Jelili in the Abroad-Episode 3-The Bustop aptism.
Jelili woke up with fresh ambition. The abroad had delivered several uppercuts already but this morning, he rose from bed like a man on a mission. Today he would conquer public transport, move with confidence and he would show the UK he was not here to play.
The abroad had other plans.
Tunde gave him a tutorial that sounded like risk management training. “Check the timetable, tap your card properly and don’t block the pram space. Maintain low engagement, limit eye contact and focus on survival.”
Jelili nodded with the boldness of a man who had understood absolutely nothing.
THE ROAD TO DISGRACE BEGAN EARLY
He left the house wearing his best jacket, not because of the cold but he wanted to look presentable to the transport system.
The bus stop appeared ahead, neat and quiet like it had been arranged by angels on a salary. No shouting, no conductor hanging from the door and human beings sprinting like Olympic qualifiers. He blinked twice.
Back in Lagos, boarding a bus was a combat. You needed sharp elbows, quick legs and the confidence of someone with nothing to lose. If you paused to think, the bus left you behind without apology. Here, people stood in a straight line, waiting politely, much like they would when queuing for Holy Communion.
He frowned. “Why is everybody behaving like they do not have somewhere urgent to go?”
He eyed the orderly queue. Something in his spirit rejected the peacefulness. He did not trust it. He looked around for the real struggle, the shouting, the conductor screaming “Oshodi! Lekki! One chance moving!” but nothing appeared.
He decided the people abroad were too calm. He stepped away from the queue, walked into the road and positioned himself boldly, the way a Lagos champion would flag down a danfo.
He stood there with full confidence and royal posture, hand stretched out like a man summoning a taxi in Ibadan.
The incoming bus honked so loudly the air shook. Jelili jumped back in panic, whispering, “This country is not normal.” He leapt onto the pavement as two schoolgirls clapped for him like he had just survived an obstacle course.
THE TAP CARD TRAGEDY
When the bus finally rolled to a stop, Jelili stepped in like someone who believed in himself too much. He pulled out his bank card, smiled and tapped it confidently on the screen.
The screen stared back. Nothing. He tapped again. Nothing.
He tapped the screen with more intensity, like negotiation were possible.
The bus driver sighed deeply. “Mate… that’s the screen. The reader is down here.”
Jelili looked at the real reader. The reader looked at Jelili.
Both understood he had embarrassed his entire village.
He tapped correctly. The bus beeped. Victory.
THE PRAM SPACE DISGRACE
He found a seat and sat down triumphantly. A woman pushing a stroller stopped in front of him, glaring with pure British frustration.
A kind old lady tapped his shoulder. “Love, that space is for prams.” Jelili jumped up.
“Ah! Sorry ma. I did not know that.”
He stood awkwardly, balancing himself like a man fighting invisible wind.
THE ACCIDENTAL TOUR OF LONDON
When he switched to the train, another announcement hit him.
“Mind the gap.” Jelili paused. Gap? Which gap? He nodded respectfully, like the loudspeaker was mentoring him about personal development.
He boarded confidently and sat down. Fifteen minutes later, he checked the map.
He was going in the wrong direction. Again. He jumped out at the next station and asked a commuter, “Please, which road leads to where I am going?”
The commuter blinked twice. “To where you’re going?” “Yes. Where I am going?”
“…Mate, I don’t know you.”
The abroad was not cooperating.
THE DAY’S FINAL HUMBLING
He eventually found his way home looking like a man who had survived corporate restructuring. Tunde was waiting.
“How was your first day with public transport?” Jelili removed his shoes slowly, dramatically.
“This transport is not public. It has bias. It selects who it wants.”
He sank into the couch and declared, “I must find a remote job. This is not sustainable.”
But destiny was warming up for him because early the next morning, an email arrived:
Invitation to Interview – Tomorrow at 9:30 a.m.
Jelili smiled. Then he checked the location. Three buses. One train and some walking.
Serious walking.
His spirit left his body briefly.
To Be Continued Next Friday: Episode 4 — The Job Hunt Hustle.
