets to that stretch of sidewalk he usually prowls. I admired and befriended him the second consecutive morning I found him at about the same Coker bus stop shaking down bus conductors for the daily N200. He usually does not lead the charge but is very committed to the mission of revenue collection as his own contribution to the Lagos the mega city project by putting up the appearance of a tough lieutenant and echoing all the threats uttered by their black faced mustachioed ring leader. Tax must be raised even if a few side mirrors have to break.

He would stutter, stamp his feet encased in Nikes of indeterminate shape that had a window that ventilated his right big toe while making menacing faces that would not quite hide or take away the probability that he would flee if the altercation progressed from verbal to physical, his hesitant body language suggests. When he his not contributing his coarse Yoruba bawls to shaking down defaulting motorists, he does a gangster lean on the concrete Nepa pole beside the Julius Berger JB sign plate on the edge of the bridge. I have never seen him squat or sit on the concrete bareer like his colleagues usually do. In his heart he wants to be the bad guy, the boss and has to live the part. Or so I think.

I am a people watcher and after a couple of J. Festus sightings I have observed some traits in him. I may be wrong but I've noticed he's neither physically strong rather particularly brave. I respect that! I have also seen a fire in him, an ambition to be that which he naturally is not as a result of his circumstances. I admire that! And he acts the part (he's an amateur actor), I love that! Asides from the money he makes to assuage his physiological needs like Ewa and Orijin for breakfast, I see he feels the need to contribute to a worthy cause and establish his niche on this highway. Maybe he wants to be the NURTW chairman someday, I hope he self actualizes that or any being need he has.

Yesterday I did not see him when I passed and that was unusual. He is usually as true as time, he'd never missed a day before. Was he sick? I wondered. Had he travelled? I doubted. Is he dead? I prayed not under my breath. My friend's welfare had occurred to me a couple more times during the day but my own personal worries had soon relegated the thought. But this morning he sprints into my consciousness the moment I catch sight of the electronic billboard at Festac 1st gate while I ride the molue. So I leane away from the stifling body odour of the middle age man who has just boarded and of all the empty sits has chosen to sit next to me. I ignore his garlicky sweaty ooze while I point out hawk eyes keenly observing the side walk hoping to catch the blunt features and squinty eyes of J. Festus, 003115. I wonder whether the J in his name stands for James, Jeremiah or Japhet like Omojuwa's. I am fast losing hope when we go past his usual lamp post and he isn't there but I heave a sigh when I find him munching an egg roll and moving his oily lips in animated conversation with the hijabed girl hawker while she counts out his change. I heave a sigh of relief because my friend is fine, I wonder where he went yesterday. I admire him because he personifies bravery, commitment and ambition at the grass roots. To me he is a model of sorts.
There are role models on every level.





Kuby Uyanga holds a degree in Civil Engineering. He is a writer who uses words in different formats to impact positive change.
A certified Competent Communicator by Toastmasters International, he speaks professionally on Leadership, Personal & Organizational development.
He is also a Negotiator, Screen Writer and Film Director who functions as CEO/Director of Letters at Kuboid Communications Limited, Lagos.