In the course of our earthly sojourn, it is a common practice amongst humans to attach events that have significant impact on their lives to the specific dates on which these events took place. Thus birthdays, days marking independence, death, wedding anniversaries, etc are generally celebratory.

For me...August 15, 2009 @ exactly 8: 15pm will remain eternally special to me. It was a date and time that changed the course of my life, my plans, my expectations, my dreams, and my ardent aspirations, ushering in a totally virgin experience of societal relegation and marginalization of once burgeoning destiny. And birthing my sudden realisation and appreciation of dire conditions of Nigeria's disabled community in an unjust society.

It was one experience too many that will continue to define and shape my understanding, my metaphysical perception of reality and true meaning of life so long as I continue to sojourn in this sophisticated puzzle called earth.

How It Happened

Prompting my travelling was the fact that I had undergone a hernia operation early in April, 2009; and had long been due for check up two months earlier after I had returned to my duty post as a mathematics teacher under Nigeria's National Youth Service Corps (NYSC) scheme. A one-year compulsory scheme set up primarily to promote national cohesion after a bitter 30 months civil war.

On that fateful day being Saturday 15th August, 2009, I had planed to get to Onitsha first to collect my consultation card before I would set out for Imo state the following day where I would be going for the long due medical check up on Monday 17th August, 2009. So, in order to avoid night trip, which my parents have always strongly counselled us against, and get to Onitsha in daytime, I had set out early about 10: 00 am, but not until 1: 00 pm that I was able to get to Aba due to intermittent security road blocks.

...And I Boarded A Ghost-Passenger Filled Bus At Aba

For some strange reasons best known to the driver, we were dropped at a spot very far from Imo state Transport Company passengers' loading bay which was where I originally had in mind to board another bus to Onitsha. Under such circumstance, I decided to trek up to the ITC Park as I was not having enough money to bike. En route to ITC Park, however, I saw a bus almost filled with passengers. On inquiry, I was told that, in fact, the bus was filled but just one passenger. Seeing the enormous time it would save me than trekking all the way to the ITC Park under very high sun intensity, I bought into the pack of lies at exactly 2: 00 pm.

About 30 minutes later, the vehicle whose driver seemed so much in a hurry initially, had not been set in motion. Then 3: 00 pm, 3: 30 pm, we were still there. To my surprise, the bus was fast becoming almost empty. I suddenly realized over 80% of the people in the bus had been ghost passengers all along. So, I tried to get a refund but all my pleas fell on deaf ears.

Because I was having only ₦150.00 which was not enough to board another bus, I called my nephew who lives in Aba to bring me ₦500.00 so that I could board another bus. But he told me he was in faraway Ariaria market supplying goods. I then strolled around to see if I could see some policemen so that they would help me get a refund but I didn’t see. So, I had no other option but to stay on.

Eventually, the bus was put in motion at exactly 6: 30 pm; and before we could get to Owerri, it was already night. That was how I ended up with night trip! What I never planned!

As always, I was sitting at the front on a passenger’s seat well positioned on top of the engine in-between the driver and the other passenger, who was sitting by my right next to the door. As we were moving, I noticed that the headlamps were very dull and dim so that one can hardly see the road ahead. I cautioned the driver against speeding since the headlamps were not very bright, but he wouldn’t take heed of my words of caution.

On entering the dual carriageway at Okija, however, we ran into a cloud of dust blended with thick black smoke, which, unaware to us, billowed from the exhaust of an articulated lorry having no tail lights, which had just manoeuvred some pot-holes and was struggling to pick up speed. On emerging from the thick smoke at quite a high speed, lo and behold, just in front of us was the articulated lorry sluggishly picking up speed. With that speed, our bus crashed into the rear of the lorry. And that was it! Meanwhile, the occupants of the lorry appeared unnoticed of what had just happened and continued on their journey amidst cries behind.

The crash produced a sudden up jerk of the engine which hit me on the left buttock from below my seat, and severely fractured my hip bone, with a resultant sudden sharp pain that ran over me like a raging inferno. The collision had so badly skewed the whole front of the bus inwardly that the dashboard was resting on our laps, holding us firmly to our seats. Slowly but steadily, blood was pouring out from the cuts inflicted upon us by the broken pieces of the windscreen. And both front doors had mysteriously jam-locked.

“Blood of Jesus, blood of Jesus, blood of Jesus!” I heard other passengers exclaiming in anguish while jumping out of the bus. And eventually, only three of us in the front were remaining in the terribly crashed bus. While the driver and the other passenger were busy struggling to free themselves from the firm grip of the dashboard and the inwardly skewed front body of the bus; I kept still, trying to come to terms with the reality of the situation.

My thoughts wandered and wandered. I was clearly in a lot of pain but, at the same time, I was more absorbed in thoughts: “all my plans, my fabulous dreams, my exquisite expectations, my poise for success, my humanitarian aspirations... God! After 5 years in the university, with a 2.1 degree result grade; is this the end?” I reasoned inwardly, and instantly wished I could turn back the hands of the clock and give the trip another chance. Trying to adjust my position a bit some minutes later, I discovered to my greatest surprise that I had been crippled from the waist down. My worst fears, confirmed. “This is, for sure, a transcendental reality”, I concluded.

With the help of some good Samaritans, the driver and the other passenger were rescued from the bus while efforts were being intensified to get me out. Then, all of a sudden, sparks of light were seen underneath the engine. People, fearing that the sparks would ignite the fuel in the engine; started chopping off and destroying the body of the bus aggressively in an attempt to rescue me.

“O boy, pull your legs and get out while we’re holding this! This bus wan catch fire-O!”

“I can’t get out—I’m stuck ,” I cried in anguish.

About 30 minutes later, I was still stuck in the bus. And the sparks were becoming so intense that it appeared explosion was imminent. So, I brought out my NYSC ID card; handing it over to one woman that was also helping out with my rescue, I said, “Just in case this bus finally catch fire and I die here, the number at the back of this ID is my next of kin’s—my brother’s... help me tell my family t-t-that anything that has a beginning must have an end, and we’ve no reason whatsoever to question God... tell them t-t-t-that this is the spot I meet a tragic and untimely death... tell them not to be too sad for life and death are both part of nature. Nobody’s to be blamed; it’s destiny. Please, help me tell them that I’ll miss all of them, most especially my uncommon Mom...yes...she means the whole world to me... just help me do that, and I pray you’ll never end this way...!”

“But you won’t die, of course. You’re too young to die. Efforts are already being made to get you out of this bus, ok? Be a bit more patient”, she said, fighting back tears.

As God may have it, I was eventually evacuated, and rushed to a hospital in Awada, Onitsha; Pieta Hospital & maternity to be precise...from where I was moved to a series of hospitals within Nigeria before I was eventually referred oversea for further orthopaedic care.

...and thus ushering in my journey into the world of Nigeria's highly marginalised disabled community.