You can’t be too careful when using public transportation in Nigeria.
From someone who boarded at an official garage to another who hopped on a bike for safety, these one-chance survivors share how their harrowing experiences have made them wary of public transportation.
Bukky*
I had a close shave with one-chance people in 2019.
I always order a private cab for security reasons when I close late at work. But on this day, the prices were ridiculously high. I got to the bus stop, and it was almost empty, which wasn’t weird. Offices closed around 5 p.m. and the rush hour had passed. But I grew weary after more than 30 minutes of waiting.
Suddenly, a guy pops out and says, “Aunty, waka go front small. Buses no go stop here.” I don’t remember responding, but I started walking as he suggested.
Almost immediately, a white mini bus heading to my destination stopped beside me, and I didn’t think twice about entering. Immediately I entered, I felt a burst of wind on my face, and the voices around me sounded like an echo. The last thing I remember was a woman whispering in my ear and gently pulling my bag out of my hands.
I regained full consciousness after they dropped me at my bus stop. It was as if a veil was lifted from my face when I stepped out of the bus. After alighting, I noticed my hands were empty. I couldn’t feel anything in my pockets, and my phone was gone. Still, I didn’t have the presence of mind to scream or shout. I just watched the bus speed off and stayed in the same spot. I honestly can’t remember how I got home that day. It’s been five years since that incident, and I’ve never used public transport.
Leke*
While returning from an errand I ran for my boss, I entered a cab around the Ogudu/Ojota axis in Lagos.
Shortly after I settled in, a passenger picked up an argument with the driver and said he wanted to alight. Initially, I wasn’t listening to the details, but when I did, I heard the passengers talking about how they would share dollars. They said a passenger alighted before I entered and forgot a bag of dollars.
The passenger who started the argument had run out of patience going around with the driver all day and wanted his share of the money. Soon, the man turned to me, asking for my opinion. Immediately, I remembered a neighbour who had shared a similar experience. Once I figured out I was in danger, I told them I wanted to alight, but they refused. They said I couldn’t get down just yet.
Luckily, the road was a little bumpy, so they couldn’t speed. When I sighted a police station, I forced the door open and jumped out of the moving car. The driver must have also seen the police station because he made a rough U-turn and sped away. That experience scarred me. I hate public buses, but I only enter the yellow danfo buses if I have to take one. For some reason, I think they’re safer.
Adaugo*
I’ve never experienced one-chance, but my mum’s experience is enough to scar me.
Many years ago, my mum boarded a bus around Airport Road in Ikeja. She’d just received ₦500k from a business transaction and was going to deposit it at the bank.
Everything seemed normal until the bus picked up another guy at a different bus stop. So, she was in the middle of two grown men. Immediately the second guy entered, both men pounced on her. One had a knife to her neck while the other emptied dried pepper in her eyes. They collected the ₦500k and her purse, then drove her back to the bus stop they picked her up from. Some kind people at the bus stop took her to the hospital and brought her home. Till today, she still deals with eye problems. Her glasses are thicker than the bottom of a Coke bottle.
Oladimeji*
I was coming from Nasarawa to Abuja, where I planned to get a bus to Ibadan. Fuel scarcity at the time made it hard to find buses that plied direct routes, and I wanted to be home in time for Sallah. It was a few minutes to midnight when we arrived at Gwagwalada. The buses at the park took advantage of the situation and tripled their prices. So, some other passengers and I walked away from the park to find sole buses with cheaper fares.
We found a bus with the help of an area boy who was also trying to make some extra cash. Three guys and a lady were seated at the back, but we ignored them. We’d barely driven 3km when the driver made a stop and said the bus was faulty. He got down to check what was wrong, and I picked up an argument, asking why his bus was on the road if it was bad. While that was going on, the four passengers we met inside the bus swung into action. They banged on the roof, brought out guns and machetes, and marched everyone out of the bus.
With weapons pointed at us, they took us into the bush, made us lie flat on the ground, and collected every valuable — bags, phones, jewellery. When it got to my turn, I tried to resist. They were speaking a foreign language, and even though I knew they wanted my bag, I acted like I didn’t understand. After I made a move to run, one of them stabbed me in the back. I was lucky enough to manoeuvre, so the cut wasn’t too deep.
While my distraction was going on, a roadside trader who probably hid his wares in the forest must have seen what was happening. The man started screaming in Hausa, and that was how the thieves took to their heels. Now, I only take public buses when my car is faulty.
Shehu*
I was visiting a friend in Ikorodu in Lagos. I got to the garage and learnt I had to take another bus to my destination. I wasn’t down for the ride because of time, so I opted for a bike. The guy charged around ₦1500 and said it’d be cheaper if I let him pick up another passenger. I didn’t like the idea, but I agreed anyway.
We couldn’t find anyone going the same way at the garage, so the bike man said he’d pick someone up on the way. About five minutes into the ride, he stopped to pick up a guy who was also going the same way. I tried to scrutinise the guy, and nothing looked out of place.
Midway into the journey, I felt a sharp, slightly cold object on my waist. I tried to remove it, and that was when the guy leaned into my ear and said he’d stab me if I made any sound. On the move, he emptied my pocket and took my phone and wallet. Then they drove me to an uncompleted building in the middle of nowhere. They made me transfer everything in my bank account, about ₦400k, and then blindfolded me.
At that point, I thought I’d been kidnapped and feared it wasn’t going to stop at a robbery. They tied me to a pole, or so I think. I don’t know how long I was there, but soon I realised everything had gone quiet. I wriggled my hands out of the rope and noticed no one tried to stop me. When I finally got free and removed the blindfold, I realised I was alone in the building. I walked for about 30 minutes before I found any sign of life, and one akara seller was kind enough to help me with tfare after I narrated my ordeal.
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