I was on a trip once upon a time. I took a night bus from Kaduna bound to Lagos. It was the close of the year and the holiday festivities were in full swing. Empty seats on all sides, there were scant passengers on board.
The night was cold and dark. I sat by the window and looked out occasionally when streetlights or lightbulbs illuminated the scene as we drove past.
I was wearing my old grey hoodie and black sweatpants and head warmer, with wooly socks. I’d told No’ to send me some albums over the weekend, so I listened to them as I burrowed into the seats until sleep claimed me.
I woke up early to see the sunrise. I got lucky. We were in Osun, I remember. And the sun was a brilliant orange ball in the sky that chased away the night’s chill with its warmth. The trees were tall and dense and small hills dotted the horizon as moved from one sleepy town to the next.
I didn’t wish for us to stop and stay for a while. I didn’t want to meet the town folks to ask how they got by. The magic was in looking out and watching the world go by, like waves on the seashores. Captivated by its beauty but untouched by it…even as I looked forward to finding new places.
Image by – Alena Aenami