The Roaring Crowd

Umar uba jama’a
Short Story
It was Monday morning, as I prayed, bathed, had my breakfast and got dressed for the office. I had my dress for the week in y brief case. I bid farewell to my family and leave.
I stopped a bike to take me to the bus station. Suddenly, I felt I had forgotten something. I took excuse from the bike man. I rushed back into the house and my wife asked if I had forgotten something. I said, I don’t think so. I looked at her and rushed back to the waiting bike.
I was the seventh passenger, later the eighth passenger came in. A lady in her teens.
She came with an elderly man in military uniform. They discussed. He bid her farewell and left. She boarded the bus, sat next to me and we greeted.
We adjusted for her comfort as the last person on the row.
The man came back and knocked on the glass window. ‘Yes Daddy?’ she questioned. ‘You forgot anything?’ ‘No papa.’ ‘Ok He then left. The driver was then set to go, then, this man came back to speak with his daughter again. ‘please tell your mummy that I’ll be coming in the next two months.’ He waved at her as the driver pressed the gas.
At about half the journey, the conductor asked for the fare and I paid for myself and hers. Pretending we were together. She looked at me and that was when we looked at each other straight in the eyes. ‘Thank you’ she said. The conductor handed me the change.
I looked at her again and asked. ‘Was that your dad?’ ‘Yes.’ She answered and remained silent. “Are you going to school...?’ I asked in a low tone. ‘Nope, I’m going to stay with mum until my JAMB is out.’ She replied. ‘That was your father
and your mum is somewhere else?’ ‘Actually mum is late. I’m staying with his sister ‘ we became friends as we drove into town.
The town was unusual as there were less vehicles going in and out. The driver pumped up his gas to high speed, to enjoy the empty township road.
Head-on we met a group of men marching the highway. We stopped too close for a reverse.
They were holding all sorts of crude weapons. They surrounded our bus. We all began to shiver as fear engulfed us.
They opened all the bus doors and began to pull us out stabbing and machetting some of us. This lady held my hand as she was pulled out and someone from the faceless crowd smashed machete on her as she screamed for help releasing her hand off mine and falling to the ground.... Her blood splashed on my clothes staining them. I was pushed to the center of the crowd and was forced to follow the roaring crowd. This continued for about two hours before I realized we were close to the footpath into the military barrack. I skidded off to the barrack.
Close to the highway was a friend’s house. Without knocking I pushed the door, staggered in to the parlor and I fell to the ground. The woman in the house recognizes me and shouted my name. I remember looking at her and not saying a word with my eyes wide opened.
She helped me to the shower. I just turned the knob without removing my blood stained clothe or shutting the door. As the cold water ran through my body I collapsed and fainted. When I woke up I was told to have been two days in the military specialist hospital.
The End.
U. Uba jama’a.