Happy Monday!  It is two days to Christmas.  Merry Christmas and Happy New Year in advance.  🙂

It is also time for the 3rd story in our December Short Stories Series.  The first two short stories were:

Keke Love: A Lagos Tricycle Romance

Okada Love: A Lagos Motorcycle Romance

Danfo Love is the title of the 3rd story, and it’s a love story that begins on a danfo bus.  The danfo bus is a very popular means of public transportation in Lagos.  Danfo buses are both unforgettable and unmissable with their distinct yellow color with black stripes.

Also, unlike the Keke Maruwa and Okada motorcycle, the Danfo bus has four wheels (I almost wrote four legs … Haha!).

Here is Danfo Love: A Lagos Bus Romance.  Enjoy!

Danfo Love: A Lagos Bus Romance

“Apongbon, CMS! CMS, Apongbon!”

Doyin heard a cluster of male voices shouting the same thing, and moved in the direction of their voices.  She needed to get to CMS where she worked, and this was the last bus ride.  She entered one of the many yellow danfo buses, which had stopped to pick up passengers.

Danfo buses with their attractive, hard-to-miss yellow color, paired with black stripes, were undoubtedly Lagos icons.  But to ride a danfo, one needed to psyche himself up to deal with the grit and antics of both driver and conductor.  Even fellow passengers were a colorful bunch, making the danfo riding experience truly unforgettable.

After riding danfos for years, Doyin was still intimidated by bus conductors.  They always looked just about ready to beat, curse, slap or otherwise harm anyone who so much as looked at them wrongly.  But they were just as indispensable as the driver for a successful bus ride.

That Monday morning, Doyin had left her house, armpits dry.  Two hours later, as she prepared to board the last bus before arriving at the office, she could feel her blouse clinging to her skin.  She wriggled her toes; she could feel layers of dust nestling between her toes.  She was dressed in a short-sleeved blouse with geometric print in yellow and black, just like the danfo she was about to board, and wore a pair of well-ironed black trousers.

But the great contradiction lay below her ankles.

Her feet was clad in flat green rubber slippers, out of which poked toes painted with orange nail polish.  But those were not her work shoes.  A pair of black, patent leather pumps, sat in a large black nylon bag, which she held in her right hand.  A black leather handbag dangled from her left shoulder.

“Jumping bus” or riding a danfo was not the sort of thing one did wearing heels because it required a certain level of athleticism and agility, which a pair of heels would hinder.

Coupled with all the walking between bus stops, the everyday commuter understood that comfortable shoes were a must.  Doyin, being the experienced commuter she was, came prepared.

As she approached the danfo, for the umpteenth time that day, she told herself:

“I can’t wait to stop jumping bus, and buy my own car.”

She picked the bus that seemed the least crowded, sat on the row directly behind the driver, and waited for the bus to move.

As soon as she sat down, she knew something was wrong.  She looked around the cabin of the bus.  Two passengers sat in front.  Nothing unusual there.  The driver’s seat was empty.  Again, that was normal.  The driver usually showed up last minute when the bus was full.  The conductor was by the door of the bus gesticulating with his hands and calling out the bus route.  Nothing un . . .

Wait a minute, Doyin thought suddenly.  Is that the conductor or the driver?  He is dressed too well to be a conductor, and … he looks too old to be a conductor.  What’s going on here?  

Read the Full story on:

Okadabooks

Bambooks

Read Story # 1: Keke Love: A Lagos Tricycle Romance

Read Story # 2: Okada Love, A Lagos Motorcycle Romance

Don’t miss these short stories:

August Fiction Series

Unfriending Mama

Hotel Surprise

An Understanding Woman

At the End of a Long, Loose Braid

September Short Stories

A Bouquet of Promises

Mr. Perfect Shoes

Considering Mr. Wrong

To the Man I Once Loved