The Abuja-Kaduna train service has no doubt brought relief to a number of travelers in the country, especially those shuttling between the two cities, i.e. Abuja and Kaduna.
But I am still one of those who will rather drive than ride to Abuja or Kaduna, and this is in spite of the ‘insecurity’ that has forced many to abandon the road.
Indeed, because of the spate of kidnappings, and deaths in some instances resulting from the activities of gunmen, many will rather tolerate the inconveniences of going to the train station – in Rigasa, Kaduna, or Kubwa and Idu in the FCT – than risk the road.
For this category of travelers, tell them about the improvement in security on the Kaduna-Abuja road, they will have none of it. They have become accustomed to the practice of using the train, and enjoying all the add-ons and side attractions – from meeting old friends to making new ones, especially across gender.
I know a friend, for instance, who will gladly burn his fuel and drop you off at the train station, inspired by the prospect of seeing – or even ‘yarning’ – some dashing damsels. And the chap is married to a beautiful woman with three lovely children. Anyway, this piece is not about Labaran (may he never come across this writeup, somebody say ‘amen’)!
This is about an encounter I had with a rude passenger on Friday, September 3, 2021. That encounter will not shape my thinking because I have been on the train a number of times from Abuja to Kaduna and vice versa without any incident.
But not so on this very Friday. Now, with the benefit of hindsight, there was even a clue that I did not process very well. I made the decision to go to Kaduna only the night before. Indeed, I did not even ask my brother to reserve me a seat until around 10pm on Thursday.
He tried and tried but the network did not cooperate. So rather opting to follow a friend that would be driving to Kaduna, I settled for the second train which usually leaves Abuja at 9:50am.
My travails started the moment I stepped onto the coach (SP0020) and went to seat number 64 as indicated on my ticket. There I met this angry looking woman on my seat. Politely I said to her, Hajiya I am supposed to be on seat number 64. Suddenly she flared up, shouting on top of her voice. “You can see I am seated already. My ticket is number 62 and that of my son is 63. Just seat there,” she said as she avoided my face.
“But check again. 64 is the widow seat, not 62 or 63,” I offered. “But you heard me. I am seated already, just sit there,” she responded, and topped it up with a hiss.
At that point, I got very angry but refused to lose my head. I looked to my side, and saw this man making a sign to me not to engage her in any back and forth. I was also restrained by the thought that her son, who must be around the same age as my second child, shouldn’t see someone ‘disrespecting’ his mother.
So I sat there on seat number 62, unsure of what to do. “May be this is why my brother Yakubu prefers the business or the VIP class,” I said to myself, recollecting an encounter he had with a moi-moi eating traveler in the economy class, who once made their journey miserable.
Then I remembered the fact that I had a book ‘Royal Scandals’ in my backpack and immediately reached for it. But as I read the book, the thought of what to do kept crossing my mind, making it difficult for me to concentrate. “Did she see something on face that said I can be taken for a ride?” I kept asking myself.
An uneasy calm pervaded the atmosphere, or our own part of the coach rather. Hajiya kept fiddling with her phone, which suddenly started ringing. The volume was so loud you could hear the person at the other end.
“Good morning. How are you?” the person said.
Rather than answer, however, Hajiya insisted first on knowing “Who is speaking?” even as the woman went ahead to complete her greeting. By the time the caller identified herself, Hajiya’s countenance changed, and she went back to the same greeting that she tried to avoid in the first place. She was almost on her knees.
I actually thought she would leave her seat at a point, thinking she would need some privacy because she was literally on speaker. God saved her she didn’t, for I would have simply moved to reclaim my seat and damn the consequences.
By the time our train left Kubwa, there were some unoccupied seats and I almost relocated. But that would be defeatist, I told myself, because it would have denied me the opportunity to hit back as I later planned.
And my chance didn’t take long in coming when we were forced to stop over at Gidan station, instead of Rijana. That made us to spend nearly 45 minutes waiting for the Abuja bound train to come so we could switch, which we wouldn’t be able do in Rijana due to power failure.
As our train stopped at Gidan, Hajiya became restless. But still, she refused to leave her seat, perhaps aware of my intention. Instead, she asked her son to go and get her something to eat and drink. When the young boy went away, I saw that as a perfect opportunity to strike.
“Hajiya,” I said in a way that all our neighbours would hear. “You have just succeeded in doing two things: the first is setting a bad example for your son. You have shown him that it is okay to claim what is not his and keep his cool. You have also shown me, a total stranger, how rude you are, as you couldn’t even appeal to my understanding. And believe me I can recognize your face anytime, anywhere.”
She kept quiet as I delivered my ‘sucker punch’, which I did very fast to save her son the trouble of coming back to hear my take on his mother. The man who earlier made a gesture to me not to engage Hajiya in any back and forth also slipped in a few words.
“Hajiya, you were wrong. Simple courtesy on your part would have made this unnecessary. If you adopt this attitude, I am afraid, you will one day have none to blame but yourself,” the man said, and commended me for not losing my head.
That made me feel on top of the world because she was apparently embarrassed. I still don’t remember her uttering a word for the remainder of our journey to Kaduna. I also don’t know whether her silence meant she accepted her fault or afraid of what would have been my reaction. Whichever one, I am happy with the way I handled that rude creature!
