NO REFUND POLICY

She was ensconced comfortably in the worn leather of the front passenger seat beside the driver, her hair done up in one of those intricate braid styles that flatter the beauty of the African woman.

It was plain that she was new in town: her head kept swinging this way and that, eyes wide as saucers as she drank in the passing scenery with childlike fascination. It was doubtful how much she could see in the driving rain but she maintained her fascinated mien, regardless.

As we neared the Immigration HQ, she reminded the driver of her stop at Sauka. He said nothing, and kept speeding along the highway rather than taking the detour for the service lane.

She issued another reminder as the vehicle sped past the bus-stop and the driver screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the road.

His passenger promptly lost her fascination with the scenery and glared at him, "You passed my bus-stop."

"Ehen e no far naa. Jus come down trek go back," he retorted unapologetically in broken English. (Meaning "It's not far. Alight and walk back.")

Her glare intensified, "How am I supposed to trek back with this rain? There's an overhead bridge at my bus-stop so since it's not far,kindly reverse so I can take shelter there."

It was his turn to glare. "How I wan take reverse for express? You want make I kill everybody wey dey this car?"

A back and forth argument ensued between the pair and to punctuate his superior stance in the situation, the driver drove off again. His message was clear: he had nothing to lose if she refused to alight from his vehicle.

He drove a few more yards and stopped under the airport bridge as he barked, "Oya." (Nigerian slang similar to 'hurry up').

She looked at him, "I'm new to Abuja and this is my first time of taking public transport. You didn't drop me off at my bus-stop instead you drove further so I don't know where I am. Give me money to go back to my bus-stop with another car."

Smoke almost erupted from the driver's ears as he bellowed with rage. His angry yells were met with calm, obstinate responses from her. She refused to budge.
"Driver I paid N400, same as people going to Gwagwalada. Give me N50 to cross the road and take a taxi back to Sauka. How do you expect me to trek back? It's raining and I don't know this town well."

"If you don't get down from my car, I'll drive you to Gwagwalada and refund all your money to you," the driver barked, stepping up his English.

She remained undaunted.

I was growing bored and restless with the yells and delays. I'd had a long day at work and all I wanted was to get home and faint on the cushion like a member of Association of Lazy 'Yoots'. (A Nigerian-slang variation of the spelling of Youths; 'Lazy Youths' has become a slang, often used humorously and sarcastically).

Obviously I wasn't getting out of there anytime soon unless these two got their act together. The same thought must have also occured to a woman in back because as soon as I intervened, she did too.

"Driver, her request is not unreasonable," I began, wading into the argument.

"No, who is she? How she go dey give me command for my own car?" He demanded.

"Driver she was polite, to be honest. You were actually the one shouting," the other woman pointed out.

"Thank you," the passenger we were  defending shouted, pleased at the unexpected support. I mean, this is after all Abuja where everyone makes a business of minding their business in hairy situations.

"See, get down from my car or I carry you to Gwagwalada," he threatened,foot poised above the accelerator.

"Why not give her N50 now and let her return to her bus-stop?," I told him. Then I played my trump card, "She told you she doesn't know Abuja and she boarded your vehicle at the park. If she goes missing, you'll be in trouble. What's the point of taking her to Gwagwalada and giving her N400 when N50 can settle it now?" I finished. (N400 is approximately a dollar. So N50 is roughly a quarter.)

My statement gave him pause and I could see the wheels turning in his head as he considered a new angle to the whole deal.

"Exactly," the woman behind agreed. "Nigerians can be stubborn. Driver stop trying to prove a point. Just give her the money let her go back. It was you that missed her bus-stop. You're not losing."

With a muttered oath, he flung N50 at the woman and as soon as she alighted, he sped off spewing gravel. I saw the woman's lips curve in a smug grin as she watched him drive off. Oh well, two Daniels came to court for her. What's not to grin about?

Morale of the story? Sometimes, let things go.
Sherina Okoye (2020)