An Unpleasant Surprise At The Bus Stop [Non-Fiction]

In the summer of 2005, something unpleasantly surprising happened and my world came crashing down. Or more like I wanted my world to end at that moment. I wanted freedom from the bewildering situation that threatened to bury me in its depressing hold.

The sun had set and the sky was slowly darkening, yet I couldn't bring myself to take the bus and go home. It was rush hour —closing time from work and businesses for most people. I stood at the bus stop, forlorn with tears in my eyes. Not many people noticed because it was a crowded bus stop and a lot of people were trying to find the right bus that would take them home.

I'd found my bus, literally pushed in with the crowd and fought for a seat when I discovered that the large sum of money I neatly wrapped with rubber rings and tucked in my pockets was gone!

At the time, my mother had just started a mobile credit or airtime business. Mobile credit/airtime in this context refers to the minutes purchased into phones for calls and data usage. In some countries, it's called talktime. It's sold at any amount you want in my country.

It was a very lucrative business at the time and my mom saw a good opportunity to make some profit before it became a business for all and sundry to participate in.

The business was a bit demanding, so I helped my mom every day to buy mobile credits in bulk (which was a lot of money at the time) and sell them at her office.

On this fateful day, my mother decided to take a break and rest at home while I went to the office. I assured her I was up to the task and that she should get some well-deserved rest.

As usual, I took the money earmarked for the day's bulk purchase and went to the office where the mobile credits were printed and sold. I bought and took them to our office for the day's business.

In the evening, I made a decent profit of about N84,000 (approximately $183). It was surprising and exciting because we usually did not make such a huge profit. I couldn't wait to get home and tell my mom. I wanted her to be proud of me for handling the day's business all by myself.

I wore blue jeans and a blouse that stopped at mid-thigh on that day. It was a casual dressing that enabled me to move around in crowded places without lugging a bag around. A bag was always a bait inviting pickpockets and thieves and I wanted to avoid them.

So I tucked the wad of cash inside the back pockets of my jeans and draped my blouse over my behind. I felt confident no one would notice that I had such money on me. I locked up our office and walked to the bus stop.

As usual, there were few buses at the stop and a large crowd. It was getting dark and people were in a hurry to get home. I was particularly more in a hurry to see my mom's look of surprise and possibly pride at my work for the day. So I jostled and pushed through the crowd to get a seat on a bus.

I did not realise that as I was pushing into the bus, another individual was sneakily raising my blouse and pulling out my day's profit!

I got on the bus and beat a young man to the window seat. I smiled at him and praised myself for that feat. He shook his head and tried to grab another but everywhere became occupied. So he would have to stand for the whole forty-five minute ride.

Then I got a shock —my back pockets were empty!

I stood up instantly, patted my back pockets and looked at the passengers behind me like they just took the money from me. I exclaimed, "my money!" and kept patting my pockets. Then the bus conductor urged everyone to have their money close by as the journey was about to begin.

"No, wait please. My money. I can't find my money!" I explained in confusion. I turned around, willing the culprit to reveal himself or herself with my money. Some passengers laughed while some stared at me pitifully.

The young man whom I fought my seat for came close and asked where I kept the money. By then, tears were pouring down my cheeks in torrents. I explained that I put the cash in my back pockets and told him how much it was. He was surprised.

Some elderly women advised I should get down and check the road, maybe I'd dropped the money while struggling to board the bus.

That was how I got off the bus with my heart in my mouth. I was wondering how I would tell my mom that I'd lost her money. I realised the young man got off the bus with me. It was a surprise that slightly muted the shock of the loss. I smiled at him through my tears. The sky was dark. Tiny stars decorated the sky and mourned my loss with me.

This young man and I looked around the bus stop and found nothing. Other people who got to know what I'd lost joined in the search. The common advice was to let it go as a pickpocket had stolen the money and could likely be on the bus. At that time, the bus had gone.

The young man suggested that I go home. I explained that I was a dead girl walking and the news would break my mom's heart. Nonetheless, it was better to go because she would be worried as well.

We both boarded the same bus and he paid my fare. My stop was before his so I thanked him for his help and slowly alighted.

I dragged my feet and got home. Truly, my parents were worried. My heart pounded loudly as I explained the reason for my lateness. They were speechless at the end of my tale. I could see the disappointment in my mother's eyes.

She quietly stood up and told me my dinner was in the food flask in the kitchen. I cried that night and couldn't bring myself to eat anything.

From that day on, I became extra careful with money, especially when I'm in a crowded place. The experience left an indelible mark. I do not ever want a repeat of that fateful day's unpleasant surprise!