[announcer’s voice over the speakers]

Welcome back to another rousing episode of Wild Danfo Adventures. There is our main character, Faé, standing by the roadside, squinting into the darkness through her glasses.

Why is she on the side of the road, you ask? Allow me to set the scene.

[insert rewind sounds]

It was a dark, dark night, but it didn’t start that way, for all nights start as mornings. But you already knew that, didn’t you?

Faé was trapped in one of those classes that finish by six pm and sometimes six thirty pm. Oh, the horror! While she knew she could walk out at any time, so she could get home at a reasonable time, she never did.

Younger Faé blamed it on the pastor kid’s upbringing. They never left the church until the grace was shared, and twenty meetings were held. So she was used to staying till the bitter end.

But older Faé, with the refined wisdom of aged wine or cheese, blames it on FOMO (Fear of missing out). Younger Faé was already missing out on campus culture by coming from home. So she wasn’t going to leave classes earlier and make it more obvious that she didn’t fit in.

Or you can choose the diplomatic side that doesn’t paint Faé as a FOMO-ridden, obedient pastor’s kid. Which believes it’s because she was enjoying her classes.

She was learning so much cool and new stuff that she was too entranced to leave the class early. Think of all the cool knowledge she would miss out on

As she did on days when classes ended late, she speed-walked (no running for her) to the Unilag Shuttle, entered the loading Yaba bus, praying it would not get full quickly.

As she settled into her seat to wait, a drowsy numbness overcame her senses, as though of hemlock she had drunk, or emptied some dull opiate to the drains.1

With the last vestiges of her conscious mind, Fae realised that if she was this drowsy at the start of the journey, she would be fast asleep before the bus filled up and left the campus grounds.

So remembering that one fact she heard about Coca-Cola containing caffeine, she alighted from the vehicle to the protest of the driver, who thought she was leaving.

“It will soon be full!” The driver informed her as she stepped out of the Danfo. Taking a break from chanting his litany: ‘Yaba, Yaba, fifty naira Yaba!’

“I just want to buy something!” Faé informed him, walking over to the shops beside the buses.

Opening her purse to check how much cash she had on hand, the maths took a while, but she eventually determined that she could only afford to buy the drink, no snacks, no nothing, if she didn’t want to walk home.

Drink acquired, she walked back to the bus and smiled at the driver with an amused look that she hoped conveyed her thoughts.

‘See, I kept my promise. I’m not a liar.’

Her seat was gone because, thankfully, the bus had filled up some more while she got her drink. She chose a new spot, settled in, and waited some more.

Soon, the bus was on the road, moving swiftly through the streets of Lagos.

On the next bus, a young girl who reminded Faé of herself entered the bus with her phone pressed to her ears. Talking to someone who obviously was her mother about the journey.

With her mom directing her, the young girl asked where they were and told everyone she was going to Maryland. Faé, who usually remained a quiet observer on her commutes, chimed in. Reassuring the girl that Maryland was close.

“It’s just two bus stops away,” Faé informed the girl. Pulling back from the knowledge she had acquired when she memorised her bus stops.

Faé realised she was wrong when they got to the second bus stop, and alas, it was not Maryland after all.

She quickly explained to the girl who was about to alight the bus that this was, in fact, not Maryland.

“But Maryland is close. It’s before Obanikoro,” Faé said through the uncomfortable feeling of being wrong.

“I’m not going to Obanikoro-”

“I know.” Faé reassured her with a ‘I’m not dumb, I promise!’ smile. “I’m just saying it’s before Obanikoro.” That much she remembered, because Obanikoro was Dad’s office area.

They finally arrived in Maryland. Faé’s eyes were glued to the side of the road where the bus stop names were.

“This is Maryland,” Faé quickly informed the girl, relief blanketing her body.

She would have hated to be wrong again.

“Thank you, ma,” the girl said and got off the bus.

Faé jolted at the expression. Since when was she a ma? She was still a teenager abeg oo?

But she could not express her dissatisfaction at being called ma because the girl was gone, and the view outside her window was calling to her.

Maybe because the view was filtered through sleepy eyes, or what she later called the muse haze, but the bus stop looked quite pretty tonight.

She pulled out her iconic blue-backed phone and took a picture of the palm trees swaying in the night breeze. The picture also captured the still-lit offices glittering in the background.

Maryland looked nothing short of magical that night. As she took a few more pictures, she quietly acquiesced that the bus stop looked like a tropical island.

So much so that it inspired her to write a few poetic stanzas in her Notes app. And it was the building block of her theory on the muse haze. (An article on this theory is coming out this Thursday. Look out for it.)

From one landmark to another, Faé’s journey continued onwards. Home was getting closer the further they drove.

She was also fighting sleep with a bottle of Coca-Cola, which wasn’t really working. Either she was too sleepy, or there was not enough caffeine in a bottle of Coke to keep her awake. Or the fact was a lie.

Because even though her bottle of Coca-Cola was almost empty, sleep was still pulling her eyelids shut. She would catch herself dozing, startle awake, and pull her eyelids open in a bid to avoid sleep.

Luckily, she didn’t miss the bus changes, so she was on a steady course home. She was dozing off yet again when suddenly their bus jerked to a stop.

What just happened?! She thought to herself, her sleepy brain trying to figure out what was happening.

At first, she thought it was someone’s bus stop, and they were waiting for a passenger to get off; this was a frequent occurrence.

But a quick minute passed without the driver shouting at the passenger to hurry up. No one was standing up, nobody was doing the awkward shuffle. An unsettling hush descended over the bus, and fear began to brew in her gut.

Something was wrong! Realising she was in danger or could be in danger, adrenaline started pumping in her brain,n waking her up.

She looked around, trying to figure out where they were, but the driver had taken a shortcut, and it was just a random street. Why do they do this nonsense now?

The driver was out of the vehicle and shouting at everyone to get down.

[announcer’s voice returns over the speakers]

And with that, you’re all caught up. Now you know why our main character, Faé, is standing by the roadside, squinting into the darkness through her glasses.

She crowded with the other passengers, safety in numbers and watched the driver cosplay as a mechanic.

Some passengers began to demand their money so they could be on their way, but the driver ignored them and continued smacking things and fiddling with wires.

Faé continued to assess the situation; they weren’t close to the main road, and she didn’t know where they were or how to leave. Also, she didn’t have enough money on her to enter another bus.

Worse, no buses were driving through the secluded streets. Just cars. If she hitchhiked like some of the passengers were trying to do. How would she know if they were going her way?

(Older Faé here saying: You would ask duh 🙄)

If they weren’t going her way and dropped her off on the road, she still needed cash for another bus.

Dad would be on his way home now. Maybe she could call him. But she had no idea where she was right now. Had no way to describe it.

(Older Faé here again saying: You would ask duh 🙄)

Therefore, the best course of action was to wait and hope the driver knew what he was doing with the engine. So it would get fixed, and they could continue on their way.

As the crowd of passengers began to thin out into a handful, Faé stuck close to the bus, standing just outside the open door so it wouldn’t leave without her. The passengers’ complaints and curses were enough to keep her awake and entertained.

Her prayers were answered, and finally the driver beckoned to the male passengers to push the vehicle while her started it.

Faé trailed along closely as the bus inched forward slowly before coughing out more smoke and rousing to life.

The ride back home began. Onwards she travelled again, from one landmark to another. Until finally she hit the last landmark of her journey and started the walk home.

As she rounded the corner that led to the street her house sat on, she was blinded by the brightness of a torchlight.

She blocked her eyes and tried to catch her breath as her heart rate sped up, wondering if she was in danger once again.

“Fayo!” Her mom’s voice called out. “Ṣé ìwọ ni yen?” (Is that you?)

“Yes, ma,” Faé dropped her hand as her mother clicked the torch light off.

The full moon illuminated the path as she walked forward to meet her mother and her brother, who were en route to search for their missing child and sibling, respectively.

Aww, Faé thought as they walked back home together. They love me.

But the practical side of her brain wondered if that was the right course of action to take. What if they had not found her anywhere?

She started retelling her wild Danfo adventure to her mom as they walked back home together. Lamenting about the driver taking a shortcut, complaining about them not making sure their buses were roadworthy. Annoyed that he didn’t return her money. Echoing the rants of the passengers who stayed behind.

“O ti ma rẹ̀ e gan-an. Pele, ehn, wá jẹun,” her mom said in Yoruba, as they entered the compound and closed the gate behind them.

“You must be so tired. Sorry oo, come and eat.”

Faé would live to experience another Wild Danfo adventure.

You know that saying about shortcuts we’ve heard so much about? The one that all our teachers and parents told us growing up.

Yes, that one (tell me the first one that came to mind in the comments). Well, someone needs to tell the Danfo drivers because they obviously didn’t get the memo.

Because if they had, if they had really gotten the memo, they would not be carrying Faé through all these insane shortcuts. Okay, let’s be political and say we understand why they do it.

Faé can list two off the top of her head. One, obviously, to hide from law enforcement officers of all shapes and sizes, LASTMA, police, etc., who may stop them and seize their vehicle.

Two, get to the destination faster, duh. So yes, we get why they feel the need to ply shortcuts. But still...

In case it wasn’t obvious, Faé was recently triggered by a shortcut situation ending badly (another story for another episode), but what really made her wary of shortcuts happened years ago.

This ride started like all others. Faé, in good conscience, boarded a bus to Agege. Now, after travelling this route regularly, she knew what Agege looked like, or at least she knew her landmarks and her last bus stop.

Faé was sitting on the bus, and the driver decided, as they all do, to take a shortcut. As he took the first turn into an unfamiliar street, she felt anxiety settle into her stomach.

She felt worried; so many what-ifs flashed through her mind. Top of the list being: what if she got lost? Faé was and still is low-key scared of getting lost.

Some honourable mentions: What if he didn’t return to the main road and ended the journey in some random Agege street, and Faé is left to find her way out of an unfamiliar street or pay extra to get to the main road?

Some light foreshadowing from Faé to you.

Worse, what if they want to kidnap her? What if this one-chance bus and the plan were to take her to an unfamiliar location, rob her, jazz her, and then send her home like a sleeper cell waiting for the incantation to activate the jazz and make her rob her parents and family members?

Some people are reading this thinking that’s a little extreme, but the stories Faé had heard combined with her overactive imagination put her in a terrible case of tizzy.

Must be that someone was listening to her what-ifs, because one of her many worries came to reality.

Cos after turning numerous times (she started counting, then lost count because of her fear-coloured glasses), this driver stops and announces to the bus that we are in Agege. Age-what?!

Faé looked around; this is not like any Agege she knew of oo. She didn’t know this Agege oo. This may be Agege, but it is not her Agege. It’s not her personal Agege bus stop. Which kain wahala vehicle she enter today oo?

As the other passengers started to get down, Faé sat in the bus, looking from left to right, looking for familiar landmarks or something. Anything to orient herself and figure out what to do next.

Her overactive imagination immediately switched to problem-solving mode. Some of the options were very laughable because Faé knew she didn’t have the mind to shout at the driver and demand her take her to the right bus stop.

While Faé sat there trying to brainstorm solutions, the driver noticed that she was the only passenger on board and his impatience kicked up.

“Bo le ni nu bus mi.” The driver shouted at her in Yoruba. (Get down from my bus.)

She obediently got off his bus; what other choice did she have? Fight him? Shout at him? Nope, her unconfrontational self could never.

Faé picked the most peaceful solution she brainstormed and asked the conductor, in her best ‘please pity me voice and help me voice’. “Sir, where can I find a bus to Agege?”

“Aunty, this is Agege,” he said, got into the bus and looked at her like she was confused.

Maybe to you, but this is not my Agege oo, she thought.

“The main road,” she told him instead. “I don’t know this side of Agege.”

“Just go straight; you will see keke there.”

“Thank you,” she raced off to try her luck. Knowing he probably said that to get rid of her.

Slowing down because of all the stones randomly scattered around, she walked over to where a group of kekes were packed.

Once she got there, she realised she had a new problem. Did she need extra cash? Because all she had was her exact transport fare.

She looked around for a bank to withdraw from. This was way before the popularisation of POS. You had to find a bank to withdraw cash properly.

So that meant she was standing there looking around like a lost tourist.

A few keke drivers, just as impatient as Danfo drivers, demanded she get out of their way once their vehicles were full.

That was how she watched a few kekes get full and zip off as she stood there trying to decide what to do. She just felt overwhelmed.

Finally, a keke driver approached Faé, probably because she was blocking the path of his keke and he wanted her gone. Or she just looked like a clueless ajebutter plopped in the ghetto.

“Aunty, what happen?”

“Sir,” Faé heaved a sigh of relief and gladly explained her situation, telling him her next bus stop and wondering if she could just see a bus or keke there instead of paying to get to the main road, then finding another bus to her destination.

“You still have to enter this keke to get there,” he finally explained.

Faé didn’t bother arguing, even as she wondered if he was really telling the truth or if he was seeing her as someone to fleece money from.

Time was ticking by while she stood there trying to make the most financially responsible decision. But she didn’t know her other options and didn’t have the time to discover them.

What was another two hundred naira in the large scheme of things? At least she hadn’t been kidnapped, robbed, or mutilated? None of her more terrible what-ifs had prevailed.

Faé would live to board another Danfo; she would live long enough to have another Wild Danfo Adventure. That was enough reason to be grateful.

If the two hundred naira got her out of here safely, it was money well spent.

Looking forward to reading all of the sayings about shortcuts that you’ve heard.

Catch up on old episodes…

It was a beautiful Monday morning, the skies were clear, and for the first time in a long time, Faé was excited to get to school. They were finally learning things that intrigued her. She couldn’t wait to buy the recommended texts and start reading the books. If this was all she needed to do, then this course was going to be a sure A. (Sike)

The ride itself was uneventful and routine. She found a bus quickly at her regular bus stop and even got one of the best seats on the bus. There was no conductor, so everyone held onto their money until the driver asked for it.
The driver was somewhat chatty; this bus was one of those rides where the passengers were chatting about various topics. Fae tuned them out and focused on the scenery that whooshed by, as the driver screamed insults at passersby who got in his way.
It was all smooth sailing… until it wasn’t.
One minute they were enjoying the ride, next they were stopped by Lastma. Or rather caught. The Danfo overlords had decided to educate Fae on the importance of following traffic rules, or at best not being caught breaking traffic rules, just as you approach a Lastma checkpoint.
Which was what our chatty, impatient, and unfocused driver did that fine Monday morning. He cruised to a stop at an illegal bus stop and waited for his passenger to get off. That split second was all it took for the Lastma to pounce, like hungry sharks at the sight of blood. They circled the bus in their numbers.
‘Put off your moto,’ One lanky Lastma officer screamed, while his partner in law raced to the front of the car with the spike thingy. Ready and willing to burst his tires if he attempted to make a run for it.
Our driver, for all his noise-making proclivity and propensity to insults, was surprisingly smart. Or rather quick on his feet. He knew he was well and truly caught, so he made no attempts to escape like a Formula One racer.
He switched off his moto as instructed and raised his hands in the symbol of surrender. Just then, the passenger began murmuring because everyone knew that a Lastma stop meant the bus was going to be towed.
They couldn't very well tow away a car full of passengers. This meant everyone had to disembark, wait on the roadside at this non-bus stop for buses to stop so we could all be sandwiched into them and go about our daily activities.
‘Get down,’ the lanky Lastma instructed the suddenly obedient driver, who didn't even try to argue or bribe his way out of this mess.
Once the driver got out of the bus, he walked over to the other Lastma and began whispering conversations while the lanky Lastma got into the driver's seat.
‘Where is the bus going?’ the lanky Lastma, now Danfo driver, asked the passengers.
‘Yaba officer,’ the passenger chorused because his presence at the driver's seat could mean one thing… he was one of the nice Lastma officers who drove the car to its destination before going to the impound lot.
The passengers began to murmur again, but their whispers had changed tune from irritation about the situation to criticism of the driver.
‘He too, why he stop for there?’ ‘He suppose pack well!’ They screamed their unsolicited opinions as the new driver started the car.
Now this happened a good 8 or 7 years back (around the years 2017/18) so my memory has failed me.
Side note: How was 2017, eight years ago? EIGHT?! Initially, I wrote that it was 6 years ago. Then I decided to fact-check while editing. The maths struggle 🙄. Thanks for reading my rant. Now, back to the story.
I am not sure if the second LASTMA officer got into the bus with us and followed us to the impound lot. Or if they remained there and got into the Lastma car, parked on the roadside for the exact purpose of carting away traffic offenders. But I can assure you it was one of the two options because that was the modus operandi back in the day. I can't speak to the current climate.
What I do remember is that our new driver remained silent, while the passengers discussed among themselves about who was worse for the Danfo driver's business: the responsible citizens (cough) agberos that collect tax at every stop, or a run-in with the LASTMA.
The general consensus was that both were equally terrible. LASTMA officers collected upwards of 70k-150k (which was big money back then) to return your vehicle after it had been impounded. While agberos collected tax daily, at multiple stops along the route (to and fro). They were unchecked so you could pay ₦100 at one stop only to pay ₦200 at the very next stop.
They didn't even respect stops, they could just race after the buses and harass the driver. God forbid there was traffic. The poor drivers were trapped until they coughed up a portion of their hard-earned money. Some agberos even stole car parts like windshields and refused to return them unless they got their payout.
While a run-in with the law was something that could easily be avoided if one knew someone. Lol back on Wild Danfo Adventures episode one. This knowing someone was two-fold, either you had a friend in the organisation who you regularly slipped a few bills to. Or you were lucky to carry an officer in uniform that day. Two, just obey the law and don't pack at unauthorised bus stops.
Young Fae was just in the corner absorbing this information like a sponge, while wondering what to use her transport fare on. Because one thing about a Lastma driver, they didn't collect money. But at the same time, she felt a twinge of sympathy for the driver, loud and obnoxious as he was, who would lose out on the day's pay if he couldn't summon ₦150k or however much the Lastma officers demanded from him at the end of the day.
Her sympathy was quickly forgotten in the allure of free money and the realisation that the bus driver brought this upon himself.
Anyway, the moral lesson of the day, Fae concluded as the Lastma driver pulled to a stop in front of the petrol station a few metres away from the actual bus stop much to the revived irritation of the passengers. It pays to be a law-abiding citizen.
She got down from the bus while some passengers informed the driver that this was not Yaba Phase 1, it was just a filling station. He quickly reminded them that their bus stop was really in the middle of the road, and if they wanted to go to the next bus stop, ‘Yaba Phase 2’, they could stay in the bus.
He also reminded them that they got a free ride thanks to him. There might have been some threats of being shipped off to the impound lot along with the bus and their driver but Faé’s ears heard no evil. Plus, her ears were already on the intersection walking towards Yaba Phase 1 and her blue church landmark. Because she had an interesting class to get to, but also because she had left the encounter with a new
fear of Lastopinionsfellow law enforcement officers.

If you’ve been on the internet within the last decade, you’ve heard all about girl maths. Boy Maths even had a moment to shine. Some Christians probably encountered God maths. But today we are discussing a phenomenon Fae noticed once she became a regular Danfo customer: Danfo Maths.

Or should we call it conductor maths, because they are the ones in charge of the money collection and change distribution? Whatever we choose to call it: Danfo Maths or conductor maths. The system is the same… confusing.

If she had to define it, Fae would say that Danfo Maths is the confusing system of using money to collect money. The simplest way to explain Danfo Maths is: use one hundred naira to collect two hundred.

The first time Fae experienced this, she was stumped. As a book nerd, she always struggled with Maths. So you best believe that Danfo Maths just brought back the confusing irritation of finding x. And the irritation of the y, the x.

The first time a conductor said this to her, we were on the freeway speeding towards Yaba. The idea of using money to collect money was so confusing, but she wanted her change, and she did have one hundred naira. Because Mom always supplied her with change and small notes back in the day.

But she didn’t understand how it was possible. Her brain literally couldn't compute. She’s so ashamed to say it took her monthssssss to finally understand the concept. Let's focus on the fact that she actually figured it out, not how long it took her to do so. M'okay!

Yet even after, she figured it out. She had to remind herself of the concept every time she encountered it. ‘Your hundred naira is now inside that two hundred naira,’ she would tell herself when the going got tough and the confusion returned. ‘Before you had one hundred naira and no change. Now you have two hundred naira, that is your old one hundred naira and the change.’

‘It’s basically trade and barter, you traded your one hundred naira and now you have two hundred naira. Ta-da!’ It was only after she broke it down to herself, like she was a child learning one plus one, that she finally understood. Or could finally rationalise the confusion away.

But ‘use one hundred naira to collect two hundred’ is not all there was to Danfo maths. Just like any other maths, the confusion was in stages. After your maths teacher teaches you that one plus one equals two, they then ramp up the confusion and teach you that minus one plus minus one equals minus two.

And Danfo Maths was the same. A few months after learning stage one, they introduced her to stage two. The motherload.

‘What the motherload of Danfo maths?’ You ask.

The motherload of Danfo Maths is: take five hundred, share it amongst yourselves. Yes, that super-annoying moment when the conductor joins twenty people together and asks them to figure out the problem, then zooms off.

This stage of Danfo Maths is so annoying because the reason we got into this situation in the first place is that we didn’t have change. Although you quickly learn that some people do have change hidden away, they don’t want to give it to the conductor for whatever reason. If you’re lucky enough to meet people like this when your change is grouped, then your problem is solved quickly. The hundred naira they adamantly claimed they didn’t have appears from the abyss of their purse, and everyone can go their merry way.

On a bright and sunny day, the conductor decided to teach Fae the motherload of Danfo Maths. She was getting closer to Yaba, and her two-hundred-naira change had not hit her purse. So she took a deep breath and shouted, ‘Conductor change two hundred.’

The conductor did as conductors do and ignored Fae and all the other passengers clamouring for their change. Instead, he informed the driver, ‘Yaba wa oo.’

In the early days of being a Danfo customer, one of the awkward parts for Fae was asking for change and shouting out her bus stop. She would always wait until she caught the conductor’s attention to tell him whatever needed to be said. However, 2025 Fae has now embraced the cringe, and she doesn't even notice it anymore. But then… it was the foremost thought on her mind. She would start shouting in her head before she said it out.

That day, she joined her fellow Yaba passengers to shout about their change. But the driver and conductor continued to ignore them until they stopped at Yaba phase one. The people who had arrived at their destination got down from the bus, some still telling the driver and the conductor to give them their change. Others went about their day.

Unfortunately for Fae, she belonged to the other camp. She followed her fellow stragglers and continued to harass the driver and conductor. They finally caved, and the driver pulled out mysterious change from his stash. Where was that money when they were shouting their heads off?

The first few people collected their change until even the driver’s stash was out of change. Only two people remained. The conductor turned to Fae and the other lady standing with her.

‘How much is your change?’ he asked.

‘Two hundred’ ‘Three hundred’ they chorused.

‘Take!’ he placed five hundred naira in Fae’s hand, jumped into his bus, slammed the roof twice, and the driver sped away.

While the other lady screamed profanities at the speeding bus, the other lady was dressed like she was on her way to work. So she must be so irritated by this disruption to her day; she probably needed that exact amount to enter her next bus.

Fae understood her frustration, but she also knew that the shouting curses at the conductor and driver, who were halfway to the next bus stop by now, wouldn’t provide the solution they needed. So she stood there holding the five hundred naira, knowing that it was left to her to find the solution. Her brain was running through solutions; she didn’t have any change. The adult lady probably didn't either; if not, she would have given Fae the change and ended the chaos.

‘Do you have change, ma?’ she asked the lady who was caught up in cursing the conductor’s future children. Just in case she had some change but was too caught up in her frustration to remember.

‘No,’ she answered, an irritated hiss. One Fae knew was not directed at her.

Fae looked around the bus stop. They stood opposite the blue church, her landmark; all around them, people were selling stuff. Maybe one of them would help them. She approached the lady selling fruits.

‘Ma, do you have change for five hundred?’ Fae asked in her most respectful voice.

‘No,’ she said and immediately ignored them. After all, there was a paying customer right in front of her.

‘What should we do?’ Fae turned to the adult in the situation.

‘I don’t know,’ she said and looked around.

Fae’s brain was grinding hard to find a solution. She reminded herself of the facts: we have 500, adult lady needs 300, and Fae needs 200. They were surrounded by people selling stuff, who had cash, but they wouldn’t just hand it out. Unless you were a paying customer! Her brain screamed, solution found!

Fae smiled in relief; she could buy something. She only needed seventy naira to get to school, so she would be fine if she bought something for a hundred naira. So what did she want to eat? She scanned the area looking for something appealing that cost a hundred naira, then her eyes caught doughnuts.

She raced over, and the adult lady followed, probably thinking Fae wanted to run away with the money. Fae made the purchase and asked the seller if she could give them two hundred naira notes instead of one two-hundred-naira note. The seller agreed, and Fae bit into the hot doughnut as she collected her change and gave the adult lady her change.

‘Thank you,’ the adult lady called after Fae.

Fae nodded and crossed to the section where the Unilag shuttle was stationed, enjoying her doughnut and realisation. Maybe she did understand Danfo maths after all.

Catch Up On Old Episodes.

What is the worst name anyone ever used to save somebody’s number?

Well, for Fae, the title of this episode ‘The Bus Rapist’ was it. But before diving into this wild Danfo tale, let’s rewind to earlier that morning. (insert rewind sound)

It was a typical day, like so many others. Fae stood before her bus stop close to her dad’s office, waiting. She got on the first bus that called “Yaba,” and her journey began.

Immediately after getting on the bus, she pulled out her phone and devoured a Wattpad book. Ignoring the mild nausea that came with using her phone on a moving vehicle. Who cared about nausea when you have a great story beckoning? Not Fae!

Soon, she noticed a boy staring at her screen. Fae angled her phone away; she hated when people intruded like that. If he wanted to talk, he could talk, she thought, but looking over her shoulder like that? Not happening. She continued reading, getting quickly lost in the story. She reminded herself to lift her head regularly to check where they were and how close they were to her bus stop. She didn’t have extra money to go back to her stop if the driver took her past it, or the strength to walk back.

A few streets from her destination, she looked up and reminded the conductor that she’d be getting down at Yaba. Realizing that this was his last chance, the guy finally spoke to her. She could see her Yaba landmark (remember: the big blue church) and was ready for the conversation to end.

Giving him one-word answers, she looked out the window, hoping the driver would go faster—a first for Fae. She usually enjoyed rides, unless she was late. She even considered getting off and walking the rest of the way, that’s how over the conversation she was.

“What is your name?” The boy asked.

“You don’t need to know,” she replied.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

“Thanks! My mirror tells me daily,” Fae shot back feeling snarky.

“Can I have your number?” he finally asked.

“No. You can’t!” Fae wasn’t about to give her number to this random guy she met on the bus who was giving stalker energy.

“Well, can I give you mine?” She was about to say no again, but stopped.

Feeling petty and now nearly at her stop, Fae agreed. What he chose to do with his number was his business, she figured. He entered his number, and she saved it as...

But in her defense, she felt a strange vibe from him. Maybe it didn’t warrant the title she saved him under, but still—the guy had spent the whole bus ride staring her down, making her uncomfortable. This was her little act of pettiness, her subtle revenge.

What name did she save this guy’s number as? Sigh. If anyone must know, she saved it as "Bayo Bus Rapist." Sorry to all the ‘Bayos’ out there. It’s not you, it’s him!

Fae hopped off the bus, walked the few metres to Unilag shuttle park and promptly forgot about him. Until years later, when she was going through her contact list and deleting numbers of people she didn’t remember. She stumbled upon his number and stopped. Why the heck was this, and why had she saved his number like this?

After a few minutes of looking through records of old memories in the filing cabinet of her brain, she finally remembered this event and the circumstances that led to that bizarre name. She laughed, deleted the contact and moved on.

Now she regrets deleting the contact or not even getting a screenshot as proof. Well, you will have to take my word for it. This begs the question: what is the worst name anyone ever used to save somebody’s number?

Let me know in the comments section below. We will start a competition, and the person with the worst name wins! Can’t wait to see your crazy names!

Catch up on older episodes here…

It was a simple thing of beauty, hanging loosely on the mannequin. The dress snagged Fae’s eye during the long ride home, an unexpected distraction from the discomfort of her seat in the danfo. She had landed in the most unfortunate spot—the makeshift seat beside the driver. The barely-there wooden stool was shoved between the driver and the front seat to make extra cash.

Balancing precariously on that cursed seat, she tried in vain to get comfortable, all while the nauseating smell of petrol rose around her, stirring her motion sickness. Unable to distract herself with her phone (did you forget about Fae’s bouts of motion sickness?) or get fresh air from a window, she stared ahead at the unmoving traffic, like it was the most entertaining thing ever.

And then she saw it. Somewhere between Ikeja and Ishaga, probably Agege, though she couldn’t be sure—Fae had never had a great sense of direction—the dress appeared.

It was a red gown, beautiful in its simplicity, standing out from everything around it. There was nothing particularly unique about the dress; it had no embellishments or unusual cuts. But something about it was captivating, as though it was beautiful in its ordinariness, needing no extra flair to shine. Yet, it was the most enchanting dress Fae had ever seen.

She wanted to jump off the bus and buy the gown right now. She was already imagining how beautiful it would look on her, picturing it hanging in her wardrobe, thinking of different ways to style it. The dress was so beautiful that if Fae wore it just as it was, it would still be perfect.

It was her dream dress, but she couldn't just get off the bus on this random street, whose name she didn't even know. Just to buy this dress, as beautiful as it was. The gown evoked her style in its simplicity. It was simple yet stylish. The exact phrase she used to describe her style. Fae liked simple pieces, pieces that were easy to dress up and down as she pleased. She wanted that gown in her wardrobe IMMEDIATELY!

But could she convince the burly driver to wait while she got down to purchase the dress? She wondered. They were stuck in traffic anyway. But even if she mustered the courage to ask the burly danfo driver to wait, would he? That was the ₦10k question. Would he wait while she ran into the shop, bought the dress and hurried back? Doubts partied in her mind.

How would she get home if the driver agreed to let her go but didn't wait? She wasn't anywhere close to home. She didn't even know which street this was. Should she leave her bag in the car to make sure he waited? No, she tossed that thought out the Danfo window, that was too risky. What if he raced off with her bag anyway?

She sighed, mentally calculating how much transport she had left. The amount couldn’t get her home if the driver decided to zoom off without her. Unless she found a bank to withdraw from. But was this a risk worth taking? Was owning this dress that important? As these thoughts raced through her mind, she snorted. She already knew she wouldn't be doing any of it. Danfo drivers weren’t known for their patience.

The only time the drivers of yellow commercial buses, popularly known as Danfo, suddenly morph into institutes of patience is when they are waiting for their bus to be full. They can wait under the scorching sun for hours, ignoring complaints and murmurs from passengers, as long as their bus got full.

So Fae did the next best thing. She pulled out her phone, opened that nifty app called Camera, zoomed in and took a picture. As she took the first picture, the gridlock suddenly moved. Immediately, the driver started the car, sparking two live wires, like a thief in a crime movie. Then he changed the gear, punching her with his hand like she offended him or something.

She shifted away from his hand, almost plastering herself to the guy sitting next to her. She took as many pictures of the enchanting red dress as possible, as the bus spluttered to life and roared away from the shop.

Then Fae opened my notes app and started writing what you are reading today: It was a simple thing of beauty that hung loosely on the body of a mannequin. It snagged my eye on the long ride home…

The words flowed out almost poetically, enough that her neighbour, whom she was now sharing a seat with because the driver wouldn't stop punching her, peered into her phone, reading every word she wrote. He read the words as quickly as she came up with them; he was so amazed that he looked up at her, awe painted on his face. He commented, speaking words that she never forgot to date.

"You are very talented; I can't believe you just came up with that on the spot." Yep, never forgot it, she was almost tempted to type it down too. But he was still staring at her phone and all, so she didn’t. For the first time, she didn't mind that someone was intruding on her privacy and reading her words as she typed them.

Her writing was always a private thing, something she only trusted with a select few until she was ready to share it with the world. But today, she didn't mind sharing. Maybe the enchanting dress put her in such a good mood, beautiful things tended to do that.

Years after this encounter with the most enchanting dress ever, Fae doesn't remember what the dress looks like. She has changed phones a lot over the years and lost the picture along the way. Without the picture to jog her memory, she can't help but wonder if the dress was that enchanting. Maybe her memories failed over time?

As Fae thought long and hard about this encounter, she realised that the reason this dress really stood out to her as the most enchanting dress ever was because it reminded her of herself.

She was just like that dress, simple and unassuming. That dress reminded her of herself. Was it possible to see yourself in an object, in an article of clothing? Maybe not, but she did.

The dress spoke to her with words, as it hung on the body of that lifeless mannequin.

“You don’t need to be extra to stand out,” The dress seemed to say. “Your beauty

She had found a kindred spirit in that dress and learnt a valuable lesson. Isn’t it wild, the things that could happen during a Danfo ride? One might even call them—adventures!

Catch up on the older episodes here:

Siri Play Last Bus Stop by Ninola.

It was going to be a terrible day, Fae thought as she looked at the time again. She had gotten lost in a good book and refused to be found until she read the famous last words; The End.

Sadly, for her, those words eluded her until 1 am.

Why had she decided that finishing the book was more important than sleep? Why hadn't she stopped like the responsible adult she claimed to be? Now she was suffering the consequences a few short hours after her head hit the pillow in sleep.

“Wake up,” Dad tapped her gently five minutes after she slept. At least it felt that way.

All Fae wanted to do was bury her head in her pillow, groan, and beg for five more minutes of precious sleep. Even better she wanted to tell him she wasn’t going to school today, but that wasn’t an option. Her loving father wouldn’t hear of it, he wouldn’t even believe her if she told him that right now. She had brought this upon herself. She had caused this, with her lack of discipline and her inability to drop a good book. The least she could do was suffer the consequences without disturbing Dad.

“Good morning sir,” She sat up in bed and opened her groggy eyes to stare at her Dad.

“I've boiled water for you so go and bath,” he frowned at her sleepy eyes. “Don't go back to sleep or we will be late.”

Well, he would be late, Fae would also be late for her 8 am class but nobody cared.

Why? Why? Why? Fae wondered as she rushed through her shower, her mind flashing back to her boarding school days when she was always running late, always hurrying through her morning routine after stealing those precious extra minutes of sleep. Because of her inability to say no to a good book or sleep early.

Fae was a textbook night owl, she came alive when others fell asleep. But unlike most night owls, she couldn’t function properly without her precious eight hours of sleep. If she slept late, her day was ruined because she spent the day long for sleeping,

She scrubbed herself dry and put on the first top her hands landed on, then slipped into yesterday’s black skirt. With a quick spritz of perfume on her clothes, she grabbed her body cream, and applied it swiftly to the parts of her body not covered in clothes; her arms, legs, face, and neck. Whatever cream was left she rubbed on her belly.

Her eyes fell on the roll-on deodorant, and she slathered it on. SLATHERED! She couldn’t worry about stinking pits too today. But had she brushed her teeth? She wasn't sure. Fae reached for her toothbrush—it was bone dry. That answered the question.

She rushed to the toilet, perching on the seat while brushing her teeth, trying to multitask. She attempted to go, double-checked, and—nope, there was no time for that. Outside, her dad's horn blared impatiently. She quickly rinsed her mouth, while he played a symphony with his horn, each blast a reminder to hurry.

Grabbing her tote bag, grateful she hadn’t unpacked it the night before, Fae slipped her jewellery into it, grabbed her sandals and hopscotch to Dad’s car. She walked over the stony driveway to open the gate so Dad could drive out, then she locked the gate and walked over to where he parked. Little pebbles attacked her foot with every step she took.

As she settled into the front seat and slipped on her seatbelt, her eyes began to droop, exhaustion pulling her into a haze. Just as she was drifting off, her dad’s voice snapped her awake.

“Is this how you’ll be sleeping on the bus?” he asked in Yoruba, his words cutting through her tiredness. Fae blinked, thinking of what activity would keep her eyes open. Using her phone wasn’t an option for Fae, as the screen’s glare bothered her dad. But maybe she could hide it, she discreetly pulled it out, angling it away to hide the glow. Before she could get far, though, her dad called over.

“Put on the radio for me. 105.1.” She nodded, fumbling with the knobs to find the right station. Radio dials were never her strong suit—she could never remember which knob was for the volume and channels. Just like now, when she accidentally cranked up the volume while trying to switch stations, unleashing a loud, grating whine. Fae winced and quickly turned it down.

“Leave it,” her dad said when she finally reached for the correct knob. She nodded and sank back into her seat, looking around for something to keep herself awake. Her bare feet caught her attention. Perfect. She picked up her sandals and started fastening them slowly, trying to make the task last as long as possible.

“Do you need light?” her dad asked, noticing her prolonged struggle with the straps.

“No sir,” Fae replied and moved faster. The car was filled with soft worship music, courtesy of 105.1 City FM’s morning gospel program. It was calming—a bit too calming. Before she knew it, she drifted off, lulled by the gentle music. She jerked awake when the car came to a stop. Looking around the unfamiliar scene, it took Fae a moment to realise that they had arrived at her dad’s office compound.

Fae’s dad usually dropped her off outside the gate, where she’d stroll ten steps to the bus stop. But this time, in her slumber, he had driven them right into the compound and parked. She unlatched her seat belt and smiled at him.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, picking up her bag.

“Make sure you don’t sleep on the bus,” he chuckled.

“Yes, sir,” she replied.

“Do you have money?” he asked.

Fae thought back to the change she had left from yesterday. Was it enough? Her brain, still sluggish, struggled to calculate. And besides, who says no to extra cash?

“No, sir,” she answered.

Her dad opened his wallet and handed her two crisp 1k notes.

“Thank you, sir. Bye, sir. Have a nice day, sir,” she said, her gratitude spilling out in quick succession.

“You too,” he replied.

Fae stepped out of the car, nodding and calling out, “Good morning, sirs,” to the people milling around her dad’s car. Was her voice loud enough? Her dad had mentioned that his colleagues thought she was rude because she didn’t greet them properly; maybe she had been too quiet before, lost in thought. She resolved to greet louder from now on, even if it meant practically shouting. Then again, what if they thought she was rude for shouting? Another dilemma. She shook her head, still unsure.

As she approached the gate, she made sure to greet the gate man on duty. Then she walked the ten steps from her dad’s office to the Obanikoro bus stop. She waited for a Yaba bus, dozing while standing.

Finally, an almost empty bus rolled into the lot. “Yaba, Yaba!” the conductor called. Fae hopped in as soon as it came to a complete stop. “Yaba, phase one,” she told him, taking one of the best seats by the window.

Fae didn’t know when she dozed off, but she must have fallen asleep at some point because, when she woke up, they were at Yaba Phase 1. Her landmark, the large blue church, stood on one side, with the market bustling in front of her. The bus was parked in the middle of the road, as danfo drivers were wont to do.

The conductor was nowhere to be seen, and no one was getting down. Fae looked around, confirming that they were indeed at Yaba Phase 1, but she couldn’t understand why no one was getting off. Should she stay put? She could blame her confusion on sleep, but really, she had no idea what was going through her mind at that point.

Shy and uncertain, she asked in her cute, tiny voice, “Is this Yaba Phase 1?” even though she knew perfectly well that it was. She couldn’t ask outright why no one was getting down, but she could at least ask where they were, in a roundabout way.

“Yes, dear. Where is your bus stop?” a well-dressed lady, clearly on her way to the office, asked kindly.

“Yaba Phase 1,” Fae replied, still looking around.

“Ehn, we don reach your bus stop now,” the driver said in a gruff voice. “What’re you waiting for?”

“Oh, thank you,” she mumbled, scrambling off the bus, feeling embarrassed and a bit foolish. Laughter followed her descent as the other passengers realised why she had just been sitting there, even though she had reached her stop.

As Fae hurried over to where the Unilag shuttles were parked, she heard Bella Rose was an OAP of City 105.1 FM at that time, echoing in her mind. Bella Rose often said something on her evening show, Sharing Life Issues with Bella Rose:

“On a bus, everyone is going to a different destination.”

Fae and those other passengers were heading to different places, so why had she hesitated instead of getting off with relief? She could have been thrilled that her dad’s prophecy hadn’t come true, that the bus hadn’t carried her past her stop because she’d fallen asleep. She could have been grateful that she didn’t have to waste money trying to get back to Yaba Phase 1. Instead, she had sat there, waiting because no one else was getting down.

Did she take her cues from others? Did she always look to others to guide her decisions?

She may have grown independent from her mom following her to school, but it was clear she hadn’t become mentally independent of others’ influence. Fae sighed internally as the shuttle bus drove them toward Unilag. The work of self-development never seemed to end. There was always one more thing to improve, one more lesson to learn.

But as she gazed out the window, a small smile formed. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. With each stumble, she discovered more about who she wanted to be. And today, at least, she had learned something new about herself. The work never ended—but neither did the chances to grow. In that moment, Fae resolved to embrace the journey, one lesson at a time.

Catch Up On Old Episodes Here;

Landmark is defined as an object or feature of a landscape or town that is easily seen and recognized from a distance, especially one that enables someone to establish their location.

A landmark means different things to different people. For Fae, the wild rebel, it meant victory. Mama rather Papa had finally cut the apron strings and she was going to school on her own. But that meant she was her lookout. Isn’t it funny that she had done this months prior without any issues? She knew all the routes and landmarks but after weeks of relying on someone, she was suddenly nervous. There’s a lesson there but that was not Fae’s focus today. Today, Fae needed to relearn her landmarks. ASAP!

She first learnt about landmarks in the Redemption Camp off km 46, where her family has a chalet. Growing up they spent a lot of time shuffling to and from camp. They were there on the first Fridays of every month, except for August and December when they spent a whole week. Don’t forget about crossover night and the first day of the new year. She mastered writing in a moving vehicle in all these car rides to and from camp.

Anyone who has been to Camp during the busy days knows how bad traffic is. Even worse was finding a good parking spot. Worser than finding a good parking spot was locating your car again after the night ended. You had to leave your seat early to avoid foot traffic to avoid car traffic. Then you get to where you think your car was parked and find it empty. Fae lost count of the number of times she walked between rows and columns of cars lining the large parking lot looking for a black Honda, a green space bus, or a Silver space runner.'

All this continued until our family friend (let’s call him Uncle Tee) came along. Uncle Tee was one of those IJGB (I just got back) with baggy clothes and an accent. He was basketball-player-tall and used phrases like ‘You snooze you lose’. He also brought Blackberry for the entire family except for Fae, she had hated that phone with a flying passion. He was an overall nice guy; he was never empty-handed when he came to visit. He always brought chocolates and bread, but his stomach was a bottomless pit so he ate the bread he brought with him. Anytime, he came to visit just know that you would be stuck in the kitchen cooking and washing plates.

The most important thing you need to know about Uncle Tee is that he taught the family and Fae everything they knew about landmarks. He showed them the best landmarks in camp - those tall concrete alphanumeric pillars scattered around the campground. He taught them how to find the best landmark and use their landmarks to find the car in the parking lot.

According to Uncle Tee; the best landmarks are tall, immovable objects, like a building, a signboard or the aforesaid pillars. It needs to be tall so you can see it far off, this tells you how close you are to your destination. Immoveable because duh if they can move your landmark you can’t use it to find your way now, can you? So terrible landmarks would be short, moveable objects like a car. You don’t know how many times we tried to use other cars to find ours, before Uncle Tee’s landmark lessons.

After you find your landmark, take a mental or physical snapshot of your landmark and the surrounding area. Yes, pull out your phone and take photos of the spot if you can. But if you can’t, take some time to look around the area like a lost tourist. Don’t worry about the people staring at you, they won’t be there if you get lost.

As I write this article in 2024, I realize you can search for your destination in the Maps app and follow the blinking arrow to the promised land. But this lesson on locating an optimal landmark will be useful if technology fails you.

While this lesson may be unnecessary for you today, it was necessary for Fae because the wild rebel had won one for the team and was finally flying solo. Yep, it’s exactly what you are guessing. She finally had the drug she had been craving since she re-gained admission into university. She was determined to prove her Dad wrong and not feed into his prophecy about her sleeping off on the bus or forgetting her bus stop. Fine, it did happen once. But it was only that time.

So with eyes wide open, Fae travelled from Obanikoro to Yaba Phase 1. Luckily, she got a seat beside the window so she had an uninterrupted view of the street. She spent the entire trip with her head craned out the window mapping out the route and looking for landmarks. Trying not to give in to the part of her that was scared she wasn’t up to the task, she was overwhelmed by the sheer number of landmarks needed. But the other part of her was ready to prove all the nay-sayers wrong.

Because it wasn’t just one or three buses she entered daily. No, she boarded 7 vehicles daily, well eight if you counted Dad’s car. 6 Danfo’s then an okada or a keke depending on what vehicle she met once she reached her second to the last bus stop. She needed 7 landmarks, not one or three but seven.

‘One at a time,’ she reminded herself as she took a deep breath and inhaled the stench from the garbage lining the sidewalks. She coughed and made a mental note not to take deep breaths in Danfo’s ever again. She continued tracking the route, and counting all the bus stops along the way. As we approached Yaba Phase 1, Fae saw this long blue building rising from the sky. She couldn’t hold back the smile that threatened to split her face open. Landmark located!

That was so easy, she hopped from the bus and took pictures of the building. It was a bright blue church with a long steeple that she could see miles away. It was the perfect landmark. Uncle Tee would be so proud. She took the next few minutes to ground herself in the surrounding area and get her bearings. She took pictures of everything and hoped her phone wouldn’t get snatched out of her hand as she went about her landmark activities.

Then she turned the corner and entered her second Danfo of the day. The Unilag Shuttle ferried her to school for the lump sum of 50.

She relaxed a little, she didn’t need a landmark because Unilag was the end goal. Specifically, the last bus stop in the park with a large sheltering tree to the side and the ICT Centre in front of it. But she kept her eyes open and studied the route in case she wanted to walk from school to Yaba. Her lecturer had boasted about doing this during one class and she wanted to see if she could do the same. Spoiler: She never did!

Her third bus was the Yaba Unilag shuttle again. She didn’t get to Yaba, this time she got down at Jibowu Underbridge. Again this landmark was quite easy to locate; the bridge and foodsellers were her landmarks. From Jibou she boarded her fourth bus for the day, Ikeja Underbridge. Once again the landmark was simple; bridge, roundabout, fruitsellers. She can’t forget this bus stop her purse got stolen here once. (Come back in episode 8 for this sad tale).

Fourth bus of the day, Ishaga. If she is lucky she would find an Ishaga bus at the same spot she highlighted from the Ikeja bus. Some Ikeja buses even travelled down to Ishaga, so as soon as they neared Ikeja the conductor started screaming for Ishaga passengers. But if she wasn’t so lucky, she had to travel down to the park a short stroll from the bus stop. Her landmark was a market. Immediately, she saw the row of cloth sellers on one side and fruit sellers on the other, she knew she was at Ishaja. One more bus then she was home free.

The routine was the same, she waited for a bus going to Giwa at the spot where she was dropped off. Or she crossed the street to the park where rows of buses were packed waiting to carry passengers to Giwa. She had two landmarks for Giwa; one was a landfill. Immediately the smell hit her, she knew we were close to the bus stop. The other was, yep, you guessed it, a market. You can see the pattern here, at every bus stop there was a market, makeshift or otherwise.

Homestretch. Immediately, she got down from the Giwa bus, she felt herself start to relax. From Giwa she journeyed straight home, so she didn’t need a landmark for this. But she noted two or three houses that made her know she was closer to home. Today she chose to charter an okada, she wanted to feel the breeze in her hair. And she wanted to be home as quickly as possible. She climbed into the vehicle and shoved her school bag between her and the driver to leave adequate space between them. The journey began and the breeze could have been a paid actor. They zipped through the streets of Giwa and soon Fae was home. That had been easier than she had thought it would be.

Now she had to wake up tomorrow and do it all over again. Maybe tomorrow she would experience another Wild Danfo Adventures that she could share with the world someday. She couldn’t wait.

“I’m home! Safe and sound! Look out, naysayers.” She laughed as she pulled the gate open and strolled into the compound. Home sweet home!

Catch Up On Old Episodes Here;

Independence, also known as the state of being independent, was the name of the drug I had been craving since I gained admission into university.

I wanted to be independent so much that I spent the last few weeks before this encounter fighting for my precious independence. Silently! Yep, you read that right. I was fighting for my independence silently. The irony of it all! Now, I realise I never voiced my desire for independence. I just acted out. All for what? Because I wanted to make the commute to school alone?

Every time I make I trip to school, my mom goes with me. It was very embarrassing. I was finally in university yet my mom was following me to school. It was like I was demoted back to kindergarten. Not even secondary or primary school, I went back to Pampers level. I HATED it! I am sure my mom hated it too. I mean can you imagine just following your child up and down school campus?

I struggled with my sudden lack of independence because I had gotten a taste of my drug, only to have it snatched away. Yes, I had gotten a taste of the independence I wanted so badly. I had it once and it was suddenly snatched away.

How? You ask, How is it possible that a sixteen-year-old girl had gotten a taste of independence? Two words, boarding school. Yep, I spent six years living away from my parents for three terms, so I already felt pretty independent. Plus, I am very clumsy, so used to making messes and cleaning up after myself. Being Clumsy Fae, taught me how to handle things in a clutch.

However, the most important reason I struggled with the lack of independence, was because I had already gotten admission to Unilag and started attending classes on my own by the time I got my admission. Sorry if that was too confusing. Let me break it down.

My admission journey was not a smooth one, like many it was fraught with disappointment. I applied three times and got accepted twice, in the same school. My first try was while I was still in secondary school, I wanted to become an on-air personality so I was going to the University of Ilorin to study Mass Communication. Why UniIlorin you ask? Well, I had heard cool things about them, like how you could use your student ID to buy food and such things. Also, they weren’t part of ASSU so they didn’t go on strikes as often. But most schools in Nigeria prefer students to be 16 and above at the point of entry. I wasn’t, so I didn’t get in. That’s the reason I gave myself.

My second try was the following year; I was 16 so if I didn’t get in it was all my fault. I retook JAMB and put in for English at the University of Lagos because Mass Communication was very crowded and English was second best. The plan was to transfer to Mass Communication once I got admitted.

My third attempt was that same year, I applied through the Direct Entry stream to study Mass Communication at the same University of Lagos. This was before the results of my first admission into Unilag to study English arrived. 20k admission fee paid, a few classes and assignments into my direct entry journey, I found out I had been given admission to study English. My dad gives me two choices, study both or choose one. Like the lazy girl that I am, I chose the cheaper one. There was less pressure there.

Okay, you’re all caught up. You now understand why it was so hard to adjust to the new lack of independence. You now know why it was so annoying that my mom was following me to school once again. Yeah, it was nice that she got to meet all my friends but it was annoying to be the only one whose mom followed to school. Yes, she followed me to school when I first started my diploma courses, she joined the group of moms who wait for their children, they had a spot in my old faculty.

But now that I was processing another admission I didn’t see the need for it. We have already gone through this once already. But you see I can be very passive-aggressive, silently protesting instead of confronting the problem head-on and sharing how I feel about it. Instead of speaking up and saying I was old enough to go to school alone, I acted out like a year-old throwing a tantrum over a biscuit. That’s exactly what happened on this day.

You should know that my mom is not the overprotective type. She is that momma bird that throws her baby out of the nest so they can learn to fly by force. She always said if I were born in Hausa land I would be married with three children. While my mom wasn’t overprotective my dad was is. My dad is still overprotective it’s not like that has changed over the years.

Every time my mom complained about following me to school, my dad would convince her to accompany me for one reason or the other. The most annoying reason my dad ever gave her was that I sleep in cars. It is true, he’s not lying, which is what makes it annoying. Put me in a car and I promptly fall asleep. Sometimes Mom had to wake me when we got to our bus stop. I blame the motion that lulls me to sleep. 

Dad feared that I would sleep off on the bus and they would carry me past my bus stop, which has never happened Dad! Fine, so it almost happened once, but the keyword is almost. Read episode 4 to find out all the tea. All I can say is God was kind to me.

In my defence, I was always surrounded by people I trusted. The few rides I did on my own, I didn’t fall asleep. Yeah, I dozed off but I didn’t sleep. Plus, it’s not like I can use my phone anyway so what was I to do but sleep? Yes, you read that right, I don’t use my phone on Danfo’s and other moving vehicles for two reasons. One, I suffer from a mild case of motion sickness and nausea (use a long dash here) the smell of petrol makes me nauseous. Two I was paranoid of getting my phone stolen on a bus. Well technically, my tablet. It was such a large device, that it attracted attention every time I pulled it out of my bag.

Besides, I was right to be paranoid, we’ve heard stories, multiple stories of people losing their phones on buses. Luckily for me in the five-plus years since I became a regular Danfo passenger, I have never had my phone stolen. I may have gotten my purse stolen years after the events of this episode, but that’s a story for another episode. Maybe the 6th or 10th episode.

So what exactly happened?

The day started just like any other day, Mom and I arrived at my dad's office then we strolled to the bus stop just a few meters away from his office. As we always do.

“I can do this on my own,” I thought as we waited for a bus to Yaba. “I am an independent lady, yet my mom still follows me to school every day.”

I stood beside my poor mother was seated on those wooden seats at bus stops, adjusting her shoe’s buckle. Completely unaware of my inner turmoil.

“Yaba! Yaba!” an obnoxious conductor called out as a Yaba bus rolled into the bus stop.

“Finally,” I mutter and jump into the rickety yellow contraption, thinking that Mom was right behind me. I was standing about to sit when I looked up, searching for my Mom.

“Fayo! Fayo!” I heard my name being called in that familiar angry tone. I look back at the bus stop and see my Mom still seated there calling my name. “Fayo, get down.”

What did I do? I sat my stubborn self on the uncomfortable wooden plank masquerading as seats and just stared at her in defiance, like the Wild Rebel that I am.

“I’m not getting down,” my entire face screamed. “I can do this on my own. Let me show you.”

I was determined to show my mom that I could do this without her. Maybe if my mom got the message then she could pass it on to Dad. Because my mom wasn't the issue my dad was. He was and still is to this day the most overprotective of the pair.

So many feelings coursed through my being as the bus rolled away from the stop. I will try to name them. Euphoria was front and centre, I did! I did it! Fear sat somewhere in the middle, there would be consequences for my actions, but at least I had a few hours before I had to face Mom again. And finally independence the sweet drug I had been craving since I gained admission into university.

I don’t know what my Mom did after I left her at the bus stop, I never had the guts to bring it up and I still don’t. So don't tell me to ask! I am hoping she's forgotten that day and she doesn't read this. LOL. But if I am to guess, she probably went back to my dad’s office to report me like Adam reported Eve to God. “See what this your daughter did to me.”

One bus later, I was in school. Riding on the high of independence, ignoring the fear and basking in the euphoria. But the day did not end there, as much as I wish it did.

I was so distracted trying to write my apology speech that I didn’t hear one word the lecturer of my first class spoke. But I never got the chance to give what would have been the best apology speech ever. Guess who calls me after my first class? 😂🤣😅Yep, you guessed it. The sexy woman I left at the bus stop, aka my mom. My very pissed-off Mom. I pick up the call expecting her to shout at me.

“I am in your school,” Her voice was very calm, there was no anger to be detected. “Come to that UBA park.”

I hurried to the spot she mentioned, with panic whirling in me. Was that calm hiding anger? What should I do when I see her? What should I say? I try to remember the words of heartfelt apology I didn’t have time to finish, but like the lyrics of a song I only heard once the words fled. It was a short walk from my faculty to the meetup spot so by the time I arrived there I still hadn’t figured out my next course of action. I didn't know what to do with myself I froze and just stared at her beautiful face. Talk about an awkward reunion.

At that moment, I didn’t feel like a wild rebel. All the feelings of euphoria and independence flew away and left only fear behind. Hot fear sliding through my veins. A new feeling joined the foray one that goes by the name shame. I was feeling very ashamed of myself.

Mom is also silent; she lets her glare do all the talking as she walks away. She took me to GT Bank and signed over my kiddie’s account. I was waiting close to the door while she finished up. Determined to be a better daughter going forward. I must have had one of those brain fart moments because tell me why I see my Mom walking out of the bank and I don’t get up to follow her. In my defence, I thought she was going to make a photocopy or something. She was giving me the silent treatment so she didn’t tell me she was done. And I just assumed she would be back. LOL. She was back alright, back to shout at me in front of everyone present about not following her out of the bank. I was trying her patience that day. Looking back, I probably wanted her to leave me in the bank so we could call it even. And so I didn’t have to endure the awkward bus rides home.

Whenever I think back to this day, I can’t help but wish 16-year-old Fae had been more crazy about being financially independent from Mom and Dad. Instead of whatever this drama was. LOL. Sadly, twenty-something-year-old Fae doesn’t get why this was such a big deal to 16-year-old Fae.

This is how Fae the wild rebel silently fought for my independence and started going to school alone. You just enjoyed my second wild Danfo adventure.

It is who you know.

I finally understood the nuance behind this saying the first time I entered a Danfo.

Yes, I still remember the first time I entered a Danfo.

Okay, you caught me, that's a lie. I remember nothing about the first time I entered a Danfo. Nothing 😅

I lived a pretty sheltered life growing up, chauffeur-driven to and from primary school. Then I spent the next six years of secondary school locked up in a boarding house, so I didn't really need to go anywhere. The only time I travelled anywhere was at the beginning of the term, during midterm breaks and at the end of the term.

Holidays were not an exception, I am one of those omo get inside you hear so much about. We rarely went anywhere, in my house, except for church on Sundays. Plus living in an estate sequestered from civilization didn't make it easy to go anywhere.

Yep, I lived a pretty boring life. But I actually liked it this way, at least I think I did. I didn't know any different then and I like it just fine now. 🤷🏾‍♀

But it is because of all these circumstances that I remember my first time in a Danfo. Oh wait, we already agreed that was a lie. Fine, I don't remember the first time I entered a Danfo, but I know I was a teenager. Probably fifteen. I had just finished secondary school and I was awaiting admission to the university.

Since I don't remember my first time in a Danfo this is obviously not about the first time I rode in a Danfo. It is about the first ride that stuck with me, my first wild Danfo adventure. The ride that I still look back on years after. Also, it's the first one I ever wrote about. Yep, I found this in my notes years later when I decided to write about my wild Danfo adventures. 

I was sitting in the middle seat of a Danfo beside my lovely Mom when the truth of this saying finally sunk in. It was a lovely day. The sun wasn't too hot, breeze flowed in softly, bringing the smells of Lagos City with it. I realized the importance of travelling with a fan, a bottle of water and a napkin—since I became a regular Danfo customer.

This day was just like any other day, we travelled down familiar routes as we journeyed to Yaba. I didn't know then but I was about to experience my first wild Danfo adventure. 

There is this thing that happens in Lagos, Nigeria where transport drivers have to pay a levy to abgberos, (ignore that I meant to type) responsible citizens on every street. Regular Danfo passengers know what I am talking about. This little tidbit is important to remember because it's the primary reason our driver went on his hunt. Yes, hunt!

Our Danfo driver suddenly morphed into a hunter in the bustling Lagos jungle, at every stop the bus made, the driver grudgingly paid the stipulated amount to these thugs, slip of the finger I meant, oh you know what I meant!

Anyway, our driver paid his taxes to the responsible citizens, while simultaneously asking his conductor if he noticed any uniform. 15-year-old Faé was sitting beside her mom wondering why this driver was so enamoured by uniforms. I remember thinking to myself, What uniform? Does this driver want to buy a school uniform for his child? I know you can buy anything in Lagos traffic but still, a uniform was a bit much. Why is our driver shopping for uniforms in Lagos traffic? What is so important about uniforms and why does he keep asking? 🙄😅

15-year-old Faé was so naive to the workings of the Danfo world. But I was quickly educated when our driver finally found himself a 'uniform'. For the people naive to the workings of the Danfo world, like 15-year-old Faé.

A uniform is any officer of the law dressed in a uniform, a soldier, a Lastma or a police officer.

Notice that I said dressed in his uniform, I learnt later on that a uniform is useless unless dressed as such. That story is coming later, anticipate. However, some officers are more feared than others, so the rank is soldier, Lastma and then the po-po (that thing is sweeter to say than type).

Our lucky driver reeled in the highest uniform on the food chain. Yeah, you guessed it. He caught himself a soldier.

As soon as the uniform is on the bus, our driver changes. He morphs into a different being entirely, gone was the driver who stopped at these mandated stops and paid his tax to responsible citizens.

Our driver was cruising. I don't just mean he was going fast oo. You know it is not easy to drive fast in Lagos traffic, but traffic wasn't so bad that day. I mean, our driver just turned reckless. He started driving like a man possessed, he was driving on sidewalks, almost hitting poor pedestrians. He was racing with okadas and honestly, I was scared.

I grabbed onto the slab of the seat in front of me and tried to hang on, wondering why he wouldn't slow down. Was it okay that he didn't pay the concerned citizens at the last stop? Will they come after us? Will this make us later than we already are? All these questions and more raced through my mind.

Little did I know, that having a uniform was like getting a free pass to misbehave on the street. Our driver was acting like he suddenly became untouchable because he was. The concerned citizens that trolled the streets didn't dare cross him now. It is important to note that the uniform did not pay the transport fare, and rightly so, I mean look at the stress the driver avoids just by catching a live one. 😅🙄

So our driver becomes a reckless demon but no one stops him. No one could stop him anymore until the passengers started talking among themselves. And every Lagosian who enters public transport knows that the best conversations happen in a Danfo. We share a myriad of things; from life as a Lagosian to our thoughts on new government policies. If you are looking for me, I am the cutie pie in glasses taking everything in but not talking.

The now enraged passengers begin to clamour for the driver to slow down. Many comments on how they would like to get to their destinations alive. But their petitions fell on deaf ears, Broda Tunji wasn't going to slow down if he didn't have to. Only God knows the next time he would catch a live one like this. Danfo drivers are not known for their patience. But this was next-level impatience.

Then they beseech the uniform to ask the driver to calm down. I mean he should. If he had seen the driver on the road he would have definitely done something about it. This conversation goes on for a long time. After a while, the fact that the concerned citizens collect money from these drivers is called into question. Everyone has a reason why they do, but that's not something I want to touch on. Risky business.

But it was from this conversation that I gleaned the uniform's role as a "saviour." I remember whipping out my phone and writing my thoughts on this matter on my notes app. I am sure I compared the uniform to a saviour, I wrote something poetic about how the presence of the uniform on a Danfo was akin to Jesus' presence in the boat 😅. I remember wishing this uniformed saviour would rouse from his sleep and shout "Peace be still!" And bind the demon possessing our driver away.

I learnt two lessons at that moment; one was the importance of having a uniform on board and the other... Well, let's just say the famous phrase it is who you know, started to make sense.

Wo le pelu changi e o! Enter with your change o!

We all know that Lagos is wild, but I tell you, Danfo's are wilder! Danfo rides are a whole new world. They can start normally and switch up on you. You know how it starts, but you don't know where you will end up; maybe trekking along the express, hoping for an empty bus to travel along. Or racing through surprisingly free Lagos streets, like a madman, because there is a uniform on board.

Welcome aboard the wild Danfo, travel at your own risk.

A collection of Wild Danfo Adventures from a regular Danfo passenger.

O wa! You have reached your final destination.

Inspired by True Events.

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Beautiful cover by Praise Hassan. You can connect with her here-Instagram

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