"Madam, 'dress' well. Na four four we dey carry for this bus..."
And before the conductor could finish up...
.
.
.
"Thunder fire you!"
"No be 200naira we pay?"
"Onye oshi!"
"Illiterate!"
"Tufiakwa!!!"
The conductor replied no one.
Still, the insults continued, until...
"God punish your mama!"
Immediately, the conductor's countenance changed. Silently, I observed the anger-induced metamorphosis. It was, to me, something akin to Con dar---the blood rage. Lost in that keen observation and oh, a certain kind of admiration, I couldn't help but move from one realm of wonder to another.
Suddenly, he spoke.
"Madam, I take God beg you. If you no wan lose your eye, no call my mama. You fit call me Illiterate, I no mind. But if you call my mama again...*he touched the earth with a finger, licked it, and pointed it to the sky*, I swear, you go lose your eye."
Silence.
I guess the entire passengers saw it too---the sincerity in his anger; The fiery love of a son for his mother.
"No be 200naira we pay?"
"Onye oshi!"
"Illiterate!"
"Tufiakwa!!!"
The conductor replied no one.
Still, the insults continued, until...
"God punish your mama!"
Immediately, the conductor's countenance changed. Silently, I observed the anger-induced metamorphosis. It was, to me, something akin to Con dar---the blood rage. Lost in that keen observation and oh, a certain kind of admiration, I couldn't help but move from one realm of wonder to another.
Suddenly, he spoke.
"Madam, I take God beg you. If you no wan lose your eye, no call my mama. You fit call me Illiterate, I no mind. But if you call my mama again...*he touched the earth with a finger, licked it, and pointed it to the sky*, I swear, you go lose your eye."
Silence.
I guess the entire passengers saw it too---the sincerity in his anger; The fiery love of a son for his mother.
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